Unbidden, flashes of the last night we shared come to my mind, when he tied me up and…
I wipe my hand over my brow, feeling hot and cold all at once.
Basta, Arlet, I chide, squeezing my eyes shut as if that could turn off the light in my churning head. That hopeful chapter of my life is over. I must accept that.
When the elven palace comes into view for the first time, I sit up straighter. Sticking up from the leafy green treetops is a tall, pale gray structure. It is taller than most other buildings I’ve seen, with pointed spires piercing the sky.
The majesty of the structure overwhelms my eyes, and I don’t know where to look first, from the colored-glass designsto the organic patterns that flow seamlessly into lines and abundant foliage. What must be thousands of pale blossoms are planted and pruned along the front, with perfectly manicured grass and bushes sprouting everywhere.
There is a neatly maintained path to the residence, wide enough for half a dozen carriages to ride side by side.
I saw glimpses of the giants’ palace as a slave in Zlosa, and obviously, I am very familiar with the Enduar palace, but I have to begrudgingly admit that this is more beautiful than either.
Thorne is silent as we move closer to the front entrance. The carved images of what I recognize as Living Wood and Elder Tree iconography run up the arched sides of the entrance, surrounded by creeping ivy that seems as intentional as every square inch of this lavish place.
As the carriage pulls to a stop, Thorne finally clears his throat.
“Wrinkles,” he says abruptly, nodding at my gown.
I let out the long breath that I had started holding somewhere on the way here, and unflex my fingers from my dress. My grip leaves a few lines in the delicate silk, and I attempt to smooth them with a bit of pressure and the warmth of my palms and thighs.
Would these small imperfections make the king angry?
“When we get inside, they will take us directly to King Arion. When you see him, you will bow and play nice just as you did the first time you met. You remember his honorifics?”
“High King Arion,” I say slowly. The darkness inside of me stirs, like swirling sands in the wind.
“And you remember how to act?”
I glare at him, despite my nerves. “It wasn’t that long ago that I met him.”
I wish the night he came to Enduvida wasn’t scorched into my memory. He danced with me, insulted me, and then held me in place and made me watch as he invited enemies into Enduvida to kill and destroy the Enduares.
“Arlet, I know you think that you are in some sort of position of power here, despite everything I’ve told you and everything that hashappened, but you are not. If you displease the king, he will take it out directly on your friends in the caves.”
My fists clench, and I recite the lessons the Enduares gave me. “Try to avoid making eye contact, be submissive, stay one step behind him if walking, and answer his questions directly, without adding my own opinion or conjecture about unrelated matters.”
“Well. Make yourself at least appear to be appealing,” he grumbles, and my cheeks heat at the insult. “Smile more, and all that.”
Molding myself into something agreeable, something happy to be here, feels like a task as hard as climbing uphill for a week straight.
One of the guards opens the coach’s door, and my companion gestures for me to exit first. I stand, slightly hunched, then make my way to the steps. The guard holds out his arm, and I use him to stabilize myself as I step down onto the uniform gray gravel.
Two rows of servants emerge from the palace and line either side of the entrance. I look at them, lightly confused when I realize there is no sign of Arion.
Thorne appears at my side, staring at me as I position my hands neatly in front of my body. I look over at him and see him assessing my posture with a hint of approval.
“Where is the king?” I ask him.
“Inside,” he responds, and then he walks forward, clearly expecting me to follow.
I do without another word, nodding as I pass the men and women who were sent to receive me.
Deep in my bones, something feels wrong. The bride of the king isn’t something to sniff at, so where are the courtiers meant to be greeting me? When I was first brought on the boat with Thorne, they had bowed. Treated me with respect.
Now I’m only awarded nods and blank stares.
“Are you excited to give the king the magic you used me to carry across the land?” I ask Thorne, voice low.