“Oh my two fucking Suns. You did NOT just put your dirty dress back on.” Bran started cursing and swearing profusely, begging the Goddesses for all the help in the world as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
I blanched. I never dealt with this before. In the streets of Moriann, you only wore what was on your back, and if you wanted to risk it, you could wash in the Adrian Ocean, but most didn’t.
And with Dahes—I didn’t get to pick out what I wore, never had to think about it. Whatever he wanted me to wear would be neatly folded on my bed, so when I saw the robe, I thought…
“Come on,” Bran sighed as he grabbed onto my arm, or tried to. My Token manifested, and he tripped forward through air. His gaze snagged on me the second before he caught himself. I was gray, completely transparent, barely there. He straightened, taking me in and trying not to have his dark eyes bulge out of his head.
His throat cleared. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your closet.”
Bran hadto repeat five times that I could wear anything I wanted as long as it wasn’t a robe. There were hundreds of dresses taking up the length of the room, all different styles, different cuts, different fabrics. He left, giving me privacy to pick out a gown and change.
I reached for a simple, pale blue dress with long sleeves, and I loved it. The only part of my skin still exposed was my neck, hands, and face. It was the complete opposite of the see-through slips Dahes forced me to wear.
“Okay. I know I said you could wear anything, but you might want to rethink your choice,” Bran said as he came back into the closet.
“Why?” I asked. “I love this one.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it suits you, but that’s more of a lets-go-for-a-stroll-in-the-garden-where-no-one-will-see-me dress rather than a I’m-about-to-dine-with-the-fucking-king dress.”
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t care about impressing another king, all I needed was to stay here long enough to find out information on Hael. “If I can wear anything I want, then I’m wearing this,” I said, not backing down.
Bran sent another curse to the Suns before he finally led me out of the room to dine with the King of Viven.
Chapter Thirteen
Food
MAGNOLIA
Iwas quiet during the walk. I had mastered the art of silent observation a long time ago. It was what I was good at. Listening without speaking. Holding my tongue when I wanted to scream.
Assessing without being seen.
Bran didn’t question me as I walked slower, trying to take everything in, and I was thankful. Maybe he thought I was in awe, which I was a little bit, but Ineededto soak everything in. I tried to memorize the exact route we took, how many hallways spanned from each direction, how many floors, the people we passed, glimpses outside every window—anything to help me since I was going to have to sneak out later.
My room was on the fourth story, not ideal for slipping out the window, but I was just thankful there was a window that opened. The low hanging roofs adorning the castle should be enough leverage to help me climb down if I needed to, so it was still an option.
My view overlooked the north, toward the Drakin Mountains. Thinking about it made my adrenaline skyrocket, knowing that dragons were just outside the castle. It was strange. I was used to Dahes’ monsters lurking in the fog, but here everything was out in the open.
I hadn’t seen one since the rider’s white dragon had flown me in, but I could hear them roar every so often.
We walked down another two flights of stairs before we rounded a corner and Bran told me we were here. He gave me one second to compose myself before he pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.
A large table took up the majority of the room, and at the sound of the door opening, everyone turned to look at me.
Bran bowed at the waist, while I just awkwardly stood behind him, gaping. “My king, may I present to you, Nollie of Moriann.”
I did bow then, as I felt King Elion’s pale eyes shift to me, and I realized it was his gaze that bothered me. Everything else about him was warm and welcoming, but his eyes reminded me of Dahes, reminded me of the dead. Maybe it was a God-like trait.
I forced my gaze away from him to take in the rest of the room. There was a blend of the two uniforms at the table—the Wielder‘W’sewn into a gray jumpsuit and the drakin leathers. All the matching cream uniforms, similar to Bran’s, were dotting around the table, refilling wine glasses, clearing plates. And the table itself—my eyes nearly popped out of my head—I’d never seen so much food in my life.
All I’d ever known were stolen moldy loaves of bread eaten on the streets of Moriann before Dahes’ questionable meat. My plate was the only thing that ever donned the bone-resin table at his castle.
But this table—it was filled. A variety of colors, textures, and smells hit me in rolling waves. I honestly had no idea what it all was, but I wanted to get lost in it. And the table itself didn’t have a single bone infused into it. It looked like solid wood, smoothed down and dipped in gold, creating a spiraling design throughout the oak.
“Come sit, Nollie,” the king gestured toward the single seat still vacant to the right of him. He was sitting at the head of the table, in a normal high-backed chair instead of his throne, but there was no mistaking him for anyone but the king. He exuded regality.
His clothes looked thick, too warm for the weather, and nearly every inch was embellished with jewels that made it look too heavy tobe comfortable. His back was straight, his head held high, drawing attention to the crown resting atop his dark curls. The jewels embedded into the metal matched the ones adorning his robes. The entire thing looked too polished, too showy.
