The others stand, whispering goodbyes and well wishes before they follow behind Olivier. Elidyr gives me a sympathetic smile as he passes and Theon squeezes my shoulder before he pushes back his chair and exits the room.
I remain seated, fuming. Sucking on my teeth, I push off the table, all but knocking my chair back as I rise to my feet. It's only when I turn to leave, that I realize I'm not alone.
“Sit. Down,” Queen Adelphia orders.
Godsdamn it!
Having no patience for her castigation, I plop myself unceremoniously back into my seat.
“You disobeyed me.”
Hearing the angry timbre to her tone, my gaze darts to hers and I finally see how apoplectic she is. Usually, I would take steps to appease her, but she's not the only person livid at the moment.
She rises from her crystal throne, her heels clicking and gown whispering across the polished floor as she moves towards the spirits, pouring herself a drink. With her back facing me, she lifts the crystal tumbler to her lips and sips in silence.
“Theon already spoke to me about your concerns,” she says after several minutes, whirling to face me, “and I decided we would keep this matter private until I could assess the situation further.”
“The attack today escalated the severity of the situation,” I argue.
With glass in hand, she glides around the table, every step graceful and regal. “You should have spoken to me about it beforehand. You don’t have the authority to speak of such issues without my consent.” She arches her blonde brows disapprovingly. “Did I give you permission?”
“There was no time,” I bite out, refusing to cower beneath her arctic stare. “I came directly from patrol.”
“Your attire and lateness suggest otherwise.” Pursing her lips, she wraps one arm around her waist, the other raising her glass half handedly near her cheek. “Regardless, I ordered you to keep quiet on the matter. You did not. Not only that, you spoke when the only people allowed to speak during the Kings Council are royalty and their heirs.”
Hearing the click of my jaw as I grind my teeth, I remind her, “I have royal blood.”
“How could I possibly forget that?” she sneers, but only for a moment. For in the next, her expression falls, her gaze roaming my face. “You have his face, you know. Not an exact replica, but near enough.” She takes a sip of her drink, glowering at me over the rim. “Especially your eyes. When I look into your eyes, all I see is him.” Curling her lip, she tosses her head back, draining the contents of her glass.
I'm well aware you rarely ever look at me, and when you do it's with hatred and derision.
She ambles toward the window, peering out at the two moons in a now darkened sky. “Increase the patrol and get a handle on the situation. I will not be thought of as weak.”
Recognizing my dismissal, I bow with a visible sneer and say with as much venom in my voice as she offered to me, “Of course, Mother.”
Turning my back on her, I stride towards the door and open it. Just as I’m stepping over the threshold, but before I shut the door behind me, I hear her parting comment.
“And Captain? If you ever disobey me again, I'll strip you of your command and banish you from the palace.”
Chapter 2Lena
Shielding my eyes from the retreating sun, I scan the colossal white wall surrounding the entirety of Cascadonia’s capital city. With pristine white graphite rising several hundred spans high and a massive iron gate embedded within, the circular wall enshrouds all of Seboia in a blanket of stone. An impenetrable fortress no soul would dare to venture into without invitation. Unless, like myself, you had no other choice.
“It's so tall,” Zander says from atop his brown stallion, his green eyes widened in awe. With shoulder length blonde hair, a large muscled build, and a single copper jewel beneath both brows and a starlight jewel at the corner of each eye, there's no other way to describe the shifter male as anything but gorgeous. Even while he gapes at the monstrous wall like he’s no more than a drooling simpleton. “I can’t even see the top.”
“It looks like a prison,” I grumble.
A stone prison. A dungeon. A tomb. I haven't even stepped foot within the city and I can already feel the walls closing in on me, burying me alive.
Lungs constricting at the thought, I search in vain for the peaks of the Mandala Mountains I know lay beyond, but I find neither that nor the heart of the forest the city is nestled within. Only when I tear my gaze from the stone city to the border where Cascadonia ends do I find where the forest begins.
Filled with oaks and maples topped with rust-colored leaves, the thousands of years-old trees shelter the forest as far as the eye can see. A breeze slips between their branches and the leaves rustle in delight. The wind picks up, a whoosh sounding in my ears as the gale reels the branches back with its might, the canopy parting with open arms to reveal the lush brush carpeting the forest floor, an invitation to bask in its peaceful embrace. But the woodland's welcome is deceptive. Trickery. Its beauty is nothing but an illusion to disguise the dangers that lurk within.
The Cursed Woods.
I've heard quite a few tales about the forbidden forest and its Soulless inhabitants. Squinting my eyes, I search through the wide trunked trees for its fabled residents, but find nothing besides fallen leaves and broken branches. I hum to myself, finding it odd not to find a single one of the Gods Cursed’s creations when on our travels here, they refused to give us a moment's peace. We tried our best to avoid them, but the mountains and forest we passed through on our travels here were crawling with them. At least they were, until we were about a day out from Seboia and the Soulless just disappeared. The suddenness of it was jarring. One moment we were surrounded by the demons, the next, they were gone, seemingly vanished into thin air. It’s as if there was some invisible border we breached that they could not cross.
We already had to be watchful of the guards once we neared Cascadonia’s borders, but we were doubly so considering the Soulless’ unusual behavior. Between that and the patrolling guards, we were all on edge when we reached the outlying village. Fortunately, we were able to sneak in without the guards detecting our presence, and our story was accepted without question. Another stroke of luck, as I doubt they'd be as welcoming to a party traveling from Brecca.
Returning my gaze to my fellow companions, I can't help but laugh at the diverse expressions crossing their faces.
Amara’s whiskey-colored eyes watch the awestruck shifter in wide eyed bafflement. The lean but muscular woman with brown, chin length, angled hair sits atop her massive black stallion. Wearing a black leather vest and matching trousers, she could easily be mistaken for a warrior goddess. That is, if you didn’t notice the anomaly of the singular starlight jewel beside only one eye.
A horse nudges my own as its black-haired owner stares at Zander, annoyance twisting the swirled marking on his pale cheek. Wearing a royal blue tunic beneath a black leather vest and matching leather trousers, there's not a spot of dust on Tristan. Unfortunately, the rest of us can't say the same. Covered head to toe in dirt, dust, and whatever other ungodly substances the forest excretes, I'll be scrubbing myself for weeks to rid myself of this stench.
Tristan's brown eyes veer to me, and I laugh even harder when he gestures between Zander and me as if I could possibly move us along quicker. He may get frustrated with the curious, silly male, but I find him to be highly entertaining.
Lips turning down into a frown, Tristan trots his brown stallion up beside Zander’s, peering up at the object of his fascination.
“Well,” Tristan shrugs, “it is a wall.”
“But how did it get so tall?” Zander asks, unmoving from his position.
“It was built that way,” Amara says slowly.
Blowing out a raspberry, Zander’s irritated gaze snaps to hers. “Of course it was built that way, but how?”
“You act as if you've never seen a wall before!” Amara shouts, tossing her arms up.
