Page 56 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
It must.
Five of the guards come towards us. My grip tightens on Locane, paralyzed with fear of whatever is going to come next. Kraeston steps forward and gently, but firmly, unhooks each of my fingers from Locane’s arm before pulling me away. Locane gives no fight as the other guards shackle his arms behind his back with plain steel cuffs.
“I’m sorry for darting you, Elly. I hope you can one day understand why I did it and forgive me. Everything will all be alright,” Kraeston tells me reassuringly.
I’m in too much shock to say or do anything other than follow his lead and allow him to hoist me up to the back of his horse. He climbs up behind me and puts a respectful arm around my waist to hold me steady.
Breaking out of my silent stupor, I turn to him with uncertainty. “No chains for me?” My voice sounds childlike despite my attempt to be bold, and I fold in on myself, embarrassed.
Kraeston glances down at me with care that makes my stomach churn and shame swell. “No, Elly. No chains for you.”
Kraeston looks around at the party, checking to make sure Locane is secure and has a leather gag placed in his mouth before nodding his head forward. I follow the direction of his motion, towards the towering, glittering sandstone palace looming over the northern portion of the city.
“Let’s go,” Kraeston commands, and the convoy begins to move.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Darkness has fallen by the time we make it far enough away from the docks that the overwhelming smell of fish has subsided. The sweet saltiness of the sea continues to permeate the evening air. A subtle lightness in the breeze signals the coming change of seasons, but somehow, I know that true autumn never hits anywhere in Quinndohs, the Kingdom keeping a stifling daytime temperature year-round.
Absorbing the city, I use the sights to take my mind from my racing heart, the rampant and erratic thoughts of my addled mind. The road we are traveling down is narrow, the street is lined with well-kept townhomes made of sandstone.
Large palm trees jut up from evenly placed spaces along the edge of the sidewalk, their fronds draped like protective arms to provide much needed shade. Flicker lanterns of different shapes and sizes line the steps into the homes, casting different colored lights down the street. There’s no traffic and few people outside; the strange emptiness is hollow, only adding to the ominous atmosphere of what lies ahead.
There’s no way out of this situation. My magic has been stifled, slumbering deep within me, until gods know when with the effects of the iron dart. I have no weapon to try to defend myself against these men, and I would be horribly outnumbered if I did.
Locane warned me I would be grabbed immediately by those who imprisoned me, and he was right. I tasted mere minutes of true freedom before they were there. How did they even know where to find us? Either way, Locane was right.
Kraeston called me princess, but he also called me Elly, and I can only assume that princess is just another nickname. Why would a princess have been imprisoned?
My mind is so drained from everything that has happened in the last few moons, I don’t want to think. Answers don’t seem important anymore; I just want to sleep and turn it all off. I don’t care to know who I am or about gems or god power or any other fucking plans for me thought up by someone else. At this moment, even bringing myself to care that I may be about to see Nana is impossible, if what Kraeston said is true. Was her love and care ever real? Or was I just a pawn for her as well?
We turn down several streets until modest townhomes start to morph into grander buildings with plush, green lawns and small front gardens. Decorative gates guard the entryway sidewalks into the large homes and ornate porticos with thick columns adorn the faces.
A tall pergola spans down the sidewalks of both sides of this street and flows with decorative ivy and blooming, purple wisteria, swaying on a gentle breeze, beckoning us towards our destination. Even in my forlorn state, I can’t help but appreciate the wealth and beauty of it.
I don’t know how long it’s been since we’ve left the docks, but it doesn’t seem like long enough when we reach an intersection to another more affluent street. A large gate is apparent—a great gaping mouth waiting to devour me whole—with more silver andblack clad guards. I know it’s the entrance to the palace. Apparently, a private entrance, based on the surrounding area.
They were expecting our arrival.
Color leaches from my face as we pass through the gate. An impending doom that I can’t explain sits heavy on me, constricting the shallow breaths in my chest. Kraeston has been silent the whole ride, but he suddenly turns tense behind me. I can sense that even he dreads what is to come.
The horses clip-clop over the inclined, dark brick road winding up towards the palace. More palm trees line the wide private drive. Hung between the palms are strings of flickering lights dancing in the deepening twilight hour.
The incline plateaus to flat ground. Palm trees thin to make way for a decorative floral garden and a spanning yard. Everything is lush and exuberant, a living portrait of vivid color and texture. Leaves of palms and sweeping figs swish, their soft whispers carrying across the breeze around bright blooms dotted throughout vibrant greens. The drive circles around to come under an elaborate, looming porte cochere; my stomach twists tighter throughout every step of the gentle curve.
Closing my eyes, dancing flames from lanterns splash orange beneath my clenched lids. I’m desperate for my reality to change when we are under the cover of the porte cochere and all the horses have stopped, the sudden silence jarring.
Kraeston dismounts. Several people talk in soft, hurried tones. A dense blanket of tension coats the atmosphere of the palace; it makes my own coil tighter. My under arms are coated in oily sweat, giving off the pungent honey and onion smell of my terror.
It makes me gag.
Kraeston places a gentle hand on my arm, bringing me out of my fear induced daze. I keep my eyes closed and shake my head. “Please…” I beg pitifully.
“Come, Princess. It will be over soon,” he croons softly, as if trying to coax down a stubborn child. I do feel so like a child right now.
When I don’t move, he gently grabs me by the waist and pulls me down. When my feet hit the ground a single, strangled sob escapes my mouth. My feet falter, tripping heavily over themselves when I try to take a step. My central nervous system has gone haywire, my basic functions don’t want to work.
“Come on, Elly. I’ve got you,” Kraeston says, strong and sure.
