child in a few months. Willow caught her breath at the thought that she might have half brothers and a half sister, but until this man broached the subject, she wouldn’t even allow herself to consider the possibility.
Finally, he stopped in front of a door. It was, like all the others, constructed from a single piece of black obsidian.
“This is your room,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’ll leave you here to rest and freshen up. Someone will come and get you for a more formal audience, at which time you may meet the rest of my family, if you like.”
Taking a deep breath, she wished she had the courage to finally ask if they were her family, too.
Instead, she smiled back and thanked him, then entered the room she’d been given, letting the door close softly behind her.
Alone, she realized her hands were shaking. She didn’t know what to think. Was this man, this king, her father, as the hawk had claimed? If so, why did he not acknowledge who they were to each other? Was he testing her for some reason?
Finally she turned and studied her room. The bed, despite the unrelenting black of the fluffy comforter, looked soft and warm. Too tired to think straight, she crawled between the sheets and let the welcome oblivion of sleep claim her.
* * *
Ruben was too keyed up to sleep, so he decided to explore the castle. He hadn’t been given strict instructions to remain in his room or anything. He found a flowing cloak with a hood and settled it around his shoulders. Since Willow had once told him that the Brights would not welcome him in their land, he could only imagine how the Shadows would feel.
The empty hallways had an eerie feel to them, enhanced by the monochromatic coloring. No stranger to palace life, he kept expecting to encounter someone, anyone. A harried servant, a bored socialite, the requisite drunk uncle. Instead, his footsteps echoed off the granite walls, reinforcing his solitude.
With each turn, the endless expanse of hallway stretched out before him, dark walls studded by black doors. Finally, he came to a landing with a massive, two-sided staircase. He could either go up or down.
He chose down. And as he took the steps two at a time, gradually the hum of voices came to him, letting them know there was a part of this castle still full of life.
When he reached another landing, he realized the sounds came from still another level down. The curve of the massive staircase made it impossible to see below, so he continued on. Once he stepped onto the next landing, he saw a crush of people gathered around a set of double doors at the end of yet another infernally long hallway. He hurried to join them, not certain what they were doing, but curious nonetheless.
Though several cast him curious glances, no one questioned him as he took his place in the line of people pressing through the doors. The tide of bodies carried him inside, disgorging him as everyone headed in their own direction.
He glanced around and realized he was in the throne room. He thought of the one at home, remembering how he’d compared it to the SouthWard room. Then, he’d believed that difference to be great, but the difference between Teslinko and SouthWard was nothing compared to this.
The Shadows’ throne room, like everything else in the palace, was dark, very nearly sinister, whereas the Brights’ had been over-the-top, glittering, gaudily, bright. The sharp contrast between the two throne rooms was as remarkable as the difference in the castle itself. Lit solely by giant iron candelabras, the black marble floors gleamed, reflecting back the candlelight which gave the room a gloomy, surreal appearance.
Trying to blend in with the others would be an exercise in futility, especially since he wore trousers of a soft fawn color and his shirt was a pale blue. The entire court wore dark colors—deep maroon, navy, purple and the ever-present black.
Despite their proclivity to drabness, by contrast the people appeared happy, wearing bright smiles and joyous expressions as they chatted with their neighbors. No one seemed to take notice of him, standing alone and feeling out of place on the edge of several large groups of people.
There was no dais; rather the enormous black obsidian throne sat beside an immense fireplace where only embers smoldered.
The king, dressed all in black, waited regally for his subjects to approach. Briefly, Ruben wondered why his queen didn’t