He started walking then, going up toward the castle, not bothering to wait to see if I’d follow. I cursed the Suns under my breath as I tried to keep up with his long strides, but he didn’t slow.
I gave up trying to take in the view after a couple of minutes on the incline, even though it was all I wanted to do. Seeing the world not covered in fog felt like I was just opening my eyes for the first time, but the rider’s pace was making me miss it.
I was unnaturally winded, and I had no idea why.
All I could focus on was moving my feet one step at a time. I stared at the tops of my thighs, begging them to keep moving, even as heat flared up my legs the higher we climbed.
When the steps finally ended, the shaking in my legs rivaled how I felt climbing the Senith, but the rider still didn’t stop. We were outside of the castle for a total of one minute before an archway opened to an entrance leading inside.
I wanted to yell after him to wait, but I didn’t have enough breath to even get the words out.
The outdoor onyx steps turned into golden floors that glimmered against the suns. And the archway itself was entirely gilded. It probably could have kept all of Moriann fed from all the gold.
I wasn’t sure if I was disgusted or in awe before everything started to get hazy and the dizziness had me focusing on not falling over.
I kept following him down golden hallway after golden hallway, now practically running to keep up. He was so much taller, his legs longer—still I shouldn’t be this winded. I scaled buildings in Moriann. I could run, jump, climb—nothing bothered me when I went on hunts—why in the two Suns was I so winded now?
I almost sagged in relief when he paused outside of two massive doors, and it took everything in me not to lean against them. They were gilded, like everything else in the palace of cream and whites, but the passing colors were all I could notice as everything blurred together.
He eyed me, his thick brows scrunching as he took in my ragged breathing. The flight had dried the lake water off my clothes, but now sweat soaked my gown.
“It’s the altitude,” he said.
“What?” I wheezed, pissed off when I noticed he spoke with ease.
“Your breathing,” he explained. “It’s from the altitude. Viven stands at a higher elevation than Moriann, but the Grigg is the highest, built into the mountains. Even Vivenians from the other Provinces have to adjust for a couple of hours when they come here.” He eyed me. “You’ll probably be sick for a couple of days before you adjust. It gets worse before it gets better.”
“Great.” I huffed.
The dragon rider turned, not giving me any more time before opening the doors.
I instantly realized where he brought me. I was standing at the entrance to the Vivenian throne room.
The drakin stormed toward the king. He bowed as he reached the bottom dais, a slight downward tilt of his head.
Against the far wall, three solid steps spanned the width of the room, all leading toward a singular throne. Windows consumed thelength of the walls, and they were all pushed open with billowing curtains swaying softly in the breeze.
The room—the entire palace actually—felt like a warm hug. It was bright and welcoming and everything Dahes’ castle was not. Even the throne was comforting instead of daunting. Smooth, solid gold made up the seat, not a thorn in sight, and there was definitely no blood. Sitting atop it, the king stared down at me with mild curiosity.
It wasn’t until the drakin rider moved up the steps to stand behind him that I realized I was still frozen in the doorway. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Dahes gave me a map on the layout of the land, but not their customs.
I scanned the room, briefly taking in the hundreds of people crammed along the side walls, but the room started spinning the more I looked.
I turned my gaze forward, staring directly at the king now. His eyebrow was arched as I remained rooted for another heartbeat. Willing my breath to steady to a slightly less embarrassing rhythm, I made my way in front of the dais, praying no one would notice the fact that my legs wouldn’t stop trembling.
I bowed, knowing I had to win him over so I could stay for the tournament.
It reminded me why I was really here. I scanned the room with a newfound scrutiny, trying to will the dizziness down.
Would I know who Hael was if I saw him? Besides the king, everyone was in uniform. I assumed the drakins were the ones in black leathers since the rider who brought me in was wearing the same thing. The other uniform I saw in the room was a gray jumpsuit with a ‘W’embroidered on the chest—Wielders then.
I turned my gaze to the king. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I knew I’d never seen him before. I was born in Moriann, my lack of an exile burn was proof enough that it happened earlier in my family line.
The king’s hair was jet black, his skin almost as dark, but his eyes were so light that it was jarring against hiscomplexion. They were almost devoid of color, like he used to have irises before they were stripped off.
“What’s your name?”
“Nollie,” I said, knowing it was what I already told the drakin, and I couldn’t take it back now. I looked past the king, toward the rider who brought me here. His gaze was so striking, so mesmerizing—or maybe it was just intimidating. I couldn’t tell. His eyes were also disconcerting—the pale brown made them noticeable from a distance—but they were softer than the king’s gaze.
