Relinquish(82)

“It was a beautiful song,” I say.

Drakon’s cheeks are flushed as he turns back to glare at me. “It’s forbidden to sing it. Treason by penalty of death.”

“For a song?”

“No.” He shakes his head and raises his hand out before him, pointing ahead of us. “For what it stands for.”

I follow the length of his arm and come to a halt. Before me, a giant palace looms behind a towering stone wall. A massive gate resides at the end of this street, blocking our path. Drakon calls out and the gates begin to swing open. A group of men dressed in cloaks of royal purple rush forward and form a line directly behind me. Large, curved swords of gold, silver, and bronze are drawn, their backs toward us to face off with the crowd.

More guards line up on the other side of the gate. Towering spiked spears rise beside them, clutched in gloved hands. On their other side, I see shields of hammered metal held aloft by leather-like straps. I can’t imagine what Drakon thinks I need protection from, but I remain silent and we walk beneath the gates.

Although no less beautiful than the city below, a chill seems to lie over this land. Sweeping grounds lie before me, rising ever so steadily toward the palace. “Why are the walls so high?” I ask. “Is there some beast that roams your lands that would seek to harm your king?”

Drakon appraises me before speaking. “There are always enemies seeking to gain access to the palace. If you think this is impressive, just wait until you see the palace.”

“I can’t wait. Oh, never mind,” I reply sourly. “I can.”

He smirks and shoves me forward. There is a guard on either side of each step as we rise toward the palace. Each bows low as I pass. This sign of undeserved reverence grates on my nerves. Do these people actually think I came here of my own free will?

As my foot touches the top step, I gasp, taken aback by the strange animals roaming about the perfectly manicured lawn. Bird-like creatures with four wings, two heads, and feathers of the purest silver flap about. Water fountains glisten with crimson waters. Beyond the edges of the palace, I can see great purple mountain peaks. Streams of water flow down toward the palace, entering through small grated holes into a pond that ripples peacefully in the sunlight.

A multitude of flowers are in full bloom, their aroma enticing and heady. Trees of green and blue shade the grounds, their star-like leaves dancing in the breeze.

“These Eltalik are rather tame animals.” Drakon points to a black feline that looks dangerously similar to a panther.

“Rather tame?” I question as one rolls onto its back and yawns, bearing sharp white teeth.

“Well… they have been known to take a hand or two from time to time. It is rather rare, though.” Drakon grins down at me. His threat delivered with silky poison.

I smirk and stretch out my hand to brush the soft fur of the nearest cat. “My kind of animal.”

I can feel it purring beneath my hand, rumbling through its chest. Drakon scowls and yanks me away. His fingers dig into my arm, but I do not protest. If he is fool enough to leave a mark on my arm when I’m presented to Aloysius, the better it will be for me.

My heels seem to echo upon the stone steps as we begin our final climb up to the stone palace. Its walls are veined like marble, appearing to have been mined from pure gold. The palace shimmers as the sun shifts from behind a cloud, snatching away my breath.

Drakon was right. This is beautiful. From the towering stone archways, with their intricate architecture, to the two-story gossamer fabric that drapes from the ceiling, billowing beautifully in the wind. Everything shines; everything glistens.

How can such a vile man live in a place of such exquisite beauty?

With each step I take, I turn inward, wishing I’d a chance to say good-bye to Eamon. I can’t bear the thought of him living a life without ever knowing he is not alone in the world, or that I do truly love him.

And Bastien… I can’t even bear to think about him as I pause before two enormous doors. They appear to be made of bone, although I can’t imagine how that would be possible. An intricate scrolled pattern weaves across the surface, making it hard to see the crack of the door until it swings inward, admitting us to the inner foyer.

I stare in amazement as two men, as tall and well-built as Gorgan, strain to open the doors, pushing them back until they nearly disappear against the whites of the wall. As I glimpse the interior of the palace for the first time, I wonder if I will ever stop gasping in wonder at new sights.

Large stone archways break off in either direction, forming hallways and vaulted entries to rooms beyond. A large sweeping balcony before me hangs over the foyer, where people can stand and look down upon new arrivals. The ceiling is draped with curtains of deep purple, attached every few feet to create the illusion of a flowing wave. The walls are papered in gold. Chandeliers, crafted with white stones the size of my fist and smaller opaque stones, hang overhead.