Page 117 of Ash and Feather

Mairu accompanied me into the city. Once there, however, I moved alone in the direction of the palace. I traveled around the outskirts of Altis, this time, not bothering to hide my appearance with the Serpent Goddess’s magic, or otherwise, but not wanting to draw any extra attention, either.

It was late enough that I passed almost no one. I still kept my hood drawn. Stares followed me around most corners, but the paranoia likely had more to do with the unease after the attack on Mindoth than anything.

If any of the few I passed recognized me as a god who bared a striking resemblance to their former prince, they gave no indication of it.

Most of them knew what had become of that prince, of course. Or had at least heard rumors about it. And years ago, perhaps they would have been anticipating a visit from me—especially after all that had happened in Mindoth.

But it had been so long since I’d walked these streets in a recognizable form that there were no eager bows or other greetings to welcome me; only wariness. Which was just as well.

Yet, as I arrived at the palace gates, I found myselfhopingto be recognized. Because I’d decided on my plan by this point: The quickest way to get inside and speak with the king would be to reveal my true identity and dare anyone to deny me entry.

A pair of alert guards flanked the main door, hands resting on their swords.

I rolled the tension from my shoulders—sending a slight throb of pain through my still-healing injury in the process—and lowered my hood.

The lanterns around the door burned low, their light barely enough to illuminate the mosaic of my family’s crest that featured on the ground before the double doors. As I stepped onto that crest, pausing in the center of the eagle’s outstretched wings, the guard on the left snapped his gaze to me.

The guard on the right froze mid-way through unsheathing his weapon, his gaze sweeping over me, stalling on my face as he clearly tried to place it.

It took more effort than usual, but I breathed in deep and called magic to the surface on the exhale, lighting fiery patternsacross my forearms and up around my neck. The lanterns brightened as well. The gold and ivory mosaic glittered beneath me.

“You…”

“Yes. Me.” I kept my voice low and controlled, the barest hint of a threat under the words. “I am here to speak with the king.”

I watched their eyes, the swift calculations and questions tumbling behind them.

“I’m afraid we can’t—”

“Yes,” I corrected, “I assure you, youcan.”

They both swallowed down whatever objections they’d been considering, though their eyes continued to dart restlessly about, looking for some other solution to the problem I presented.

Finally, the left one gave in, relaxing somewhat. He gave a small bow of his head, then opened the door and called for another guard stationed farther inside.

This new guard served as my escort—after some coaxing and several harsh commands from the door guard—and he cautiously led me up the second set of stairs we came to.

His eyes grew a little wider every time we passed one of the evenly-spaced torches along the hallways; the fires in them reacted automatically—even to my weakened, unconscious magic—dancing a little brighter as I passed. My escort winced with every shift in the lighting, as though he worried I would wield the flames against him, next.

We walked in silence until we reached the third floor.

“The king is likely still in his eastern study, despite the late hour.” His voice shook slightly. “He passes the majority of his nights within it, as of late. Sleep eludes him often.”

I know the feeling.

So at least we still hadsomethingin common, even now, after years and realms apart.

Our destination stood at the very end of a dark hallway lined with maps of various kingdoms and the regions within them. I’d never paid much attention to them as a child, but now I found myself falling behind as I took them in, thinking of how Karys would have been completely absorbed in the wealth of information they depicted.

Two more guards waited for us at the door to the eastern study.

“Captain Garn’s orders,” my escort said to them, voice still wavering a bit. “He’s to be allowed in to see the king without any more questions.”

Confusion flashed across the guards’ faces, but they slowly stepped aside without argument.

I hesitated only a moment before pushing the heavy door open and walking inside.

I’d been granted access to this room on very few occasions growing up. And usually only when I was in trouble, being dragged before my father to face punishment—so the memories of this space were mostly unpleasant ones.

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