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“I never liked it either,” he admits quietly. “For many reasons. But it’s just a building. Built in my father’s time. And he’s just a man.”
Suddenly, Corvan stops. He wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me close. “The worst is about to come, but it’ll be over soon,” he whispers, his warm breath grazing my ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps across my arms.“I think my father’s at death’s door. This is his last chance to rage against the inevitable.”
I freeze, taken aback by the surrealness of his words.
Valdon Duthriss is… dying?
This is the emperor we’re talking about. Corvan’s father. And there’s no trace of sadness in his voice.
I glance up at him.
He’s cold and emotionless. As if he were carved from the marble itself.
“Oh, Corvan,” I say, my heart aching for him. “How can you tell?”
His eyes soften as he looks at me. He taps the side of his nose, then points toward his ear. “I can tell. Too many signs. The senses are too acute. I know what death smells like.”
Still, he doesn’t betray any grief or sadness.
“What will you do?”
His pale lips curve into a cold smile. “As a son, I should see him one last time. Ashisson, I should rip those secrets from him once and for all, before he takes them to the grave. Don’t stray from my side, Finley. Ineedyou now more than ever.”
It’s then that his facade cracks, just a little. I see it in his eyes; the barely restrained emotion. As if the smallest thing could cause him to break.
I curl my fingers around his. Although he’s wearing gloves, I can feel his warmth; the way he trembles ever so slightly. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Corvan.”
Now it’s my turn to lead him. Hand in hand, we walk down the silent corridors until we reach a pair of golden doors. They’re magnificently inlaid with the Imperial Crest—a pair of fierce looking golden phoenixes wearing crowns, staring fiercely at one another as if they’re about to tear each other’s throats out.
“No guards,” Corvan murmurs in surprise. “That means he’s been expecting us.”
He pushes the door open.
We walk through, into another corridor, where the floor is made from polished pale green stone.
“The outer circle,” Corvan says wryly. “We go round and round. Next, we’ll see the first of three gardens.”
And so we walk, and the corridor curves gently around, taking us in a half-circle. At the end is another set of doors. This time, they’re made of gleaming dark wood.
At the sight of the wood, my inner dryad breathes a sigh of relief.
My fingers tingle. The wood is drawing me to it, begging for release. I try and get it to come toward me, but nothing happens.
It’s as if there’s a lock, and I have the key, but I can’t get it to slide in, or turn.
So frustrating. I just want to be able todosomething.
But the doors aren’t the most imposing thing about this entrance.
For the first time, there’s somebodyelse.
A pair of guards stand at the entrance, clad in full armor and bearing menacing looking halberds. Large swords hang in sheaths at their waists. Their armor is made of black metal, but it looks light and sleek.
These men arehuge.Bigger and taller than even Corvan, andhe’sa big boy to begin with.
Undeterred, he releases my hand and walks right up to them.
To my surprise, both guards remove their helms and bow deeply.
