He held out his elbow to me and I took his arm, allowing him to sweep me into the darkened hallway.
I tried not to gape as my fingers trailed over the iron tyger heads at the base of the banisters as we approached a wide set of stairs. The wrought iron balusters in between the stairs and banister depicted men and tygers engaged in ornamental battle poses. Iron, copper, and steel embellishments glimmered in the polished marble floor; intricate latticework in cloud and flame patterns swept up the imposing columns. A great chandelier hung from the high ceiling, lights glowing in the jaws of the finely detailed tygers cast in bronze. The delicious smell of freshly baked pineapple buns and sweet almond pastries floated in the air.
So much wealth. While the people were starving. The opulence felt like an insult. No wonder the Ironstorm wanted to bring them all down.
“Rubi?”
I shook my head, looking up at my companion. “Sorry.”
“No worries. I know this must all be overwhelming.” He clenched his jaw slightly. “You are the tygress’s Bonded rider. You should be respected by all.”
Somehow I feltsafewith him, which wasn’t an emotion I dared to ignore. I clung a little harder to his arm.
“I…thank you, Captain.”
“Jace, please.” He smiled, all disarming charm. “I’m sure we will get to know each other well as you train, yes?”
I nodded this time.
My mouth fell open as we entered the massive throne room.
Stone walls decorated with different shades of bronze, brass,and hammered steel soared up to the high ceiling, the room long and large enough to fit more than a hundred people. The floor glistened as if it were inlaid with polished silver leaf. At the far end was an imposing throne, shaped by stylized tygers carved from white jade and gilded with gold, lit by the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the high arched windows.
It was a grand, glittering expanse, filled with the whispers of nobles, their curious gazes trailing over me as I entered. Never had I been in such an enormous indoor space. I felt as insignificant as an ant, the weight of the throne room pressing down on me. Everything here was grand and vast. The air shimmered with the scent of fragrant oils and cold steel, a sharp contrast to the poverty I came from.
I didn’t belong here.
Not in this space where power curled through the very architecture, woven into the marble veins of the floor and the metallic threads in the banners overhead. This was a place for those born to rule, for bloodlines that stretched back through history like an unbroken chain.
My memory was shattered. I had no grand lineage to anchor me, no childhood to reminisce about. I was a ghost in a place where names were carved into metal and power was passed down as inheritance.
To our right was a wide staircase with an ornate railing that ran up to a deep inside balcony stretching the length of the room, filled with well-dressed men and women, surely the nobility, who were tittering and gossiping with each other as they watched the proceedings below.
I felt their eyes crawling over me, stripping me bare. Every glance sliced deeper. They knew I didn’t belong here in this borrowed dress.
Who did I think I was?
As though sensing my thoughts, Jace placed a hand over mine on his arm and leaned over to whisper, his breath brushing my ear, “You are the tygress rider. Remember that.” Then he led me toward the king.
I heard the murmurs drifting down.
“Who is this? A new Azure plaything?”
“Absolutely lovely, I’d like to see that blue hair spread across my pillow.”
Jace fixed the noble who’d made the last comment with a hard stare. The man paled and stopped laughing.
The throne loomed ahead, feeling impossibly distant despite the narrowing space.
Atop the dais sat King Uzar, in embroidered golden robes, and Princess Malissa, draped in flowing silver and white. Her platinum hair was high in an elegant twist, gleaming under the arched windows. She wore a necklace of diamonds and forged silver, sharp and gleaming against her throat. This Malissa smiled with cold grace, the king’s perfect daughter, trained to wound with a word instead of a blade.
Behind them stood the Ambush Master.
Blake was every inch the Twin Blade here, dressed in full ornamental plate armor, the gray metal threaded through with veins of black and polished silver. His icy gaze brushed past me to search the room. He was an imposing sight, with elaborately plated pauldrons expanding his already broad shoulders above the wide vambraces protecting his arms.
My stomach fluttered. It wasn’t just the size of him or his annoyingly handsome face; it was his commanding presence, the feeling that nothing could get through him if he did not wish it.
His eyes finally landed on me, and he stared, lips parting. But no sound came out. His eyes dropped quickly to Jace’s hand overmine and back up. Jaw tightening, he looked away, consciously avoiding my gaze. A clear dismissal.
