Page 29 of Tall Dark and Evil

I can give an inch, though. “What are you working on?” I tilt my chin toward his pile of paper.

He glances down with a frown, as though he forgot all about it. “Oh, that’s for a paper on the different facets of the government in Dorath. You wouldn’t believe how complicated their list of castes gets. Why, within the same family, you can have nobles, plebeians, and something in between—they call them the gentle. They bring all of their seven-year-old children to fountains and their classes are decided depending on how long they can remain underwater.”

I hadn’t known that. I wonder how well Daria fared. “That’s different.”

“Isn’t it, just?” His smile is furtive, but it brightens the car. It’s not the teasing or calculated expression I’ve had the displeasure to receive so far. It’s soft and warm. “The rebellion plaguing Xhera doesn’t touch them much, given the fact that being noble doesn’t affect their standing in society. The only exception is their royals. The throne is given from one monarch to his chosen heir—and naturally, they tend to choose their descendants. Dorathian kings don’t live long. When they’re inadequate, the league of assassins…removes them.” He mimes cutting his throat with one finger.

“I heard that the leagues basically rule the kingdom,” I put in.

Reiks nods. “Not the worst of ideas. They’re cunning, and they have good business sense. Their kingdom’s riches, despite their mostly infertile land, attests to that. I’d like to meet them.”

“Pray you don’t anytime soon. In all likelihood, if you see anyone from the league, it’ll be because they’re here to…” I clear my throat. “Remove you.”

His silver eyes flash with amusement, and he hands me the heap of papers he’s already discarded.

I read until the hovering car stops before the most grandiose gates I’ve ever seen.

CHAPTERTWELVE

THE COURT

Idon’t notice the gilded iron filigree, the pure gold knockers shaped like lions and wolves.I only see the spells. Woven delicately, intricate like spiderwebs, they cover the entire royal brugh and most of the extensive grounds in a dome. It’s a work of art, protections and curses laced with care.

“I’m not sure I can walk in there,” I say, hesitant to take a step.

I can feel how ancient those spells are. Older than everything I’ve seen, and I live in the Darklands. I could be pulverized as I step through, if they’re designed to keep the likes of me at bay.

“Well, you couldn’t, uninvited,” Reiks tells me, indifferent to my prospective pulverization.

I shoot him a look. What if I’d taken a step forward unaware?

"I, Natheran Reiks, invite you, Alis Frejr. Now and so long as I shall live, consider yourself welcome in Isamere.”

We advance and I don’t die, which is always good.

Beyond the gates lies a castle that I can only describe as boring, because it’s a rectangular block of white stone, with rectangular windows and straight, striped columns. Oh, it’s grandiose, but grandiose does little for me. The more exciting shape is the triangular sculpting of the facade on the upper roof.There are embellishments; angels depicted like fat children with wings, and grotesque demonic gargoyles. Handsome symbols of the monarch through time: Anderkan’s two swords and torch, for example, but also the old rose that used to belong to the Reiks line.

I don’t like this place. Not only because its architecturally soulless. There’s something wrong in the air. Foulness and ill intent. And I say this as a student of Five. I breathe hostility every day.

“You live here?”

No wonder he’s so weird.

Reiks walks up the steps leading to the great wooden doors slowly, reluctantly. “This is the royal keep, home of my father, and my father’s father, since the days of Queen Rakiel.”

It doesn’t escape me that he made no actual reply to my straightforward question. If anyone had asked me whether the Frejr house, deep within the forest, was my home, I would have said yes without hesitation.

“How did that happen? The crown started with a queen and has since been only passed on to men. I didn’t even know your sister existed.”

Reiks snorts. "You don’t get out much, do you?”

I feel like kicking him. That happens rather often, though, so I ignore the impulse.

“Anderkan is a kingdom without magik, Frejr. That means that here, physical abilities are valued above those of the mind. Since this shift first became pronounced centuries ago, we transitioned to a patriarchy. Men are quite simply stronger than women.”

Never mind. I do kick his shin after all.

He chuckles as the doors open before us.

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