My stomach churned as we walked on, my heart beating faster. What did it mean, being a princess? From all my studies, being the daughter of a prince was anything but enviable. It meant your person belonged to the state; your life would be dictated by its decrees and those more powerful. Maybe it would be different here. Maybe I would have freedom: freedom to train to use magic, freedom to train to fight. And maybe—the freedom I desired most—I’d be allowed to be with the person I cared about most.
Thinking down that line encouraged me somewhat. I caught Alex’s eye and he reached out and took my hand in his, giving it a light squeeze before letting go. It had to be possible. This king couldn’t keep Alex from me.
We reached the end of our narrow walkway and stepped onto a manicured lawn of deep green. The land was cast in the shadows of thick clouds, but the sight before me was transcendent, and I knew. It was the painting from the Del Contes guest room. It was of a castle in Gaia—this very one.
A stone wall circumvented a single hill, enclosed from behind by a monumental mountain range. Seated right on top of the hill was that magnificent castle. The painting had failed to capture its grandeur—not even the mountains could compete. Turrets stood tall, spires brushing against the sky. Arched stone bridges connected other, smaller turrets to the main building that dwarfed the hill it sat upon. A single bridge connected it to the rest of the world, extending over rushing rapids—overflow from a nearby cascade that plummeted over a cliff.
It was medieval in every sense of the word. Medieval…and magical.
And it was going to be my home.
Chapter 28
King Darius
“Master Durus,” Dad said. “Would you take Fleck to Master Antoni? I think it best we save this surprise for later.”
Master Durus nodded without the slightest hesitation, face fixed in his trademark scowl. Maybe his facial muscles were stuck that way.
Fleck’s eyes widened as they took in the sheer height of the man, and his knees started shaking.
Alex crouched at Fleck’s side. “Master Durus is one of the meanest, toughest, strongest men I’ve ever known. And—“ Alex glanced back at me with a smile “—he is one of the best. If there was anyone on this planet I would trust to keep you safe, it would be him.”
My urge to punch Alex vanished at once.
Fleck glanced warily at me and Alex continued, “Fleck, I promise you’ll be in good hands. He’ll take you straight to Master Antoni, and Master Antoni isn’t like Master Durus at all. In fact, Master Antoni is very kind, and gentle, and understanding. You’ll like him. And here—“ Alex pulled a tiny whittling knife from a pocket and held it before Fleck. “Hold on to it till I come visit. I expect to see proof you’ve used it.”
Fleck took the knife from Alex’s hand and beamed. If Master Durus was offended by Alex’s comment, I couldn’t tell. His expression was the same as always—mad.
“You’ll come soon, won’t you?” Fleck asked.
“I’ll try,” Alex said.
Fleck sighed. “I understand. You have to go with the lady.”
Alex grinned, ruffling Fleck’s auburn hair. “I promise I’ll come as soon as I can, and so will she.”
Alex’s warm eyes turned to me then.
“Of course I will,” I said to Fleck. “I just hope my living situation is as nice as yours.”
Fleck looked past me at Alex, and a funny smirk appeared on his face. Fleck understood way too much about things. It must be the Daloren wisdom in him.
Without a word, Master Durus began walking down a different street and glanced back for Fleck to follow. Beaming, Fleck spun around and followed the mountain back towards the bustling marketplace.
“Will he be all right?” I asked Alex as we continued towards the castle.
Alex leaned close. “I wouldn’t trust him with anyone else.”
Armed men on horseback rode past us, always saluting my dad and Stefan and extending their salutations to the Del Contes—Alex in particular. All they did to me was stare.
We reached the base of the drawbridge. From here, the castle looked as though it propped up the sky and I felt small. No one guarded the bridge, but again there was a surge of power as we crossed. Rapids churned far below, racing back into the mountains. This was the only way in and the only way out.
Maybe you should turn back. Do you really want this?
I paused and looked over my shoulder. To be like the people back there in the marketplace, doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, accountable to no one. Adventure and freedom. What was I walking into?
But I couldn’t stop now. I couldn’t turn around and run. No, that wasn’t an option, not after everything we’d fought for. Today, I would meet my grandfather the king. It was the least I could do after what I’d done.
I walked on, and I didn’t look back.
Armored guards eyed us as we passed, all bowing their heads to Dad and Stefan, and we stopped at a pair of colossal doors. Without knocking, the doors swung inward and we stepped inside.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and when they did, I froze in place. I’d felt small, looking at this castle from a distance, but standing in this room made me feel microscopic.
The atrium we stood in was built for giants. God-like giants. White columns rose like trees from a foundation of granite, their tops disappearing in a sea of arches that formed the highest ceiling I’d ever seen. Heavy velvet green draperies cascaded along the sides of tall and slender windows, landing in puddles of green upon the floor. Rays of light streamed through the windows, streaking across the ground like ribbons of gold. The only other light was from an elaborate chandelier that floated overhead, filled with rows and rows of fat and flickering candles. Which, I assumed, were responsible for the smell of smoke lingering in the air.
But for all the attempts to warm the room, the space felt cold and empty.
“This is where we leave you, I think.” Cicero smiled at me. “I’m sure you’ll want to experience this moment as a family.”
Dad and Cicero hugged. “You know I consider you family. But—“ Dad gripped Cicero’s shoulders “—thank you. For understanding.”
Sonya hugged Dad, and then me. “Daria.” She kissed my forehead and smiled as she touched my cheek. “Welcome home, my dear.”
Sonya and Cicero said goodbyes to Stefan, Sonya whispered something to her son, and she and Cicero walked out of the atrium, disappearing through a corridor.
“Well, A.” Stefan grinned. “See you later this evening?”
Alex smiled at Stefan—my brother.
I had a brother.
I would never get used to this.
“Probably not,” Alex said. “A few weeks with your sister and I’m beat.”
Stefan chuckled as Alex turned towards me. The green in his eyes looked greener somehow and I felt a rush of his affection.
What now?
Alex wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as he whispered, “Don’t be afraid of them.” His lips brushed my ear. “Let them feel the weight of who you are—who I know you to be—because that woman was born a leader.”
For a moment we stood in silence; me encased in his arms. I didn’t want him to let go. Ever.
“Alex?” I asked.
He tilted his head.
“Find me later,” I whispered. “I need to see you.”
His gaze was soft as he brought my hand to his mouth. His lips warmed the back of my hand and he let go.
Without another word, he turned on his heels and began walking after his parents.
“Alexander,” my dad said.
Alex halted and looked back at my dad. Both men stood tall and something passed between them.
“Thank you,” Dad said in a voice filled with emotion. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”
Alex bowed his head slightly. “It wasn’t just me—“
“No, it wasn’t,” Dad paused. “But I know you. And I know she’s here, now, beca
use of you.”
Alex held my dad’s gaze a long moment. His eyes flitted to me before bowing his head and then he left.
I was about to start after him when a low voice penetrated the room.
“Prince Alaric!”
A man approached us, dressed in rich cloth and vibrant shades of blues, walking tall as if he owned the whole world. His leather boots echoed as they scraped against the stone floor and his deep blue cloak fluttered behind him. His black hair was straight and fell to his shoulders, making his pale face paler and his hard features harder. He held a semblance to someone I’d met recently—someone that elicited very bad memories.
“Lord Commodus.” My dad smiled. “How did you beat me home?”
Lord Commodus. So that was why he looked familiar. His brother had held me prisoner, in chains, and attempted to kill me. More than once.
“I know, it is miraculous.” He smiled. I didn’t like his smile.
His eyes turned to me. They were cold—like his brother’s. And they were staring at me so intensely I looked away. It was hard, separating him from his brother, and I couldn’t look at Lord Commodus without seeing an evil man.
“Who is this…stunning young woman?” His voice was a whisper. “She reminds me of someone.” He paused. “She reminds me of…”
“Daria is my daughter,” my dad answered firmly. He stood taller, the humor now gone from his face.
Lord Commodus’ lips parted before he could hide his shock. I felt his mind, mulling things over, putting pieces together and trying to find where he fit in that puzzle.
Or where to place himself.
Lord Commodus’ rubbed his chin. “Is King Darius aware…”
“We were on our way there now.”
Lord Commodus’ appraised me thoughtfully. “It appears Gaia has been keeping secrets,” he said, more to himself. The smile returned to his face. “I won’t detain you any longer, for I’m sure you are anxious to see your father.”
Dad didn’t answer.
Lord Commodus started to turn but paused, holding up a finger, forehead creased in thought. “Perhaps, of course, if there’s time, you all might join me for dinner. Danton is here, as you know, and I should be delighted for him to…”
“That,” Dad interrupted, “won’t be necessary.”
Lord Commodus looked at me. “Of course, sire. All in due time. Tomorrow then.” He bowed his head. His robes flared around him as he spun on his heels and left.
Dad stared after him, his emotions masked.
“That didn’t take long.” Stefan smirked, staring after Lord Commodus.
Dad’s lips tightened. He met my gaze before motioning for us to follow him forward. I didn’t miss the deep creases in his face.
He led us up the grand staircase and Stefan kept his hand on my elbow. I tried shaking free, but after about three times of having him replace his hand, I stopped.
The halls upstairs were just as giant-sized as below. We walked down tall corridor after tall corridor, upstairs and downstairs, past portraits—all with frowning faces (I used to wonder why portraits never smiled, but then I figured if I had to sit absolutely still for hours while someone painted me, I’d be grumpy, too).
We reached a covered bridge. A lawn stretched beneath us and the air smelled of flowers—lavender, mint, tuberose—and at the end of our bridge was a pair of double oak doors.
“Father.” Stefan nodded towards me. “Don’t you think she should change?”
I put my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
Stefan rubbed his chin. “They’re just not exactly…for every day.”
“I’ve been wearing them every day for the past few weeks. So they have a few cuts and scratches? They’re holding up just fine.”
He looked to Dad for help, but Dad stood back, amused. Dad knew better.
Seeing he wasn’t getting any help, Stefan continued. “That’s not really what I meant.”
“So what did you mean?”
“Well, as a princess, you are expected to dress—well, wear a dress. And you—” he sniffed my hair “—desperately need a bath.”
Dad chuckled and I narrowed my eyes. “Just because you prefer petty refinery to dirtied working hands, don’t assume I lack manners. I just prefer honesty to pretty buttons.” I thumbed the golden buttons of his double-breasted black coat.
Stefan looked aghast at Dad. “Did you teach her anything?”
Dad shook his head. “Tried. She never listened.”
Stefan. The golden child, crowned with golden hair. Fitting. I had no idea how Alex could be so close to such a goody two-shoes. We’d have to work on that.
Dad waved his hand, shaking his head as he led us through the doors.
I didn’t feel as small in this room. The ceiling was still ridiculously high, but at least it wasn’t giant-high. Huge maps covered the walls and a large round table stood at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by high-backed oak chairs—all of which were unoccupied, save two.
A man sat in the tallest chair with his back towards us, and another cloaked in crimson hovered at his side. They were speaking in harsh whispers, but at the sound of our entry, their talking stopped. The man in crimson stood tall, turned to face us, and I shuddered.
His face was drawn and narrow, the angles in it sharp and formidable as if his soul had gone, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. His lips tightened as he gazed at us and a shadow passed over his eyes. I was suddenly glad the Del Contes hadn’t brought me here without my dad. I didn’t trust either person I’d met.
The man sitting in the chair stood and spun around.
Odds didn’t look good I’d trust him either.
Silver hair hung just past his shoulders, and the rest of him was covered in elaborate emeralds, blacks, and silvers. His skin showed age, particularly around his frowning mouth. His features were hard and sharp, as if he’d been strong in his youth, but age had stolen his strength, leaving only shadows. But what struck me were his eyes, and my heart sank with heavy realization. They were my dad’s, and now Stefan’s, yet they lacked the warmth I cherished. These eyes were cold and cautious and…calculating.
My grandfather.
“Alaric.” The single baritone word held such command even the room stood at attention.
“Father.” My own father bowed his head.
I’d never heard my dad so submissive. This man—this distant, unfeeling man—was my grandfather? No, he couldn’t be. I’d always imagined someone loving and gentle and, well, like Tran. Not him. Not someone that wasn’t even happy to see his only son safe and sound—king or not. This man acted put out.
With a slight turn of his head, the king glanced at the man in crimson. “Leave us, Headmaster Ambrose.”
Ambrose’s dark eyes studied our group before he crossed the room. For the smallest moment his step faltered—right in front of me. He didn’t turn. He didn’t stop. But I caught his eye before he proceeded out the front door.
The room was quiet. The king stood still as a statue with his hands clasped before him, staring at us.
“I expect that you intend to explain your absence.” The king frowned.
Each word felt like a physical blow.
My dad didn’t flinch. “And I will, but first—“
“Who have you brought with you?” The king interrupted, pale curious eyes studying my face.
Despite his age, his strength was incredible—even stronger than my dad’s. And slowly, I began to understand Alex’s words. Not even one minute in his presence, and I was already afraid of him. There was an intelligence in his gaze that made me feel exposed, as if he could see the desires of my heart and he was the last man in either world I felt safe sharing them with.
Before anyone answered him, he lifted his fingers to his lips and his eyes widened. “It can’t be,” he whispered.
I felt a surge of my dad’s anger. “It isn’t. Daria is our daughter.”
“Alaric, I know she isn’t Aurora
. You seemed adamant that you weren’t going to bring your daughter here, yet.” The king took a step towards us, those omniscient eyes never leaving my face. He continued to walk until he stood before me; the smell of spiced cigar and mint thick on his clothing. Withered yet still able fingertips reached out and touched my hair.
Did the man expect to have rights to everything?
I pulled my hair away and took a step back.
He raised a sharp brow. “My apologies, my dear, but you are so like your mother. How old are you, child?”
Child? “Eighteen.”
“Has it really been that long?” he whispered more to himself.
Dad nodded.
“Daria.” The king’s tone transformed to one of tenderness, his eyes matching the warmth in his voice. I was disturbed by how immediate his character had drifted between patron and ruler.
This was my grandfather. The king. Both persons would be a very interesting encounter, but combined? What did you say to the grandfather you never met who was also the ruler of a world you only recently discovered existed? Maybe I would take Master Durus’ advice and keep my lips closed and let him do all the talking. And maybe, just maybe, if I showed the proper respect, he wouldn’t be as harsh on my unique relationship with Alex as Alex seemed to think he’d be.
“Welcome home, my dear.” He smiled, appraising me. “Alaric, she’s the ghost of Aurora—particularly the large grey eyes, and there is undoubtedly Aurora’s…wild air to her.” He waved at my filthy attire. “And yet.” He tilted his head, studying my face. “How is it possible that you should have such a beautiful daughter? Had she not looked like Aurora I would deny your claim on her.”
All chuckled but me. My grandfather was smiling, the mood in the room lightening at once. The control he had over the atmosphere unsettled me. I could feel his pride and admiration, but there was that other part to him—the king part. That was what I was afraid of. It seemed to me it wouldn’t take much for that merciless side to show its face.
“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he continued. “I am Darius Regius, Sovereign of Gaia, and, of no less importance, your grandfather. You may address me as Grandfather like Stefan has always done.”
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