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The Drakoryx followed too.
The old man seemed bemused by this. But he was smart enough not to argue.
“My name is Rivenlor. I have been tasked with bringing you to the elders.”
“And who are the elders?”
“They are the ones who have ruled in your stead.”
In my stead. And what exactly did that mean?
“Will you follow me?”
“I’m still deciding.”
He bowed his head. “I understand you are…unhappy.”
That was putting it mildly. But I was here. In the hybrid kingdom. So I tucked away the worst of my rage. “Fine.”
Turning, he led me deeper into the forest. But I kept one hand on the hilt of my dagger, just in case he decided to try anything.
After a few minutes, Rivenlor stopped in front of a rock about eight foot-spans high and several times wider than my body. He waved his hand in front of it, and the front of the rock simply disappeared, revealing a passage. “After you.”
I tightened my hand around the hilt of my dagger. “I don’t think so.”
He shook his head as if I was being overly dramatic. I waited him out. Finally, he huffed out a breath and stepped inside the rock. I glanced at the Drakoryx, but it had already lain down in a patch of sun, closing its eyes. No longer did it seem like a vicious monster. No, it now reminded me of Herica’s cat napping in the late afternoon.
The inside of the passage was about as dimly lit as I would have expected, those same light orbs hovering in the air at regular intervals along the spiral staircase.
Whydid so many of these trips involve dark, confined spaces? If the gods truly were interested in our lives, I had no doubt one of them was playing with me.
The stairs went on and on, until we had to be deep within the earth. My heart raced, slamming against my ribs, and the hand I’d placed against the side of the wall trembled.
“Almost there,” Rivenlor grunted.
Finally,finally, we reached the end of the staircase. A huge stone wall blocked our way, and Rivenlor held up one hand, pressing it to the center of the wall.
A door handle appeared, and he turned it, swinging the wall open and stepping into the room.
Four people were waiting for us. They watched me silently, all of them seated around a scarred circular wooden table. Rivenlor waved his hand at me to sit, doing the same on the opposite side of the table.
I sat, surveying the elders who watched me so closely. Two women and three men. All of them wore extravagant jewels—earrings and necklaces for the women, large rings for the men. Their clothes appeared to be made of the finest materials, reminding me of the courtiers in Regner’s castle.
A dull fury burned in my belly. These people had managed to hoard wealth while so many of the hybrids were living in poverty and starving?
“How dare they put on such a display when our people are fleeing for their lives?” a woman intoned.
I went still, meeting her eyes. Could she…?
“Yes.” Her smile was slow and smug. “I can read your mind.”
Rivenlor cleared his throat. “This is Ysara,” he said. “The man to her left is Tymriel. To his left is Gavros. Next to him is Sylphina.”
Ysara was still watching me in the same unnerving way. Her eyes were so dark they seemed to glow against skin that was so pale I wouldn’t have been surprised if I were told she had never stepped outside.
Tymriel was a small man, his shoulders hunched, his face lined with wrinkles. But his eyes sparkled at me from across the table. Gavros was broad-shouldered and bearded, with the kind of bulk that told me he was used to swinging a sword.
Sylphina was thin and willowy, with light brown skin, her glossy black hair braided like mine, only her braid was sleek and tidy.
