I don't say more than that.I know these men will have heard of me, will have heard the stories of me fighting in the arena, of the ease with which I killed men much more capable than they will ever be.
The guard who spoke looks nervous now.“Forgive me, my lord.We didn't know it was you.We'd heard you were gone from the city, that you wouldn't return even when the first senator asked you to.”
I smile the old, sardonic smile, the one that’s as much about confrontation as humor.
“Maybe I didn't like coming running immediately just because Rowan asked it,” I say.
“In any case, my lord, we should escort you to the senate chambers in the palace.”
“That won't be necessary,” I say, and use my command over illusion to produce a version of an old trick I used to use in the arena.I throw a bag of powder up into the air, simultaneously conjuring an image of myself in front of the guards and blurring the air around me slightly.It's not true invisibility, but combined with the distraction of the powder, it's enough to get me well away from them without them realizing where I really am.
I start to move through the city.Pangs of regret make me want to head for the noble house of my family.I want to see my mother, but I also know I need to find Lyra first.Who knows what kind of trouble she’ll have gotten herself into in the city by now?
I should have gone with her.I should have traveled with her when she left, but instead I'm left trying to catch up.At least I know where she's likely to be.She said something about being offered a position in the Senate, andthatshouldn’t be hard to find.
The downside to that is that I might run into Rowan, or someone else who knows me, but it isn't as though they can tell me what to do.Let them try to command me to play their political games.I'm just here for Lyra.
Maybe things will be all right again once I find her.Maybe the problems we've been having were caused by being out in the countryside.I really don't know why anyone would want to live there when cities are so much more vibrant.Already, the smells of fish and cow dung have been replaced by the scent of spices lingering in the air, the smell of thousands of people crammed into a city together.
The sounds of them, too.The chatter of voices fills my ears as I make my way up towards the palace.I see merchants haggling in the market, nobles being carried around in palanquins, and tough-looking men guarding noble houses.
The city hasn't been completely rebuilt yet, and there's an edge of nervousness in the air.Funny, I expected more from the new ruling senate of Aetheria.Rowan started with big changes, stopping the games and freeing the city’s slaves, but beyond that, things mostly look the same.I'm strangely surprised by that, and I guess I shouldn't be.I should I've learned by now that people always find a way to disappoint me.
I sigh and keep going to the palace.It's not a place I have the best memories of, given that I was a prisoner here for a time, held hostage to try to get Lyra to do the emperor's will.I shudder just at the thought of it, but keep going.If life has taught me anything, it's that you can't let the world see your pain.
The guards at these gates clearly recognize me, because they step back instantly.
“Is Lyra Thornwind here?”I ask them.
One of them nods.“Senator Thornwind has rooms within the palace.”
Because ofcourseshe does.It's not just that Rowan probably wants to keep her close at hand, it's that Lyra always seems to find the most spectacular way to do things.Why would she be stuck in some inn down in the city when she could be here in the middle of grounds whose gardens still feature butterflies larger than my head and peacocks that shimmer with magic?
I make my way through the palace, looking for Lyra’s rooms.I see servants moving this way and that, some of them cleaning the floors or carrying food, but others looking like administrators with piles of paperwork.The palace has become a hive of activity.I stop one of them, a young man who looks at me with something like awe.
“You’re…”
“Alaric, yes,” I say.Another of the reasons I was uncomfortable about coming back to the city was that I have no wish to be a hero.It feels too much like a lie.“Can you point me in the direction of Lyra’s rooms?”
He nods, “Follow me.”
He leads the way through the palace, finally coming to a halt in front of a grand set of double doors.It's a big step up from the cell Lyra had to sleep in within Ironhold, and even our home in Seatide.
“Thank you,” I say, turning the words into a dismissal with the ease of long practice.I stand in front of the doors, wondering if I should knock, but no, that's not the kind of thing I do.And in any case, I want to surprise Lyra.I want to make an entrance for her.Almost without thinking about it I conjure a corona of light around me as I push open the doors, something that will catch her attention.I step through, and stop, staring.
Lyra is there, dressed in some kind of white toga, seated on a couch with a low table in front of her, which holds food and wine.What makes me pause is the sight of a man sitting next to her, far too close, dressed the same way, tall, broad-shouldered, and annoyingly handsome to a degree that makes me want to punch him just as a point of principle.They’re practically pressed up against one another, talking in low voices.
I cough pointedly and Lyra looks up.I stop my illusion just in time.“Alaric?I didn't realize you… I thought you weren't coming to Aetheria.”
“I can see that,” I say, and curse myself for saying it instantly.“I thought I'd try to surprise you.Your message made it sound like you needed me.Although it seems you’ve been quick to find… an alternative.”
She stands, and so does the man with her.
“Alaric,” Lyra says, moving over to me.“This is Marcus, another of the senate members here.”
“A pleasure,” Marcus says, with the barest bow of his head.He doesn't sound as though he means it.That's fine by me.I'm not sure it's a pleasure to meet him either.
“Marcus and I were just talking about some information he found for me, as well as discussing some of his proposals in the senate,” Lyra says.
