Page 66 of Rise of the Phoenix King (Crown and Crest 4)

“Just wear it down. You need to see this.”

“See what?” I ask, and then I turn to Cythia. “Can you pin it like it is? It’s pretty with just that section up like that.”

Looking displeased, she stabs several pins into my scalp to hold the hair in place, and then she gives me a somber curtsey and leaves.

“That looked painful,” Colter says when she’s gone.

I rub the side of my head, trying not to mess up the partial plait. “I’m glad she’s not my maid. I don’t know how Lavender has any hair left.”

“Come on,” he says with a laugh, beckoning me out the door.

Already dressed for the assembly in a gown that hinders my breathing and accentuates my figure, I follow Colter into the hall.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

I hurry to keep up with him. “That’s become your favorite phrase, hasn’t it?”

“We all have to cultivate our own joy in these difficult times.” He drags me along when he doesn’t think I’m moving fast enough. I follow him, not even questioning it when he leads me out a door that opens to one of the castle’s outside curtain walls.

Strictly speaking, I’m not allowed up here. If courtiers were granted access to the defensive parts of the castle, we’d loiter up here all day while taking in the view, getting in the guards’ way and being general nuisances. The men and women on duty give me strange looks as I pass them in my scarlet gown, but their eyes move to Colter’s amber pennant, and they don’t dare question him.

When we turn a corner, Colter extends his hand, pointing into the distance. A group moves down the dirt road that winds through the verdant meadow—two lines of tiny dots, traveling side-by-side, with one dot leading the procession and a taller figure riding by its side on horseback.

“Are those…” I say dumbly, squinting a little to try to see better.

“Dornauths,” Colter says in awe.

“Dorian gnomes,” I correct, counting the tiny warriors.

Fifteen.

The guards mutter exclamations around us, many crowding in from other sides of the walls to get a better look as the small group grows closer.

“Are thoseDornauths?” one man says dumbly.

“Can’t be,” answers another.

Still another exclaims, “What are they riding?”

I press my hand over my mouth, laughing at the reaction Gruebin and his companions are receiving. And the chaos only grows as they close in on the city. From up here, we can see other guards crowding the walls, all trying to get a better look at the newcomers.

Gruebin’s retinue stops at the gates, waiting for the watchkeepers to grant them entry into the city. From our vantage point, we can see it all. Finally, the gates open, inviting the entourage into Cabaranth. They enter like heroes of legend.

The gnome warriors ride their rock leopards, dressed in gleaming armor, armed to the teeth. Ayan stays by Gruebin’s side—once a thrall and now a duke. The fool waves to the gathering crowds of frenzied gawkers like he’s the one the people are looking at. And maybe he is.

The elf looks particularly dashing today, dressed in High Vale finery with his dark hair smooth and long. His jacket is the deepest blue, belted at the waist and tailored to accentuate his handsome build.

He and the gnomes make quite a picture.

Maisel rides behind Gruebin, next to Devlin. Ulfric, her rock leopard, walks like a proud pony, ignoring the people who have gathered to witness the historic spectacle. Adults shy away from the felines, while young children attempt to get closer. Several strain against their mothers’ hands, hoping to break free and stroke the massive cats’ gleaming fur.

“Let’s go meet them,” I say to Colter, turning from the wall and hurrying back the way we came.

We just reach the castle’s main entrance when Gruebin and his gnomes march through the gatehouse.

Lawrence spares me a glance as I join Audra and him. “I wondered if you were going to make it.”

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