A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,94
potential fallout from rebellion.
Isa frowned at the brothers’ backs as we scooted around a massive stalagmite bursting through the ground, a geyser of stone. I stumbled and Isa caught my hand before I could slip.
I looked to Aketo and Dthazi. “Do you want me to translate?”
Isa lifted her chin, ever the Princess, even with her nose pink-tipped and dripping from the cold. “I can understand . . . most of it.”
“You can speak Khimaeran?”
Color rose in Isa’s cheeks. “Before Papa left, he made sure my Sorceryn tutors knew to keep up my lessons. Even if the palace instructors wouldn’t. I can hear it better than I speak it.”
My chest tightened, surging with love and longing, and I blinked away sudden tears, which was still the usual response at any mention of my father.
“I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was apologizing for. Maybe it was because we had left her to fend for herself. Of course, Isa had been swept up in Mother’s spell. What else did I expect? Isa’s entire persona at Court was an imitation of how the Queen ran it, with a seamless blend of charm and cruelty that kept her in control.
“Don’t be.” Isa sniffed.
We made our way around small frozen pools of water and every so often passed more vines and moss peeking through seams in the stone, still verdant and blooming despite the lack of sun.
After an hour of walking, we came to a fork, one path leading into a pool of water. No crystals lit the path to that surface, so you couldn’t tell whether it was a small pond like the rest we’d passed, or a vast lake. I stared into the dark waves, reminded of my mindscape, but when a long, milky-white tail arced through the placid surface, I careened back.
Suddenly Aketo was there, wrapping an arm around my waist, guiding me away from the lake. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d drifted much closer to its edge than I should have. A few more steps and I would have fallen right in.
“Shit,” I breathed. “What was that?”
“Nothing to worry us,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “An old thing that just wants to be left alone, most likely.”
We took the other path, but it didn’t lead to more caves. The walls had been sheared down and polished until perfectly smooth, and instead of more stone underfoot, thick, springy moss carpeted the floor. This tunnel had to have been created with magick.
We reached the end of the tunnel, marked by a round door with three interlocking rings, but Aketo stopped. “We’re going to wait here for a few hours. This tunnel opens to a road and, at the end of it, the stairway up to the Aerie. It’s too public for us to climb them by daylight.”
“The Aerie?” Isa asked when we’d settled down on the mossy floor.
I’d forgotten she hadn’t been in our countless meetings with General Mateen, where Aketo explained the layout of the Enclosure.
“Sher n’Cai is made up of three main parts: General Sareen’s manor and the grounds where the soldiers live; the town outside of it where we are supposed to live; and the Aerie, high up on the mountain, where we actually live. Years before I was born, we left the town and moved up into the Aerie. Over the years, it became its own village. And it keeps the soldiers from breathing down our necks all the time.”
“Why is that?” Isa asked, looking at Dthazi.
His full lips pressed flat into a thin line while he gave Isa a look that would’ve made me squirm. It wasn’t a heated look. It seemed more like he was deciding if she deserved an answer. Deciding if she actually cared. I would’ve bet he was at least as discerning as Aketo, if not more.
My sister gave him a simpering smile, and cocked her head, waiting.
“The only way up to the Aerie is by a set of narrow, very steep steps carved into mountain,” Dthazi explained. “Throllo only sends the soldiers up once a week for inspections.” His gaze slid to me. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here. Aren’t you two supposed to be at each other’s necks by now? What about the throne?”
“It’s a long story, but as to why we’re here . . . we’ve come to rid you of a problem,” I said. “When you say the word rebellion, Dthazi, what do you hear?”