the open space of the entrance hall.
“Clarissa!” Eldrin calls, his voice echoing around us and causing the few elves who happen to be walking through to pause and look over. Ignoring them and not stopping to reply to Eldrin, I simply head towards the archway built under the grand staircase.
Standing in front of the double doors leading to the atrium are two guards, their spears crossed to block the entrance. I stop just in front of them as Eldrin catches up to me, his presence comforting as I try to calm my racing heart. “We’re here to see the queen.”
One of the guards nods and knocks on the door twice before returning to his original position. We wait in silence for a couple of seconds until the door opens and a steward pokes his head out. Seeing the two of us standing there, his eyes widen and he quickly opens the doors.
“Please, come in, the queen has been expecting you, Clarissa.” I notice the slight tremble in his voice as he speaks, but who is he scared of, us or the queen?
The guards move their spears to allow us entry, and with my head held high, I stride into the corridor and down the small set of stairs that lead to the atrium, Eldrin on my heels. I can’t see the queen yet, but I can hear the murmuring of voices as they bounce off the marble floor.
“She’s important. You risk the wrath of the gods.” The voice is accented and cultured, but something about it puts me on edge as I slow my footsteps. What’s he talking about, and who is this ‘she’? Eldrin stiffens behind me, and I hear a deep rumbling in his chest.
“The gods have no hold here anymore,” a voice, undeniably the queen’s, sneers, and I hear a couple of angry footsteps before a slapping sound makes me wince. Whoever just spoke has clearly upset her. “You forget your place, brother.”
Brother. My mind puts two and two together, and I realise whom the voice belongs to. Taking the final steps, we walk out into the large glass atrium, the sunlight streaming into the room. There are two guards by the bottom of the stairs who don’t move a muscle, and as I glance to the side, I see two ladies-in-waiting wearing their cloaks, hoods up as usual, completely covering their faces. The only other people in the room are the queen and the elf I saw at the ball who wanted me to follow him. I was right, he is related to the queen. He’s wearing an almost identical outfit to what he wore the other night—dark trousers and a fitted jacket with bronze embroidery and detailing over the chest and arms. His silver hair is shorter than most elves seem to keep it, but long enough to run your fingers through.
The queen has her back to me, so she doesn’t spot us as we enter. The brother, however, is opposite her, but with his head turned from me. He raises his hand up to his cheek. “My apologies,” he murmurs, but I can hear the anger in his voice, making his apology insincere. As he stands to his full height, I see the anger blazing in his eyes, but his gaze is suddenly on me and a smile spreads across his face. “Clarissa.”
The queen spins around and glares at me, her cheeks flushed. “Clarissa, you’re here at last. You kept me waiting.” Her voice is dangerously low, promising violence if I don’t play my cards right.
Dropping into a low curtsy, I lower my head to show respect. “I apologise, Your Majesty, I had to change into something more appropriate.” Rising, I see Eldrin straightening from a bow as well. The queen’s eyes flick from me to him and back again.
“Hmm.” Her gaze runs over me again, her eyes criticising me without even having to say anything. I could have worn my finest dress, and she still would have found fault with it. “I see you’ve another one of my lords at your beck and call.” Her tone is light, but her expression is hard. The brother is watching our conversation with undisguised glee, but I try to keep my eyes off him, not wanting the queen to think I’m after her brother. “Is Vaeril not enough for you?” she continues, her voice sharp now as she takes a menacing step towards me.
“Your Majesty.” Eldrin is suddenly at my side, his voice softer than I’ve