No. It’s not my eyes. It’s the land.
Before us is the most incomprehensibly gorgeous landscape I have ever seen. Flowers blanket the rolling hills in a dazzling kaleidoscope: reds and violets and blues and yellows, plus some colors I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered. The roads are paved in glittering ivory stones. All around us, meadows of the brightest, purest greens ripple in the gentle breeze. Jutting off from the wall is a massive stone aqueduct, which soars overhead parallel to the main road as far as the distant horizon. Waterfalls cascade off it at intervals, feeding streams and various lakes with turquoise water.
I thought I knew what beauty looked like: the first tulips of springtime, or sunlight sparkling on water, or the fresh fall of snow. But as I gaze out over the valley, I’m met with the stark and maddening realization: Our Ironwoods sanctuary is a barren wasteland compared to this.
I’m so busy gaping that I hardly notice Roburn riding up beside me. “What do you think?”
“I mean…” My mouth dries out as a hurricane of emotions is running through me—none that I can express without screaming.
“I was just as speechless when I first saw the Hartlands,” Roburn murmurs. “Hard to get your head around, isn’t it?”
Numbly, I nod. I think I know what he means. The contrast is incomprehensible. With an ancient ache churning in my stomach, I suddenly understand perfectly why someone would risk their life to attempt the climb inside.
This should have been our home.
We reach the capital at midday. Crown City, Verdinae’s capital, sits in a valley with white-capped mountains to the eastand a lake to the west. I see hundreds of buildings, thousands, even—some crowded one on top of another. Rising from the northern hill is a many-spired palace of bone-white marble. There are structures I’ve read about in books but never comprehended: amphitheaters, libraries, steepled cathedrals, rambling parks. Soaring above the gleaming avenues is a complex system of aqueducts that stretches in every direction, like a compass rose.
Our party enters through the city’s southeast gate and follows a sun-drenched boulevard toward the castle. As we ride through the bustling quarter, my head swivels like an owl. There is so much detail I want to memorize. Through open doors, I catch glimpses of jewel-box restaurants teeming with patrons. Vendors pepper the streets, displaying carts of fine fabrics, whimsical toys, and delicate pottery. Pedestrians mill about, stopping to gossip or peek through the windows at a shop’s latest offerings.
More overwhelming than the sights is the sheer volume of life around me. There are babies shrieking, people fighting, and women laughing—more sound than I can sort through. My Talent, so finely attuned to the complexity of the forest, is blasted out of balance. The onslaught of information has my power near overflowing and aching for use. I grit my teeth when the swell manifests as a physical pain in my spine.
Toward the northern edge of the city, the road slants sharply uphill ahead of the looming castle. The horses grow slick with sweat as we ascend, and at last we arrive at the castle gates. They’re pure, shimmering gold.
Roburn issues instructions as we pass through. “Someone will take your things up to your room. I’ll escort you for your introductions.”
My heart pounds. “Introductions?”
“Yes. You’ll be presented to the Crown. That’s customary.”
I’m struck with the image of an ominous throne room, where Finn stands between two faceless and menacing figures—King Rodrick and his wife, Queen Davina, both figments of my nightmares. The prospect makes my Talent claw into my spine. I have to keep from doubling over.
“Is there any possibility I can speak with Finn privately first?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound as desperate as I feel.
“That’sPrinceFinneas while you’re inside these walls,” Roburn corrects me. “You’ll want to be careful with formal terms like that. Address everyone properly. And I’m not sure he’s here. I can ask around while you’re getting settled.”
“Oh.” My chest craters. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Finn might not be home to meet me. He mentioned other responsibilities in his letter, but it didn’t occur to me they might be away from the palace. Of course, most people get toleavehome regularly. I feel like a fool.
“What do I say when I meet them?” I ask.
“You say thank you. Be confident but gracious. Don’t act like they’re better than you but give them a very wide berth of respect,” Roburn instructs in a low voice. “Queen Davina doesn’t do well with sniveling, so no sob stories. But she likes to feel beloved among commoners, so she’ll respond well to flattery.”
I’m immeasurably grateful for this insight. “And King Rodrick?”
“Not home. He’s at the front lines in Sontaag.”
Relief washes through me.“Thank Gods,”I whisper, unthinking.
Roburn pauses.“Be careful who you trust. The politics here are ruthless. And keep your head up—some of these courtiers can smell fear.” The captain pats my shoulder stiffly, broadcasting a vague paternal concern I’m unfamiliar with. “If anyone gives you trouble, come straight to me and I’ll handle it.”
I try to take in this advice as we’re ushered up the drive. Our party dismounts in the courtyard, where a slew of staff is standing to meet us and a freckle-faced groom takes my horse.
When Roburn guides me inside, my first impression is a blur. The palace is labyrinthian. We clip through hallways and parlors and up winding stairs, moving too fast for me to gain a sense of the layout. There’s just one thing about my new surroundings that’s impossible to miss—the opulent, decadent, mind-bogglingwealth.
There is not one inch that isn’t gilded or painted. We pass over marble floors and under ceilings dripping with chandeliers. Some halls are bedecked with paintings, others with tapestries depicting elaborate hunting scenes or seascapes. Nothing feels cluttered or cramped. Each room is wide and expansive, and some spill into open-air courtyards. There are windows everywhere. Through some, I catch glimpses of the view; from its mountainous perch, the palace looks down on the entire resplendent valley and the city it cradles.
“The queen requested that you join her in the chapel,” Roburn explains as we finally stop in front of an ornate door. “Ready?”
I smooth a hand over my kerchief, subtly checking that my ears are still covered, and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”
