Page 102 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

“I have not been a child in nearly a millennium; I guess that makes sense.” He shrugged. “Why don’t you come here and tell me about the Highlands?” He pulled me to my feet.

I stared at the map. “The Highlands are flanked by mountains on the northern edge of the territory and the sea on its eastern shore. They were prosperous even before they allied with the elves. The alliance, however, made them wealthier than any other human kingdom in Moriana.”

Tharan ran his hand over the mountain range on the map. “They mine the other side of the Chayne Mountains.”

I nodded. “Yes, they mine the ore that makes iron and steel. Every blade in Moriana originated in the Highlands. It’s dirty and dangerous, but the payoff is worth every lost life.”

“Charming,” Tharan said, examining his blade. Sylphs used obsidian in place of steel or iron in their weaponry. “And what of the people?”

“The classes of the Highlands are divided, with a few ruling houses pulling rank over the rest of the kingdom. Gideon rules with an iron fist over all of them. Though, you’d never know it from the outside. His brutality is unmatched. Many residents live in squalor on the outskirts of the city. The lowest ranking class, the servants, have their tongues mutilated at birth, so they cannot sell the secrets of the palace.”

Tharan shut his eyes in disgust. “Barbarians.”

“The Highlands are both beautiful and brutal. Some say the beauty of the land makes the men cruel.”

“What do you think?” Tharan set his cigarette into an ashtray.

I picked at my nails nervously. “I think thousands of years of brutality breeds a certain type of man.”

He nodded decisively. “I agree. Now tell me what your plan is.”

In front of us lay a large schematic of the castle at Ryft’s Edge. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight of it.

I pointed to the Chayne Mountains. “There is one path through the mountains. They call it the Ryft. Half guarded by the Stone Kingdom armies; the other half guarded by the Highland armies. The center of the land trades between the three human kingdoms. Without it, everything must be shipped in via the sea or through the Bog of Eternal Suffering, and no one dares to venture there.”

“How are we going to get in?” he asked.

“We can either cross the mountains on foot, come in through the sea, or…”

Tharan groaned. “The bog?”

“The bog.”

I ran my fingers over the Ryft on the map. “I think we can avoid it. We’ll need to be glamoured to make it through the Ryft, but I think we can make it.”

“I’ll call for the spell weaver.” He rang a bell, and a satyr entered the room. “Send for Elrida.”

“Right away, your majesty.” The satyr bowed and left.

I continued telling Tharan about the Highlands’ customs until we heard a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Tharan said in his royal voice.

Hunching as she walked, her weight supported by a thick hickory cane, the elderly sylph bowed as best she could. “You called for me, your majesty.”

“Take a seat, Elrida.”

The ancient woman slowly lowered herself into a plush chair. “How can I be of service?”

“We’ll need two glamours. Human ones. A married couple. Have the scribe draw up marriage documents as well. You knowhow humans love their bureaucracy.”

“Of course, my king. I will get to work on weaving something right away.” Elrida hobbled to the door. “Don’t fall in love with each other now.”

Tharan gave her a knowing look. “We’re just friends, Elrida. I appreciate the concern, though.”

Elrida winked at me before slipping back through the carved doors.

“Now, where were we?” Tharan said, scanning the maps and rubbing his palms on his green vest.

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