“Necro-ivy,” Einar said darkly as the gates opened.
“You know it?” I asked, a little surprised.
“I do.” He didn’t say more—couldn’t, not with the captain in earshot—but I had a feeling that he’d watched a few of his fellow dragons succumb to its terrible effects. The ivy that covered the other buildings in this city was merely decorative—although a fae like Mavlyn could weaponize it—but necro-ivy was deadly. The leaves secreted a terrible poison that necrotized living tissue on contact. One touch would turn your skin black, a second would penetrate your flesh, working its way into your bone marrow. It spread quickly, and the only way to save yourself was to cut off the infected skin immediately.
I’d never seen the effects firsthand, but I remembered reading about it in one of mother’s herbalism books. I shuddered at the gruesome images my mind conjured, and my skin prickled as we walked through the gates, the gleaming vines a little too close for comfort. They seemed to crouch on the walls like waiting spiders, ready to spring, and I was grateful that, on their own, at least, they couldn’t move.
But as we moved into the inner courtyard of the castle, I caught sight of something that distracted me completely.
“Griffins!” I gasped, nearly tripping over my own feet in shock. A thrill that was both terror and excitement shuddered through me as I got a good look at them. There were twelve scattered around the courtyard, massive creatures that were both bird and beast. The front halves of their bodies were all eagle, with diamond-white feathers, golden beaks and claws, but their back halves were the powerful hindquarters of a lion, gilded brown fur rippling over powerful muscles. Their wings, which were golden-brown near the spine but faded into white at the tips, were tucked into their sides as they lazed in the sunshine, but though their posture was relaxed, their ice-blue eyes were shrewd as they watched us enter their domain.
“Why aren’t they chained up?” I asked as we walked past, keeping one wary eye on them.
The captain laughed, and the other soldiers smirked. “You can’t chain up a griffin,” he said. “They’d rip the chains right out of the ground with those powerful beaks, then tear your intestines out for good measure. Besides, there’s no need to. They are loyal to Lady Mossi, and to their riders, and they get fed plenty here. They go off to hunt every once in a while, or to stretch their wings, but they’ve no need to wander off for any length of time.”
“Riders?”
The captain raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “You’ve never heard of Lady Mossi’s famed griffin riders?”
My cheeks colored, and I ducked my head a little. “There are a lot of things I’ve never heard of,” I admitted.
The captain shook his head. “They’re renowned throughout Ediria,” he said. “We’re the only ones who’ve managed to successfully tame and ride them, so it’s kind of a big deal. And their claws and beaks are one of the few things that can tear through dragon hide, so they were used often throughout the wars.”
“I bet.” I glanced sidelong at Einar, looking for a reaction, but his expression was stoic as we entered the main building of the castle. A sense of awareness came over me as I realized how this experience must affect him—surrounded by fae, and being hit with constant reminders of the ways we’d hurt and killed his people.
True, the dragons weren’t blameless, and had killed many more of us than we had of them. Even so, this was the equivalent of walking into a dragon lair, and he was handling it with a sense of calm I wasn’t sure I could have managed under similar circumstances.
The captain led us down a corridor and into a large, domed building made entirely of windows. A greenhouse, I realized, staring around the place in wonder. The glass walls stretched high overhead, at least several dozen feet, allowing golden light to fill the entire space. Butterflies of all sizes and colors fluttered from flower to tree branch to bush, and I marveled at the sheer variety of plant life thriving within these walls.
“Shoes and weapons,” the guard standing just inside ordered.
I blinked at him. “Shoes?” I echoed, bewildered by the request.
He nodded. “Lady Mossi doesn’t like for the grass to be trampled.”
I glanced at the plush carpet of grass, which I realized covered every square inch of the place, then back at the guard’s boots. “You haven’t taken yours off,” I noted.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a guard,” he said, as if that were self-explanatory.
I supposed it was. After all, if there was an attack, it wasn’t as if the guards had time to put on their boots before rushing to defend the castle. And by the same token, if a visitor tried to attack or flee, their lack of shoes would be one more handicap to slow them down.
Einar had already taken off his boots, so I followed suit, then stepped onto the grass. My feet sunk into the thick, soft blades, and a sense of peace swept through me as my toes curled. By the way Einar’s shoulders relaxed, I could tell the grass was having a similar effect on him.
A prickle of awareness trickled through my spine, and I kept my eyes and ears open as I walked. Lady Mossi’s powerful magic was clearly embedded into every inch of this space. It was important for me to remember that.
And yet, I couldn’t help but be enchanted by the atrium garden as I walked through it. Plants both magical and mundane flourished in every section, and bees, butterflies, and tiny fireflies floated lazily through the floral-scented air. Mother would have had a field day if she were here, exclaiming over the various herbs and flowers and all their properties.
The thought of her sobered me, reminding me why I was here. I couldn’t allow myself to be carried away by the beauty of this place. I had a job to do.
At the center of the atrium, two more guards marked the end of the path. They stepped aside to let us pass, and we entered a clearing ringed by black-trunked trees with ruby-red leaves. Golden apples hung heavy from their branches, and I had to swallow hard to contain a squeal of excitement. These were the famed Ithir Apples, supposedly able to cure any illness or disease, even shadow magic infections. I’d read about them long ago, but had forgotten—they only grew here in the atrium, and were jealously guarded for their mythical properties.
I expected the center of the atrium to be an ostentatious throne room, but it was decorated more like a sitting area, with white lounging furniture, luxurious pink pillows, and a koi pond filled with shimmering rainbow fish. I could easily imagine Lady Mossi sitting there with her ladies-in-waiting, enjoying tea and pastries or feeding the fish as she plotted and planned.
But today, she sat on her throne, which I imagined was more befitting when receiving subjects and visitors. It was a simple, yet quietly powerful piece of furniture, made from antler bone, the House Ithir sigil carved at the very top. Three chartreuse-colored stones were set along the edges of the seatback, their yellowish-green depths sparkling as they caught the filtered sunlight streaming from above.
“My Lady.” The captain stopped in front of the throne and bowed, sweeping his hand back to indicate us standing behind him. “Adara and Einar of Fenwood. These are the two fae who came to the city gates, claiming a blood tie to House Ithir.”
Lady Mossi’s amber eyes flashed as they flicked from the soldier to me and Einar. She was a vision, dressed in a shimmering, low-cut gown woven into a tapestry of autumn colors. Threads of gold, russet, and emerald twined with burnt orange, saffron, and aubergine, somehow creating a harmonious medley that shifted and shimmered over her curves. Her long, sage-colored hair flowed in loose waves over her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face with a long nose and full, cupids bow lips. Her skin, the color of red clay, seemed to glow from within, and a golden filigree necklace with a large, blue-white stone sat heavy between her collarbones.
