She lifts her chin, knowing that Kael’s belief in her is stronger than his desire to protect her. And she knows why: she doesn’t need protecting.
Together, they step through the gates.
The inner courtyard of Caeloria’s palace unfolds before them in a blaze of red and gold. Lanterns hang from carved wooden beams in long cascading rows, their crimson silk shades casting the covered courtyard in molten light. Marble walkwaysthe color of bleached bone stretch across tranquil reflecting pools where koi flash like streaks of living flame beneath the surface. Pagoda towers rise along the courtyard’s edges, their tiered roofs dripping with gold filigree that gleams beneath the lanternlight.
And everywhere—more guards. They line the bridges and balconies. Stand along the garden paths. Watch from the shadowed archways of the palace itself. Disciplined. Silent.
The court of Caeloria does not hide its power. It displays it. Even the silence here feels expensive. It demands obedience by sheer show of force.
Nobles sweep across the courtyard in silks of various colors, matching lacquered masks gleaming beneath the lanternlight. Fans flick open like wings. Jewelry glitters like scattered Stars.
The air smells faintly of sandalwood and burning incense.
All of it—everything—feels like performance. A theatrical show curated to shape guests to their exact and precise will.
Beyond the courtyard, towering palace doors stand open, revealing the grand hall within.
Holy fucking Stars.
It is disgusting in its wealth. An insult to the people of the Outside. A grotesque display of power.
But Elyssara can’t stop herself from gasping at the beauty. Every detail chosen to perfection. Every moment curated to impress the guests.
“Everything here, El, is an illusion,” Kael murmurs.
And he’s right. Of course he’s right.
But gods, the majesty of it all.
And illusions, she is learning, are always most convincing when they are beautiful.
Elyssara hooks her arm under Kael’s as they stride toward the grand hall.
Elyssara tilts her head up to Kael, meeting his gaze under a curtain of painted lashes. “I love you, Kael Thorne.”
He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, as if he can inhale the words into his very marrow. “I love you, Elyssara Dawnmere.”
Elyssara keeps her eyes fixed on him, legs moving of their own volition.
Because she knows this is the maw of the wolf she must face.
“The guards will need to check me for weapons, Kael. Can I trust you not to rip their heads off for doing so?”
Her lips purse together in an attempt to stifle her laugh.
Kael smirks in that self-assured way she loves. “You’ll have to wait and see. He might deserve it.”
She playfully swats at his arm. “Now who’s diabolical?”
But before he can respond, a dozen guards step forward, halberds in the same hand where their shields are strapped to their forearms. The shields pulse, somehow. Alive with a buzz that can only be felt.
Machines. That’s what Vaelor had said. Advanced weaponry.Is this what he meant?
“Arms out, miss,” a guard says, his voice efficient and gruff, but respectable.
“And you, sir,” another guard prompts Kael.
Elyssara holds her breath.
