Page 22 of Between Realms

WYNSTELLE

The enormous and wonderfully crafted Ryven Castle and its grounds seem to cover more land than my entire hometown of Betonie. Turrets and high walls keep out undesirables, such as lowly humans. Within these walls reside the high-born of the already elite elves of the Ryven Kingdom.

Shaking with nerves and fearing what will happen to me, I offer the royal guard my summons at the castle gates. I wish Merlara or Oakes were allowed to accompany me to this intimidating place. But I am alone now and remind myself that I must develop independence quickly since I might be forced back to the human realm after this court appearance.

The tall, stoic guard studies the paper and me for a long while. “Come with me.”

I follow him inside the castle’s main entrance and try not to look shocked at the extravagant decor. Exquisite lanterns illuminate the darker halls with no windows. Huge tapestries depicting ancient fae folk stories hang from nearly thirty feet up and still almost touch the floor. I can’t imagine how old these artifacts are. They are priceless and likely irreplaceable. Pedestals stand between the tapestries, other art and historical pieces presented on them. Old armor from famous battles and warriors, and marvelous sculptures of heroes throughout the ages, line the halls. Ryven’s wealth is blatantly on display. Likely, this is meant to remind visitors, no matter how well off they are, that they are poor compared to the royals, King Magnus, in particular.

Hurrying to keep up with my escort, I’m winded by the time he comes to an abrupt stop and glares at me.

Then the guard ushers me into an enormous room with several plush couches lining the perimeter. “Wait here until someone calls for you.”

“Will I be able to change and freshen up before my court appearance?”

The guard eyes my rumpled look, sneering as he catches sight of my dirty, blood-stained skirt peeking from under my cloak. “Not my jurisdiction. However, I will inform the next guard that you need to clean up.”

“Thank you.” I bow goodbye.

After being left alone, I wander up and down the length of the extravagant waiting room, admiring the large portraits hanging on the walls. Former and current royals, I surmise. A few I recognize from my historical books. All beautiful Elven specimens, each distinct in their looks and demeanor, which ooze out of the paintings themselves. The art must be imbued with some kind of magic to radiate the actual essence of each monarch.

From my books, I recognize King Magnus with his blond hair and cold, gray eyes. A menacing energy pours out of the painting, and I shiver. From what I sense in his portrait, he is powerful and demanding—unforgiving.

Next to Magnus, a portrait of a male with long, blond locks and stormy-blue eyes catches my attention. It’s as if he sees right through me with his gaze. The painting’s placement, the last in the row, suggests he’s the most recent royal addition. The prince.

There is a gentleness in his portrait that is lacking in Magnus. Not that the prince seems soft, just not as hard as his father. My feet draw me closer to the prince’s painting as if he has called to me. I clasp my hands together so I won’t be tempted to touch the canvas. His intense gaze seems to follow me when I back away and settle on a couch across the room.

What is wrong with me? First, I find Oakes attractive, then his mysterious violet-eyed friend, and now a prince?

Merlara would probably blame my human biology, coming into mating season. Maybe that is true in a sense. I know humans often find their mates by my age or younger. Perhaps it’s that yearning for bonding that triggers me to find these three forbidden males appealing.

Will the prince attend my court appearance? I’m not sure I could take my eyes off him if he did. If so, then it’s best he doesn’t show. I had a hard time thinking straight around Oakes. And the prince is not only stunningly handsome but royalty. Likely, I would be a bumbling fool. Then he might judge me as worthless and boot me out of Elfhame. All because I’m not used to being around attractive males.

After an hour of waiting, I slump down into one of the oversized couches. The last few days have exhausted me.

As I close my eyes, I vaguely hope they will let me clean up and change my dress before they determine my fate. But I let go of my worries, and soon, I am asleep.

I dream I hear males whispering and arguing inside the room. Then, just as suddenly as it starts, the bickerers vanish. My weird dream drifts on.

A loud clack of the door wakes me, making me jump off the couch.

“Come with me.” A female Elven guard stands a few paces in front of me, looking perturbed. She leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor. By the time we finish our lengthy walk, I am in an entirely different wing and a more private section of the city-like castle.

This new location puzzles me. I’d assumed they would hold my court appearance near the front of the castle, to minimize the riff raff, like me, deeper access into the royal palace.

The female guard opens the door to reveal an opulent, oversized bathing suite. After leading me inside, she instructs, “You have a half hour to partake of the facilities to freshen up and bathe. When you have finished, I will escort you to your meeting.”

I remove my cloak, revealing my ghoul-torn, bloodied, and battered clothes also smeared with dirt.

The guard’s eyes widen at the gruesome sight, and before shutting the door behind her, she says, “The clothes you have on are not acceptable. Do you have a change of clothing in your pack?”

“Yes. I have a clean dress.”

“Good. Wear that. After changing, you will leave your bag and possessions with me during your meeting.”

I quickly and efficiently bathe in the hot-springs tub.

Goddess, what would it be like to bask in such a luxury?

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