Chapter Fifty-Eight
Torin
Days later
“Halt! Do not approach the gate!” a voice screamed from atop one of the parapets that surrounded Iluul’s giant steel-enforced wall.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes and cracked my neck.
My mare swayed beneath me, rocking from foot to foot as if it were too painful to stand still.
“Tell your mare to stop moving!” a different guard shouted.
“Have you never ridden a horse before, brother? She’s tired and restless from our journey,” I called back, my voice hoarse from exhaustion and the dry air that dominated the westernmost part of Iluul. The regional boundaries were much more superfluous in the southern part of Elyria. Our ruling structure was similar to Vespera; large cities dominated the access to the sea, while the surrounding land outside the city itself was more ambiguous. The people who lived there functioned as their own government and negotiated with the major cities for trade and protection.
Clearly, that had worked in Solace’s favor. There was no sign of struggle or fight surrounding the smaller towns that dotted the landscape beyond the mountains—simply burned-out husks of what used to be villages.
It seemed that her reach and warpath encompassed much more of Elyria than any of us originally surmised.
The thought stoked the flames of my impatience and frustration, and I rubbed a dirty hand down my sand-encrusted face in exasperation.
“Can you not see who I am?” I called out petulantly when it was clear none of the guards were moving to open the gates.
“No, sir, we cannot. Even if we could, you must understand that our security is . . . heightened now.”
Unfortunately, Ididunderstand.
I squinted up at the battlements, shading my eyes with my hand against the relentless light of the sun. It pounded against my back, soaking my shirt and pants with sweat even as I felt its rays scorch my skin and scalp.
Father will have a good chuckle at this once he sees me.
He and his Chief Vizier, that was.
“I am the Prince of Iluul,” I snapped, the weight of my mission bearing down on my shoulders and forcing my heart to beat faster. “Open the gates.”
There was loud whispering and grunts of shock before I heard the sounds of boots slapping against the sandstone steps that led down from the parapet.
A small door set into the rocky wall opened, revealing a man dressed in the typical clothing of a vizier in Iluulian court. Even from this distance, I could see the sparkling golden thread embroidered on the evergreen kaftan, most likely in an ornate floral pattern.
I squinted again, trying to discern the man’s identity, but the heat of the day caused his outline to wave and undulate as if he were conjured by my mind.
It wouldn’t be the first time a mirage had led a traveler astray in the southern deserts.
Alas, this was no trick of the mind. The man slowly approached my mare, only stopping when he was within speaking distance.
Neither of us spoke, both quietly judging the other’s merit and weight.
He was new to my father’s court, at least appointed in the time I’d been away, though he was not young by any stretch of the word. The skin around his eyes and mouth was wrinkled, even while his cheeks hung heavy beneath a substantial beard that was more white than black. His belly protruded slightly over his kusak, stretching the green kaftan to its limit.
The man was clearly from the upper caste of Iluulian society, most likely a merchant, and I wondered when my father started filling his council with wealthy men as opposed to those who resembled the people.
“Who are you?” I barked, already irritated at the poor excuse of a vizier that stood before me.
“I am Vizier Emin,” he drawled. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, only helping to protrude his large belly further. “But that is not the question. The question is, who are you, and why are you impersonating the Prince of Iluul?”
“Impersonating?”
“That is what I said.” Vizier Emin’s voice was deceptively melodic yet monotone, and my neck prickled with unease.
