I want to knock this stupid gold pot right off the table onto the floor. Someone in our villages was maimed so that this dumb little plant could sit here where no one ever even looks at it.
But making a scene isn’t going to do us much good if we’re trying to stay in the king’s good graces, so I put my hand in the pocket of my trousers to resist the temptation.
“Ah. Speaking of the alchemists, it’s the Guild Mistress herself.”
A petite figure treads down the hallway towards us, flanked on both sides by much larger men. All three wear the brown hooded robes and golden medallions of the Alchemists’ Guild.
It’s the same robe our own alchemist Hermes is wearing, though it barely covers his tall, bulky frame. I hate the man on principle more than due to any actual slight. In truth, he serves our house well in his duties, primarily brewing elixirs and overseeing the healers. But the Guild is loyal to the crown, and the way Hermes in particular fawns over Ronan makes me sick.
It turns out he has a talent for fawning. He bows low to the Guild Mistress, kissing a golden ring on her right hand as she lowers her hood.
“She’s soyoung,” I say to Larus. The Guild Mistress looks like she ought to be an apprentice at best, not the head of the entire order. Her features are still soft and rounded, with large brown eyes and golden tan skin pocked with pimples.
“May I present the Guild Mistress of the Alchemists’ Guild, Zara of Eki,” says Hermes.
Eki. I can’t remember where that is exactly, but it’s a long way from here. It’s somewhere on Velmora, another continent entirely. I wonder how she came to be here and how she came to be the head of the guild while being only…twenty maybe? She can’t be older than me.
“Mistress Zara is one of the only light-born living in Selara,” says Cyrus, which explains it. “She was gifted by Vayla herself.”
“How wonderful,” says Larus. “We’re honored to meet you.”
I’m glad he’s here to remind us of our manners, because Adria and I were just staring dumbfounded.
Another light-born at the head of the Alchemists’ Guild. Can she feel our feelings as well?
We’ve never had a particular reverence for the light-born in our family. Our parents didn’t give much credence to the ranking of the schools in the Codex, given what the royal House Alta, all light-born, had done to us. Mother believed that the rankings were just the opinions of the person who’d written them down into the Codex, and that they didn’t determine our destiny. It was one of her most radical views, pure heresy. Definitely not the kind of thing you mentioned in a temple, or with someone around from the Alchemists’ Guild, given their close connection to the church.
Zara smiles warmly at me, if a bit shyly, and suddenly the air between us feels softer, gentler, almost as if sunlight has spilled quietly into the space without brightening a single shadow.
It’s…pleasant. Alarmingly so.
“I’m sure you must be very busy,” says Cyrus. He doesn’t seem to be affected by her presence; if anything, he seems annoyed by her, but maybe this is how he is with everyone.
“As always,” she says. “It was nice to meet you all.”
“She liked you,” whispers Larus after she disappears down another passage. “Did you see her smile? She’s probably lonely, surrounded by a bunch of old folks. She could be worth getting to know.”
I nod and almost run into Typhon, who has stopped in front of me. I turn to where he’s looking and see someone running down yetanotherstaircase: a servant, judging by his uniform robes of red linen. He makes a beeline for Cyrus and begins whispering frantically in his ear.
“You’re certain? Right now?”
The servant nods and takes off through a door.
Cyrus is flustered, but he quickly regains his composure before he speaks. “It appears that there’s been a change of plans. The God-King has returned a day early. Follow me to the throne room; he’d like to greet you himself.”
I look at Larus and then Adria, and I see my own panic reflected in their eyes as well.
Oh, fuck.
Here we go.
Chapter Five
The walk to the throne room feels like walking to the gallows. We can’t speak to each other, but I know Larus and Adria must be thinking the same thing.
We thought we’d have another day to prepare. Before we left, we discussed a few strategies to keep Ronan from knowing our plans. He’s going to expect our anger and even some level of murderous desire. But how much anger would be too much? How many thoughts of the ways I’d like to see him die would be too many?
And how far away can he sense our feelings? Can he sense them even now? He’s somewhere in the palace, somewhere in this labyrinth of corridors and stairwells. Had he sensed us when we arrived? What had I thought about since we got here? What had I felt?
