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The people aren’t concerned about the lives of their royals, but are more concerned about how they’re going to feed their families.
“Your queen will announce the fate of the season at the open-court dinner tomorrow night. Now, if there is nothing else, I’d like to get back to fixing the gate. Go home. You may return after three spans and pick up your weapons at the military dispensary.”
“We don’t have a military dispensary.”
“You will by then.”
Moments pass, and while some people at the back begin to leave, the ones in front simply stand there.
“Dismissed,” D’Artaron barks as he steps forward.
That gets people moving, and in a few blinks of an eye, the streets are empty, with only the rocks and other objects people made for throwing at the palace left behind.
The commander begins to fix the mangled gate, his magic still making the curtains in the room wave about. I stick around until the gate’s finished, watching him manipulate various objects around him. It’s quite fascinating how he creates order out of a mess that would take me spans to navigate.
He straightens out the left upper spikes on the gate while also replacing the missing screws on the right side, and if that’s not enough, pieces of the shattered mosaic glide across the floor inside the throne room to a common point.
The shards shuffle over the marble, rounding my feet. D’Artaron’s magic starts sorting through them, then piecing them back together as one would a puzzle.
This will take all night. Instead of commissioning a new piece, he is repairing the old one. Because he’s purging his vast stores of magic. I’m sure of it now.
27
CHLOE
Iremain in the throne room until D’Artaron unlocks it. The guards escort me back into my chambers where I draw a picture of him facing the muddied faces of the people against the backdrop of a mangled gate before the lights flickering inside the town under the mountains.
His uniform is deep green instead of black.
There are purple portenias all around him. They bloom only for three spans during the spring season and can only be found inside the gardens of our court. My court. Oh my fates. My court.
Still in disbelief and with a tired mind, just as I’m about to crawl under the covers, a light flickers near the window, and I see a shadow of a male come forward.
I open my mouth to scream before the familiar sensation of my magic tingles on my palms. Without a portal or a gate, D’Artaron appears inside the room.
“By the fates, D’Artaron,” I kneel on the bed and touch my hand over my chest as if that can calm my fast-beating heart. “You scared me.”
“Bullshit,” he says rather severely.
“Excuse me?”
“I could have sworn I saw you in the throne room standing at an opening while the crowds demand a piece of you. This doesn’t scare you at all.”
“You’ve come here to scold me?”
“You disobeyed my orders. When you retired for the night, I told you to remain in your chambers. Why did you disobey?”
“I wanted to see what was going on.”
“Curiosity, then?”
“I guess.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to place yourself in danger. Your chambers are secured not only by the guards on the outside, but also the very position of them, away from the front gates, is safer than the throne room. In fact, even the king’s chambers aren’t as secure as these. There’s a reason why I’ve placed you here, and little of it has to do with it being a royal chamber. If I thought the royals didn’t have the wisdom to construct the safest place to sleep, I’d have placed you in the tower.”
“There you go with the tower again.”
“Yes, Spring queen, the tower again.”
