Page 97 of The Stolen Throne
Stone walls are all that are visible. No adornments. Nothing to tell you where you are beyond the type of stone used—gray granite from the Devotion Mountains of Wildernyss, where the Queen’s Tower is hidden. Simple and plain.
And secret.
Not the tower—though I’d only heard rumors of it before all this—but the portal. Only Aryd has more than one portal. The other dominions have one a piece. Or so we thought.
“That’s…a letdown,” Vos says to no one in particular.
“Hurry,” I urge the others in a tight voice.
I’m the last through, cutting off the portal behind me.
No alarm goes off as we stand here. No shouts. Not that there were any last time Reven and I came through this portal when he kidnapped me. That said, last time, the queen and her entourage were in Aryd for Tabra’s coronation, which left this place basically abandoned.
“If this goes wrong,” Reven says, “go through the portal to Yolyn Zag and find the zariphate.”
A shout rings out somewhere down a hallway, followed by another. And then the unmistakable sound of running. Something triggered this place, and that something is probably us.
“Maybe we should go back through now?” Pella suggests.
“No.” I position myself closest to the door and beckon Reven to come stand beside me. “We have a plan. Let’s stick to it.”
The plan is for me to act the part of Tabra and Reven the part of Eidolon and ask for an audience with Queen Istrella. We chose her of all the sovereigns because she’s Tabra’s goddessmother.
By the time the first guard shows his face in the wide doorway leading out of the room, armed and ready to fight, we are ready with me at the front, my hand lightly on Reven’s arm, which twitches under my touch. The others are all arranged behind us in order of social rank.
The guards’ jaws drop, and they glance at each other. Clearly, I’m recognized. Granted, my clothes are going to look strange, but changing in the raging cold in Tyndra was not an option, so too bad.
I lift my chin. “I’m here to speak with Queen Istrella.”
The guard in charge, based on his insignia, gives me a doubtful look. “We were not informed of any visit, and no one comes this way. How do we know—”
“Stand down,” a soft voice commands from somewhere along the hallway behind him.
Immediately every guard moves to the side, weapons lowered, standing at attention.
A swish of sound and the brush of light steps grows nearer until the queen herself appears in the doorway.
Istrella.
In her middle years, the tall and willowy ruler is a statuesquely beautiful woman. Her intricately braided, red-gold hair is so long the tips of it sweep the floor. Her dress clings to her body from the top of the high-collared neck down to her knees but flares out around her calves. The garment is made of a lush velvet in shades of brown at the bottom that turn to a deep russet at the top. Intricate needlework in sparkling golden and bronze thread makes me think of a drawing from Wildernyss of a majestic tree in autumn. Her hands are tucked inside long, elegant sleeves, the material of which brushes the ground like falling leaves.
A walking tapestry.
The queen’s soft, doe-brown gaze sweeps over us. She takes in our clothes but lingers longest on my face. We’ve met only once, personally, though she’s known Tabra all her life. This is Tabra’s goddessmother, for Allusian’s sake. Then she moves on to Reven, gaze sharper, more intent. No doubt at the way the “king” suddenly looks younger. She also pauses on Vos, who, as Eidolon’s one-time general, has met her. Which is why he’s standing behind Reven and directly to his right.
“Queen Tabra,” Istrella finally says in a voice that is sweet as honey. “You are always welcome in my home.”
Um…seriously? “Are you not surprised to see us here?”
She slides a discerning glance toward Reven, who stares back unmoved. “After an unknown use of my portal a few months ago, we had it warded to alert us of any intruders. I’m relieved that this time it’s you.”
Oh. Does she know that was me and Reven last time, too? Should I mention it? Or would that cause some trust issues we don’t need? “I need to speak with you in private.”
She doesn’t seem surprised by that, either. Wary, maybe. Assessing. It’s hard to read her.
Then she looks directly at Reven. “I will speak to Queen Tabra alone.”
Without Eidolon, who she has to believe Reven is at this point? That’s bold.
