25. Cyara

Cyara knew what Veyka wanted this place to be. Salvation, refuge. But that was not what she had seen as she trailed her queen through the narrow halls and winding staircases of Eilean Gayl, up to their chambers. They had been placed at the very top of the tower. One look out the windows was enough to confirm—no easy way in or out. Either for their protection, or to trap them.

Dressed in another female's gown, a dove gray silk in the restrictive terrestrial style, Cyara followed Veyka into the corridor. Guards were positioned at the end of the hall on either side, but not directly at their doors. She was sure Lyrena had already noticed, but she tucked the observation away for later, just in case.

Veyka took one look at the guard, the narrow hallway and even narrower staircase—she had to turn sideways to fit her wide hips up the stairwell—and turned back to Cyara with that wicked smile in place. "How about we go a different way?"

Cyara rolled her eyes, but accepted Veyka's proffered hand. The queen winked at the soldier over Cyara's shoulder, and then they were gone.