by K.N. Lee
He smiled at her, then, and didn't mention it again.
They made their way down to the ticketing cart.
“A silver for each of you,” the gatekeeper said, his gloved hand held out toward Aros.
Dressed in a red jerkin with black sleeves, he wore the crest of the Fenrir king, a massive wolf with supernatural powers passed down to the royal family since the beginning of time.
Eostre dropped the coins into his hand, a smile on her heart-shaped face, and he lifted a brow as he looked to her.
“Very well,” he said, finally, and placed the coins in the emerald-colored chest. “Head on down and one of the gondoliers will be right with you. Enjoy your stay in the Citadel. Don’t make any trouble.”
Aros lifted a brow, but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t here for trouble. On the contrary, he wanted to warn the Fenrir king.
He couldn’t believe they were going to the one place Aros had always dreamed of visiting. He just wished it wasn’t under these circumstances. As they walked along, more attendants directed them to a narrow boat that would lead them down the river, through the canal, and into the opulent Citadel where only the wealthiest lords, ladies, and royalty dwelled. They settled into the boat and allowed the gondolier to navigate them across the gentle rushing of the river.
Aros watched the other boats row past, filled with merchants from faraway lands, and visitors with enough coin for the privilege. Eostre sat at the front, her bright, blonde hair flying around her face as the wind picked up and blew at them. She looked as innocent as a child then, her eyes wide with excitement, a smile on her full lips, and a pink blush to her white cheeks.
He glanced to the sky. Perhaps it wasn't all by chance that they'd crossed paths. She'd already proved a grand addition to their party. Easy to get along with, funny, and perhaps the most cheerful person he knew, he now couldn't imagine their journey without her.
Besides, she seemingly had loads of money to spare. He just hated thinking of how she managed to obtain it. She deserved better than that life, and now, she had a chance to attain it.
The massive gates that stretched between the mountains were open, and tall statues of wolves glared down at them, teeth bared, stone eyes intense. It was all an impressive presentation. But, once they rowed through and into the Citadel, even he had to sit up in his seat and marvel at what awaited.
The Citadel was a dream world of glass, white, gold, and shining stone. Immaculate cottages were lined within the mountain and on the many levels of land stretched ahead and incapsulated within the dome-like structure that surrounded and protected the city. In the center of it all was the palace. Gold, with several balconies and windows that looked down upon the city, it was more impressive than anything he'd ever seen.
"Remarkable," Magnus said, his mouth agape.
"We definitely aren't in Berufell anymore," Helgi added.
8
Once the boat let them off on the white, paved roads, Aros and the others stood there for a moment, utterly transfixed by all that they beheld.
The Citadel was a place of magic, despite the king detesting the very notion of it. Its power was in its beauty and obvious show of wealth. Such architecture was unheard of where Aros was born. He was used to log homes and wood. Here, everything was composed of precious stones, stone and glass.
It twinkled beneath the brief show of sunlight. He could only imagine what it looked like in the summer when the sun was in its full glory. They each stared in silence, turning to take it all in.
There were several areas where crowds of nobility congregated within large canopied vistas. The smell of delicious food being served from carts along the many crisscrossing roads wafted through the air, and Aros' stomach began to growl.
Breakfast was hours ago, and consisted only of dried fish and bread. Hunger wasn’t usually an issue. He and the others could easily shift into their Wolf form and hunt. But, there would be no hunting in this land. It was forbidden, as the fae folk dwelled in the forests and were protected by the wood nymphs. The king made it illegal, to keep the treaty between the Wolves and fae.
What Rollo, the Fenrir King, said was law, and his citizens obeyed without question.
Eostre removed her cloak, and turned to them. "Let's find the shops then, shall we?"
Helgi and Magnus followed as Aros and Eostre led the way along the winding paths of the Citadel. They left the river behind, heading away from where it cut through the center of the dome, and went underground to spill out on the other side as a sparkling waterfall. It didn't take long for the citizens of the Citadel to notice them. Looks of distaste were cast from all around, and Aros and his brothers kept their heads up.
Eostre did as well. She even spoke to some of the passerby with her thick accent, making them turn their judging eyes away. It seemed they were all well versed in dealing with snobbery.
A sign pointed the way to the Merchants Square, and once they turned down a wide open-air corridor between two massive buildings, they found themselves at the top of a set of marble stairs that went down into a courtyard filled with more shops and carts than Aros had ever seen.
There were even people set up on colorful carpets and blankets, with their goods lined up all around them.
This was the place to be if you wanted to make a fortune selling goods, and Aros could tell by the look in Eostre's eyes that she was exactly where she wanted to be. "This is incredible," she said, blinking as if it would all fade at any moment.
"Let's find something to wear," Magnus said. "I don't like how these snobs keep looking at us like they'll happily see us tossed right back out."
“I agree,” Aros said, tightening his hood over the tunic his mother had embroidered for him.
Helgi nodded. ”The sooner we clean up, the better off we will be."
“Come on then, boys,” Eostre said, clasping her hands before her. “Let’s buy some pretties.”
9
They stayed together at first, taking the many steps downward, and walking the tightly-packed main floor, until Eostre let out a yelp of glee and took off in another direction.
She was like a child, and her energy was infectious.
She began straight for an open wagon that had colorful gowns of silk hanging from clips. She fingered one gown that matched her eyes and he smiled, happy to see a look of absolute wonder come to her face.
Hours were spent in the Merchant's Square, and Eostre bought herself two new gowns, and new trousers, tunics, and fancy cloaks and boots for Aros and the twins. Once they finished up, they were starving and headed up to a lodging.
"The Prancing Peacock?" Helgi said, making a face as he read the name of the inn.
Aros shrugged. “Sounds expensive," he said, and Eostre shrugged.
"A worthy investment," she said, with a smirk.
They walked inside, and it was indeed fancier than any inn they'd ever been to. The walls were paneled with shiny wall paper, and there was a large mirror in the center of the main wall where several plush seating chairs were set up. The guests however, were a mixture between merchants and visitors from all across the realm.
Easterners, no doubt. No one ever came from the west. The west of the red river belonged to the humans and the mages who had escaped persecution.
Amalia had escaped from the west, and he'd never met anyone else like her.
These people were a diverse mix of fae, shifters, and the tall humans of the far east, whose style was much different than any Aros had seen. He was intrigued by them, and the way their skin emitted a faint glow. It was said that they were descendant of a rare breed of fae, who lost their magic as the centuries wore on.
"One room," Eostre said to the innkeeper, who peered at them from behind large bifocals and a giant book with brass-lined pages.
Aros lifted a brow. "We cannot share. It just isn't done."
She cleared her throat, and placed her hand on the book. "Excuse me for one moment," she said to the innkeeper who removed his bifocals and sat
back in his seat to observe. She turned to Aros. "Listen," she began, whispering. "I am not a bottomless pit of money. It's all I can afford."
His cheeks burned red and he nodded. "Sorry," he muttered, and she turned back to the innkeeper.
"One room," she repeated, and they exchanged the room rate for the evening.
"My wife will show you to your room," he said, still eyeing them critically.
A short woman with curly, white hair came from the back room behind the main desk, and wiped her hands on her gray apron. "This way, dears," she said, her voice warm and kind like that of a loving grandmother.
She led them up the carpeted stairs and to a hallway of several closed doors. She took out a chain of keys, and unlocked the door at the end of the right hallway just off the staircase. Inside, there were two large beds with bright, yellow dyed blankets and an open window that let in the fresh air of the fragrant back garden. A wash basin and brass pot of water were under the window. There was also a small table with two chairs.
One night in a room like that would make anyone want to stay.
"Chamber pots are by the bed, leave it outside your door and Mugsy will collect them and bring them back nice and clean. You get a warm breakfast in the morning and strong brew to set you off for your day."
Aros smiled at her. "Thank you, ma'am."
She nodded, looking them all over. Her eyes rested on Eostre, but she kept her mouth shut about whatever assumptions she had about the pretty girl with the three young men, and backed away, closing the door behind her.
Helgi and Magnus hopped onto the bigger bed, laying back and kicking their feet up. "Ah," Magnus said. "I could get used to this."
Eostre shoved his boots off the bed. "Don't," she said. "We only have enough for one night. Don't dirty the nice innkeeper's linens."
She turned to Aros, hands on her thin hips. "Looks like we're sharing a bed again," she said, giving him a wink.
10
As evening fell, Aros watched the sun set from the stairs at the front of the inn. To see Amalia ride a dragon like the paintings in the caves he’d grown up examining would be truly magical.
Until they were reunited, he simply had to make sure the entire realm didn’t fall apart.
He jumped with a start as Eostre approached and linked her arm with his. She smelled nice, and his feral, Wolf senses went mad at the scent of jasmine soap on her white skin.
She stood there a moment, looking off to the sunset with him in silence. As the sun began to fade behind the glass walls, all of the Citadel became basked in its brilliant glow. People stopped to watch it, their eyes shielded as the light intensified, and slowly faded into an eerie pink.
“Remarkable,” she said, her lips parted as she stared off into the sunset.
He smiled, and brushed her hand with his, and she glanced at him, returning the smile.
“I won’t tell your brothers your secret,” she said, giving him a wink that made his cheeks flush.
Aros cleared his throat, looking away. “Thank you,” he said. “They expect me to be like them. But, I couldn’t pay to sleep with you, Eostre. Even though I’d just met you, I had too much respect for you than that.”
She chuckled, and it was a sound he’d grown to enjoy listening to. Her entire face lit up when she laughed, and he hoped he could keep seeing it, and making her happy. But, the future wasn’t as bright as her disposition.
“Too much respect,” she said, smirking. “And, too much ale, to be truthful.”
His cheeks burned again and he scratched the back of his neck. “Perhaps.” He never was much for holding his ale. Besides, it muted one’s intellect, and as a scholar, that was simply unacceptable.
Snuggling her head into his shoulder, she sighed. “Aye, Aros,” she said. “But, I wasn’t talking about that.”
He turned to her, surprised, and bit confused. His brows knitted together as he looked to her, and for the first time since he’d met her, warnings sparked in his gut, making him nauseous.
“I know your secret,” she said, with a nod, but didn’t meet his eyes. Then, she unlinked her arms and took a step away. Reaching out, she brushed his cheek with her thumb and gave him a look of concern. “Just know that you talk in your sleep, my friend.”
With that, she left him to his solitude, and with questions he was too afraid to ask.
11
They'd awakened early to have a large breakfast in the inn dining room. Fresh tea, pastries, and porridge awaited, and Aros and the others had their fill. Neither were ready to leave the comfort of their beds, but the smell of sausages pulled them from under the blankets.
The courtyard right outside of the palace was packed the next day.
Dressed in his new finery, Aros waited at the base of the steps that led into the palace. It was time to request an audience with the king. His brothers and Eostre stood at his side, as did dozens of sweaty visitors who all wanted the chance to see the king.
Eostre was truly a vision that beautiful morning. She'd taken the time to comb her hair and braid her bangs across to her ear. Dressed in the blue dress she'd bought, she could easily have passed for a true lady of noble birth.
He still wondered what secrets she knew, and intended to ask her about them once they were alone again. Despite the offer to sleep in the same bed as her, he’d decided to take a blanket and sleep on the floor in between beds.
As they waited, the sky brightened and the clouds rolled across at a leisurely pace that reminded Aros of the foam being swept down the river as he fished in the early morning back home in Berufell.
They weren't the only ones hoping to speak to the king. Several foreign dignitaries and travelers stood at their side while they waited for the doors to be opened and allowed entrance into the palace.
"It's getting bloody hot out here," Magnus said, tugging at the collar of his red-leather jerkin.
"Shouldn't be long now," Aros said, and he was right. The doors were opened and a palace attendant stepped forward, dressed in a long, white cloak with golden trim, and a golden cap. He carried a large book and quill.
The others began filing in and he took their names down and where they were from. When it was Aros' turn, the man paused, searching his face as he stated his name.
"Aros of Berufell, son of Reidar the Wise.”
He swallowed and nodded, face gone ashen.
"Of course," he said. "The king has been expecting your arrival."
Stunned, Aros exchanged a surprised look with his brothers.
"Come," he said. "This way."
Anxiety tightened Aros' abdomen as he followed the attendant. How did the king know he was coming?
Eris and Enit hadn't steered him wrong so far. Amalia was where she was meant to be, and that was because he'd followed their guidance. He just hoped that his journey would take him back to her.
He breathed in, determined to keep faith in the gods. Inside the palace, they were taken down a corridor where paintings of former kings and queens lined the paneled walls. Everyone else who had waited to enter were taken on a tour of the public areas of the palace.
Aros and the others were led directly to the throne room.
There stood Rollo, the Fenrir King, in his human form. He was a large man, of nearly forty, with long, dark hair, and green eyes that peered down at Aros as if he could see straight through him to his soul.
There was magic in the Fenrir king’s veins, and Aros had grown used to the feel of it in the air when Amalia was around. The king wore a heavy cloak over his fine, embroidered tunic, red sash, and leather pants tucked into tall, leather boots the shined.
“Aros, son of Reidar the Wise,” King Rollo said, standing from his throne of dark stone and jewels. “Einar told me you’d be coming.”
A cold chill raced up Aros’ body and landed in his throat.
No.
It was then that they were seized by the guards, and dragged away from the throne room—it was then that Aros realized that King Rollo woul
d not be an ally.
For, he served their enemy.
The vengeful god, Einar.
12
Strong arms shoved Aros into a dark room, as the guards did their duty.
He’d pleaded for the king to hear him out, and it was to no avail.
King Rollo never gave any of them a chance, and the heavy weight of failure settled over Aros’ shoulders.
The creaking, barred door was slammed shut and Aros was left alone in a dungeon cell beneath the palace. It was a small space, with wet hay strewn about the stone floor, and a single chamber pot that smelled of piss in the back corner. There was no light, only slivers of the sun’s rays came in from the tiny windows high up at the top of the cells.
This was not supposed to happen. Everything had gone wrong within seconds, and there was nothing Aros could do about it. For once, he was completely helpless.
Enit and Eris had led him here to prepare the Fenrir king.
He stood there, hands around the bars, forehead pressed to the cool steel. He had to think of a solution. Thinking was his profession, but nothing came to mind as he weighed every option.
King Rollo had already taken sides. He hadn’t even let him speak his business, and expected his arrival. If he served Einar, Amalia and the dragons were in even greater danger than he'd imagined. They not only had to worry about the Brotherhood, Einar, and the creatures along the way.
The Wolves would be coming for her, and he was imprisoned.
Utterly useless.
“Aros?” Magnus called, breaking him from his thoughts. “Helgi?”
He looked up, and wiped tears from his eyes. "Aye, everyone all right?"
“Bloody hell,” Helgi said. "What good those fancy clothes did for us. Sitting in filth and shite. Just brilliant.”
“We're fine,” Magnus said. “At least we’re alive.”