Page 187 of Golden Queen
The impossibly high ceilings were made of arches inside arches inside arches—all blending and intersecting each other with a wild, organic effect that made them look quite a bit like a natural cave ceiling.
Pale gray, nearly white marble floors embellished with patterns and motifs of black surrounded inlaid mosaics that depicted dragons and fire and constellations.
The walls rose tall and imposing. They were carved much like the outside of the castle, depicting more dragons and terrible, demonic-looking beasts locked in endless battle.
In some places, the smooth stone faces of the walls blended into huge chunks of bare rock, as though they intended to leave a part of the raw stone intact. They rose from the floor in several locations, lending credence to the idea that Dragon’s Reach had been carved from the mountain itself.
Other people approached as we continued through the hall. At one point, Io introduced me to his strategic general. He was a fierce-looking man in black metal scale armor running down and across his arms. It made him look like he was, himself, part dragon.
The general’s name was Kyrun Raitheun. He had the sides of his hair shaved to the skin beneath traditional battle braids. Smooth inked lines crawled across the skin of his head and ran all the way down his neck before they disappeared into his shirt.
General Raitheun gave me a curt nod and asked for some time to update his lord on the forces of both Nightfall and Darkwatch.
When Io askedwhen, Kyrun gave him an apologetic look. "Now would be best, My Lord."
I waved Io away, looping my arm in Jhol's. "Lord Azmial will show me around, won't you?" I turned to catch his smiling nod.
"I will take very good care of your Lady," Jhol assured him.
I had no doubt of it, but it was still surprising when Io grinned and nodded, pleased. He had been so jealous of Rhychulson that it surprised me when he didn't show any of that possessiveness with Jhol—who'd looked at me like he might just want to eat me. I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it, even to myself, how much that annoyed me.
It didn't take long to understand why Io did not concern himself with me being alone with Jhol Azmial. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was likely only attracted to men. And everything to do with the fact that he knew my Lord of Darkwatch better than anyone I had ever met before. And loved him deeply.
Jhol led me up a wide, sweeping staircase. We had passed a few people on the way across the hall. They greeted us warmly, and with deference to Jhol, especially, but once we fully ascended the stairs, we did not see another soul.
Lord Azmial told me how he had come to be in Darkwatch as we walked. He had been painting in noble palaces for hundreds of years.
"Hundreds?" I asked, looking to the side and judging his age to be no more than twenty.
"I am so old, Your Majesty, that I have completely lost count of the years," he said with a long-suffering sigh.
"Please, call me Aelia," I said. "Or...Sera, if you like." I wasn't sure why I added the last, except that it felt appropriate.
At his curious look, I added. "Seraphem is my middle name." Maybe I simply wanted some inner circle who called me Sera like Io had with his sisters and his cousin.
Jhol smiled a crooked smile. "Very well, Sera, to finish answering your question, I am so old that I have stopped counting."
"How old were you when you last counted?"
He chuckled. "Seven hundred and seventy-seven the last time I celebrated the day," he said easily.
"And how long ago was that?" I asked, giving him an apologetic grin.
He laughed, but then looked sideways at me. "I am one thousand three hundred forty-four years, three hundred thirty-two days, seven hours and—" he pulled a small watch from the pocket of his yellow coat, "—twenty-three minutes old."
I beamed at him, having uncovered a secret I was absolutely certain he allowed very few people to know. I was sure that line about forgetting his age was a well-worn one. "So, where are you from, Jhol Azmial, and what in the heavensareyou?"
"I am what many on this continent might refer to as a blood vampire," he said. "Though there are very few anywhere on this side of the world who would even knowthatname for me."
"I am not one of them," I admitted, being wholly unfamiliar with the term.
"Well then allow me to spare you from the terror that will haunt your waking dreams if you hear the tale from another. Ido notdrink the life force away from anyone. Ido notsteal your years to keep myself young. I simply...receive my nourishment from blood. Animal, human, fae—it makes no difference except to taste. Fae is the best," he said, giving me a knowing smile. "But if I know Amon, you are already well aware of that. Elf blood is a close second. It has a much darker, more complex flavor."
My eyes must have been as wide as saucers, and perhaps my face had paled a little because he laughed lightly. "I never harm anyone in the pursuit of my dinner, Sera. I am fed willingly by those who love me."
I believed him, though an image came to mind of him being fed that dinner bymyLord of Darkwatch, and an unwilling jolt of anger went through me.
"Wipe that look off your face, my little moonflower. There has never been more than the love of friendship between your lord and I." He spoke lightly, but there was a note of chastising in his voice.
