…
There’s no turning back now.
The eastern gate to the castle grounds stands wide, the portcullis raised, crowded with people. Since arriving, it’s seemed to me that there were very few residents living in the city, other than the soldiers housed in the enormous barracks behind the castle. So, it’s surprising to see hundreds of commoners file through the castle gates, carrying sacks of flour or pulling wagons full of spices and sweets under the watchful eyes of soldiers. Clearly, they’ve been here all along. Existing just out of sight, undoubtedly, to avoid their king’s notice. I assume most of these poor souls are family and friends of Namreth’s soldiers, lured to the middle of the desert by the promise of safety and prosperity.
Aren and I shuffle along with the crowd, keeping our heads low. At the southern gate, Marcus, Jared, and the others are doing the same, making their way into the grounds dressed in commoner’s clothes, trying to blend in, hoping no one will take notice of them.
I lower my gaze as we approach the guards. A tall fellow with an even taller spear grips the shaft when he catches my eye. His fingers tense, turning white. “You there!”
Fuck.I clench my fist as he pounds the butt of the spear hard on the bare earth and thrusts it forward to halt progress. But the shaft comes down behind me, not in front.
Quickly, the guard pulls the poor fellow at my back from the crowd as he cries out. “What did I do?”
“Traitor,” the guard accuses, then spears the man right through the gut in front of everyone waiting to be allowed inside the castle. The man dies at our feet, blood pooling from his chest, and the guard scowls at the crowd before declaring, “Let that be a warning to you all.”
The man was chosen randomly. My veins are ice cold with fury at the cruelty. But by chance, I live, and by some twist of fate, our plan continues.
Without even looking at Aren for fear of bringing attention to her, I begin shuffling along with the crowd again. I wait with dread for the Rings to call out to me, vibrating to be used like they have in moments of danger in the past, but they remain quiet, marking their presence with just the faintest, steady hum. I haven’t felt their heat under my skin since Aren and I were first imprisoned in that dark cell.
Each step toward the castle feels like I’m walking deeper into freezing water. I know what lies in those dungeons, what terrors are hidden behind the golden walls.
As we approach, guards stand at the ready, surveying the crowds. One man cracks a whip, and I flinch, ducking my head. I breathe deeply, evenly, to calm myself.
The soldier strikes a commoner, who falls to her knees. He cracks the whip once more in the air. A threat to anyone who steps out of line or moves too slowly. No one dares so much as to look at him.
My eyes burn with fury, but I keep my head down. This misery must end. Tonight.
I feel Aren tremble at my side. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Almost there.”
A few paces ahead, the castle doors are a welcome sight, despite the cruelties I know lie within. I again notice the strange magic shimmering off them that seemingly only I can see.
One by one, guards inspect and admit the new hires, permitting them entry. It’s a slow process under a hot sun. One girl is admitted, the next denied. Twenty are ushered inside while two others are sent packing.
When it’s our turn, the guards look us up and down. The soldier in charge, a hard-faced woman, chews at something awful and brown, then spits it out onto my feet, watching carefully to see how I’ll react.
Every muscle in my body tenses. Every bit of breeding I have tells me to put this guard in her place, but I tamp down the feeling, holding it in check.
“You got a problem?” she asks when she sees my fingers move, a drop of perspiration on my brow.
“No problem,” Aren says, taking me by the arm. “Just a bit tired.”
“Then go on. Keep moving,” the guard says, already bored with us. She turns to whoever is next in line.
The next set of guards is more thorough. “Security check,” says a guard in black leather armor, sword hanging in a scabbard from his belt.
I press my palms against the cold stone wall.
The guard pats me down roughly. I keep my face neutral, and my head bowed low.
Another guard pats Aren down, and she makes no protest, even when his hands linger too long on her chest. “Should we send this one to the harem?” The guard laughs.
The other guard snorts.
Rage fills my chest, blood roaring in my ears, but I can’t do anything about it. Not yet.
“All right, clear,” the guard declares.
They’ve found no weapons on us. My royal knife is safe for now. With a wave of his hand, he lets us enter, but not before smacking Aren roughly on the behind.
