Chapter 15

UNA

A bellowing horn sounded from the palace parapet in the distance. It had been nearly two weeks since the night in the encampment, and since Goll had delivered me back to the palace before returning without a single word to me.

I suppose I understood why he thought it important to make the journey on horseback to Silvantis, the capital city of Northgall. It was a way to show his loyal soldiers and his people he was one of them.

But he wasn't. He was not a common soldier or simply a wraith fae warrior. He was set apart as one of their royal line, touched by dragonblood.

From where I stood on the steps of the Temple of Vix, I saw Drakmir circle the palace spires. He'd been circling it ever since I'd been returned to it, no longer keeping his king company on the road. I wondered if Goll had ordered Drakmir to watch over me or if perhaps my own strange magick was calling to him. When I first touched him, I tried to reach out with the power that had replaced my healer's magick, but he seemed to block me from entering his mind. No other winged beings had done that before. But a dragon was a highly intelligent creature.

Hava stood next to me on the top terrace of the temple. There was a semi-circle of steps leading to the wide, white-stoned terrace and entrance to the temple—a sharp contrast to the temple made of the same black obsidian as the palace. The priestesses stood quietly on the semicircle of steps, facing the street.

"They'll be coming right up that road any minute," Hava whispered to me, pointing to the main street funneling into the city from the south.

She didn't need to tell me. I could hear them. The clopping of hooves on stone and the cheers from the wraith fae filling the streets of Silvantis told me of the approach of their king and his returning army.

To my left stood the two-story black marble statue of their mighty god, the four-horned Vix, riding his dragon named Silvantis. The namesake of the city. Vix held his sword aloft, swinging it wide as if in battle, their fierce defender and most sacred god.

The noise and cheers grew louder. Then they entered the wide square surrounding the temple, and my breathing faltered.

Goll rode a giant of a beast—a black Pellasian stallion with a long mane. He rode at the front with his second Soryn on one side and the scarred one, Keffa, on the other. While the throng bellowed his name, his gaze found me instantly and held.

I remained still, chin held high, as he came to a stop, dismounted, and ascended the steps, walking past the high priestess and the others toward me. They all dipped a curtsy as he passed.

More cheers erupted as he came into view of the people on the streets. I waited, watching him draw nearer, but I did not curtsy. While the anger still simmered under my skin, I wasn't ready to bow to my king. But I remained poised while he looked his fill.

I wore one of my high-necked gowns due to the colder weather here. It was a deep royal blue, the color of my family crest.

Goll's mouth ticked up in that annoyingly smug smile. "Hello, Una. Have you fared well in my absence?"

"Indeed, I have. I hardly noticed you were gone."

His smile widened as he strode away from me to meet the high priestess and another priestess now standing before the statue of Vix.

The priestess next to the head held a red velvet pillow in her upturned palms. Golden cuffs set atop the pillow. Like the others, she wore a gossamer black gown with loose sleeves, her silver headdress a transparent veil over her long, black hair, her four gray horns spiraling backward in an elegant swoop.

"Welcome home, Prince Gollaya," said the high priestess.

I glanced at Hava with a frown, wondering if she had insulted Gollaya.

Hava shook her head and leaned close to whisper, "It is his proper title, but that is about to change."

She pointed back to them. Gollaya knelt before the high priestess. The crowd shushed instantly as she took the golden cuffs and turned toward the statue of Vix, raising them above her horned head. Her silver veil slipped to her shoulders as she spoke to the sky.

"By the authority of Vix whose might and power sanctifies me to bestow this crown, I call upon his sacred blessing."

She turned to face Gollaya who still knelt on one knee, his profile grave and undeniably beautiful.

"I hereby crown you, Gollaya Verbane," she slipped the cuffs onto his two larger horns, sliding them to where they fit perfectly at the base, "King of the people of Northgall, and the first wraith king of the people of Lumeria." The high priestess smiled as she added that title.

While the crowd erupted into roaring applause and cheers, my gut tightened and I swayed with nausea. Hava gripped my hand and smiled up at me with sympathy. Though Hava looked nothing like my moon fae friend Min, she reminded me of her all the same. Min always knew when I needed comfort or a compassionate touch. I squeezed her hand back then let it go and faced forward as Gollaya rose, officially their newly crowned king.

He bowed his head to the high priestess then he turned to the other priestess.

"Welcome home, my king," she said, clasping her delicate hands in front of her as she dipped into a deep curtsy and held.

"Thank you, High Oracle Dalya. Rise."

She stood with all the poise of a high-born wraith fae.

"Who is she?" I asked Hava.

"That's Dalya. She's a soul-seer. She has been his seer in hiding since he returned to Silvantis a year ago. She will now be High Oracle to the king. A very important role."

"It is good to see you home and healthy, my king," she said with genuine affection and a warm smile, which she then turned to me. "Will you introduce me, Sire?" She nodded in my direction.

Goll turned and strode toward me beside her.

"Dalya of Dravencourt, High Oracle of Silvantis, this is Tiarrialuna Elzabethanine Hartstone. My mizrah."

Dalya curtsied.

I did so in return. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Oracle Dalya." I could be polite, even while my heart was breaking at the realization that Lumeria was now lost to the king, my pseudo-husband, in front of me.

"And you, Mizrah."

She seemed genuinely pleased to meet me.

"I hoped that perhaps you can be a guide to her," he said to Dalya. "As she adjusts to her new life here in Northgall."

"Of course, Sire. And when should I plan for the Rite of Servium?" Dalya asked, turning her golden gaze up to him.

"Three days."

I stiffened, not ever having heard of this rite, but sensing its importance.

Dalya blinked in surprise. "That is soon. Should we not give the princess time to acclimate, to prepare—"

"Three, Dalya," he declared sharply and a bit too familiarly when speaking to an oracle in public.

"As you wish, Sire." She bowed as Goll placed a hand at the center of my back and urged me forward beside him.

The people of Silvantis erupted again as he guided me at his side to face the crowd. I couldn't help but glance up at him, noting the pride on his face. He'd gotten what he wanted. The crown, both kingdoms, and apparently me.

As we descended the steps and he urged me toward his horse, I knew that I was merely a pawn in his plans, to secure his reign over Lumeria, and future reign through our child, his heir. But wished I was more than a means to an end, that my life was worth more to him than being his breeder.

Without even asking, he wrapped his hands around my waist from behind and lifted me to sit sideways on his saddle. I grabbed the pommel to balance myself as he hoisted himself behind me. Then he turned his steed toward the road leading to N?kt Mir.

"You could wave to the people, Una," he whispered in my ear as they cheered when we passed. "It wouldn't hurt you to be cordial to them."

"They aren't cheering for me. This is your kingdom, not mine."

He exhaled a breath of frustration, and we were quiet the rest of the way to the palace.

While the entrance to the fortress of the Palace of Black Glass was intimidating with the steep drop on either side into what was once the crater of the volcano Vixet Krone, in the distance there were lush blue-leaved trees. Esher was the name I'd discovered from Hava.

Eshers only grew in Northgall, their shiny blue leaves thick and silvery, glistening under the mid-day sun. And though the sun was currently covered by a gray pall, there was light enough to see that the esher woodland behind the palace was incredibly beautiful.

I'd been curious about them because I'd never seen white trunks with peeling bark before. And because I associated those naked white trees with my escape from this place, like sentinels guarding us as we fled Northgall, the sight of them gave me hope. I smiled.

The swift clip-clopping of horses' hooves trotting up behind us had me turning to see Soryn, Keffa with Hava riding behind him on his horse, and a number of the Culled catching up to us, including Meck and Ferryn. They fell in line as we wound the sinuous path up to another gate.

The road ahead ended where a giant gap dropped into the terrifying chasm below. Goll pulled our mount to a stop.

A crank sounded, and the black iron gate opened as a bridge slowly lowered.

A deep, loud horn bellowed from somewhere high in the palace, echoing across the keep, announcing their king's return. Goll led the others across the iron bridge. The guards saluted their king from the watch towers at the top of the gate on either side.

I had no idea what to expect from his people here in Silvantis. His warriors had treated me with nothing but respect. So far, I'd received wary, watchful gazes from the villagers.

As we wound closer to the palace, now inside the keep, the rocky obsidian gave way to vegetation. I was even surprised to see manicured shrubs and grass spreading wide around the back of the palace. Apparently, it was only the entrance that was dressed to intimidate visitors.

My gaze followed the lines of the palace, the intricate and ornate spires, sweeping lines stretching toward the sky. The windows were arched to a point with decorative designs—wraith fae, nymphs, and sprites amongst vines and trees.

The front entrance and doorway were wide enough for ten fae males to walk through side by side, and the stone steps were gray marble leading up to black doors decorated with carvings of a wraith king. No, it looked more like the statue of their god Vix in front of their temple, his dragon carved on one side of him. On the other was a beautiful fae with pointed ears. Was that his main consort, Mizrah? It must be.

I frowned, confused why they'd acknowledge her on the palace door. After all, she wasn't his queen, only the female he chose to bear his children.

Standing at the foot of the front were seven wraith fae in a long line. They were draped in robes of black, gray, and red silk, varying in design and ornamentation, but their formal attire united them as one.

There were four male and three female, all with four horns except one female, who had two. I'd never discovered why some dark fae had four and some had two, but I was determined to discover the difference and what it meant, if anything.

Goll dismounted quickly then gripped me around the waist and set me on my feet before turning quickly to his council. Then he held out his arm. Stretching my wings tall, I set my hand on his proffered arm and allowed him to guide me to the waiting robed ones.

"Welcome back, my king ," he declared, seeming to recognize his crowned horns. The four-horned male with pale yellow eyes at the head of the line. He was striking with a full head of gray hair that hung long past his shoulders. He bowed as did all the others, pressing a fist to their chests to salute him.

"Thank you, Bozlyn." Goll held himself tall at my side, but he dipped a bow to him in greeting and then to the rest. "And thank you, everyone, for welcoming my return. May I present to you, Tiarrialuna Elzabethanine Hartstone. My mizrah."

They stared in curiosity.

"Hello," was all I managed to say, proud that I could keep my voice steady and strong.

They all dipped their heads in greeting, not in a deep bow as they had with their king, except one male who did not. He had streaks of gray hair at his temples and fierce red eyes, his top fangs longer than most of his kind. "Not officially your mizrah yet, my king."

Goll's arm stiffened beneath my fingers but outwardly he seemed calm when I glanced up at him. I heard the Culled dismounting and lining up behind us. Meck and Ferryn took a forward position to my right.

Wraith fae magick buzzed in our small circle. It was distinctly different than light fae magick which felt ethereal like a brush of gentle, summer wind. Wraith fae magick bore an undercurrent of aggression and dominance, almost like the warning lash of a whip in the air.

I held perfectly still, taking deep breaths as the tension mounted.

Goll dropped his arm, and my hand fell away as he took eerily slow steps down the line to stand directly in front of the one who'd spoken out. Goll was taller, broader, more muscular, and obviously of higher rank, but the demon fae stared back with menacing challenge as his king spoke cool words to him.

"The rites will take place in three days' time, Kellock. Officially. Until that time and thereafter, she will be treated with the respect of any mizrah."

Suddenly, I recognized him. He was one of those in the throne room when Goll killed his father.

Kellock's eyes narrowed, his face tightening as he scoffed, "An Issosian royal?"

"If the council would like to present their opposition to my decision in securing our kingdom's rightful reign over Lumeria, then bring it up at Council, Kellock." Goll stepped even closer to him, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. "But it won't fucking matter. I am your new king. And the treaty has been signed."

Kellock's gaze flicked to me, a sinister flash, but he said nothing.

The magick in the air wound tighter, sending my pulse racing. The silence only exacerbated the mounting rage emanating from Goll.

"I suggest," said Goll with chilling calm, "that you get used to the idea, as it is as good as done."

"And if I don't?" he brazenly argued.

"Then you will step down from my council."

Kellock huffed a disgusted breath, baring his teeth. "I will refuse. You cannot force me."

"But I can put your head on a pike at the front gate," snapped Goll.

A dreadful quiet swept over everyone. No one moved. Not even the horses, it seemed. The one who'd stood at the head of the line, Bozlyn, said softly, "Kellock will fall in line, sire."

Goll was locked on Kellock, who finally let his gaze drop to the stone floor. Only then did Goll take a step back. "See that he does," he growled for all to hear. "See that my wishes are obeyed, or there will be dire consequences."

Then he turned to me and held out his arm again as if he hadn't just threatened to behead his councilman.

I realized quickly that Goll ruled with an iron fist and a bloody blade. The fact made me cringe inwardly. I'd thought his men respected him, but perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps only fear made them bow so deeply and obey his every command. How many heads had he put on pikes to accomplish such a feat while I'd been imprisoned in my palace bedchamber? How many more would I have to witness in my life here in Silvantis?

While my pulse raced, I kept my features calm as he guided me up the gray marble steps and into a well-lit hall. My gaze drew up in awe at the stained-glass windows which began at the first landing of the staircase and soared upward two stories high.

The stained glass depicted the esher tree groves with sprites flying amongst its branches. Beneath the canopy of trees, a wraith king walked a solitary path. The artwork was stunningly beautiful, evoking an emotion of both wonder and sadness. The wraith king in the scene looked so similar to Goll, but it couldn't be him. This palace was built thousands of years ago. The artisan who created this piece was long gone.

"Mizrah." Goll's voice snapped me from my trance. He nodded to the fifty or so servants standing in parallel lines on opposite sides of the staircase. A few of them had leathery wings, marking them as having shadow fae blood. Goll raised his voice when he addressed them, "Everyone, this is Mizrah Una. You will see to her needs without question. Hava, bring her back to her bedchamber. She will dine with me tonight. Alone."

Then he stormed away inside the palace, his guards following him. Hava ushered me toward the wide staircase, a familiar sight as I knew I was being sent back to my prison cell, luxurious though it was.

As I mounted the steps, I found myself angry yet again. Not because of I was being treated as a captive, but because I found myself looking forward to dining alone with him. I didn't want to crave his company, but the damned yearning stirred hotly all the same.