I can hardly say no, but my stomach flips.
The Red Queen bares her teeth in an ugly imitation of a smile.
“Alright,” she says. “I’ll give you one.”
My brows furrow. “One?”
“That’s reasonable, no? We each take one prisoner until this kerfuffle is sorted out.”
A few knights nod at that, most of them easing their grips on their swords. They don’t want to fight the Reds, not based solely on the word of an invisible prince they haven’t seen in decades.
The queen’s smile widens. “Which one do you want?”
My chest deflates. “The witch.”
Max’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
If I push my luck, I’m afraid we’re all going to die.
“That’s a good choice,” the Red Queen purrs, “and very inconvenient for me. I’ll make sure her handsome friend here pays the price.”
She motions for her guards to haul Nick to his feet, then turns her back on us entirely, making it clear she doesn’t consider us a threat.
She raises a hand up in lieu of goodbye. “See you soon, EzraHermesLightbringer.”
Her voice purrs over the name, and I get the distinct feeling Nick isn’t the only one who’s going to pay for my little stunt.
Chapter 38
Castle in the Clouds
MAX
Sun knights flank us in rigid silence as we march toward the Solar Cliffs through a blur of rain. The round bit they forced into my mouth pulls painfully at the corners of my lips, and my nerves are worn so thin I can barely feel my bound hands anymore.
E’s footprints appear in puddles every few seconds, proof he’s still close, but I’m boxed in on all sides. The soldiers keep enough distance between us to ensure he can’t get near me without being noticed. The bluff he pulled in the forest bought us passage, but not their trust.
After about an hour of walking, the thick black-and-gray storm clouds part overhead, and my breath catches around the gag.
The Solar Cliffs form a solid ivory wall in front of us, curving in a vast three-quarter circle around the valley. Only the lower ridges directly ahead provide a way through, as though some god split a mountain open and polished the wound smooth. The summit disappears into the clouds, its true height impossible to gauge.
The stone looks pristine and luminous beneath the rain—not chalky or rough like ordinary rock, but dense and gleaming as marble or quartz, its surface streaked here and there with faint veins of honey.
Guard towers crown the lower ridges, and watchful banners snap violently in the wind.
The Sun Court knights march me straight toward the closest checkpoint, past armed sentries who barely spare me a glance. The route upward alternates between broad terraces and sweeping staircases, each step perfectly chiseled despite centuries of weather.
Rainwater streams around us in ribbons, making the entire mountainside gleam silver and gold.
We climb one flight of stairs, then another, and another, until my thighs ache and my jaw throbs around the gag.
At last, the knights herd us toward a circular platform inset into one of the upper terraces. An enormous golden disk lies at its center, engraved with the pattern of a sun licked by curling clouds. A tall, round post rises from the middle of it. Beyond the platform, a series of identical towering posts climbs the mountainside at regular intervals, stretching toward the heavens.
The knights guide us onto the gleaming disk, and one of them presses a hand against the base of the central post.
A flash of sunlight streams down from above, connecting the posts and blinding me for a moment.
