Foxglove flashes me an anxious smile, then he and Breeda begin their slow approach toward the djinn, stopping several feet from him and the palace steps. Breeda speaks first. “Your Most Large and Powerful Servant of Irridae Palace, I represent your new master, Queen Evelyn of Fire.”
Foxglove takes a hesitant step forward. “You may not have heard, but Queen Evelyn has defeated the former King Ustrin. She has been blessed by the All of All and has come to claim the palace that is hers by right.”
The djinn’s eyes flash over their heads to pin me beneath his stare. “I will allow her to approach. If she truly is the new Queen of Fire, she may take my hand and let the palace decide the validity of her claim. If she is unworthy of the palace, she will burst into flame and burn until her bones are nothing but ash.”
I suppress a shudder at the not-so-veiled threat. The blood leaves my face as I consider all possible scenarios. What kind of magic is at work here? Is it the magic of the All of All? Will I once again receive the proper blessing? Or is this some trick, some vile defense Ustrin had woven into the palace should his reign fall? Worse than that is the thought that the magic he speaks of is real and I will be deemed unworthy. Ever since I defeated the Fire King, part of me keeps waiting for everything to blow up in my face. For my people to turn on me, for them to realize I’m just a pathetic human—
Relax, Evie.Aspen’s voice comes through the Bond like an invisible caress. It’s then I realize how tense I’ve grown, my jaw clenched and hands balled into painfully tight fists.You will pass this test. Just like you did in the Twelfth Court.
I can only hope he’s right, that he understands whatever ritual I’m about to participate in. With a deep breath, I call out to the djinn. “I will take your hand and prove to you my right. Allow me to approach with my guards and companions.”
“Very good,” he says. “The easier for me to kill them should you prove to be false.”
I purse my lips to hide my snarl.No, the easier for them to kill you should you make one wrong move against me,I think to myself.
As we make our way to join Foxglove and Breeda, I notice how Amelie lags behind, nearly dragging her feet with every step, eyes wide with fear. She’s clearly struggling against the compulsion of my command that keeps her at my side at all times. In the presence of our foe, I can hardly blame her. Is this proof that my commands truly work as she claimed they would?
We pause once we reach the palace steps, and I make my way to the front of the retinue, the two guards crouched in defensive postures just a step behind me.
The djinn extends his hand. “Place your palm in mine.”
I meet his eyes, summoning all the confidence I can muster. Now that we’re close, I can see he is in fact nearly a head taller than Aspen, which places him significantly taller than me. I try not to notice the sheen of his bronze skin over his rippling muscles as I grasp his enormous hand.
At the touch of his flesh on mine, fire roars through my blood, rushing down my arms, my legs. Pink, purple, and aqua flames lap over my skin, adding to the unbearable heat from the sun. My flames, however, don’t scorch me. Not like they did when Aspen carried me from the Spire, resulting in me burning the both of us in my unrelenting rage. This time, they are nothing but a warm glow.
My eyes remain locked on the djinn’s, and his widen as my flames grow higher, extending toward him.
In one swift move, the djinn drops my hand and falls to his knees before me.
My flames extinguish, leaving me feeling invigorated and strong.
The djinn lifts his head to find my gaze. “Forgive me, my queen. My name is Fehr, and I am your humble servant. Welcome home.”
11
My new home is even more breathtaking on the inside than it was on the outside.
Fehr leads us through the entrance hall to a grand foyer with towering ceilings and thick marble columns. The walls are made of sandstone interspersed with white marble panels carved with as much intricate detail as you’d expect from a painting or a tapestry.
“Soooo pretty,” Breeda squeals, hands framing her tiny face as she flits from one wall to the next.
Our footsteps echo as we make our way across the tile floors. The hollow reverberations sing of how empty the palace is. There’s no bustle of busy servants, no mutterings from guests and residents.
It’s just like the moon dragons had reported; there’s no one here.
Fehr comes up alongside me. “I pray you forgive me for the attack. I will take any punishment you see fit.” His rich baritone is devoid of fear or remorse. In fact, I’m almost positive there’s a hint of indignation laced into his words, as if he’s speaking out of rote necessity.
I suppose I can’t blame him for neither trusting nor liking me. The feeling is mutual. Distrust aside, logic has me recalling Foxglove’s assumption regarding the djinn’s motives. I adopt a formal bearing as I say, “I assume your actions were taken to protect Irridae Palace.”
“You are correct. I was Bonded to the palace as its lifelong steward long ago by King Caleos.”
A ripple of surprise runs through me at the mention of my grandfather. “Why?”
“A punishment for my darkest deeds. A way to control my power.” That hint of resentment returns, clearer now, but it doesn’t linger. “I am loyal to the palace and am bound to serve the one who rules it. As steward, all household matters of importance may be given to me.”
“And how does the palace know who the true ruler should be?” I can’t help but think of the pretender king the Renounced had planned to send here. Would he have passed the test? Or burned to a crisp?
Fehr lifts his chin, expression turning haughty as he eyes me with a condescending smirk. “It is simply the palace’s magic, Your Majesty. Ever mysterious, even to me.” The last part is said somewhat under his breath, revealing more of his poorly hidden disdain. It’s clear he’s surprised I passed the test. Then again, so am I.
