Page 6 of On Wings of Blood

“Do try to keep your footing, Lucius,” the young lord drawled. “She’s just another blightborn, not a unicorn.”

“Indeed not! She may be far more important than any mythological creature of legend,” Lucius squeaked as he stretched out his hands to regain his balance. “Though of course, there is a connection between...”

“This conversation is growing tedious. Look.” The blond man pointed ahead. “We’re nearing the city. The matter will be settled soon.”

Lucius scuttled away, still muttering excitedly to himself.

I looked ahead to where he was indicating and drew in my breath. We had come to the top of a high rolling hill. Below us lay a city.

I had come from a castle which floated in the sky. I had used powerful magics to bring it down to earth and kill the ones who dwelled within it.

Already that seemed so long ago. So impossible.

Yet despite the wonders I had witnessed, I could honestly say I had seen nothing quite like what lay before us.

The city itself was built on a smaller scale than I had expected, but nevertheless looked grand and affluent. It lay affixed to the edge of a dark and restless ocean, where tumultuous waters splashed against white sands. Beyond the edge of the city limits,three enormous iron bridges stretched out, leading towards three rocky islands.

On the first island, perched like a white nest on a dark cliff, lay a structure built from bright, gleaming stone. It glistened upwards like a luminous pearl against the roiling gray waves and rapidly dimming sky. Soaring narrow spires filled its center while slender, graceful columns rose around the structure.

On the second island, a castle of deep onyx-colored towers and arches twisted skywards in shapes and at angles which should have been impossible, reminding me of the sharp, pointed fangs of a great stone beast.

The third and final island held the largest building of all and one which I suspected might be the oldest. Looking as if it had arisen from a jumbled mix of eras and styles, it resembled a castle or a great fortress. The structure sprawled like the web of a spider, spiraling outwards from a cluster of six towers, each of a different material and design. The only thing which provided any sense of continuity to the building, whatever it might be, was its color. All of the materials that had been used were of a dark crimson shade, nearly black.

I schooled my features carefully, trying not to disclose my impressions. If my captor could play at boredom, so could I.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to sound careless. “What is the name of that town ahead?”

“Town?” I caught the note of annoyance in his voice. “That is no mere town.”

I shrugged. “City, then. What does it matter?”

“What does it matter?”

To my shock, I heard him dismounting behind me. In another moment, he was at my elbow, marching by my side.

“That, girl, is no town, but the capital city of Sangratha.” I could feel his eyes on my face. “Honestly, if you are a spy for the borderlands, you’re the worst one I’ve ever seen. How could anyone not know of Veilmar?”

“Oh? And you catch a lot of spies, do you?” I looked him up and down, letting my eyes linger on his black cloak and impeccable armor. “You don’t look the sort to get your hands dirty.”

“You don’t know anything about me, as we’ve already determined,” he retorted.

I tilted my head. “I know you’re noble. That you’re used to giving orders, not following them. That you’re used to people doing your bidding–instead of you having to work to get what you want. I’d say I know enough.”

He was silent.

“That man you killed. Barnabas,” I ventured. “There was something strange about him.”

He snorted.

“I mean, beyond the obvious,” I snapped. “His teeth. They were... elongated. I think he was going to... bite me.”

The pale-haired prince burst into laughter. “Do you now?”

“I don’t see what’s so funny about...” I started to say. Then I stopped.

He was smirking down at me coldly–smiling, if you can call it that, for the first time. With his lips parted slightly, I could seethat his incisors were even longer than Barnabas’s had been, and they narrowed into sharp, delicate points.

“Fangs,” I said hollowly. “You have fangs.”

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