But that was exactly what I needed to do if I wanted to reach that station again. Or maybe there was another way that would lead me there.
We reached the gates, and Finnegan raised his hands, a faint shimmer tracing the tendons of his fingers. They groaned open, their protest like ancient hinges turning.
“Are the gates enchanted too?” I asked as we approached them.
“Yes, they’re protected with wards. It’s like a barrier, only invisible. The entire estate is warded in a similar way, though we’ve been having some issues lately.” His lips thinned, as if he hadn’t meant to add the last part.
Between the enchanted gates and the eerie woods behind the castle, escaping this place would be no easy task.
Under a cloudy grey sky, we stepped onto a broad street, flanked by narrower lanes. Between high mountains with snowy peaks lay an actual city.
Houses with steep gabled roofs stood clustered together, their worn wooden balconies decorated with rustic, crooked signs. Chimneys puffed smoke into the crisp air.
The cobblestone street we walked along was lined with shops, warm golden light spilling from the windows. The place bustled with people clad in dark cloaks.
“Welcome to the main city,” Finnegan said. “It’s the heart of Mountheim and the closest to your human lands.”
We strolled past buildings of weathered wood and stone that looked as if they had stood there for centuries. They were well-maintained but definitely old.
Every adult and child walking among us bore some beastly feature. Spiralling horns, a squirrel’s tail, scaled skin. It was an effort not to gape. I couldn’t help but glance at Finnegan’s pointed ears.
“Do all mages have...” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it.
He noticed my gaze and touched his ear. “Features from other creatures? Only in this estate.”
“Why only in this estate?”
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Let’s say you’re not the only one here with a sentence you don’t like.”
His words sank in. “So, everyone in your estate has a sentence? Or does this have to do with Reagan’s sentence?”
Finnegan’s eyes snapped toward me, surprised. “What do you know about Reagan’s sentence?”
I shrugged. “Nothing, but that judge mentioned it.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Maybe you should have a conversation with him and ask.”
“I think I’d rather poke needles into my eyes.”
Finnegan chuckled. “You sound like Gwin.”
“Reagan’s sister?” I asked, glancing through a shop window. “Is she part of the staff? Or a lady?”
His features twitched, as if he controlled his expression. “No, Gwin doesn’t have noble blood. She’s his adoptive sister. But she is on the staff. She’s Liege from the city’s guard, a trained battle mage who commands her own squad. It’s what you might call a...soldier in the human lands, I guess. She responds to Barracus, whom you’ve met. He’s the Commander of the Guard. They run anything from patrols to capturing people involved in illegal crafts.”
“The one that is a bit grouchy,” I ventured.
“That one,” Finn confirmed. “Barracus is third-in-command. But I suppose someone who is a hundred and eighty-seven years old cannot be the cheeriest person.”
“One hundred and eighty-seven?” I repeated, brows high.
Finnegan smiled. “Yes. The mageborn have advanced quite a bit in the study of longevity, so our lifespan is around three times that of humans.”
I stifled a surprised noise. “Does that mean Cerridwen is second-in-command?”
“Right. She advises Reagan on everything related to governance.”
He smiled as we stopped in front of a place with a sign reading The Wandering Cup, but before he invited me in, I had to ask.
