“Not one that tall.” He jabs a finger outward. “How did they even build it?”
Knowing this discussion could last for eons, I glance down at my hands covered from knuckle to forearm with my leather vambraces, and pull the reins to signal to my white mare to continue on the dirt road toward the city gates.
“Probably by using those with strong Nature and Air Gifts,” Tristan explains, now trotting his black stallion beside mine, the others following on his other side.
“They'd have to lift the rocks all the way to the top and float someone up just as high.” Zander shakes his head. “No one from this land has enough power to do that. And who would want to? No one willingly.” He bobs his head, reconsidering. “A slave would, of course. They’d have no choice.” He sucks in a breath, his green eyes widening. “Do they have slaves?”
Amara groans. “Vanyimar outlawed slavery generations ago and we’ve not heard even a whisper of them acting otherwise. So what would make you think that this kingdom would defy this law?"
“Because no one sane would be willing to fly that high!” Zander sputters. “They'd have to force them. I bet they have slaves.” He looks at me, his lips curling downward into a pout. “Do they, Lena?”
He looks like a wounded puppy.
“I doubt it,” I reply, my heart beginning to drum beneath my breast the closer we get to the gates.
“I hope not. I’d make an awful slave,” he notes.
“I think you’d make a wonderful slave,” Tristan teases. “You're strong and can shapeshift. They could use you as a mule.”
Zander gasps. “I would never shift into a mule!”
“No, he's too pretty for that.” Amara smirks. “They'd make him a whore. With your good looks, you'd be a favorite.”
Zander places a palm to his chest, appearing as if he might shed a tear. “Aww, that's sweet.”
Amara blinks slowly. “Fuck, you’re stupid.”
“How dare you?!”
“He’s not stupid,” I toss over my shoulder. “He just didn't hear anything besides he's too pretty.”
“Thank you, Lena,” Zander says with a haughty raise of his chin.
Sweat dots my brow when we reach the arched iron gate. My breathing becomes labored as we pass beneath the stone archway. A desperate longing urges me to join those rushing past us with the slowly darkening sky. I glance warily at the wall to my left, then to my right. My breaths become harsher as I imagine the white walls contracting around me, suffocating me, inching towards me until I’m pinned in like the rest of these fools.
Like a pig to a slaughter.
Feeling as if I'm a hair's breadth away from snapping, I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head back. Staying that way for a long moment, I finally slide my lids open and breathe a sigh of relief once I see red, orange, and pink brushes painting the vast sky above.
Not entirely caged.
Once my heart begins to slow, I return my attention forward and my gaze veers to the guards loitering ahead. Slowing, I reach for the hood of my cloak and tug it over my head to shield my eyes and the top half of my face, hoping the act will draw less attention to ourselves.
The guards laugh and jest with one another, but their eyes remain vigilant in their inspection of each person leaving and entering the city. One guard’s stare drifts towards us. When his smile turns into a frown and he begins striding towards us, I know he’s going to be an issue.
Tugging at the hem of my hood, I check to make sure that my face is properly concealed, then pull ahead of the others. Careful to keep my eyes downward as I inspect the jewels near the corner of the guard’s eye, I try to recall the differences between races in this land.
This guard has jewels near the outer corner of his eyes, so he can't be a human because they aren’t born with them. Neither can he be fae, since his ears aren’t sharpened and he doesn’t have the same jeweled markings known to their race, a single-colored jewel at the outer corner of both eyes. With rounded ears as well as an aquamarine and starlight jewel near the corner of each eye, I confirm he’s an immortal. Or judging off the aquamarine jewels, he’s more precisely a Water immortal. Which means he’s not gifted by the gods with only a single Gift like the fae, but is blessed with the primary four: Nature, Water, Fire, and Air. The aquamarine jewel signifies his Water power as his most dominant Gift.
Grateful I don't have to deal with one of the less common shifter immortals’ heightened senses or even a shifter fae, I command my horse to a stop once the guard is only a few paces away.
“Are you citizens of Cascadonia?” he asks, glancing at each of us in turn.
I shake my head. “No, just visiting.”
He squints and ducks down, attempting to peer beneath my hood. My knuckles whiten around my mare’s reins in response.
“Why is your hood up?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone as he ducks lower. “Is there a reason you don’t wish to show your face?”
“My only wish is to not look upon yours,” I snap without thought.
His face hardens and he straightens. “Remove your hood.”
So much for not calling attention to myself.
Jaw hardening, I jerk my hood back. My fingers rip at my wavy, raven locks as they unfurl from my cloak, and I brace myself for his reaction as I slowly lift my gaze to his.
His eyes widen and he sucks in an audible breath, immovable as his gaze sweeps across my face. My lips, my cheeks, my eyes, the strange markings dotting my brows and eyelids.
Gasps sound behind him as the other guards finally take notice of my unusual features and I stiffen even more. My skin crawls at their oily, perverse thoughts.
“Happy now?” I ask, baring my teeth in a smile.
His throat bobs on a swallow. “Yes…I'm…uh… very pleased.”
Amara stills off to the side, her lip curled in derision as Zander and Tristan's horses trot up beside my own.
“You'll find no pleasure here,” Tristan says, his tone cold and threatening.
