Page 94 of In the Ravenous Dark
Ivrilos takes my hand. Japha can’t help starting away from us, and Alldan’s eyes immediately go to Ivrilos.
“Prince Alldan,” Ivrilos says politely. “My name is Ivrilos, son of Athanatos, as much as I rue my lineage. You and I are not enemies. But if you threaten Rovan again or try to make good on such a threat, we most assuredly will be.” His tone is as calm as ever, but it’s that dangerous calm that once made my skin prickle. “And trust me when I say you don’t want to be our enemy.” His dark eyes flash to mine, and then back to Alldan. “You’ll find we make much better friends.”
My grip tightens on his.
“Like I said,” Alldan says, looking a little disconcerted, “we didn’t wish to be hasty. Before any steps were taken, we wanted to see what Rovan would become.”
I gesture down at myself, though I keep hold of Ivrilos. “A monster? Well, here I am. What do you want with me?”
“Have you seen yourself yet, girl?” the woman asks. She whispers a few words, waving a bony, colorless hand—blood and death magic intertwined—and the air shimmers between us. Suddenly it’s like I’m looking into a reflective pool.
In it, I can’t see Ivrilos even though I’m holding his hand, but I can definitely see myself. I’m standing in a simple white shift. My skin is abnormally pale, so my bloodline’s scarlet sigils stand out all the more vividly—and I still have blood smeared on my hands and face. But that’s not the weirdest thing. My eyes are bright red, like the two bloodmages’—or the king’s, after his disguise dropped. My hair, unlike theirs, is lustrous, a midnight blue that shines like a tumble of water. My lips are fuller, and almost as red as my eyes.
I’m more beautiful than I ever was before. But mine is the beauty of a predator: eerie, sharp, lethal-looking.
“You might be a monster,” Alldan says as my reflection ripples and fades away. “Even one that deserves to be destroyed. But it’s not for me to decide. Come.”
He gestures the way out the door. There are guards waiting outside. They’ve brought armor and steel, as well as blood and death magic to protect against me. I have little choice but to follow, unless I want to prove right here and now that Iama monster and fight my way through them.
“At least let me put on a damn robe,” I say.
Alldan points to where a square of plain white material is folded on a small table under the window. I thought it was a towel.
Japha makes a face. “No way will she be caughtdeadin… Never mind, I have something better.”
I leave the room wrapped in a luxurious plum shawl woven with butterflies.Fitting, I think.
I grow amazed as I walk barefoot through a series of rooms, perhaps part of a whole building, that Skyllea has claimed as their own. While the bones of it belong to Thanopolis’s architects, everything else is Skyllean. They prefer greenery over flowers, unlike Thanopolis—sustained life instead of a brief pop of color and thendeath. They have more greenery than the greenest places in the polis. The interior walls are a profusion of life, from tiny, lacelike fronds to glossy leaves as wide as my head. One wall has an entire tree growing against it, flattened out along the marble. There are also whole surfaces, even columns, with thin sheets of water running over them. The actual curtains, covering windows and various archways, are just as sheer and liquidy. I can’t help but envy their rugs especially, the fibers seemingly spun with sunlight or moonlight in silvery blacks and rich warm browns. They cover the floors in a rippling, velvety glow that’s plush beneath my toes.
But the most remarkable thing is the woodwork. Wood must be like clay to their artisans. Columns that aren’t covered in water or greenery are braided with wood. The simplest table, desk, or screen is a work of flowing art, one practically blending into the next. It’s almost like they’re trying to cover up the stone.
It looks like I’m walking through a forest. Amagicalforest. A hummingbird even flits by me, and some peacocks saunter by the next room over. The Skylleans we pass look equally flamboyant, with iridescent hair and eyes and extravagant clothing. Alongside such a celebration of life, Thanopolis really does look and feel like a subdued, death-obsessed city.
We finally make our way into a spacious courtyard, the sky above covered by a glass canopy. Blue and green fragments make swirling patterns in imitation of the veil itself, sending down filtered sunlight that makes everything look like it’s underwater. There’s an inexplicable shimmer in the air, golden motes floating in shafts of light. I expect more vibrant extravagance in so large a space, so I’m surprised to find it empty, save for Delphia and a small knot of Skyllean guards wearing intricately layered armor that fits together like overlapping leaves. The princess wears a beautiful cerulean gown in Skyllean style, her cloud of white hair tintedblue-green by the glass canopy. She first sees Japha and Alldan and brightens. She positivelyglowsat the sight of the latter.
“Prince Alldan! And Japha,” she adds belatedly. “Will we speak with her again? She said we can when—oh! Rovan, you’re alive! Ivrilos was right, I knew it!”
“Um,” I say, but before I can clarify, the gold in the air glimmers to life, seeming to gather in a rippling sheet. Suddenly, inside a strange flickering outline, is another world. I don’t really understand what I’m seeing, because this view should be impossible.
Towering gray trees rise in the background, with spiraling walkways twining around their trunks, wide enough for carriages. Buildings nestle in their massive branches. I can see lights in the tear-shaped windows, glowing like drops of dew from among wide swaths of curtaining, silver-green leaves. Bridges stretch between them, as intricate and numerous as the strands of a spider’s web, glowing with an internal light. Right at the forefront is a deck of swirling pale wood, as if we’re looking out over the view from a nearby tree.
It’s a city in the trees. Swarming with people.
I’m looking through aportal.
There is pride in Alldan’s gaze as he turns from the view to where Japha, Ivrilos, and I stand frozen in awe. “I’m pleased to present Skyllea and our capital city, Lyridan.”
It’s so beautiful I can’t speak—the land I’ve so long dreamed of seeing. Myfather’shomeland.
“How…?” I begin, extending my hand toward the sparking gold frame.
“It won’t hurt you, but you can’t pass through,” Alldan says. “It’s how our delegation here stays in communication with Skyllea. It’s something like a living echo, if you will, created through blood magic, of course. We’ve been developing the sigils for ages.”
I’m hardly paying attention to him, because I’ve spottedsomething else through the portal. On the ground in the distance, I see the ranks of an army beginning to assemble. A massive army. They’re far away in Skyllea, but I know where they’re headed.
“We sent some of our most magically powerful here before, in Cylla and Silvean,” Alldan says, and then waves at himself. “And now our least powerful, with promises that Thanopolis will soon have access to our greatest assets: our bloodlines.” He smiles. “Oh, we will deliver Skyllea to them, but not in the way they think.”
“Don’t give away all our secrets, my son,” says a voice.
