Evylin scanned the city as they rode, trying to take in the details. Surprisingly, it showed few signs of siege. The bodies of Ephrian soldiers littered the streets. A few fires put off great clouds of smoke, while a handful of buildings showed wear from the initial attack of catapults. Large boulders remained lodged in buildings or scattered along damaged streets. However, it appeared that the siege hadn’t lasted long, as most of the city’s buildings were intact.
Yet, an eerie silence left the air pregnant with tension. The only people in sight were the occasional band of Waulden soldiers, a Mage often with them, patrolling the streets. The shops and stalls were closed. The windows of most houses were shuttered, their curtains drawn. She thought she saw a child peering out of an upper window, but it might’ve been a cat.
The banners of Ephria were already either torn down or replaced with those of Wauld. The homeless cowered in the alleys, ignored by their army escort. A lamplighter walked the streets with his small ladder and satchel. He stopped at each wrought-iron lamp, opening the lantern to give light to the fading day. He paused in his work, quickly ducking his head at the group’s approach as if he could dip out of sight.
Absentmindedly, Evylin reached for her rings. She didn’t like seeing the way Blount had overtaken her home. Given what little time she’d spent in the city, somehow her heart had attached to it, as though it belonged to her and Deckard. Knowing Blount had walked their streets, laying claim to their home, riled her innermost being.
As they passed through the Quarter District and into the Military District, the streets widened. And there, the bodies of the fallen soldiers thickened. Green and gray uniforms filled the streets. They passed the barracks, the gates hanging open as hundreds of bodies poured out, layered on top of one another in rows where they’d fallen. Evylin shared a look with Thom, and his face blanched. Blount’s men had slaughtered the whole of the Ephrian Army stationed within Loclight. Her heart clenched, thinking of her brother-in-law, Druan. Had he escaped Blount’s attack, or was he among the dead too?
In the center of the street leading to the barracks stood a large wooden gallows, several bodies hanging from its ropes. Their officer insignias shone in the last flare of sunset. The triple braid of General Rand caught her gaze the most.
Evylin turned away. She couldn’t feel smug at his demise. She wouldn’t wish the end he’d suffered for anyone except Blount and his men.
Looking ahead, Evylin saw the palace’s white stone rooftops come into view. She kept her eyes on it the rest of the way, only allowing a spare glance at their home as they passed. Blount’smagic hadn’t caused cataclysmic destruction to the city, but he’d still brought death to her home.
Evylin sought Deckard’s presence once again. He was nearer now, somewhere north of her. A quarter of a mile away. Likely near the entrance to the palace grounds.
Finally, they reached the palace. Its cheery grounds remained immaculate, though Waulden soldiers filled the grass and gardens. The evening light was nearly gone, casting a light grayish-purple hue over the world. They came to a stop at the end of the gravel drive. Soldiers came forward to surround Evylin, Thom, Ilain, and Rafferty. The general led them into the palace, where a female Mage dressed in scarlet was waiting.
“Hello, Ivetta,” Ilain said merrily. “It’s been too long.”
The woman gave her an annoyed glare. “A thousand years would be too soon, Highlady Calder,” she said coldly.
Ilain leaned over to Thom. “Ivetta was always jealous of my power,” she said.
“Are you sure it wasn’t just your personality?” Thom asked.
Ilain tutted at him just before Ivetta, a Fire Mage, took her into a side room. A few minutes later, they reemerged. “No weapons, no Relics,” the woman told General Maurcus.
However, Ilain bore a burning red mark on her left cheek. It bubbled at the edges, revealing that Ivetta had used her magic. Evylin and Rafferty bristled while Thom made a movement as if to step toward the Mage. Soldiers impeded him, but the general glared at the woman.
“His Majesty said unharmed,” Maurcus snarled.
“He said it about the Warrior.” Ivetta sent Evylin a scowl before bearing herself up. “He said nothing about Pyra’s Heiress.”
“No matter,” Ilain said calmly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and the burn mark began to slowly fade with a glimmer of golden orange. Once it was fully gone, her pale cheeksoft and pink again, Ilain smiled at Ivetta. “I’m immune to such barbarity.”
General Maurcus motioned, and they followed him through the marble halls. Despite Blount’s banners throughout the city, his men couldn’t remove all the marks of Ephren in the palace. The ceilings still depicted the Estshire hills. Paintings of Ephren’s descendants had been torn and destroyed but still hung on the walls. The emerald color of Ephria still filled the home, seen within its furnishings and decor.
When they reached the hall to the throne room, Evylin’s heart sped up. She searched for Deckard. He was very near now. A story below her, several hundred feet away. Anxious but steady.
Soldiers filled the hall, observing as they proceeded. Two attendants pulled open the grand double doors. The green marble of the room shone beneath the glorious chandelier. The stained glass window appeared dim, shrouded in the shadows of the night outside. Above them, the Shepherd King loomed on the ceiling, crook and sword in hand, witnessing his kingdom being reclaimed by the Mage currently seated on his marble throne.
Blount sat forward on the dais, chin in his hand as he listened to a soldier whisper his report. His golden hair was impeccably trimmed and slicked back, devoid of a crown. His sharp blue gaze flickered across the room, and Evylin could tell the moment he spotted her. A shift came to his expression as though narrowing in. He held up a hand, halting the soldier’s words.
The man stepped back, and Blount rose. He whispered a single sentence. The soldier bowed and left. Then Blount turned to the approaching group. He wore a black coat with deep amethyst braids and golden buttons, giving him a kingly and militaristic appearance all at once. He looked so much like Vayden that it gave Evylin an unexpected pause. Yet, there was a hardness in his bearing that she’d never witnessed in his half-brother.
Around his neck hung the four Relics. The flickering ruby of Fire, the pulsing yellow topaz of Day, the rippling sapphire of Water, and the rhythmic diamond of Time. Their golden chains clinked softly as he stepped off the dais.
Their party came to a stop, General Maurcus at their head. Evylin did a quick count of the room: twenty soldiers and somewhere around fifteen Mages. Not impossible but certainly not ideal.
“Your Majesty,” Maurcus said, bowing low. “Highlady Calder, Private Deckard, Captain Deckard, and Corporal Rafferty have come to negotiate terms of surrender.”
Blount didn’t so much as glance at Maurcus. He walked across the emerald marble, his soldiers parting for him. A slow, casual smile came to his lips as he approached. His sharp gaze scanned Evylin from head to toe as he walked, taking in her muddy boots, road-worn clothes, and long-unwashed braid. Then they met her eyes.
Evylin’s cheek twitched, remembering the kick he’d landed there months ago.
“Welcome, my Warrior,” he said with cruel fondness, still a few strides away. “I’m so glad you could join me at last.”
