Page 81 of Dark Fate

"Welcome to the Sun Court," announces a gentleman. "I am Balen, your escort," he strides forward with practiced decorum that could rival any diplomat.

He bows deeply to Axilya, who nods in return. "We thank you for your gracious welcome," she replies with equal formality.

"Our stables await your noble steeds," he says, extending a hand for our reins.

Rhyland is off our horse in a flash, scooping me up like I weigh nothing. With a groan, I slide off and melt into the ground, my legs feeling like jelly after hours in the saddle.

"Oh, thank god," I mutter, each wince a silent plea as I straighten out. The sensation returns to those nameless places that have gone numb from the relentless ride.

Lucian leaps off his horse with grace and agility, handing his reins to the guard with a rakish grin. "Well, isn’t this just paradise wrapped in sunlight?" His voice drips with sarcasm, but his eyes dance with excitement.

Rhyland follows suit but remains vigilant. His posture is taut, and his eyes scan the surroundings for any hint of danger. "Pretty things often hide sharp thorns," he mutters, his voice low and rough with suspicion.

You can almost see the wariness rolling off him; Rhyland stands there, every inch the alpha male, ready to defend against any threat, real or imagined.

Then, Fae folk emerge from every corner, adorned in fabrics that defy reality. Their movements are so fluid and graceful that even the simplest gestures seem like performances worthy of an ovation. Their attire is extravagant, robes and threads shimmering and dancing as if cut from the night sky, all moonbeam sheen and cosmic glitter.

Servants glide towards us, offering assistance with our belongings. Their expressions are serene and inscrutable, and their demeanor is so far removed from normalcy that it sends my head spinning.

It feels like we've stumbled into a fantastical production where every extra vies for center stage, the air charged with a sense of otherworldly beauty and danger.

"Can you believe this place?" Lucian grins, his eyes wide with wonder, his excitement palpable even through his trademark snark and sass.

"Nuh-uh, this is... unbelievable! It’s like nothing I could’ve dreamed up," I say, the words tumbling out as I soak in the staggering splendor around us. Even in my wildest imaginings, I never could have conjured a place like this—a realm so far removed from anything I've ever known that it feels like a dream come to life.

A servant approaches me, her eyes sparkling like twin sapphires set into her flawless face, pointy ears peeking through golden-spun hair. "May I assist you with your gear?" she asks, her voice a melodic lilt that makes me think of wind chimes on a breezy day.

I nod dumbly at first, still taken aback by everything, my mind struggling to process the sheer scope of the splendor surrounding us. Then, my wits snap back into place, and I manage a smile. "Yeah. Yes, thank you." The words come out stilted as I hand over my satchel.

Something about her serene demeanor soothes even my frazzled nerves, a sense of calm emanating from her like a tangible force.

Rhyland keeps close behind me as we walk through this garden of living wonders toward what promises to be an equally spectacular palace, his presence a solid and reassuring warmth at my back.

“Keep your eyes open,” he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear, his breath tickling the shell of my ear—a reminder that not all is as it seems in this realm of beauty and illusion.

The guards gently lead our horses away while Balen guides us further into this world where every turn reveals another impossibility—a tapestry woven from pure sunlight here, a fountain spouting liquid diamonds there.

Rhyland's hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining in a comforting squeeze.

As we step through the grand entrance, a hush falls over me. It's like crossing an unseen threshold into a world where the impossible becomes possible, and the boundaries of reality blur and shift like smoke.

Rhyland tightens his grip on my hand, leaning in close, his breath hot against my ear. "If you keep gaping like that, I might have to find something to fill it with."

I click my jaw shut, my cheeks flushing hot with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at his R-rated comment. I nudge him with my elbow, shooting him a look that's half reproach, half invitation.

"Behave," I hiss under my breath, trying to keep my expression neutral, even as my heart races at the promise in his words.

Rhyland grins, his eyes glinting with mischief and something darker. "Where's the fun in that?" he murmurs.

I roll my eyes but can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“The Hall of Sunbeams,” Baelen informs us.

The entrance is a cavernous space, the ceiling arching high above like a perfect dome. Crystals hang suspended like stars, casting soft light across polished marble floors that reflect our images back at us.

A chandelier of crystalline flowers hangs overhead, casting a soft glow. Its petals pulse with an inner light, bathing us in warmth.

Living vines creep along the walls and columns, blooming with flowers that release a subtle perfume.

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