Yessss.
The shadows mused, their hissing song a mocking melody.
You certainly showed him.
Chapter Eleven
Iwalked side by side with Bran, hands smoothing out my robes, unable to stay still. Anxiety swarmed my gut like a nest of angry sunhornets.
I had received the letter from a message carrier not even ten minutes after I had woken, the royal wax seal making me sick.
Apprentice Sommers, Prince Kairen has requested your presence at the palace in exactly thirty minutes. Please make your way to the entrance accordingly.
Regards,
Butler Nott
Bran hadn't wasted time in finding me after, his own letter in hand, a nervous expression on his face. Our walk was one of tense silence, only broken by the popping of his knuckles every few minutes.
A nervous habit he’d had since childhood.
I had never stepped foot within the Solerian Palace, and had never wanted to. Hands shaking as we approached, a man in brown robes threaded with gold met us.
"Apprentice Sommers, Recruit Sommers," he greeted with an incline of his head. Despite his servant's position, this man was not Luanthian. The high position of serving the royal family never fell to the converts. "I am Butler Nott, allow me to show you to the meeting room."
I couldn't help but notice his greying black hair was balding at the crown of his head. His deep brown eyes were kind though, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes and smile lines prominently set into his skin. He looked kind, like a grandfather I would see wandering the market on a spring day.
The belly of the beast.
Crooning their disapproval, the shadows swarmed.
A palace so high and towering.
Of sun and fire.
To burn you alive.
Be careful, little shadow.
For our enemies lurk around every corner.
I clamped down hard on the anxiety, pushing and shoving it from the forefront of my mind.
Bran watched from the corner of his eye, a hand reaching out to steady me. I gave him a small, reassuring smile and he looked away as Butler Nott led us through various lavish hallways. The interior of the palace was the most expensive thing I had ever beheld. Gold details lined every corridor, as if it was threaded through the palace walls the way it was threaded in the Master robes. Our steps echoed off the pristine marble floors in stretches not blanketed by lavishly woven runners. Everywhere I looked, there were extravagant paintings hung on the sunstone or golden vases perched on marbled stands, filled with flowers so fresh they had to have been cut that very morning. Every inch of this massive, bustling building was pristine.
It was begrudgingly impressive, yet a thought lingered in the back of my mind.
What would the Luanthian palace have looked like if it wasn't reduced to ash and dust?
Would it have rivaled the beauty of this place, would I have felt more at ease entering its doors? Would the moonstone it was built of have glowed under the stars the way the sunstone shone in the rays of the day?
We entered a simpler section, something more akin to business than extravagance, but still elegant in its design. We stopped before a dark, wooden door.
Butler Nott rapped his knuckles against it and I swallowed thickly as a faint, familiar voice called out, "Enter."
The door led to a simple, clean office space. Perhaps a bit larger than necessary, but not overly ornate. A dark, sleek wooden desk sat in the center of it with a high-backed chair. Behind it was a large window that overlooked the barracks and forest beyond, allowing the brilliant light of midday to illuminate the space.
Tall bookshelves lined the left wall, and in the center of the room were five plush, green chairs formed in a circle around a low table that perfectly shade-matched the desk.
