Page 17 of The Half King
Cerise touched the pendant beneath her dress and caught herself smiling. “No, Your Highness. She is not.”
The king stopped short and swung his dark gaze to her, setting his ebony waves in motion. Delora peered around his shoulder, equally intrigued.
“A sunrise is beautiful,” Cerise explained. “A flower is beautiful. A sky full of stars is beautiful. My sister is something else entirely. She casts a shadow over beauty. I forget my own name when I see her face. All I want to do is keep looking at her. I would stare at her all day if she would let me.”
For some reason, the king didn’t seem to like her answer. He stood there furrowing his brow until Delora grinned and said, “We have a firstborn Solon at the palace. His name is Cole. Half of the old court was in love with him.”
The king snorted a dry laugh and continued walking a crooked path. “Maybe my father was one of them. That would explain why he never killed the slippery bastard.” He glanced at Cerise. “My mother and Cole Solon were lovers.”
Cerise felt her eyes go wide.
“It was no secret,” Kian said, facing away from her again. “Well, no secret to anyone butyou…the blessed oracle.”
Cerise probably should’ve stayed quiet, but instead, she blurted, “Blessed as I am, even I have my limitations, Your Majesty.”
“True,” he agreed. “So tell me, my lady of the temple—if you hold a hand in front of your face, will you be able to See it? Or is that another one of your limitations?”
She glared at the back of his head. She had a hand gesture in mind, but she chose to behave like a lady instead of showing it to him.
They continued in silence until they reached the armored gate that separated the palace grounds from the city marketplace.
“Here we are.” The king spread his arms wide. “My glorious city, filled with subjects who adore me as much as you do, Lord Calatris.”
Daerick laughed. “Then it’s a good thing your men are armed.”
“And that my subjects aren’t,” the king added.
Cerise glanced at the guard in front of her and the broadsword holstered to his hip. The law forbade common folk from owning any weapon deadlier than a dagger, but even the smallest of blades could make a man bleed. Surely the king wouldn’t visit the city if it was unsafe for him.
Or would he? Was he that reckless?
That would explain his courtesan’s fear. Though looking at Delora now—concealing a yawn behind her delicate hand—she seemed more bored than afraid.
The heavy gate began to lift. Each slow inch admitted a new chorus of sounds: first the steady hammering of mallets, and then raised voices followed by hooves clopping against stone. When the gate reached Cerise’s knees, she detected the scents of grilled meat, rotting garbage, and unwashed bodies. Despite the unpleasantness of it all, a grin found its way to her lips. The odor was a familiar one that had reached her Solon temple grounds when the wind had blown from the west. Her visits to the city market had been a rare treat. She was eager to see what this one had to offer.
A tingle of excitement stirred inside her. Before the gate had fully risen, she crouched slightly to peer beneath it. The city was an exotic delight, like something out of a storybook. A wide, stone-paved street stretched out before her, lined with clay stucco buildings of varying height and width. Each structure was connected to the next by a second-story wooden walkway that allowed foot traffic from above as well as below. Plain folk bustled to and fro, outfitted in thin linen and simple sandals, or else in bare feet and exposed chests. Men and women alike wore their hair tucked into a cap or cropped close with just enough growth to protect their scalps from the sun. She noticed only two women with braids coiling in spirals around their heads. Both of them wore an extra layer of linen in a colorful sash over their dresses. Clearly, that was the mark of wealth here, proof that one could remain indoors and cool for the bulk of the day.
From the porch rafters of a meat shop hung several beheaded chickens with bat-like hides instead of feathers. Other creatures had similar traits to thrive in the Mortara heat, like the furless dogs sniffing for scraps along the gutters, and above them, the naked squirrels dancing along a roof’s ledge. The animals looked odd compared to those Cerise had known, but they were cute in their own way.
A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She wiped away the perspiration and stood to find Daerick and Kian watching her, one with amusement and the other with disdain. She glanced away from the king. She didn’t know what she had done to earn his low opinion of her. It was true that she had no Sight, but she wasn’t the one drunk before midday.
As Daerick predicted, the king soon led Delora into the nearest gambling hall. Half of his soldiers followed him inside while the other half stood sentry by the doorway.
“Is he safe here?” she asked Daerick. “You made it sound like he’s not well loved by the people.”
“He has his critics, like all kings do,” Daerick said. “But they’re outnumbered by his supporters, at least for now. He’ll be all right.”
“Now can you tell me where we’re going?”
Nodding, Daerick led her forward until they reached the first intersection, where they scaled a set of stairs and resumed their walk on the second-story pathway. There was less bustle above the street—and more privacy. “There’s an old man staying in the city,” Daerick murmured as they strode briskly across the wooden planks. “He’s a traveler. He only passes through here once or twice a year. That’s why we couldn’t wait.”
“What’s so special about this man?”
“Are you sure you want to know? You might not like the answer.”
“Tell me.”
“He’s a soothsayer.”
