9. Shadowed Thrones
Remi removes my hood, and my hair falls over my shoulders. He shouts, howls, and smiles wide before beginning to pace.
I step back, not understanding his reaction.
He claps his hands. “She is important!”
Zumir pats him on the back. “I knew you’d understand.”
Remi nods and reaches for me, “Yes. I can take care of her until Dastan comes back.”
I gasp, stepping away from him in a quick jerk.
Zumir’s smile drops and he sighs, his shoulders dropping as if he just understood that Remi had not listened to a word he was saying. “Remi. I need you to check on the horses. Make sure you feed them, okay? Once Dastan is here, you can ask him about her, okay?”
Remi purses his lips but spins on his heels and runs out of the room.
Zumir looks at me but says nothing and lifts the hood back up onto my head. He harshly pulls on the rope, pulling me with him.
I look around as we walk and hope surges through my chest like a torrent when I see windows and open sections on the wall. Though heavily guarded, it seems this palace isn’t without its weaknesses.
There are far too many exits.
I tuck the information away in my mind, thought they might prove to be useful, there is a part of me that does not want to leave. If this King is the King who dreams then I owe it to Mother to meet him, to tell him that she sent me to him.
If it is not him then- I eye the open windows, wondering how far down I would have to fall to escape.
Zumir tugs on the rope. “I wouldn’t think about it if I were you. There are only two ways out of the city. He will find you if you try to escape. Not to mention there are people out there looking for you that you do not want finding you.”
“Who?”
Zumir looks over his shoulder as we round a corner. “Who?”
“Who is looking for me?”
He stops in his tracks and turns to look at me, his red hair painted in shadows and streaks of light. “I almost pity you.”
He shakes his head and turns back around, tugging the rope again and I exhale in trepidation, “Pity me?”
“Very much so. I imagine it is quite devastating to find that others know more about you than you do.”
I glare at him, my nostrils flaring. He hit that on the nose alright, and it only managed to fan the flames of rage in my chest.
“Not to mention your life is a curse to some, a prayer answered to others.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “What?”
“Some seek to save you, others to use and kill you.”
I pull on the rope, causing him to sigh and roll his eyes. “Why?”
He pulls me to continue walking. “It is a long history.”
“Then tell me.”
He shakes his head. “Dastan would have my head, besides he knows more. I’m just the humble servant.”
The arrogance in his voice has me thinking he is anything but a humble servant. Still, I question the name. “Dastan?”
He frowns over his shoulder, “The King.”
The King. My chest fizzes. The world as I know it is dissolving in front of me and desperation is clawing in my chest. I want to grieve. I want the peace and the quiet so I can grieve.
But I can’t quiet my mind. I hate the thousands of questions that run through my head. It’s crippling.
I keep walking as he pulls the rope and we stop in front of a large pair of doors made of stained glass. My lips part in awe when he pushes them open, taking in the beauty that surrounds us.
When I look around I realize that the room is less of a room and more of a bridge. The floor is only about ten feet wide, with no railing, nothing to stop us from falling to certain death.
Tall and jugged mountains surround us, with a valley deep under us. Clouds gather at the peaks of the mountains and it feels as if we are in the middle of a bowl. This is a fortress. A desert on one side and a cliff dropping off into deep and complicated valleys on the other.
The desert behind us almost feels like a figment of my imagination. How could all of this be hiding here?
The surrounding green is breathtaking and the cover that the clouds offer is a relief to my constricting chest. Lightning and thunder roll around us and yet my body feels more alive than it ever has. Rivers run down the mountains and I can hear the chirps of birds.
Zumir keeps walking and I keep following, my breath shallow and short. The bridge is the only smooth surface in the entire space. It almost sways in the wind, causing me to ripple in fear.
My breath stills and my steps slow.
“It’s beautiful but it can be downright terrifying sometimes,” He whispers as he peers over the edge of the bridge.
I don’t respond, afraid to look in his direction, my hands trembling and my breaths coming out in uneven intervals.
“Come on.”
We walk until we meet another set of doors, except this time they shimmer, made from pure gold.
“Oh my,” I whisper, craning my neck to look at it.
Two guards stand beside it, but I do not notice them until they step out of the shadows. Their armor clanks on the hard, marble floor, their steps heavy from the weight.
I flinch and they nod at Zumir, pulling a lever on the wall.
Like thunder, the doors clank and creak, slowly swaying inward to open.
My throat seizes and my neck aches as I look around. Zumir pulls me into the large hall. My stomach turns at the sight of the large, tall throne placed at the end of the space. A window sits above it, the glass stained gold like the sun and it makes the room appear as if it is alive, breathing.
The silence feels suffocating, and I struggle against the rope on my wrists. It bites into my skin, a burning pain filtering through my skin.
“Stop. You’ll make yourself bleed.” His voice echoes against the walls.
I still, swallowing the lump in my throat, “Where are we going?”
“To sleep.” He murmurs, running his hand through his red hair.
He continues to walk me through the length of the hall and toward the throne.
“Then we’ll eat. Dastan will be here in the morning. Then-”
He pauses, clearing his throat as we ascend the steps before the throne. I follow him. “Then?”
He looks over my shoulder. “That is a question for Dastan.”
We step to the throne and Zumir leads me behind it, where a hidden door stands. He presses a solitary brick and the door hisses as it opens. It leads to a dark hallway only lit up by torches lining the sides.
He pulls on the rope. “Come on, the royal quarters are through here.”
We step into the hallway, and the cool darkness is soothing to my skin. The air is damp and earthy and when I inhale, a comforting shudder passes through me.
The sound of water drops echo throughout the walls. I look over my shoulder, noticing that the door closes on its own and we are locked inside the cavern hallways.
Fear strikes through me.