It was austere, yes.
But the architecture was astonishing.
I thought the height and breadth and grandeur of Birchlire Castle was a spectacle, a visual feast. And when I had been there, I’d thought the golden domes and white-washed buildings and avenues of Go’Doan were a marvel, blinking blindingly clean and beautiful in the sun.
But everywhere you looked in Sky Bay was like that, and even more.
It seemed all of it, from the carvings in the black stone, to the domes and steeples atop the buildings, to the buttressed dormers, looming gargoyles, massive stained-glass rose windows, even to what appeared to be a colossal working clock atop a multi-storied building that looked like a temple (but Cassius had bit out that it was a bank), there was nowhere to look that did not hold some interest.
And in most cases…beauty.
It was true, it was not the beauty I was used to. The bright, sunshine dappling through the green leaves of The Enchantments or the rolling patchwork of Dellish fields and the quaint thatched villages there.
But it was no less beautiful.
Simply its own kind.
Indeed, even the thick, gray smoke drifting from the chimneys contributed to the overall mood.
Which, for some unknown reason, made me want nothing but a warm cup of something at hand where I was curled somewhere comfortable with a throw covering my legs, a good book in my hand and nothing on my mind but just relaxing.
As I would do on my deck in my treehome.
Or I wanted to be under the covers with Cassius, doing something far more active.
And these I did not feel were bad things.
But I would soon note, as we drew closer, the most beautiful of all, the beacon of this magnificence shone (in its way) from the Citadel that seemed carved (exquisitely) in the southwestern ridge of craggy peaks that surrounded the entirety of the city, making it somewhat of a bowl that had a break at the harbor.
Cassius’s home, the Sky Citadel curved along its side of this range that guarded the Bay, and even from afar, I knew the iron crosses over the windows and hostile wrought notions shooting from its towers and fencing its battlements were extraordinary.
Honestly, I could not wait to get there and discover every inch.
I did not speak of any of this.
Cassius was clearly in no mood, and because of this, the rest of us adopted his mood.
But regardless, every turn we made, my mind was taken with something new to discover.
For instance, on some streets, right through the middle, were cut waterways on which narrow boats were shunted up (or down) as a way to transport people, and a goodly number of them, so that the streets of the populous city did not get clogged with horses and carriages (and all the congestion and smells that came from them).
And down another street, I witnessed some sort of conveyance. It took up one side of the street. It was long (it had eight windows down the side), was on rails, and seemed to be propelled by men pedaling large apparatuses at the back.
This, too, was a way to transport large numbers of people distances that would take a great number of horses, carriages, or a good deal of walking up and down (sometimes steep) avenues.
It was, no other way to describe it, extraordinary.
Even through this, it was not lost on me that the streets were not clear of people and the return of their king (Gallienus rode before us with his own guard) and prince after a time away and a return heralded by a sea battle could not have been missed.
But although it couldn’t have been missed, it didn’t seem to matter.
This was the only thing (at first) that made me uneasy.
For there were very few women and what women there were, were not dressed in finery, out for a stroll on an overcast day. They were dressed drearily, and in some cases tattily, busy going about doing what they were doing.
And this busyness seemed fretful, and in some cases, frantic.
They didn’t stop to watch our procession (not the women, or the men). The women scurried on their way, heads bowed, but clearly paying attention, for they were careful to steer clear of any man who might need their share of the path.
And I did not have to watch long to see that any man, dressed finely or not, received right of way.
But the men, they might glance our way, but other than that…
Nothing.
What made that uneasiness start to shift to worry was when my wonder at my surroundings began to wear off and the fact that I sensed there was absolutely no joy or even liveliness started to drift in.
Indeed, the air was void of it.
It was incredibly odd, especially in a place of such beauty, apparent prosperity and obvious ingenuity.
I did not, by far, expect it to be the happiest place on earth.
It was, after all, a city whose women rose up and slayed the men who were their masters, then fled to become the Nadirii Sisterhood.
But this was unexpected, disturbing.
Further, it didn’t appear any of the citizens were suffering under siege. No one looked haggard. And still, although the harbor had been freed very recently, there was no response.
There was no cheer that their monarch and his son were amongst them, had secured the harbor, the four ships docked there bringing supplies.
There were no jeers either.
Not even at the sight of me riding alongside their prince caused a reaction.
A Nadirii in their midst (actually, three of us with twenty more riding at our rear).
I received some glances, many (from men, obviously, the women didn’t even look our way) baleful.
But other than that…
There was nothing.
Yes, this was troubling.
When we finally made it to the tall, austere iron gates that guarded the switchbacked lane that led up to the Citadel, all my admiration at all that was Sky Bay had leaked from me.
So much, I felt actually drained.
I wanted to race up the jagged lane, drag Cassius off his horse, into that castle, be certain Jazz and Hera and Cassius’s men made it in with us, and barricade the doors against that air, that mood, that atmosphere.
And then take Cassius to bed, not for enjoyable activities.
To hold him tightly to me, absorb his strength, the depth of his need to protect (which had to be the depth of his ability to love, which was bottomless) and infuse him with anything light and sunny and cheerful and good.
Anything.
Even just a whisper.
He had often called his home bleak and miserable.
He did not mean the look of it.
He meant this.
The fact that the very air seemed permeated, heavy, even clogged with despair.
I did not race up the lane.
I had to stay alert.
There were soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, lining each side of that lane, wearing their black battle leathers and slate-colored wool mantles, staring at us under their shining black helmets with long, lethal-tipped lances pointed to the sky and held tucked to their shoulders.
We could be felled in a trice.
But not a one of them moved, nary an inch. I didn’t witness one so much as twitch.
What I did was wonder why they weren’t fighting the radicals that were laying siege to the city for that lane was long in its rise up to the fortress. There were easily hundreds of them.
However, they just stood at attention for their king and their prince, their leathers, lances and helmets pristine.
Odd and not a small amount of unsettling.
I noted Cassius didn’t feel that way.
But upon glancing behind me, I saw Frey and Lahn, both visibly alert and openly taking in the lines of warriors, absolutely did.
At the top, dead center in a large, stately courtyard paved in smooth cobbles and dotted at the sides with some shrubs that were not pleasing-to-the-eye hints of nature in this dark stone landscape, but precisely trimmed in squat cone and pyramid sha
pes, sat an enormous fire pit that raged with orange flames.
Not a tinkling, peaceful fountain.
Perhaps it was an ode to ancient times when Airen and Firenze were one and they were ruled by the Fire King.
Perhaps it was once a fountain, but some ruler along the years preferred something threatening and severe, not welcoming and tranquil.
I did not have the chance to ask after this (not that I would). I also did not have the chance to grab Cassius and drag him somewhere safe so we could hold onto any happiness we might have left lingering in our souls.
Out of the high, wide, arched double doors to the Citadel that were open (both of them), three women drifted down the steps that were lined with servants who also stood motionless, uniformed and at attention.
These were the only women I witnessed wearing what might amount to finery in Airen, though I vowed to my goddess I would never wear such.
Thick, leather, what only could be described as engineered corsets over silk blouses confined their ribs. The blouses were buttoned all the way to their throats, the collars stiff and uncomfortable-looking. Their skirts were wide and appeared heavy, with a variety of deep ruffles, bunches or ruching (or all three) that made them seem like they weighed stones and stones.
And their faces were painted to extremes. Thick kohl around their eyes, stark and unnatural red at their lips, white powder on their skin and clownish rouge at their cheeks.
Indeed, there was so much paint on their faces, I could not tell if they were aged sixteen or sixty.
They wore tangles of strings of pearls and gold chains that fell about their chests, dangled from their ears and bound their wrists.
This demonstration of wealth was not only ostentatious (most specifically because of the absolute lack of such adorning the women in the city), it also seemed more like manacles and yokes than gilding.
It was a shock to the system, for seeing it, I realized there was no color in this place. Not anywhere. Not here, at the Citadel, not down below, in the city.
No flowers. Even if it was late in the season, mums, sage, goldenrod, roses, sunflowers and asters still bloomed.
No colorful awnings.
No bright pottery or brightly glazed tilework.
There was not even color in the fabrics, not in the uniforms of the servants, not in the clothing of the women (the corsets were all in shades of brown or gray, the blouses white or cream, the skirts, black or gray).
My thoughts were turned when the women all rushed directly to Gallienus before he even dismounted and fell into such low curtsies, their skirts looked like pools of dark silk on the cobbles.
His wives.
All three of them.
Nearly prostrate before him with their heads bowed.
I felt bile chase up my throat and heard Jazz choke down hers.
“Welcome to my home,” Cassius drawled, and I looked to him in alarm.
With one look I knew more than I already knew.
He hated it here.
Abhorred it.
And here we were.
Here I was.
And he did not want me here.
But here was also where he was raising his beloved daughter, his Aelia.
He did not want that either.
And I could now understand why.
I stared into his eyes, seeing the sky-blue was gone. They were dark as night and blinking with miniscule stars.
This, how they looked when he felt deeply, in the haze of passion or in a blaze of anger.
And looking into those eyes, I sensed something gathering along my spine.
Not my magic.
Something even more important.
Vital.
Fundamental.
I needed to save him from this.
I needed to save him and Aelia and Dora from this.
I needed to protect them from this nightmare, deliver them from it.
And the only thing I could do in order to achieve that was to transform it.
At first in mind.
And then in reality.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I only partly lied.
His chin jerked into his neck.
“The whole city. Those…I don’t know what they’re called, carriages on rails,” I went on.
“Trains,” he said.
“Trains,” I repeated. “And the canals. And the rose windows. The steepled roofs.” I looked up to what seemed like the interminable towers of the Citadel, doing so gazing past gargoyles in shapes of everything from lizards to bats to trolls to griffin to dragons to, well…gargoyles to see intimidating wrought iron finials spiking into the sky. “And this…” I searched for words. “It’s just extraordinary.”
It appeared my words only served to make Cassius even more aggravated, and he underlined this by stating, “Elena, do not lie.”
“Right,” I gave in a little. “So, I would hope in the spring you’d let me, or, say, some royal gardener plant some ivy, because really,” I flung a hand toward the castle, “there needs to be more green and it’d look lovely climbing up the walls.”
Cassius blinked.
“And a few more shrubbery wouldn’t hurt,” I went on gamely.
He simply stared at me.
“And I might switch the fire pit out to a fountain.”
He spoke then.
“There’s a vein of natural gas that feeds that flame.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, turning my eyes to the fiery display. I drew in breath, and with it fortification, and turned back to him. “Let us discover the inside.”
He raised his brows. “Would you like to meet my stepmothers?”
Actually, I wouldn’t.
I turned my gaze to the women who were all now on their feet, shuffling back, still with heads bowed, as Gallienus dismounted.
I looked to Cassius and chirped, “Of course.”
As I had never, in my entire life, chirped, and Cassius had not known me my entire life, but he’d come to know me well these past months, thus, he knew that, his eyes narrowed.
I dismounted.
Hera and Jasmine, already off their mounts, instantly got close to me.
“Ellie—” Jazz murmured anxiously.
She was not an anxious person.
But even the strongest warrior would be infused by harmful feelings just breathing this Airenzian air.
“We’re going to do this,” I murmured back.
“Do what?” Hera asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we’re going to figure it out.”
“Mm-hmm,” Hera mumbled dubiously.
I couldn’t be dubious.
I had to do this, whatever it was, and I couldn’t wait until spring to do it by planting ivy.
I glanced at Finnie and Circe, who were approaching us accompanied closely by Frey and Lahn, and I gave the women big eyes.
Finnie’s gaze jumped beyond me, where I sensed Cassius approaching, then to me and she nodded.
Circe just gave me a sour expression, but then again, she’d already experienced an Airenzian city, so she understood it was sour indeed.
Cassius took hold of my elbow.
I drew in another fortifying breath and moved with him toward where Gallienus was standing impatiently, not close to his wives, who all were lined up, their heads still bowed.
Had he embraced them, and I’d missed it?
Had he even said words to them at all after being away from them for months?
“My father’s beloveds,” Cassius said drily when we’d arrived at them. “The Ladies Royal, Horatia, Cornelia and Domitia,” he introduced with arm extended and moving to each one as he said their name. “Ladies, my betrothed, Princess Elena of the Nadirii.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
Heads still bowed, they only nodded, and it was just Domitia who looked over her brows toward me with some curiosity, and I saw, from closer, she seemed the youngest of the three (by far).
“Speak whe
n spoken to by a princess,” Gallienus spat at them, and at his words and tone, I tensed.
Cassius tensed.
All our people who had gathered around us tensed.
“Do not do one thing that you do not wish to do or are not comfortable doing,” I decreed sharply.
That got me all three pairs of eyes examining me (though they did this under brows).
Horatia, the oldest (I guessed), peered at me with some measure, and I assessed her instantly as a problem.
Cornelia was gazing at me with some surprise, but a good deal of reserve, and I decided she needed further assessment.
Domitia stared at me in shock (yes, even over her brows).
“And do not bow your heads to me. We are equals. We are sisters,” I educated.
“You are a princess and they are—” Gallienus started.
“Queens,” I finished for him.
I heard a gasp, presumably from Domitia, but nothing from the others.
“They are known as Ladies Royal. We have no queens in Airen,” Gallienus informed me.
“My bride will be a queen,” Cassius put in.
“Your choice, not mine,” Gallienus said to him.
Cassius, as I’d noted he often dealt with his father, dismissed him and turned to the women who all still had their heads bowed.
“Elena told you to raise your heads,” he said, his tone gentling.
“We obey the command of our king,” Horatia announced, and both the women at her side shuffled a bit.
Yes, a problem,
Gallienus subjugated them.
Horatia ruled them.
“Then it’s important you know that, during our travels, your king did not abdicate his throne, but he abdicated his authority and I am now Prince Regent, ruler of this land and this Citadel. So, when I tell you to raise your heads, I mean for you to obey me,” Cassius returned in a much less gentle voice, and I suspected he spoke as such because he knew precisely what role Horatia played in this sick farce.
Both Cornelia and Domitia raised their heads, each wearing expressions that were masks of shock.
Horatia lifted her gaze much more slowly and her expression was composed.
Too composed.
She said nothing but her eyes were working.
Definitely a problem.
“And it’s important to note, as Prince Regent, my intended will be Princess Regent,” Cassius shared.
The Dawn of the End (The Rising Book 3) Page 13
