Page 36 of Twins for the Barbarians

There’s a crowd of people out there.

I count at least a few hundred walking about, people of all ages and with a surprising male-to-female ratio, by the looks of it. I don’t even realize I’m staring until Leela clears her throat to draw my attention away from the peaceful world outside these walls.

“The king’s throne is this way,” the girl says.

“How many women live here?” Kingo is the first to ask, still holding his injured side but strong enough to walk on his own in their presence.

“Our last census had us at three thousand four hundred and fifty women and two thousand eight hundred men, approximately,” Leela replies, but the other two shush her with concerned frowns.

“Please, we should not reveal such information,” Sarin cuts in. “They could be enemies.”

“I assure you, we’re not,” I say, but she gives me an equally hard look.

“That is for our king to decide.”

I’m about to ask who that is, but the women are leading us to the throne room—a lavish hall with a black marble floor, gilded columns, and a massive gold-plated chandelier made of hundreds of sculpted Sunnaite horns and precious opals. Other than the throne, the furniture is minimal.

It’s a splendid-looking thing, upholstered in black, velvet-like fabric, its wooden elements brushed with gold, and a dozen steps elevating it to give the king a promontory. However, the king is not what I expected, but I do recognize the red hair. The kid we saw earlier must be his son.

“Please bow before His Royal Highness, Savior of Opal City and Protector of Our Realm, King Solomon of the House of Daron,” Sarin announces as she and the other wives step aside so he can see the four of us clearly.

The soldiers stay by the doors, hands still tightly gripping their weapons.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whisper as I behold the man they call their king.

Solomon Daron looks to be in his seventies but is spry and alert. Thinner than most Sunnaite men, his horns are short and straight, protruding from the back of a headful of ruby-colored hair. His eyes burn red as they measure each of us with great caution, while his slender figure is wrapped in layers of black silk embroidered with gold thread. Jewels of gold, opals, and diamonds jingle on his bony wrists as he shifts in his seat and straightens his back, hands on the armrests and fingers tapping nervously.

“Solomon Daron,” Helios repeats the name, then glances my way again. “They can’t be serious.”

“Elian Daron’s younger brother,” I say and look at the so-called king. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Yet here I am, breathing and welcoming you into my home,” Solomon replies with a wry smirk.

17

Alicia

There’s a lot for me to digest at this moment, and the nausea isn’t helping my focus. Opal City is not what we thought it was. There is a clear link to Sunna’s past for us to explore. But we’re not exactly welcome here. That much I can tell from the king’s expression as he beholds us.

“How did you manage to make it to the gates?” he asks.

“Why did you feel the need to build that maze if you thought everyone else was dead?” Helios shoots back.

Solomon sneers with a mixture of anger and amusement. “I wasn’t willing to take the chance,” he says. “But before I answer any of your questions, you will answer mine. And before I even ask my questions, I will lay out the terms of the conversation henceforth: I will allow you to stay in my palace for as long as it’s necessary for you to do your work. Then you will leave and never return. Should you refuse my terms and conditions, you will be taken back to the gates, and you’ll never be welcome in Opal City again. Is that clear?”

“It is clear,” Helios speaks for the four of us. We need answers. “Please, tell us the terms, Your Grace.”

I do appreciate that he uses the right words for this so-called king, though we all know it’s just a title for a man who’s carrying decades of bitterness on his bony shoulders. We know we’ll fare better with Solomon’s approval, so we remain diplomatic.

“First, you are allowed no contact with people outside the palace. No one beyond these walls must know you are here, that you even exist,” Solomon says. “Opal City isn’t aware that anyone survived the plague, nor do I want them to. We have been safe and thriving here without the knowledge of your existence, and I will not allow your visit to disturb our peace.”

“Fair enough,” Helios replies.

“Second, you will keep your conversations with our service staff to a minimum,” Solomon continues. “They have taken an oath of secrecy, and any failure to obey will lead to severe punishment. I’m sure you don’t want anyone to suffer because of you.”

“We do not want that. No, Your Grace. Your second term is accepted.”

“Third, I assume you’ll want to venture outside the palace to have access to our official records, our libraries, and whatever resources you may find useful. I am not an absurd man, nor am I a despot. You will be allowed to go out, but only in the company of my wives and our soldiers and only in disguise. Your female guest will definitely need to keep her face hidden from public view. Any exposure will lead to your immediate expulsion from the city. Is that clear?”

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