“No, never. I just think you could have been a bit more…” He bobs his head. “Tactful.”
I snort. “That’s a tall order.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he says, giving me that disapproving stare that makes me just as defensive as it did when we were children.
“You weren’t kneeling, either,” I retort. “Neither was Amara.”
“Yet no one noticed us.” He chuckles dryly. “They never notice us when you’re around.”
“I’m well aware,” I hiss, jerking my arm free and rushing past, irritated he would say something like that when he knows how much I hate the attention.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mea-”
“I haven't heard one kind word about the Queen since we stepped foot in this godsawful city,” I say, rounding on him. “The humans despise her. Her people are terrified of her. Even her own children seem to dislike her.”
“It does appear that way, doesn’t it?”
I roll my eyes at his agreeable response and tilt my chin upward, scrutinizing the massive palace overlooking all Seboia.
The opaque, crystal castle glows with a metallic sheen beneath the sparse light of the two moons. Turrets topped with starlight encrusted gold domes feature stained glass windows depicting Cascadonia’s devout representation of the gods embedded within. But all these towers are insignificant in comparison to the colossal domed pillar looming above all the rest. So high, it pierces straight through the clouds as if trying to slice through the veil that separates this realm from the rest.
Beneath the arched dome shrouded in even more extravagant, lush jewels than its neighbors is an open archway that houses the true focal point: a royal blue sapphire the size of a house, hovering magically within an open archway. It's the largest, most lavish, most ethereal jewel I’ve ever seen. So sublime, it must have been gifted by the gods themselves. For no object of such opulent divinity could have possibly originated from this realm.
It's captivating and enchanting, and after striding beside citizens with dirty, hole-ridden clothing, it's absolutely revolting.
Nauseated at the repugnant sight, I grimace and motion toward the blinding eyesore. “She sits in her beautiful castle, eating the richest foods and wearing the finest gowns, yet she does nothing to better her kingdom.”
An older man bumps my shoulder, followed by a mumbled apology as he speeds past with a small boy and girl. Their clothing is patched and worn but fortunately clean, and the man's face is lined in exhaustion as he hurriedly maneuvers his family through the foot traffic. A splash of color catches my eye, and I see three females oohing and ahhing over an extravagant bracelet, garbed in gowns better suited to a ballroom than a leisurely evening stroll. I consider the glaring differences between the gaggle of females and the human family as I watch the wealthy immortals gossip and laugh, while the man – along with his children – appear to be in need of a good meal and a decades-long nap.
“When I saw her looking down her nose at the very same people she's meant to serve and protect, while they worship her as if she was a goddess, as if she is entitled to their reverence all because she wears a crown on her head…” My lips tighten. “I couldn't submit to someone like that. Even if it was only an act.”
Tristan blows out an exasperated breath. “Of course you couldn't.”
Fisting my hands at my sides, I grit my teeth. “It's not right, Tristan.”
“I know,” he says with a gentle smile. A street light flares with Gods Light as we pass Rory's Swords and Daggers, casting the swirls on Tristans’s cheek in a silverish light. “I know it's unlike you to stand by if you see others being mistreated. Or to remain silent otherwise.”
I cringe at his teasing, recalling my slip of the tongue to Darius at Aurora's shop, and of course, the more dire of issues. “I may have made a small mistake,” I admit sheepishly.
“A small mistake?” Tristan drawls.
“Very small. Tiny.” I pinch my fingers together. “Practically nonexistent.”
Tristan eyes me warily. “What is this nonexistent mistake you think you made?”
I glance to my sides, searching for anyone near enough to overhear our discussion, but the number of citizens traveling by foot have depleted dramatically. The remaining walkers are now no longer clumped together, but spread out as their fellow travelers arrive at their nightly destinations, conveniently out of earshot.
I feel Tristan branding me with his gaze and clear my throat, feeling as if a stone has lodged itself there. “I formed a bond with Darius.”
Tristan stumbles over his feet. “A bond.” Slowly straightening, he blinks. “A bond like the one we share? Like you have with Amara and Zander?”
“No,” I reply, and his shoulders slump in relief. “Those are weak. This one’s much stronger than ours.”
His lips flatten. “Lena, that's not a small mistake. That's a huge mistake. One of epic, monstrous proportions. It's probably the worst thing you could’ve possibly done.”
He’s going to kill me.
“That's not all,” I mumble, chewing on my bottom lip.
He growls, not as rumbling or deep as Darius’, but just as terrifying, given the situation. “What did you do?”
“It's not that bad.”
“Lena!”
Avoiding his gaze, I stare up ahead at The Early Bird Inn. “Darius caught me in a lie.”
“Godsdamnit, Lena.” He scrubs his face. “Have you lost your mind?”
“My mind’s still intact, thank you!” I snap. The vein in his temple begins to throb and his mark darkens. Not good, not good at all. I should probably tone it down a bit. “Before you lose it, the lie just tumbled out by accident. And as for the bond? I have no idea how I did it.”
Tristan exhales a long, calming breath. So long, I can see his chest concave with the effort. “How can you not know?”
“I didn’t initiate it.” I shrug. “It just appeared.”
Shoulders beginning to relax at a new puzzle to solve, he continues forward, pivoting towards the inn. “I didn’t know that was possible. Has Darius said anything?”
“I don’t think he has any idea what it is, and I’ve seen no evidence of bonds in this realm. He may not even realize they exist.”
