at him. Here in the bright daylight, I could truly see his beauty. Before he’d been in prison, I imagined he’d broken a million hearts. And this, the music—it was almost a romantic gesture.
Still, only an idiot could let herself get charmed by a lich. Because charming was what they did: luring you close, letting you feel safe before they drew blood.
So, I’d enjoy the music, and I’d enjoy the sun.
But I could never forget what Marroc was.
I glided along, hardly noticing the scenery as Beyoncé sang into my ears. I’d never heard anything quite like her before. Maria Callas might have been the closest, but she didn’t sing in a language I understood.
At this point, we’d walked to the bottom of the valley. A few yards away, a wide river flowed. Clean and clear, it ran swiftly between large boulders. As soon as I saw it, I realized how thirsty I was. It looked amazing.
The charioteer led his horses to the bank to drink, and I followed. I crouched down, cupping my hands to lift icy water to my lips.
“How far do we have to travel?” I asked the guide once I finished.
“Not far.” His dark hair lifted in a breeze, and he turned away from me to direct the horses onto a dirt path wending alongside the river.
I slipped the little music beads back into my ears, but this time made sure to pay attention to our surroundings. We walked as the sun slid lower in the sky, staining the grass with peach hues. Grasses glowed more golden than I ever could have imagined. Only then did it occur to me that time was different here—daylight where it was night in Midgard.
At last, we turned away from the river, moving toward a high bluff. As we approached it, my breath caught at the view. Below us, hundreds of buildings ringed an ancient temple, all made of gleaming sandstone.
Our guide nodded, turning the chariot toward a path down the side of the bluff.
I was getting annoyed at the dust it kicked up, which stuck to my damp skin, and the fact that he hadn’t asked us to join him on the chariot.
But soon, we merged with a larger road that led into the city, and we began to pass more people. Gleaming stone buildings stood on either side of us, with wispy curtains caught in the wind. Like our guide, everyone around us had dark hair and green eyes. Even stranger, they all seemed to be men. Nearly as beautiful as Marroc, muscular and tattooed—all of them intent on me. If I stuck around here too long, I’d get a bit of an ego.
I saw their eyes widen with surprise as we passed.
“Are there women here?” I asked.
Our guide didn’t answer.
The sun had nearly set, casting long shadows over the city, when we finally reached the center. A massive temple stood before us. Built of enormous blocks of tan sandstone, it towered over the dwellings around it, its great columns spearing the sky. Unlike the Citadel, this building was half in ruins. Chunks of rock had crumbled away, and most of the roof had fallen in.
We passed through a broad gate flanked by guards wearing breastplates and golden helms. Our guide dismounted from his chariot and turned to face us.
His eyes never left me as he spoke. “This is where I leave you.”
When I turned, I saw the guards circling behind. It seemed like they were blocking our exit, and it took all my willpower not to call Skalei to me.
A new guard dressed in silver armor led us into a large hall, where thick animal hides covered the floor and golden tapestries hung on the walls. Embroidered with blue and purple threads, they depicted herds of horses, forests and stags, and great battalions of dark-haired soldiers. In here, the air was cool and dry, and light streamed in from an oculus high above.
“Welcome to my kingdom,” came a voice from the far end of the hall.
I turned and saw a tall man striding toward us. Like the rest of the men we’d seen, he had ebony hair and green eyes, but he wore a small gold circlet on his head.
So, this was the Emperor.
“Come closer, travelers.” As he walked closer, his voice boomed off the walls, and the guards led us toward him.
When we were about fifteen feet from him, the Emperor