A Strange Hymn
Page 35
The first of the foot soldiers that head up our convoy storm through the doorway, their bodies disappearing within. Then the next row disappears, and then the next.
And then the first of the mounted guards head inside. There’s thirty feet remaining between me and the door, then twenty, then ten …
Des and I pass through the double doors, our horses’ hooves echoing as we enter the vaulted room. I only have time to see the air ripple like cloth ahead of us before Des reaches over and grabs my hand.
A portal, I realize. Of course.
Seconds later, we’re dashing through it, my stomach bottoming out as my body is forced through time and space.
My horse hits the ground on the other side of the portal, not missing a single stride.
I blink several times, squinting at the bright light I’m suddenly doused in. Sunlight. I drink it in like it’s sex or carnage, feeling my magic swell.
I close my eyes again, enjoying basking in it. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. When I open my eyes, my gaze goes to the endless, rolling fields that stretch out in all directions, the small wild flowers that speckle them swaying in the breeze. It’s only ahead of us that the hills give way to forested mountains and purple peaks.
“Welcome to the Kingdom of Flora,” Des says next to me, releasing my hand. His earlier fury is completely gone.
Even though we’ve long since left the danger back in Somnia behind us, my horse doesn’t slow. Our entire procession moves at full speed. Even the foot soldiers are running, and I can’t help but think that all the wishes in the world couldn’t convince me to run with a herd of galloping steeds at my back.
But maybe that’s just me.
The sun begins to set as we ride, the setting sky giving my skin a rosy hue and making my glowing dress dance in all sorts of colors.
After some time, the grasslands give way to woodlands, the hills growing steeper the farther we travel. Eventually, our group slows, my horse falling back from a gallop to a canter, and then finally a leisurely trot.
A few bends in the road later, I realize why.
Up until now, the trees have been big, but ahead of me, they utterly dominate the scenery, their trunks far bigger than even the Giant Sequoias I’ve seen back in California.
And the more I stare, the more I realize that these trees are homes. A staircase twists up one, and another two are connected by intricately wrought bridges made of branches and vines. Built around and inside the trunks of these trees are elaborate fae structures. Currently, hundreds of Flora fae gather along their treetop bridges and balconies or on the edges of the footpath to watch our procession as it passes them by.
The path we follow curves, and the trees part. Ahead of us, a castle made of grey stone and covered largely in flowering vines stands amidst a ring of goliath trees.
The Flora palace.
The closer we get to it, the more fairies gather along the sides of the road. Many of their gazes are pinned to Des, the King of the Night, riding in on his dark steed, but a good number of them are focused on me, their eyes taking in my glowing skin, my face, my wings.
Let them know that this is what it means to be human, the siren whispers. I am no thing to be trifled with.
There are no gates to divide the palace grounds from the rest of the land, but as we cross onto palace grounds, for a split second the air feels viscous, like I’m moving through honey. Whatever this magical barrier is, it’s meant to keep most people out.
On the other side of it, the crowd that waits for us is noticeably wealthier. Their clothes are more ornamented, their hair more elaborately coiffed, their jewelry more intricate. Many of them touch their fingers to their foreheads as we pass, what I’m assuming is a sign of respect.
At the foot of the castle, our procession stops, and the music our group has been playing up until now fades away.
Next to me, Des vanishes from his horse, earning several gasps from the crowd of onlookers. He reappears at my horse’s side.
“Time to disembark, Callie,” he says.
Des reaches for me, helping me off the horse. He’s completely unaware of himself—his beauty, his strength, his magnetism. However, he’s not oblivious of me. He holds me close for a beat longer than necessary, his eyes moving from my eyes to my lips.
“I’m still holding you to your promise,” I say softly, my glamour making music of my words.
A secretive smile lights up his face as he remembers his vow to give me everything I wanted. “I haven’t forgotten.”
He finally releases me, and the two of us move forward with our group once more, this time on foot, while our horses are led away. We head through huge double doors made of heavyset wood.
I try not to stare as we enter the palace, but it’s hard not to.
The forest seems to have made its way into the castle. The floors are covered with wild grass and dotted with spring flowers. Vines crisscross the stone walls, each strand heavy with blooms. Even the chandelier hanging over our heads is an extension of the natural world, the frame made almost entirely of what appears to be living, flowering wood and moss. The only thing not living appears to be the waxy, dripping candles that dot the chandelier.
We cross the entryway and all but a few of Des’s soldiers break away, lining up on either side of the door that leads deeper into the castle.
Des takes my hand. “Time for introductions,” he quietly explains.
Now for the most curious part of the entire evening.
We all wear pretty masks, pretty masks that hide depraved thoughts. Mine’s hidden behind glowing skin and a melodic voice. Des’s lurk deep in the shadows. What will this queen and her consort king show me?
Our now much smaller group heads through the door in front of us. On the other side of it is a throne room, this one packed with fae of all shapes and sizes. Most look like normal fairies, but then there are some that look more like plants than people, a few that I’m pretty sure are hobgoblins, and one that has an uncanny resemblance to a troll. All of them are attired in sumptuous outfits. Clearly, these are the most privileged of the Flora Kingdom’s citizens—most privileged and probably the most fickle, their allegiance as pliant as my body under Des’s touch.
The Bargainer and I walk down the aisle, our bodies still glowing—in my case partly because of the clothing and partly because of my skin. I feel the room’s eyes on me, their gazes like a touch. Their curiosity, their envy, their yearning fills me up.
I’m intrigued by all these alien creatures, creatures I barely understand and cannot control. They, in turn, stare back, their eyes mesmerized by my skin and face. I know I look like a strange angel, my black wings shimmering under more of those odd chandeliers.
When we reach the end of the aisle, the guards in front of us step aside, unveiling the raised dais behind them.
Leaning back on a throne made of vines and flowers is Mara Verdana, the Queen of Flora.
Her wild red hair cascades down her shoulders and chest, her eyes the same sharp green color as the plants we’re surrounded by. Her skin is alabaster pale, and her mouth is just as voluptuous as the rest of her appears to be.
There are flowers in her hair, flowers woven into her dress, and her crown is simply a wreath of them. But she is the loveliest flower of them all. I find I want to touch that skin of hers and see if it’s as petal-soft as I imagine it to be.
She watches us with narrowed eyes, a slight, amused smile on her lips. She might be the Queen of Flora, but just like Des, she looks to me like a panther, something beautiful and dangerous that will strike when you least expect it. For all her magnificence, she must be a deranged thing.
And then the first of the mounted guards head inside. There’s thirty feet remaining between me and the door, then twenty, then ten …
Des and I pass through the double doors, our horses’ hooves echoing as we enter the vaulted room. I only have time to see the air ripple like cloth ahead of us before Des reaches over and grabs my hand.
A portal, I realize. Of course.
Seconds later, we’re dashing through it, my stomach bottoming out as my body is forced through time and space.
My horse hits the ground on the other side of the portal, not missing a single stride.
I blink several times, squinting at the bright light I’m suddenly doused in. Sunlight. I drink it in like it’s sex or carnage, feeling my magic swell.
I close my eyes again, enjoying basking in it. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. When I open my eyes, my gaze goes to the endless, rolling fields that stretch out in all directions, the small wild flowers that speckle them swaying in the breeze. It’s only ahead of us that the hills give way to forested mountains and purple peaks.
“Welcome to the Kingdom of Flora,” Des says next to me, releasing my hand. His earlier fury is completely gone.
Even though we’ve long since left the danger back in Somnia behind us, my horse doesn’t slow. Our entire procession moves at full speed. Even the foot soldiers are running, and I can’t help but think that all the wishes in the world couldn’t convince me to run with a herd of galloping steeds at my back.
But maybe that’s just me.
The sun begins to set as we ride, the setting sky giving my skin a rosy hue and making my glowing dress dance in all sorts of colors.
After some time, the grasslands give way to woodlands, the hills growing steeper the farther we travel. Eventually, our group slows, my horse falling back from a gallop to a canter, and then finally a leisurely trot.
A few bends in the road later, I realize why.
Up until now, the trees have been big, but ahead of me, they utterly dominate the scenery, their trunks far bigger than even the Giant Sequoias I’ve seen back in California.
And the more I stare, the more I realize that these trees are homes. A staircase twists up one, and another two are connected by intricately wrought bridges made of branches and vines. Built around and inside the trunks of these trees are elaborate fae structures. Currently, hundreds of Flora fae gather along their treetop bridges and balconies or on the edges of the footpath to watch our procession as it passes them by.
The path we follow curves, and the trees part. Ahead of us, a castle made of grey stone and covered largely in flowering vines stands amidst a ring of goliath trees.
The Flora palace.
The closer we get to it, the more fairies gather along the sides of the road. Many of their gazes are pinned to Des, the King of the Night, riding in on his dark steed, but a good number of them are focused on me, their eyes taking in my glowing skin, my face, my wings.
Let them know that this is what it means to be human, the siren whispers. I am no thing to be trifled with.
There are no gates to divide the palace grounds from the rest of the land, but as we cross onto palace grounds, for a split second the air feels viscous, like I’m moving through honey. Whatever this magical barrier is, it’s meant to keep most people out.
On the other side of it, the crowd that waits for us is noticeably wealthier. Their clothes are more ornamented, their hair more elaborately coiffed, their jewelry more intricate. Many of them touch their fingers to their foreheads as we pass, what I’m assuming is a sign of respect.
At the foot of the castle, our procession stops, and the music our group has been playing up until now fades away.
Next to me, Des vanishes from his horse, earning several gasps from the crowd of onlookers. He reappears at my horse’s side.
“Time to disembark, Callie,” he says.
Des reaches for me, helping me off the horse. He’s completely unaware of himself—his beauty, his strength, his magnetism. However, he’s not oblivious of me. He holds me close for a beat longer than necessary, his eyes moving from my eyes to my lips.
“I’m still holding you to your promise,” I say softly, my glamour making music of my words.
A secretive smile lights up his face as he remembers his vow to give me everything I wanted. “I haven’t forgotten.”
He finally releases me, and the two of us move forward with our group once more, this time on foot, while our horses are led away. We head through huge double doors made of heavyset wood.
I try not to stare as we enter the palace, but it’s hard not to.
The forest seems to have made its way into the castle. The floors are covered with wild grass and dotted with spring flowers. Vines crisscross the stone walls, each strand heavy with blooms. Even the chandelier hanging over our heads is an extension of the natural world, the frame made almost entirely of what appears to be living, flowering wood and moss. The only thing not living appears to be the waxy, dripping candles that dot the chandelier.
We cross the entryway and all but a few of Des’s soldiers break away, lining up on either side of the door that leads deeper into the castle.
Des takes my hand. “Time for introductions,” he quietly explains.
Now for the most curious part of the entire evening.
We all wear pretty masks, pretty masks that hide depraved thoughts. Mine’s hidden behind glowing skin and a melodic voice. Des’s lurk deep in the shadows. What will this queen and her consort king show me?
Our now much smaller group heads through the door in front of us. On the other side of it is a throne room, this one packed with fae of all shapes and sizes. Most look like normal fairies, but then there are some that look more like plants than people, a few that I’m pretty sure are hobgoblins, and one that has an uncanny resemblance to a troll. All of them are attired in sumptuous outfits. Clearly, these are the most privileged of the Flora Kingdom’s citizens—most privileged and probably the most fickle, their allegiance as pliant as my body under Des’s touch.
The Bargainer and I walk down the aisle, our bodies still glowing—in my case partly because of the clothing and partly because of my skin. I feel the room’s eyes on me, their gazes like a touch. Their curiosity, their envy, their yearning fills me up.
I’m intrigued by all these alien creatures, creatures I barely understand and cannot control. They, in turn, stare back, their eyes mesmerized by my skin and face. I know I look like a strange angel, my black wings shimmering under more of those odd chandeliers.
When we reach the end of the aisle, the guards in front of us step aside, unveiling the raised dais behind them.
Leaning back on a throne made of vines and flowers is Mara Verdana, the Queen of Flora.
Her wild red hair cascades down her shoulders and chest, her eyes the same sharp green color as the plants we’re surrounded by. Her skin is alabaster pale, and her mouth is just as voluptuous as the rest of her appears to be.
There are flowers in her hair, flowers woven into her dress, and her crown is simply a wreath of them. But she is the loveliest flower of them all. I find I want to touch that skin of hers and see if it’s as petal-soft as I imagine it to be.
She watches us with narrowed eyes, a slight, amused smile on her lips. She might be the Queen of Flora, but just like Des, she looks to me like a panther, something beautiful and dangerous that will strike when you least expect it. For all her magnificence, she must be a deranged thing.
