Page 188 of Golden Queen
Guilt for the jealous feelings washed through me thoroughly. I smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I find myself acting and feeling rather irrational in regards to him." I bit my lip, extremely ashamed of myself.
Jhol continued without either excusing my behavior or further acknowledging it. "I have never tasted his blood. I would not ask that of him. Feeding a vampire takes a certain level of...supplication that Amon does not have the capacity for."
I didn’t speak, struggling to keep my stupid lips from curving upward in a smile.
If Jhol noticed, he made no comment. "To answer your other question. I was born in Americus, across the Great Sea. But I have always roamed the world, looking for magic, I think. The magic of art, the magic of love, and themagic of beauty. Americus was a peaceful land, advanced in some technology, but so droll and lifeless. It had no beating heart, so to say."
"I've never even heard of Americus," I told him, as usual feeling shame with the admission of my own inadequacies. "What continent is it on?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose it would not be called Americus any longer. You would know it as Avalon. I am sure it has changed very much from the barbaric world I knew."
I did know a little of Avalon, but it was so far across the sea that even the information was limited. I had the faint memory of reading about bloody battles during some long-ago war.
We reached the end of a long hall, and Jhol pushed open one of a set of massive double doors.
"Where are we going?" I asked as he pushed the door outward. A cold wind pummeled my face, sending my hair flying around me.
"Your new home, of course," Jhol answered, holding the door open to let me pass.
We stepped into a small courtyard. Across it, at the end of a wide, smooth path was another set of doors. They were surrounded by huge, arching windows set into the face of a mountain. Cliffs of stone and ice towered high above us.
On both sides of the courtyard lay open night sky and the gorgeous valley far below.
I walked to a stone balustrade and looked down. I gasped as I took in the sheer drop to the valley floor.
We were on a bridge suspended between the Reach and the side of the mountain. The colorful valley stretched out below us, stealing my breath, as it had from the first.
The twin rows of pillars supporting the Reach could be seen marching away across the valley. They were massive, yet they looked wholly inadequate to bear the weight of the hulking fortress above them.
"This is fucking spectacular," I said as Jhol reached my side, the wind whipping his red curls around his face.
I felt unexpected tears sting my eyes.
"You see why someone roaming the world looking for beauty might spend the rest of their immortality in the Iyridian Valley?"
"I do," I told him, not missing theimmortalitypart.
"Come," he said, reaching for my hand. "You have the rest of your life to look at the views. Come and see your lovely mountain palace."
The palace was more than lovely. It was warm, inviting, and perfect.
It was just as enormous as one might expect a hollowed-out mountain palace to be. The personal touches like the art and the comfortable-looking, stylish furniture lent it a quality that could only be accurately described as curated comfort.
The walls were a mix of smooth, polished wood and bare rock pillars reaching down from a painted ceiling. It was a star map showing constellations against an inky black background—like the ordinary night skies of Windemere instead of the magnificent ones over Darkwatch.
Some of the bare stone had been carved into flourishes and details, but most of it looked natural—as if the palace had once been a cave, and I was looking at the original walls.
Where the fortress had been opulent stone and grandeur fit for any king, Io's mountain palace looked like…him.
Dark woods and fabrics, celestial symbolism, and art that looked exactly like something he would be drawn to graced every corner.
A statue of the goddess Hassah stood near the entryway, her wings folded against her back and her head bowed as though in prayer.
In the main room, a painting of the Darkwatch Sky, done in great swirling strokes of color sat above an enormous dark stone mantle with a roaring fire already in place.
Thick rugs lay scattered beneath well-worn leather furniture and sleek tables. It looked like the kind of place where a large group of friends might meet and spend time together.
Jhol watched my face carefully as I surveyed the room. I began to have a suspicion about whose eye had chosen all the darkly enchanting decor. "You did this?" I asked.
