Page 121 of The Ascended
“He cares for you, you know,” she said suddenly.
I startled. “Who?”
“My son.” Her eyes, warm and knowing, met mine. “He tries very hard not to, but he does.”
“As far as he can throw me, maybe.” My palms were already damp.
“If that were true, he wouldn’t have brought you here,” she pointed out with a smile. “Xül doesn’t introduce us to anyone. He never has. You’re the first.”
I didn’t know how torespond to that.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured me. “I just thought you should know. My son builds walls like others build temples—with dedication, precision, and absolute commitment. The fact that you’ve glimpsed what lies behind them is... significant.”
Before I could formulate a response, she rose gracefully from the bench. “I should show you to your quarters. It’s getting late, and I suspect tomorrow will bring its own challenges.”
As we entered the main hall, voices drifted from a nearby chamber—raised in what sounded like an argument. I recognized Xül’s immediately; his tone was colder than I’d ever heard it.
“—not your decision to make,” he was saying, his cadence clipped and cutting.
Osythe sighed, placing a gentle hand on my arm to guide me toward a different corridor. “Family discussions,” she explained, though her expression suggested the euphemism didn’t begin to cover whatever was happening behind those closed doors.
“Is everything alright?” I asked, glancing back toward the source of the voices.
“It will be,” she said with the resignation of someone who had witnessed similar scenes countless times before. “My husband and son are more alike than either would care to admit. It makes their disagreements... particularly intense.”
We climbed a spiraling staircase, its steps wider at the edges than the center, creating the unsettling impression of ascending through the interior of a massive shell. At the top, a corridor stretched in both directions, lined with doors of dark wood inlaid with silver.
“Your chambers,” Osythe said, opening one of the doors to reveal a spacious room beyond. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
The room was elegant but not ostentatious—a large bed with dark crimson coverings, a writing desk beside tall windows that looked out over the gardens, a sitting area with comfortable chairs arranged around a small hearth whereflames burned.
“This is more than comfortable,” I admitted, running my fingers along the smooth wood of the desk.
“What did you expect?” Genuine curiosity tainted her voice.
“Something less...” I gestured vaguely. “Inviting.”
She laughed. “Death isn’t cruel, my dear. It simply is. The same applies to its domain.”
I glanced around, noticing a smaller door that presumably led to bathing facilities, and another that might be a closet. “It’s strange, having the queen herself show me to my room instead of servants.”
“Queen.” She smiled, amused by the title. “I suppose that’s accurate, though no one calls me that.” She moved to the window, looking out at the deep crimson horizon. “As for servants—I find I prefer handling certain matters personally.”
“I’ll leave you to rest,” she said, moving toward the door. “If you need anything, simply pull the cord beside the bed. Someone will attend you.” She paused, her hand on the doorframe. “Though I would suggest remaining in your chambers until morning. The palace can be confusing to navigate at night.”
With that gentle warning, she departed, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
I moved to the window, looking out over the gardens where Osythe and I had walked. From this height, I could see how the paths formed an intricate pattern, like veins through a heart. Beyond, the Eternal City sprawled toward the horizon, its lights gleaming against the darkness.
The formal attire felt stifling after such a long day. I slipped out of it, relief washing over me as the heavy fabric fell away. In the wardrobe, I found a nightgown that seemed almost too delicate to touch—silver-white and impossibly thin, made of some expensive fabric I couldn’t identify.
I pulled it over my head, the material cool against my skin. The gown clung to my form, the fabric so sheer that it concealed almost nothing. The chill of the room made this fact even more apparent.
I climbed into the vast bed, sinking into a softness thatenveloped me like a cloud. Sleep should have come easily after such an eventful day, but my mind refused to quiet. The fragments of conversation I’d overheard between Xül and his father kept replaying.
I tossed and turned, the sheets twisting around my legs as minutes stretched by. What had they been arguing about?
Finally, I couldn’t bear it any longer. The need to know overpowered caution. I slid from the bed, snatching the matching robe and slipping it on, tying it loosely at my waist. It didn’t hide much of me. But then again, I didn’t intend on being seen.
