Page 21 of The Blood Traitor

And yet, I have no choice, Kiva realized, pulling herself together as the female guard opened the carriage door and pushed her out into the cold.

Kiva tripped down the steps and threw a glare at the woman, who ignored her and signaled to the two drivers, plus the other soldiers who had accompanied them on horseback for the journey. After quick nods, the Mirraven escorts continued deeper into the castle grounds, likely seeking the stable complex or barracks.

Now that Kiva was closer, she could see that the land around her was surprisingly flat, as if an ancient god had sliced a blade across the peak, establishing the foundation for a castle with expansive grounds sitting like a crown above the city. If not for her absolute dread, Kiva would have been fascinated and desperate to explore. Instead, nervous sweat broke out on her skin despite the frigid air, the feeling growing when the female guard shoved her toward the staircase.

The woman who had come to greet them had silver hair coifed in a low bun and heavily wrinkled skin. She wore a black dress with a blood-red apron tied around her waist, her expression saying there were a million other things she would rather be doing.

Kiva stepped forward — partially pushed by the guard again — and said, “Um, hello, I’m Kiva Mer — er, Corentine. Is my sister —”

“I’m Madam Merit, head of housekeeping,” the silver-haired woman interrupted. Her voice was lightly accented, her speech trim and formal. “Welcome to Blackmount Castle.”

Despite her words, there was nothing warm about Madam Merit’s greeting.

“Thank you,” Kiva said, haltingly. “Could you please tell me —”

“If you’ll kindly follow me,” Madam Merit cut her off again, “we’ll get you cleaned up and ready for presentation to His Majesty. No doubt you’re weary from your travels, but he has a busy schedule and wishes to see you before you turn in for the night.”

Kiva’s blood chilled at the thought of meeting King Navok so soon. She’d hoped to at least talk with her sister first. “I’m sorry, but is Zuleeka —”

“This way, please,” Madam Merit spoke over her, turning and gliding up the staircase into the castle.

Kiva watched, frozen in place, until the female guard said, “You can’t leave the grounds without an escort — you’ll be struck down before you set foot on the drawbridge. That leaves you with two options: you can follow Merit, or I can drag you after her.”

Throwing her an annoyed look, Kiva hurried up the stairs after the housekeeper, noting that the guard didn’t follow. Her threat about the drawbridge must have been real if Kiva no longer needed a babysitter. She might as well have been back in Zalindov, a prisoner once more.

Disheartened, Kiva quickly caught up to Madam Merit and kept a brisk pace with her through the building’s dark interior. Where Vallenia’s River Palace was full of light, with white marble floors and gold trimmings, Blackmount Castle was carved out of obsidian, with silvery luminium threaded into the walls to create an eerie effect, especially with the suits of armor interspersed between the scarlet tapestries and floor runners. It was beautiful — but in an unnerving, haunting way.

Kiva followed Madam Merit up black staircases with silver balustrades and along corridors with artwork depicting gruesome battle scenes. When they finally came to a halt in front of an ornate door, she was hugging her elbows, the ominous feeling of her surroundings bleeding into her soul.

The housekeeper opened the door and ushered Kiva inside, revealing a luxurious bedroom in shades of black and crimson with silver highlights, the colors identical to what Kiva had seen in the rest of the castle. A large bed piled high with cushions sat against one wall, and a luminium chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, casting a welcoming glow around the otherwise dark space. There was no balcony, but heavy scarlet curtains were drawn over three sizable windows. Kiva hoped they’d offer a view down the mountain across the city, and she was eager to investigate — but later.

For now, her attention was pulled toward the sole occupant in the room, a young woman with hair braided around the crown of her head and down one shoulder, the color so fair it was almost white, and eyes such a pale blue that they were nearly silver. She wore an outfit similar to Madam Merit’s — a black dress, hers with laces up the chest, and a blood-red apron strapped to her waist.

“Lady Corentine,” the young woman said in a thick Mirravish accent, approaching Kiva and ducking into a curtsey. “It’s an honor to serve you.”

Kiva barely managed to hide her flinch at the title.

“This is Brynn, your lady’s maid,” Madam Merit said. “She’ll see to your needs here at Blackmount.” The housekeeper turned to the youngerwoman and ordered, “Prepare her for the king, then deliver her to his receiving room on the ground floor.”

Brynn bobbed another curtsey. “As you wish, madam.”

Without another word, Merit strode back out the door, closing it behind her.

Something eased within Kiva at the departure of the strict older woman, but then Brynn approached, and she braced all over again.

“Come, my lady,” the maid said, placing a gentle hand on Kiva’s arm and drawing her toward another door off to the side of the room. “We’d best not keep the king waiting.”

Kiva followed without protest. “Please, call me Kiva. I’m not a lady. And I’m definitely not Lady Corentine.”

Brynn blinked, a hint of surprise touching her features. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but you’re royalty.”

“I’m not,” Kiva said quickly as they entered a lavish bathing chamber, the dark, claw-foot bathtub already full of steaming water. “My ancestor was, a long time ago, but he rightfully lost that title when he stopped serving his people and started hurting them.”

The maid’s surprise only deepened. “But your sister is the queen of —”

“She stole what was no longer ours to claim,” Kiva cut Brynn off. She then dropped her shoulders and said, “It’s a long story, and none of it is enjoyable to relive. So please, just... if you don’t mind, I’d really prefer it if you call me Kiva.”

Brynn’s silvery eyes locked with Kiva’s for a long time — much longer than Kiva would have thought normal for a submissive maid, especially one at a place like Blackmount — but then a strange light crept into her features, a mixture of wonder and respect, with no small amount of curiosity.

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