Page 232 of Winter Gods & Serpents

“With god’s blessings, might heavens welcome us,” she greeted me in a white smile. Streaks of grey stretched towards her bound hair, a lilac cotton gown floated lightly as she approached me. Demure features of gentle woman, but then even I could trick a wolf in a snare.

I studied the thin diamond jewelled crown set atop her head, the black diamonds almost made me second guess my sight. They warped within, like hovering black mist contained in a glass.

She bowed her head gently, a glowing smile etched in her lips while her eyes swept through me more in adoration than anything. “Pleasure to finally be acquainted, Your Highness, my name is Driada. The king has given me the pleasure to walk you to him.”

Pleasure? She dared talk to me this lightly? I stared at her for a long while till her smile begun faltering. “Lead the way,” I said, finally bored out of whatever trickery this was.

She extended a hand, taking mine and draping it through her elbow, leading us out of the white and gold castle corridors filled with scent of roses and painted colourful glass that reflected the gentle morning light of the hidden summer sun, and unto a large garden, different from the one Mal had taken me a day ago. A grand maze of colour and green, open almost ten fields of corn. That was not what made it different, strangely flower folk, spirits, enchanted birds, bees, and butterflies sounded heavy in the air, gurgling without fear. Magical creatures never laid withing ground of human, never on soil grown where step of human laid more than ten paces and ten moments, they were bounded by their gods as such to lay protected. How?

“This is his garden,” the woman spoke. “No one is allowed here but him, and now me and you. The creatures are safe here.”

I almost scoffed. Did the night king have a hobby? Murder by day, gardening by night?

“Do all his servants wear crowns?”

She chuckled softly, lifting a lace gloved hand to hide her soft smile. “No, this servant is his mother.”

“I thought he was an orphan.” He was a child king, crowned at only fourteen years of age. The Obscur Asteri had built his fame barely a child.

“He was, now he isn’t.”

“Where were his executioners, I also saw you not bring shackles, why am I not being dragged there?”

She let out a heavy exhale before cracking open a small door that led to a straight corridor of white roses. “Quite the impression you have gathered on my son. He is rather cutthroat, cold maybe sometimes dim-witted and so ungentle with his words, but not one to shackle a woman he is to make a wife, let alone one that is to save his kingdom.”

“He should have not killed my family, maybe then he would not have to save his kingdom.”

“It is not that he had a choice—”

I giggled mirthlessly, too tired to be amused by this. “We all have a choice, I make many right now. Do not kill the woman who raised that monster, do not obliterate everything it the vicinity of this flowery hell, do not tie nots and stitches with all Adriatian guts. See how many choices I have? All so very tempting, yet here I am, holding you, marrying the king whose life will bleed from these hands, saving this kingdom of the wicked.”

We halted and she gave me a look of uncertainty, making to say something, unable too.

A noise outside the castle premises grew, heavy synchronized steps, shouts of orders in the air but they were not there for me. The squadrons of soldiers were moving away from the vicinity and outwards.

“Nothing to worry,” she said, resting a hand on mine. “The trouble is far from us.”

I slid my arm from her and continued forward. “I don’t worry, the trouble is where it needs to be.”

We walked long and silent along the guided path, buzzing flower folk and sun spirits irritating my senses, there was too much noise in and out of my head. A giant temple resembling a crescent moon grew in sight, white and blazing in belief of the wicked. Violet wisteria cradled the columns affront, curtain of scents and lovely sight. Closed buds of moonflower laid all around, an attempt at mimicking the night sky, again.

Several sentries all draped in sun soaking black leather, silver hilts and black steel all posted around the entrances and many others tucked away further in the distance.

A frown bunched between my confused brows. Had Adriata run out of guards? “It is quiet,” I noted, soaking in the panic of silence.

“The king has ordered for only you two to be present. He doesn’t normally keep much guard really, or protection. To summon darkness is to summon death.”

“Trust me, no one knows better than I do.”

She blanched, almost devasted. “Let us…make haste,” she said quietly. She suddenly halted, clutching her chest at the dry cough that erupted form her lungs, almost claiming her out of all air. She wheezed between hard breaths. Blood splattered on her hand as she searched the pockets of her gown frantically.

“Pardon me,” she said, as I helped her find a handkerchief in her pocket wiping the blood around her mouth.

“You are ill,” I said, noting that the blood was not only blood but brown, black fluid signalling death.

She shook her head attempting to flash a sweet smile, but cough overtook her once again.

I rubbed her back and chest. “Your damned son should have not tasked you when you are this ill.”