Chapter 44

The capitol is unlike anything I could have imagined. Stone walls encircle the city, shielding everything but rooftops from view. And the palace…it sits on a hill above all the rest, also made of stone with gold-capped spires that shine in the night, a beacon towering over the city below.

"That's your home," I say, trying to wrap my head around what it was like growing up in such opulence.

"When I was younger, yes. I haven't been back in over a year. Before that, nearly two when I was traveling with the army. I consider my home to be wherever my head lies these days."

She lived in a hovel, Hallis.

The time since I left Alaha is jumbled. I can't recount the days or weeks exactly, but it's been many since I had a place to call home. There are nights when I'd do just about anything to be back in that tiny room and lumpy bed.

The road widens to accommodate carriages and population. Buildings line the streets, curving outward from the entrance. They're gorgeous in their own right, made of stone but adorned with copper, exemplifying the gifts of their prince.

A small brigade awaits at the city gates to greet us. Iron and copper weave together in an arch stretching from either side of the wall, the posts manned by helmeted soldiers. They are the only soldiers who don't bend a knee at Acker's arrival.

"Greetings, prince," says one of the soldiers, dipping his head in acknowledgment. "I hope your travels were pleasant."

A snorting sound escapes me before I'm able to reel it in.

I can hear the smile in Acker's voice when he responds. "Pleasant enough, soldier. Do you have a briefing for me?"

"Yes, your highness. The city has been anticipating your arrival for days. The streets are a bit crowded, so your father sent a carriage to transport the princess in." He makes a motion toward the golden buggy loaded behind a team of horses.

"Not necessary," Acker says.

The soldier shuffles on his feet. "With all due respect, sir, your father—"

Acker cuts him off. "She'll ride with me."

The soldier heeds the statement, dipping his head and ordering the carriage to be sent to the palace.

"Beau and I will take the lead," Hallis says. "Send your men to the rear."

If he doesn't like that order, he doesn't voice it. Another soldier steps forward with a cloak. Acker reaches down to retrieve it, draping it around his shoulders and buttoning it at his collarbone. It's deep greenish-blue and made of velvet.

Acker leans in close, chest pressed to my back. "Ready?"

Taking a deep breath, I release it and nod. "As I can be, I suppose."

One of the guards blows a horn to announce our arrival, but it's unneeded. When we turn under the arched entrance, there's a clear view of the crowded streets teeming with people, overflowing into alleys and rooftops, more people than I've ever seen in my life. In open doors and windows, everywhere I look are the faces of strangers staring back at me.

Acker said it's customary for the city to greet the return of a monarch, but this feels excessive. The crowd's anxious chatter grows to a thundering cheer at the sight of their prince.

"All hail the prince!"

Their shouts and praises overlap as people celebrate Acker's homecoming, but their excitement dims at the sight of me. The cheers fall to dull whispers before descending into silence. People stare with wide eyes, mouths agape like I'm a dancing monster from the sea with eight legs and a hat parading through their city.

I'm grateful for Acker's ostentatious cape so I can hide the grip I have on his arm underneath its cover. He switches his hold on the reins to free up a hand so he can intertwine it with mine while out of view.

We come to a town center. Instead of a well, there's a statue as high as the building around it of a woman with her hands open to the sky. Water flows from between her fingers in a rainfall to the basin she's standing in. Children stand in the water, eyes wide and joyous as their prince parades through the city, not getting the message that something is amiss. They wave with cheeky smiles on full display.

Someone blows another horn, shushing the crowd once again. As if they've been reminded of their manners, they begin to bow, knees touching the cobblestone one at a time. Like a wave in the sea, heads and shoulders sink to the ground.

The silence is deafening.

That is until someone yells from deep in the crowd, "She's cursed!"

An exclamation of fear and dismay ripples through the people.

Another yells, "She only brings bad omens!"

Then another. And another. Then the damn breaks. Voices come from every side, fingers pointed at me. Telling me I'm not welcome, I'm evil, the prince is walking death into his city.

I can feel Acker growing more and more angry behind me. I keep a stronghold on his hand, half out of comfort and half out of fear of what he'll do if I don't.

The nearest lamplight goes out, and it incites the crowd. Hallis barks orders to the men to pick up the pace, but not before the next one goes dark, removing the beautiful orange glow that highlighted the street and buildings around it. Then the next goes out, and the next, and the next, like a river of darkness toward the palace in the distance until the city is pitched into its depths with only the light from the occasional open window and moon to see by.

Acker releases my hand as we move into a gallop toward the palace. Everything becomes a blur as I realize the reason the small town we spent the night in didn't have lamps lit: in opposition to me.

The iron gates of the palace are within view when a tomato is thrown at me. I lift an arm to shield myself from the rotten vegetable, but it breaks apart and splatters down my person. Beau is quick to rope the offender, metal whipping around his wrist to hold him in place until a royal guard is able to detain him, but the damage has been done.

My gift unfurls and ignites across my skin. I urge it to calm down, but it senses my fear and heart beating furiously in my chest and refuses to listen. The horde of angry citizens screech in fear. As fast as their mob mentality ensued, they scatter at the sight of my glowing skin.

With the road cleared, we're at least able to make it to the gate quicker. Cages hang from the iron posts, and upon a quick glance, it appears there are moving animals inside. We enter the palace's courtyard, and Acker yanks the reins to stop, leaping from the horse's back.

"Where's my father?" he demands, holding his hands out to catch me.

A guard adorned with a multitude of insignias on the lapel of his uniform steps to Acker's side. "He thought it best to wait inside."

Acker doesn't like his answer, but he keeps an arm around me as he ushers me toward the steps. The rest of the men step out of our way, but their eyes follow me. At the top step, I turn and look out over the courtyard. The iron gates at the entrance are now shut, the city's bravest standing with their faces against the bars as they continue to yell their outrage.

"Jovie," Acker says, gaining my attention. "Let's get inside."

Beau is nowhere to be seen. Hallis's gaze is downcast as I pass by, and I can't help but feel like he knew this was going to happen. I think they both did.

There's no time to dwell on my thoughts or the shaking of my hands when I cross the threshold of the front door of the palace. We walk the distance of a long hall, each step against the polished floor echoing like a ticking clock counting down. We enter another set of doors, and my gaze is drawn to the ceiling first, gold and shined to perfection, causing our reflections to peer back down at us from stories above. It's dizzying, and I'm quick to return my gaze forward. Columns line the room toward the staircase at the opposite side of the chamber, and I can't help but feel like the design is meant to make anyone who enters feel…less than.

Helmeted soldiers line the room, the hilts of their swords braced against their palms, pointing to the ground. Loitering before them are men I don't recognize, but by the finery of their clothes and jewels, I'm going to assume they are the king's council. Some of them may be lords, having traveled from their provinces to witness my arrival. It appears their wives and consorts will have a viewing as well.

I follow Acker's lead, stopping at the foot of the dais. I'm quickly abandoned when the king makes his appearance.

Stepping out from the hall behind, Acker's father is nothing like I expected. I'm not sure what I imagined, but the medium height and build of this man was not it. Handsome, yes, but average in every other way. His cloak, more ornate than Acker's, drags the ground as he steps forward.

Smiling wide, the expression so similar to Acker's it hurts to see another man wield it, he lifts his arms in an open embrace. "Son," he calls, voice melodic.

Acker's eyes beam as he ascends the throne, throwing his arms around his father's shoulders. Even though his father is smaller in stature, he exudes authority as he pulls back to look at his son .

"Feeling a little lean," he says, adjusting the cloak around Acker's shoulders. "How have you been, my boy?" Appearing more boyish than I've ever seen him before, Acker's cheeks turn a hint of pink under his father's appraisal. "I'm glad to be home."

The king nods. "Good, good." He ushers his son toward the twin thrones, gold and ornate and audacious in every way. Turning toward the parishioners, the king sweeps his cloak to the side, setting his eyes on me as he sits. "Kneel," he demands of the congregation.

A flurry of shuffling happens where every head and knee bend to the king's will. Looking to my left, I find Hallis on one knee, shorn hand braced atop the other. Acker remains standing before the throne beside his father. The silence is stifling.

I'm wholly alone before the stage. I look up at Acker, at a loss as to what is expected of me. He tilts his chin in answer, and distaste coats the back of my tongue as I drop my eyes to the marbled floor, my knees following right after, the stone bitingly cold through my pants.

There's a long period of waiting where the only sound I can hear is the beating of my heart and the thoughts racing through my mind. I dare to look up and watch as Acker takes his place on his designated throne.

Only then does the king give another order. "All rise."

There's a rush of opposite movement as everyone ascends. Well, everyone but myself. I remain on one knee. There's a look in Acker's eyes, a specific tip of his chin and sharpness in his gaze I've never witnessed before.

I've seen the soldier, seen the arrogance. I've seen the fighter and the annihilator of a man trained to kill without a second thought, and I've seen the caring protector. I've even seen the boy who was seeking his father's approval moments ago.

But this is the first time I've seen the predilection for power lurking underneath. Sitting upon a metal throne, surrounded by his liege, in a palace coated in gold. The abilities he has could ravage this building and everyone in it.

I've never been more scared of him than I am now. My chest nearly caves at the realization.

"Jovinnia," the king says, finally requesting my attention. "You're so gracious. Thank you. Please, stand."

As if I've been waiting for his permission, my body rises of its own accord. "Thank you, your highness," I say, proud of the steadiness with which I'm able to articulate those few words.

I tell myself to not look, but the eyes of the people standing on either side of the room draw me to them. After experiencing the wrath of the town's people, I'm expecting the same hostility from the parishioners, but what I'm not expecting is the laughter in many of the men's gazes, as if there's a joke I'm not clued in on.

The king brings my attention back to his position. "I can't articulate how ecstatic I am to see you alive and in one piece after all this time. You have grown to be a stunning woman."

I somehow manage to paste on a smile. "Thank you, your majesty."

There's a pause as he looks at me, dark eyes roving. Only then do I discover I'm still glowing. I attempt to cover the exposed skin of my arms with my hands, making the strangers giggle at my expense.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, princess. We all struggled to control our magic when it was new." His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, revealing the age behind his flawless skin. "I hope you accept my apology on behalf of my people. They can be overzealous at times."

I raise my eyebrows at his choice of description but keep my thoughts to myself. "All is forgiven."

Something in his smile tells me he doesn't quite believe me, but he bows his head in acceptance anyway. "That is very courteous of you." He looks at his son. "She makes a fine Heir."

Acker's returning grin is placating, eyes shifting from his father to me.

"Well, I'm sure you're exhausted after all your travels. Stassia," he calls, and a petite young woman appears from one of the neighboring rooms. "Will you escort Princess Jovinnia to her chamber?"

"Actually, father," Acker says, stepping forward. "Jovie and I would like council with you."

His father doesn't look away from me when he replies. "It has been a trying day, son. We must offer our guests time to rest. I'm sure it's nothing that can't wait for dinner."

I look to Acker for guidance, and he nods once, albeit with chagrin. Stassia, the waiting maidservant, motions for me to follow her. I struggle to make my eyes leave Acker, to make my feet move away from Hallis's presence, but somehow I do as I'm told.

I follow the girl out of the court, pretending the stares on my back aren't as harsh as they feel. We come to a staircase that branches off into two directions. We take the left, venturing down the main hall until it dead-ends into another sharp left. The same gold from the court's ceiling trims the doors and handles. Ornate rugs run the entire length of the hallway, and I feel terrible for walking on it with my boots.

Stassia, the young girl, stops in front of one of the doors. She speaks a breath above a whisper. "This will be your accommodations."

She opens the door for me to enter first and takes a step back as I pass. I'm fairly sure her hands are shaking, but I pretend not to notice.

The room is bigger than any shiels in Alaha, including that of the captain. Decadent is the only word I can think of to describe the rich tapestries and decorated walls, the oversized bed covered in downs and pillows, and the etched glass door that leads to a terrace outside.

"There's a bathing chamber just through that door," Stassia says from the threshold of the entryway. "I'll send up some soaps as well as a change of clothes. There's a bell if you need assistance." She points to the rope hanging from the ceiling beside the bed.

I don't get my full thanks out of my mouth before she leaves, shutting the door in her wake. Standing in the middle of the room, I take in my surroundings, afraid to touch anything for fear of soiling it.

As opulent as everything is, I find it all very grotesque.

The palace alone rivals the size of all of Alaha. The town is ten times as large, and I've never felt more alone. Fear and uncertainty threaten to push moisture to my eyes, but I chase it down with the reminder that I'm here for a reason. Many reasons. And there's no room for pity .

I decide it best to remove my boots before crossing the room to get to the terrace. Fresh air breezes in when I step outside. The city beyond the palace's walls remains dark, but all seems quiet on the streets below.

It's only in my mind where their hatred continues to echo.