Page 110 of The Iron Flower

“Well, then,” I snap, “at least let me do the talking while we’re in front of the queen!”

“Fine,” she replies tightly.

Valasca is looking at Diana and me like we’ve sprouted horns. She turns to Marina. “Are they always like this?”

Marina nods, her face solemn as Ni Vin quietly shadows Marina, ignoring the rest of us completely.

Valasca looks to the heavens and mutters a low oath to herself before sheathing her rune-blade. “Come on.” She motions for us to follow her. “You came here to speak with our queen. Well, here’s your chance.”

Before we enter, Valasca pauses to caution us. “Do not step on the threshold. And remember to bow low before the queen—”

“We know, we know,” Diana says impatiently, striding past her through the wall of curtains, forcing the rest of us to follow along in her wake.

CHAPTER THREE

QUEEN ALKAIA

We push through the series of scarlet and deep purple curtains and enter a large foyer lined with brightly embroidered garnet rugs and tapestries. Countless pairs of shoes are lined up on one side of the room, cloaks and other garments folded up on sectioned wooden shelves on the other.

Valasca instructs us to remove our shoes and cloaks, then lifts the edge of a heavy curtain and steps over an enameled threshold that’s brightly styled in the design of a multicolored snake. She turns and motions for us to follow her into the hall.

The curving walls and ceiling of the Queenhall are huge and luxuriously lined with more garnet tapestries. The embroidered designs depict various images from the Amaz religious history—the three First Women walking in a beautiful garden with the Great Goddess; the slaying of the cruel male partner by the only faithful daughter; the Goddess rewarding this faithful daughter, naming her Amaz as she places a rune-stylus made of starlight into her hand.

At the head of the Queenhall, there’s an enormous tapestry flowing out over the ceiling, showing the Great Goddess surrounded by white birds. Hundreds of them, swirling toward the ceiling until they reach its apex, where they blend to form a single, gigantic ivory bird.

I’m momentarily transfixed by the Goddess’s birds, which are so like the Ancient One’s bird shown in the stained-glass windows of our cathedral in Valgard. So much like the white birds in Wynter’s sculptures and woven into her tapestries. The birds that led me to Marina.

The Watchers.

A shiver ripples through me, and I’m instantly aware of the white wand hidden in my boot and gripped by the desire to curl my fingers around its spiraling handle.

The long, oval interior of the Queenhall is even bigger than Valgard’s Cathedral and supported by multiple columns of stacked, rotating runes. A richly carpeted central walkway leads to a raised dais at the far end of the hall, and scores of women fill the rest of the space, eating, conversing and laughing together.

My gaze darts around as we start down the walkway. A circle of green-scaled, silver-eyed Smaragdalfar Elves sitting to our left catches my eye, the young women drinking tea and talking. They’re all dressed in deep green tunics and pants of the subland Elves, looping black embroidery edging their garments, but their cheeks are marked with the signature Amaz rune-tattoos.

Another woman approaches their group. She has the pointed ears, bone-white skin and silver eyes of the Alfsigr Elves, but her hair is a shock of violet. She catches my gaze, and her eyes narrow. A flush stings at my cheeks, and I look quickly away, abashed to be caught staring.

Some of the Amaz are busy serving food throughout the hall, the aromas of rich, unfamiliar spices and fresh bread wafting on the air. I watch as women accept bowls of food and notice that it seems to be the custom to bow slightly in thanks.

My eyes widen as I spot a golden-hued Urisk woman who is naked from the waist up. She’s laughing and chatting with two other women while a baby suckles contentedly at her breast. I’ve never seen a woman nursing so brazenly, and it both shocks and fascinates me. Such a thing is completely forbidden in Gardneria—Keltania and Verpacia, too. In all of these places, women nurse privately, and even then, with the baby hidden away underneath loose tunics.

I suddenly notice that we’re attracting a fair bit of attention ourselves. Women throughout the Queenhall turn to stare at us, and a cacophony of distressed conversation rises, soon encompassing the entire room. I glance around nervously as we approach the raised Queen’s dais at the end of the massive hall.

In the center of the dais, reclining back against lush cushions, is a very elderly woman. Her skin is deep green, her ears swiftly pointed, and her white hair is styled in stiff, sculptured loops that grace her head like a curling crown. She’s heavily adorned with black metallic piercings and tattoos that swirl all over her deeply lined face.

I realize, with surprise, that this frail-looking old woman must be the powerful Queen Alkaia.

She’s flanked by an entourage of formidable warriors in uniform. The fierce-looking women are also seated on cushions, weapons affixed to their backs or propped against the base of the huge Goddess tapestry. Alcippe is among them, sitting directly to the left of the queen, her rune-axe within arm’s reach behind her. She catches sight of us as we advance, glowering with open hostility.

I swallow hard as I take in Alcippe’s lethal glare, my heart pounding as I pull in a deep breath to steady myself.

Valasca slows to a stop as we reach the dais, and we come to a halt behind her. Queen Alkaia’s piercing gaze zeroes in on me. She raises a trembling, gnarled hand, and the troubled sounds throughout the hall die down, then disappear altogether.

“Approach, travelers,” Queen Alkaia says, beckoning us forward.

We step a bit closer, and I mirror Valasca’s example, dropping to my knees and bowing deeply. Marina follows suit beside me, and I catch her tense look as we press our foreheads to the carpeted floor.

Diana and Ni Vin remain stolidly on their feet.

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