CHAPTER THREE
Magic appears stronger in the presence of water. It acts like a conduit, transferring power, along with life, in its tides.
—Journal of Khato, Master of Spells.
Ileaped atop Tiberius’s broad back, and we shot into the air, the movement natural, as if we’d trained this way all along.
He leveled out two hundred feet over the treetops, and I scanned the vast forest of green below, searching for the sentries hidden among the canopies. The queen had many of them waiting, always watching us.
Tiberius angled forward as the Gilded Fortress came into view through the treetops, and the soothing rush of its falls wound through the sound of the whipping wind. Castle wasn’t the right word for the massive stronghold sparkling through the canopy. The buildings here were a conglomeration of stone and various plants, the tree singers influencing their growth and movement with magic.
Thousands of birch and golden-barked trees wound together in beautiful twisting patterns, creating eight large towers and the hundreds of chambers that made up the massive fortress. Seatedin the center of the city atop the three waterfalls that fed into the twining river running through its center, the fortress was alive. And some days, I swear I could feel it breathing.
The warm, late spring wind whipped through my loose black hair as our altitude dropped and Tiberius angled toward its gates.
My stomach threatened to drop through my ass as we made the plummet. I tightened my grip on his thick mane and clenched my legs around his warm body as I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to let the rush of air escape into a small scream. I released the breath as his hooves slammed into soft, fern-covered ground outside the Gilded Fortress.
My breath caught in my throat as it always did at the beauty of the castle’s entry hall. The white and gold trees shot hundreds of feet into the air, creating a space that was somehow indoors but not. Light sparkled from the ceiling like sunlight glinting off dewdrops.
My thighs warmed as I raced as casually as possible up the winding staircase leading to the queen’s hall. I slowed my breathing, mustering all the confidence I could manage as I strode through the domed, golden hallway.
Two guards stood outside a door made entirely of gold and silver twining vines. They crossed their long spears in front of the entryway, bits of sunlight glinting off the honed edges of the wide blades.
“I have urgent business with Queen Antares,” I stated, shoving bravado into my voice.
The guards kept their eyes forward, as if I hadn’t spoken a word.
A moment later, a beautiful, soft voice crooned from inside, “Come.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood. I knew Queen Antares couldn’t be trusted. And after everything she’d done toBayne’s family—herownfamily, as she was his aunt by marriage—I hated her for it. But I had to take this chance. I had to try, had to free Van. Not only for his own sake, but to prevent chaos erupting in the face of already growing turmoil.
Spears hissed as guards whipped them back, clearing the way. The chain-like vines that wrapped around the hinges of the door to her chambers unwound in an elegant grace before it swung open. I stepped forward into the brightly lit chamber.
Flowering vines spiraled up columns along the edges of the space and hung from the ceiling in varying shades of greens, pinks, and whites. Queen Antares glanced up from behind a light wooden desk at the back of the hall. Her blonde curls fell below her bare shoulders in loose waves. She wore a billowy, soft blue dress that draped down her front and sides, pooling neatly on the smooth floor. A small ring of flowers wove around the top of her head, forming a casual crown.
Her eyes, the blue of summer sky, landed on me, and her pink lips curled into a welcoming grin. She looked exquisite, the picture of regal benevolence. Yet something about the way her eyes skittered along my arms left me edgy, as if something monstrous lurked beneath the beauty and grace.
Her smile bloomed into a grin, white teeth glinting as I dropped into a low bow, steadying myself.
“Your Grace, I’m here?—”
“You’re here,” she cut in, eyes slowly drifting to my own, “to beg we release the murderer.”
Her tone took on a soft, deadly lilt. I did my best not to shrink beneath her piercing gaze.
“No,” I said, keeping my voice level.
“Then do enlighten me,” she purred.
“I’ve come to ask,” I began, taking a slow breath, “for permission to examine the remains of the dead. Before your menders commend her soul to the Beyond.”
The air seemed to siphon from the room at what was clearly perceived as a vile request. Though her features remained unchanged, a flicker of threat danced in her eyes.
Before she could shut me down, I quickly added, “Before my discovery of the source of the Obscura power last year, I trained as a Death Scholar for four years. I have experience in examining skeletal remains and can determine a cause of death.”
“Our menders have already determined the cause of death,” she replied, her tone taking on a note of boredom. “She was brutalized. Beaten to death and stabbed. She died in terrible pain.”
“And you’ve already arrested Vander Stryke,” I cut in. “But you’ve no proof yet. He deserves a trial, at the very least. And an unbiased examination of the remains to provide as evidence.”
