Page 24 of Quicksilver
“How?” It wasn't that I didn't believe her. But, well...I didn't. I could still see my breath clouding in the air.
“Magic, of course,” Everlayne replied. “There are wards cast over all of Yvelia to keep the cold at bay.”
My mind balked at this. Magic. She said it so easily, as if the existence of such a thing were plain fact instead of straight-up impossible. But my definition of impossible needed revising, it seemed. If Everlayne existed, then so could magic, and I was fairly sure Everlayne was real. There was a chance that I was hallucinating, but the odds of that being true decreased with every passing moment that she guided me through the Yvelian Court. Hallucinations ended. This nightmare wouldn't fucking quit.
Eventually, we turned down a hallway, taking a left. A long, straight walkway stretched ahead of us. At the end of the walkway stood a massive set of wooden doors, twenty feet high, looming and ostentatious. Armed sentries dressed for battle stood on either side it. As we hurried down the walkway, tiny birds with bright, colorful feathers flitted and chirped above us, engaged in aerial acrobatics. They were breathtaking. Under any other circumstances, I would have stopped to watch their impressive game of tag, but my heart had set to hammering and my palms were sweating, my attention drawn toward those ominous doors and what waited beyond them.
Up close, the guards were far more formidable than the ones outside my room. Everlayne didn't even acknowledge the males. Her confident stride didn't slow as she marched up to the doors. Wordlessly, the males snapped to attention and moved in concert, taking hold of the carved handles and pushing the doors open for us.
“Lady Everlayne De Barra,” a powerful voice announced, as we entered the hall. I was not announced. Like a dog nipping at its master's heels, I rushed along behind Lady Everlayne, feeling like a complete idiot for ever thinking that she was some kind of maid.
If I'd thought the Hall of Mirrors back in Zilvaren was big, then the Grand Hall of the Yvelian Court was ridiculous. The abyssal space must have taken years to construct. To the left and the right, seating stretched back, fifty rows deep. Hundreds of Fae sat there, watching with silent judgment on their faces as we entered.
The corniced ceiling forty feet above us was adorned with sculptures, the stonework etched with figures and details too small for me to see. Lavish tapestries and embroidered banners hung from the walls. Ahead, a fire burned in a brazier at the foot of a dais made out of more labradorite, andoh!Oh, holyfuck!The skull of a giant beast loomed over the labradorite dais, the bone bleached white and ghostly. Its orbital sockets were six feet wide. Its horned brow plate jutted from the shadows like the mast of a sand skiff. And its teeth. Saints and martyrs, its teeth. They were stained and terrible, each one razor sharp and at least twelve feet long.
“Whatisit?” I breathed.
Everlayne responded quickly in a muted whisper. “A dragon. Thelastdragon,” she said meaningfully. “Its name was Omnamshacry. A legend amongst my people.”
“It must have been a hundred feet tall!” I craned my head back as we approached and still couldn’t quite grasp the beast’s size. “How did it die?”
“Later,” Everlayne hissed.
I was so mesmerized by the sheer horror of the skull that I barely noticed the six stately chairs positioned atop the dais below until we were standing in front of the crackling brazier.
“Daughter,” came a cold, rough voice.
The king was an imposing male. His hair was black as jet, tinged grey at either of his temples. His eyes were a deep, dark, murky brown, sharp, and unfriendly. Though he wasn't thin by any means, he clearly wasn't given to excess. He sat before us in state wearing a heavy green velvet cape with the heads of scaled, snarling beasts cast in gold affixed upon the crest of each shoulder. One hand rested on the arm of his ornate throne. The other, encased in a leather glove, clutched the grip of a sword, the point of which bit into the ground at his feet. It was the sword. The one I’d drawn in the Hall of Mirrors. The metal glinted, reflecting the firelight, as the king absentmindedly spun the blade.
Everlayne stooped into a low curtsey before the King. Her father. “Your Highness.”
Belikon's cloudy eyes came down on me with the force of a sledgehammer. I tried my best to meet them, but the intensity of his gaze was weaponized and difficult to withstand. A male seated to his left spoke, his voice rasping. “Do you not bow before a king, Creature?”
He was gaunt. Sickly-looking, his skin as pale and thin as parchment. A network of blue veins snaked out across his cheeks like lashes of forked lightning. Eyes the color of dull pewter assessed me, simmering with distaste. Unlike the king, the male's attire was simple—a plain black robe that swamped his thin frame.
“He isn't my king,” I answered tartly.
Everlayne flinched, though her reaction was fleeting. “Forgive her, Majesty. Your guest is tired and unaccustomed to her new surroundings.”
Damn right, I wasn't accustomed to my new surroundings. It would take a miracle from every single one of the gods Everlayne just introduced me to before I acclimatized myself to all of this, and from the way she’d spoken about them, Everlayne’s gods weren’t even around anymore.
“Ignorance is no excuse for disrespect,” the male spat.
“Quiet, Orious,” King Belikon rumbled. “I haven't witnessed such open contempt in a long time. It’s refreshing. I'll tolerate it until it grows tiresome. Step forward, girl.”
Only three of the six seats on the dais were occupied. An ancient woman with thick grey hair and gnarled hands, dressed in white, observed me with eyes like twin pits as I lifted my chin defiantly and did as the king bade me.
“You stand before me a guest of this court, girl. As such, you’re entitled to a certain amount of political leniency,” Belikon said. “When you leave this throne room, you’ll no longer be my guest. You’ll be my subject and, therefore, will no longer benefit from clemency.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue against this declaration, but a swift kick to the ankle from Everlayne warned me to hold my tongue.
“There are rules to this kingdom. Rules that will be obeyed. You're about to spend a great deal of time in the libraries, learning about our ways. Any willful infraction of our laws will be dealt with swiftly. Now. You were brought here to fulfill a specific task. You’ll complete that task quickly and efficient—”
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “I’m sorry, but…what do you mean,task?”
A cry went up amongst the Fae sitting in the gallery. I didn't need to be told that interrupting a king was execution-worthy, but the question had slipped out before I could stop it. And anyway, if he wanted to behead me, then so be it. I'd had the snot kicked out of me by Harron. I'd come this close to dying, and yes, it had sucked, but I wasn't afraid of death anymore. I was angry, and I wanted answers.
The king tipped his head an inch to the left, regarding me with the cruel intrigue of a hunter studying his quarry. “What do I mean?” he repeated.
