Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
We traveled here by magic, though I was concerned and didn’t want to at first. But Sylvanna assured me she was rested and recovered and though I thought she looked a little pale when we arrived at the city gates, she didn’t stumble or faint. I’m staying close to her side anyway, though. I don’t take my Lady’s safety for granted.
The guards—two NightBorn males in silver breastplates, both holding long ceremonial spears—stop us before we can enter the vast gates.
“State your name and business,” the first one grunts, speaking to Sylvanna.
“And why the fuck do you have a DayBorn with you?” the other guard demands.
“This is the Lady Sylvanna—she’s a great Sorceress,” I growl, glaring at them both. “You’d be wise to keep a civil tongue in your head around her or you’ll answer to me.”
“Who the fuck are you, then, DayBorn?” he demands, but he looks a little uneasy. I’m taller than both of them by at least a head. These NightBorn males are puny.
“This is Sir Alaric of Solaris, my Blood-servant,” Sylvanna says. “He’s wearing my colors, as you can see.”
Indeed, I am wearing a “tail” with purple and black horsehair. I’ve gotten used to wearing one now—and there’s a discrete hole in my black leather breeches for it to poke out of. I can walk, run or fight with it inside me with no problems. I’m also wearing a black leather vest as well as my sword strapped over my back and the blackened silver collar which never comes off.
The guards look me up and down and then nod at Sylvanna. Apparently we pass the test. We are admitted through the gates and into the City of Night and we make our way up the winding circular road that leads around in a spiral. It ends at the crest of the huge hill where the palace of the Queen sits.
The vast structure is built of black marble shot through with veins of silver. It seems to glimmer like a huge, dark star that almost fills the sky.
“Well…here we are.” Sylvanna’s voice trembles and she takes a deep breath, her eyes wide and uncertain as she stares at the palace.
At once I know that something’s wrong.
“What is it, my Lady?” I ask quietly, putting a hand on her arm. “What do you fear?”
“Nothing.” She shakes my hand off and lifts her chin. I see determination fill her lovely glowing eyes. “I’m just fine, Paladin. Come—we must seek an audience with the Queen. I have not seen her in three years.”
I’m not sure what’s going to happen next but I know a show of bravado covering fear when I see it. I resolve to keep a close eye on my Mistress as I follow her into the palace.
23
Sylvanna
The Queen’s reception hall is much as I remember it. Huge marble pillars soar to the vaulted ceiling which is paned with skylights that let the moonlight in. Brilliant diamond chandeliers hover above our heads, held aloft by a floating charm, no doubt worked by the Court Sorcerer—who is also the Queen’s closest advisor.
I wonder if old Genovine is still in that coveted position. He’s ancient but powerful—able to do almost anything that can be done by magic…when he remembers how to do it. He was getting just a bit senile last I saw him.
As I am a trusted friend to the Queen, she asked my help to find a replacement for him…but not too soon. She didn’t want to disrespect him, as he had also been her father’s Court Sorcerer as well. She just wanted to be prepared for when he eventually faded, as we of the High Born with magic in our veins do when our time here is done. He—
My thoughts are interrupted by a most distressing sight. As the Royal Guard parts, I see the throne for the first time. It’s made of solid ivory bound in silver and gold and seems to gleam like a star against all the black marble of the room. Sitting upon it is the Queen—only she looks terrible.
Though she’s only five years older than me, she now looks three times my age or more. She’s withered away almost to nothing, her once lush black hair gone gray and thin and her skin is papery and yellow. Her thin frame is hunched over in the throne so that I can’t see her face and she seems to be talking to herself.
“My Queen!” I rush to her, my fear for my dear friend overcoming my sense of Royal decorum. She doesn’t seem to hear me, she just mutters to herself, hunched over like a crone.
“My Queen? It’s me—Sylvanna,” I say to her and dare to touch her on one bony shoulder.
She flinches away from me but looks up at last and I see what’s been holding her attention. It’s the Glass of Distraction—an ancient magical artifact which is dangerously addictive. It looks like a short, silver spy-glass but colored light glows from its eyepiece.