Ruins of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms #3) - Amelia Hutchins Page 0,200

the breeze, moving the boats out to sea or into port.

Several bridges sat over large bodies of water, forcing anyone who sought entrance to the palace to cross over them. Each bridge held a warrior statue in a defensive pose, their shield’s held above the entrance. Below the land on which the palace sat, a bustling city went about their day as they worked.

Creatures filled the skies. Large birds of every color crested the bridges, carrying packages between them, diving toward the city, and screeching their presence as they descended. My throat bobbed, and my heart pounded deafeningly against my ears as tears threatened to escape, taking in the beauty of Dorcha and its sprawling palace. Knox tightened his hold on me, smiling against my shoulder before he kissed it softly.

“Welcome to my home, wife,” he whispered, rubbing his thumbs over my belly.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted, feeling something within me settling into place, which bothered me.

“You have seen nothing yet,” Knox continued, sniffing my hair. He’d spent over twenty minutes pretending to wash it before he’d replaced both his marks with fresh ones. “Maybe you’ll find a place in our room for a nest.”

I shivered as he chuckled, knowing that I was still sensitive to the need to mate. Worse, there was something primal about the way my body reacted to his. The desire to take from him was becoming dominant again. I was losing the fight against the need to mark him as he’d marked me.

In our tent, I’d fought the urge to nest, which had been the hardest thing to do. Well, other than the attraction to the asshole that marked me and kissed me like I was more than something he needed for his war.

We started moving again as horns blared from the palace, and flags were raised on the battlements to signal the king’s return. Ignoring the men’s excitement, I watched the people rushing toward the tunnel beneath the palace, vanishing from sight. The closer we got to the palace, the more vivid the details became.

The castle itself was built from smoky quartz, giving it a darker appearance from further away. Runes were etched on the palace walls, written in the ancient language of the first people. Water rushed beneath us as our warhorse trotted toward the gate where I could see people gathering with excitement that the king had returned.

Men laughed or told others beside them how they couldn’t wait to visit the town and see the women who freely offered their bodies to the bravest knights. Others talked about their wives and their hopes of being fertile from the Beltane ceremony. They spoke of families, siblings, and parents, which caused a tightening in my chest that settled into emptiness.

Men and women cheered, shouting as we entered the palace’s inner courtyard, filled with greenery that popped against the high walls. What I had thought was part of the palace was actually a shield that stood tall and imposing, surrounding and protecting the castle.

Inside the shield, the palace stood just as tall, if not taller. It reached for the heavens through the clouds, and large birds flew around the spiraling towers. Below the suspended courtyard sat the people who hadn’t crawled up the walkway surrounding the city we’d entered.

Knox or his parents had built a city that could be protected from witches, and they’d done it in layers. The cries for the king’s return sounded from beneath and all around us, while Knox took us deeper into the city. Kicking his horse into a slow, easy gait, he maneuvered us through the crowd and toward another wall surrounding the palace.

The wall was an elaborate work of art that depicted men at war, defending a palace that mirrored this one in appearance. Once we’d moved through the large, opened gates, guards rushed forward. People waited on the stairs, lifting on tiptoes to look through the men returning. Knox slid off the horse as a stable boy ran forward, taking the reins as I moved to dismount behind him. Knox didn’t offer help as he turned, staring at something behind us.

Once I dismounted, I turned to look at what had captured his attention. An imposing statue of a familiar woman stood in a garden, adorned in beautiful budding flowers. Standing beside her, his hand in hers, was Sven’s much smaller statue. My heart plummeted as Knox turned, staring at me while I studied his reaction to the memorial he’d had made to honor his family.

Sliding my gaze toward