Page 90 of Drawn in Blood
“Was everyone else too busy with more important things?” she asked lazily.
The young man—he couldn’t have been more than twenty—cut his eyes at her, his back still rigid, hands folded in front of him. “The Jarl has sent me to accompany you to the castle,” he replied, composure cool and collected. “Right this way,Princess.” He smirked at the last word, like it was a joke.
She didn’t find it very funny. Ember narrowed her eyes, shoving her way past him. “Don’t call me that,” she hissed, and walked out into the freezing February wind. “Don’t you have better things to do than be his little lap dog? Or was the academy too much work so you came running to him the first time he rang?” She pushed him, itching for a fight after being cooped up in this house for so long.
Fire raged behind his eyes as his nostrils flared. “Watch it, brat,” he hissed, grabbing her tightly by the bicep. Ember grinned as he lost his cool, and he quickly let her go and smoothed his sleeve.
Collum didn’t say another word, Echoing them straight to the courtyard of the most majestic, terrifying castle she had ever seen. The stone was almost black against the bottom of the mountain, something carved from rock that wasn’t from Ellesmere—something ancient and dark. It seemed to be almost carved into the side of the mountain, like over the hundreds of years it stood there, it had become one with the bedrock. On the outside of the courtyard, through a massive iron gate, Ember could hear waves crashing against rock at the bottom of a careening cliff.
“This way,” was all Collum said, as he led her through the courtyard, up the giant steps, and through the largest set ofdouble doors she had ever seen in her life. Staff milled about, dusting and sweeping and carrying vases of fresh flowers. The front hall was massive, ceilings arched with ornately carved wood beams, runes for protection—and things she didn’t quite recognize—carved into each one. Ember spun on the marble floor, taking it all in, when a voice sounded behind her.
“Welcome to Eldfjall Castle.” Helvig smiled. “I trust Collum got you here without trouble?”
Collum cut his eyes toward her—a warning.
She put on a pretty smile and turned back to Helvig. “It was uneventful.” She shrugged.
Helvig led her through the entrance hall, and she noticed the way he limped, the way he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. That he seemed…
Weak. Not the strong king she had imagined he was.
She shook her head and focused in front of her. They wound in and out of more rooms than she could keep track of. Studies and kitchens and the hospital wing, more money invested in each room than she had seen in her entire life. Her eyes lit up when he pushed open the doors to the library, the entire thing had to be twice the size of the Kitts’ house alone. It seemed to be never ending, floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, and Ember was certain it would swallow her whole if she allowed it to.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “How many books are there?” It was a silly question, she knew that before she asked, but she tried anyway.
Helvig chuckled, the way she imagined a grandfather would. “Now that I’m not sure,” he replied. “Shall we continue?”
Ember nodded, and he led her down other halls, pointing out rooms and talking about the history of the castle. It was built a few years after a small group of the First Families landed on the banks of Torsvik. The Clan worked together to build the city andthe castle, and Ember’s ancestors had been at the heart of all of it.
Something about that filled her with both pride and dread.
“I’ve heard you’re quite the talented Vala,” he beamed, almost like a proud parent. “I see it runs in the family.”
Ember gave a half smile. “Because I’m my father’s daughter?” She had heard it time and time again, from every person she encountered that knew her parents.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head, “because you’re your mother’s daughter. You have more than one birthright.”
She sucked in a breath and bit her lip.
Your mother’s daughter.
She shook the thought away as she ran her hand along a door in one of the main halls, electricity pricking at her fingers as she touched the handle. She furrowed her brow, trying to open it without even thinking, but it was locked.
“What’s in here?” she asked, as she stopped. More runes were carved in the frame of the door; they seemed to litter the entire castle. What were they protecting? Or hiding?
A shadow of—something—darkened Helvig’s face for just a moment before he waved it away with a practiced smile. “It’s off limits. There are many ancient relics in the belly of the castle. I try to keep certain doors locked to deter sticky fingers.”
Ember nodded, but something told her it was more than that.
“And this is the ballroom,” he motioned to the large, ornate room around them, gold trim running along the walls and arched ceilings, and pictures depicting great battles hung throughout the room. People bustled about—Merrow and Vala alike—as they carried things in and out of the room, cleaned the floors and dusted every surface they could reach.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Helvig said, as they walked toward the throne. It radiated something Ember couldn’t quite place, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.“We’re preparing for the ball in a few weeks, and I’m afraid the castle is a bit chaotic right now.”
Ember furrowed her brow. “Ball?”
“Aye,” Helvig nodded, “the annual Ostara Ball is on the twentieth of March. We’ve had a bit of a delay in the planning, but it should all be ready just in time.”
A large throne sat at the far end, carved out of ancient looking wood, runes etched with gold. Ember suddenly felt very small.
