The sky was a vibrant, almost shocking hue of azure. The bluest sky she had ever seen, with white clouds that streaked overhead, enhancing the stunning canvas. The craggy cliffs and steep mountains of her homeland were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there were rolling green hills in the distance. And in the immaculately kept courtyard, there were a variety of flowering shrubs and trees that Carver had given her the names of as they’d traveled. Oleander, with scattered pink blossoms. Palm trees, with soaring bare trunks and wide fronds on top. Eucalyptus, with pale trunks and scattered leaves that shimmered in the sunlight. Stone pines, with numerous spreading branches that were bald until the needles made a solid canopy, lushly spread and gently sloped—nothing like the evergreen pines of Ferradin.
Even the warm air felt different. Not as heavy as in the jungles of Xerra, but still more humid than her mountainous homeland. The scents in the breeze were also foreign, though Jayveh had helped Amryn put names to them. The floral aromas of jasmine and hyssop blended well with the subtle, soothing scent of the eucalyptus trees that surrounded them, with bright bursts of orange blossom and lemon underscoring each breath.
There was no doubt the palace was a fortress, with towering limestone walls surrounding the vast courtyard. The soldiers in black uniforms stationed on the walls and patrolling the grounds made that especially clear. And yet, the palace itself looked more like a grand estate dreamed to life by an artisan.
The walls were a pale yellow stone, with vibrant red tiles covering the many slopes and arches of the roof. Except for the domes that topped many of the palace’s towers—those were a stunning turquoise, bursts of color in an architectural style unlike anything Amryn had seen before. Scattered across the castle roof were black spires, jutting toward the sky, the decorative ironwork too ornate to make out the details from the courtyard. Thousands of windows glinted in the warm sunlight, and there had to be a hundred or more balconies of various sizes scattered across the castle’s various wings. The main part of the castle had at least five floors, with towers reaching even higher. Stone arches with tapered points, and thick columns wrapped with dark green vines added a uniquely southern flair, reminiscent of Esperance. White trim edged the various lines and angles of the palace, in sharp contrast to thepops of color that came from the lush emerald vines that climbed the walls, some riddled with exotic flowers in various shades of purple, pink, and blue.
It seemed wrong that the emperor’s palace was so beautiful.
Movement at the corner of her eye had Amryn glancing at the second carriage, where Zacharias was just emerging. He brushed at his dusty robe, a frown on his face as he glanced up at the palace.
Samuel followed behind him, then turned to help Sadia down. Her shoulder was still bandaged, her arm held immobile against her chest with a sling. Despite the twinges of pain that remained, Sadia smiled gratefully at Samuel as his hands encircled her waist and he gently brought her to the ground. Her lips moved as she whispered something to him, and his mouth curved. She braced her good hand on his chest and lifted onto her toes to set a soft kiss against his lips.
Amryn’s heart warmed. Definitely no regrets.
Ivan had dismounted from his horse and was now making his way toward them. Servants were already beginning to unload the luggage from the carriages and supply wagon, adding a bit of organized chaos to the courtyard.
“General Vincetti,” a voice called out.
Amryn’s pulse sped as several palace guards moved toward them.
Carver’s fingers tightened around hers.
The guard in the lead spoke again as they drew near. “We received the message you sent at the city gate.” He offered a quick salute, which Carver returned with practiced ease. “You have a prisoner for us to collect?”
“Yes.” Carver tipped his head toward Trevill, who was just stepping down from the carriage with the assistance of two Esperance guards. Even though iron shackles encircled his wrists, Trevill did not have the look of a dejected prisoner. His spine was straight as he surveyed the palace, no sign of unease or distress. His calm was almost unnerving.
“Put him in a private cell,” Carver ordered. “I don’t want him talking to anyone.”
“Of course, General.” The guardsman gestured to some of his men, and they made their way toward Trevill. The guard’s eyes slid over their small group. “I’m to escort all of you to the throne room. The emperor is waiting for you.”
Amryn’s pulse quickened, her anxiety spiking.
Jayveh followed immediately, the others falling into line as they trailed the guard into the palace. He led them away from the main entrance, favoring a smaller door that was closer.
Carver continued to hold Amryn’s hand, but even with him firmly beside her, she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her spine as she stepped into the palace. For all its riches and beauty, she saw only greed and bloodshed.
Guards stood at seemingly every doorway and servants hurried through the halls on various errands. They also encountered well-dressed men and women Amryn assumed were part of the emperor’s court. Every person they passed spared at least one glance at the Empire’s Chosen, their curiosity a low burn that made Amryn’s skin itch.
Too soon, they reached the throne room. Guards pulled the heavy doors open, revealing a vast room with a vaulted ceiling. Sunlight poured in through arched windows, making the white stonework appear even brighter. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, unlit in the light of day. Gold accents appeared everywhere, sheer opulence that Amryn could barely take in.
The throne room felt more like a church, with the emperor set up as the deity to worship. This was made clear by the white marble columns that lined the room, leading to a dais that held two thrones. The largest one was especially ornate, with elaborate carvings and embedded jewels. Somehow, it only made the stooped man sitting on it appear smaller.
Emperor Lorcan Vayne’s age-spotted hands rested on the arms of his throne, as if that would help him fill it. He was in his late seventies, but he appeared decades older. Far older and frailer than when Amryn had last seen him. His hair was still thin and white, but his frame—which had been narrow before—was now gaunt. His wrinkled skin was sallow, appearing as thin as fragile parchment. Amryn wondered how much of his aging had happened after receiving Jayveh’s letter.
Esperance, the emperor’s great venture for peace, had failed. Only half of the Empire’s Chosen had left the temple alive. And Argent, his beloved grandson and heir, was gone.
While the throne beside him was empty, the emperor was not alone. A female high cleric stood beside him, her rank denoted by her elegant blue robe and shaved head. All clerics were bald, though Amryn wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps to show reverence or humility to the All-Seeing Divinities?
If humility had been the goal, it certainly hadn’t been achieved for most clerics—especially high clerics. Even now, Zacharias’s arrogance chafed as he strode somewhere behind her. Amryn could feel it, despite the crowd that made discerning individual emotions difficult. Attuned to the strong emotion, she also felt the moment his arrogance faltered, hit by a burst of shock.
Amryn glanced at him, seeing his eyes fixed on the female high cleric. Confusion, resentment, and even apprehension rippled inside him.
His reaction only made Amryn more wary. The woman was obviously high-ranking in the church, if a man as pompous as Zacharias was intimidated by her.
The female cleric had been whispering something to the emperor, but she straightened as the Chosen approached the dais.
Behind them, the throne room doors thudded shut. Aside from the emperor’s guards, Amryn could see no one else in the room. It only made the space feel more cavernous. As if it could swallow them all.
