For everyone, the palace is the jewel of the city, a sparkling, iridescent gem set upon Sand Court. Far more extravagant than any palace I’ve seen, with black and red walls, massive columns holding up the soaring ceiling, and depictions of our gods: mostly the twins Gorok and Chaos, with their little sister Jahwa. Large vases, intricate macramé, delicate figurines, and countless flowers fill every available space, all courtesy of the Courtly Gardener.
For me, this palace was the only place where I could take a break from being an heir. The only place my Grams let me stay without supervision. The only place where I could simply play.
Compared to the grim and cold Castle of Hanovel, Santorili’s palace is extravagant and welcoming. As if the building itself promises to change your life forever if you let yourself get carried away by court life.
And what a life it was.
The parties that Jestin throws are a solid quintessence of debauchery. If not for a contraceptive tonic, Santorili would excel over the other courts in the number of bastards.
The moment the tonic was introduced, it grew so popular that the inventor became one of the richest Fae in Rhodria.
Understandably, these pups bleed the purses of Fae, especially the ones that come from nothing but sex.
Why should we punish Fae for a moment of pleasure, when it is the pups who are born that pay the price?
Some shouldn’t be parents. My dear mommy included.
I shake my head and match Samira’s pace. She says nothing as we move through the black-and-red halls, the air rich with flowers, yet the silence between us makes it hard to breathe.
Jestin appears beside her and murmurs, “Thank you, Sam. Can you oversee the other matter?” He seems unconcerned that I catch every word.
“Of course,” Samira nods and moves down the corridor towards the formal wing of the castle, where Jestin’s office, the strategy room, and the war room are located.
I clutch my satchel, suddenly feeling cold, despite the overbearing heat.
We continue walking in the opposite direction, and I already know where we’re headed and why. Jestin leads us to his personal quarters instead of the office. Maybe it’s better this way - Chief Gerald is probably still in the formal wing - but I don’t want to step into Jestin’s room.
Ugh… why can’t this just be a formal meeting? I don’t want to face him in the same walls where he scrambled my brain. If this was some tactical decision, he succeeded in throwing me off balance. I should wave a white flag and call myself a loser.
“Jestin!” The unwelcome voice jerks me from my thoughts, hammering my skull with a high-pitched ring, like a harpy shrieking in my ears. Hopelessly, infuriatingly annoying.
Aidon bends close and whispers in my ear, “It didn’t soundthatbad.”
I snap a glare at him, sharp enough to draw blood. He only tilts his head, a lopsided grin in place, daring me to do more.
Why do I even bother?
“Zulu, how can I help you?” Jestin’s voice sounds as annoyed as I feel. At least that hasn’t changed.
I plaster an ugly smirk, meeting her funny green gaze. She strolls towards us, all elegance and grace. “Jestin, tell me my aide has gone mad and Seleste isn’t here?”
“Oh,” she makes a production of looking surprised, poorly if you ask me. “What a disappointment.”
“Zulu,” I acknowledge her. She’s the youngest among us, but damn, she’s the most cunning.
She smacks her lips. “And I was hoping my Solstice would be pleasant…”
I want to say something nasty, but I release a calm exhale and shift my head left.
“Happy to entertain,” I say, threading sweetness into my tone, hiding the disgust in the mental box designated for all the emotions I don’t get to feel.
With a flick of her hand, she dismisses me and turns to Jestin. “A minute, brother?”
Jestin and I have that in common—a wretch of a sibling. No wonder Trisha and Zulu were best friends.
He shakes his head in exasperation and gestures for me to enter. I grab the handle, but stall a little, waiting for them to leave first.
Waiting to eavesdrop, to be precise. I don’t have spies like other nobles; I can rely only on myself.
