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She gave a little snort. It hadn’t been so long ago that her family had been fighting for even the smallest number of luxuries. “You are a bad liar.”
“I’d never lie to you.” He gave her a shark-like-smile before pressing a kiss to her hand and turning her back to her horse. “Up you go. If you need me all you must do is call my name. You will not be alone,” he lowered his voice, “until you reach the mouth of hell itself.”
That’s exactly what Marlux would be. Ephram knew it and so did she.
He was her little secret. How scandalous for a human queen to have found love in an evil Fae warrior.
There wasn’t any more time that could be wasted. Ambrose knew she needed to flee and quickly. And Ephram never should have taken the risk of exposing them.She dug her heels into the horse’s sides, quite thankful though that he had.
Ambrose could feel the moment she reached the farthest edge of Marlux. For miles the heat of Ephram’s steady gaze had followed her and now it was sorely missed.
Long stretches of gray clouds hid the sun. The day had gotten colder since she’d taken her leave, a storm brewing. It matched the heaviness that settled in her heart the nearer she came.
Marlux was the city painted in gold. Known for its artful architectural details and even the street lamps and signs that had all been handprinted to mimic the shine of the rare mineral. It was quite the sight to see during the summer months when the sun shone proudly and everything glittered.
With the storm clouds and empty streets, the city looked uninviting. Had Ambrose been who she was over a year ago she would have called this pretentious and snubbed the city before it had a chance to snub her.
Had this been a planned trip she might have been welcomed by rows of citizens crowding the sidewalks or pressing their faces to the glass of storefronts for a chance to glimpse one of their queens. She’d have waved politely and pretended as if this newfound attention didn’t bother.
A gentle drizzle broke free from the sky, dotting her outfit and gathering drops in her hair. In passing, she searched for faces amongst the decorated shops, customers or owners who sought shelter from the storm who might happen to see the lone woman making her way through town. Every window was dark. Every flame blown out.
Was this a ghost town? Had she come too late? Had Ophelia been taken by the Fae already? Urging the horse to move faster, she leaned forward in the saddle. Blood rushed through her veins, resounding in her ears.
The street lamps had not yet been lit and only the slightest bit of filtered light helped her navigate the unblemished streets. Only after she rounded another street corner did her ears prickle to the sound of music and the murmuring people. As if unaffected by the dreary drizzle, there was a glow of light that cast shadows down the coming street.
Queen Ophelia’s castle, a massive building made with more windows than stone, reached toward the heavens. Each tower’s peak glistened in gold. Silhouettes filled every window illuminated by her abundance of chandeliers.
So this was where everyone was. And really, it had to be everyone.
Carriages, each more elegant than the next, lined the castle’s courtyard. Ambrose caught a glimpse of the merriment through the iron gates. She slowed as four guards lifted themselves from their relaxed postures. The echo of their laughter harmonized well with the party behind them.
Ambrose tried to soften her features but no matter what she did she couldn’t stop her tightly clenched jaw. Unlike Ephram’s protective gaze, she felt the way the guards looked her over with judgment. With her commoner’s clothes, she had to look out of place in this city of prestige. It was the glance that caught the staff tightly secured to her back that finally registered who was before them.
One of the guards bowed low. Surely there was some resemblance between her and her elder sister. The other guards followed quickly after.
“What event have I found myself an uninvited guest at?” Ambrose finally scoffed.
“Queen Ophelia enjoys parties for most occasions.” One beady-eyed guard said. “A rainy day is one of her favorites.”
“A rainy day party.” She muttered under her breath.
How exactly like Ophelia. Ambrose wanted to laugh. Rainy day parties had been a thing for as long as she could remember. It had been Ophelia’s way of cheering her sisters up while her parents were busy working and they’d been commanded to stay inside. She’d pull out her dad’s old guitar and they’d take turns strumming on it—very poorly she might add—while the others danced their hearts out.
It melted some of her annoyance. Only the slightest fraction.
“Would you like to be announced?” he asked the queen.
“Not to the room but if someone could inform my sister of my arrival, I will happily meet her in the foyer.”
She pointed her attention toward the castle, offering the reigns to the nearest man. He took them, quietly guiding her through the path between parked carriages. Ambrose did her best to look regal. A stiff spine and high held chin might not be enough to do it with the clothing she’d donned. She was regretting her choice to dress so inconspicuously. She hadn’t anticipated her sister throwing such a lavish event.
Hadn’t she asked that she and her sisters up their guard? Was it not implied that events would become smaller and more personal?
All of Marlux was crammed into the castle! That could hardly be called small or personal.
A gloved hand was offered to her at the two towering glass doors. Steam fogged up the panes, building into condensation at the corners. Partygoers on the other side paid her no mind except for the few who turned and scowled at her. An angry flush swept up her body. Her hands tingled, curling into fists as she tried to resist the urge to rip the staff from her back. It would be so easy to kill any one of them.
They didn’t know who she was. Not yet at least.
