and don’t fall behind as we continue through the palace. It is not safe for most visitors,” Satharal says quietly as she opens the door and leads us out of our room.
I glance anxiously at Grimsal’s door as we pass and give Eliph’s arm a small tug.
“What about Grimsal, our goblin companion?”
The elf raises an eyebrow at me for a moment before her eyes turn toward the door thoughtfully.
“The invitation was only extended to the two of you. I assure you that the goblin’s needs will be seen to while you dine in the same manner that you have been receiving your meals today. Goblins are a distraction, one that the king prefers not to deal with at his own table, but he gives his assurances that your friend will enjoy every luxury from the privacy of his room.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter doubtfully, but Eliph tugs at my hand, drawing my attention to him.
For some reason, his horn is doing that funny glowing thing again, but the smile he gives me is all Eliph.
“The elves are very peculiar about their hospitality, and do not mesh well with goblins. I’m sure that the Lorandral king merely wishes to conduct business quickly and without incident.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Satharal says, her lips curling faintly.
I stare at her, and for some reason I just want to slap that smile from her face. I can spot phony smiles a mile away, and I know this bitch is trying to get something over on me. Nothing about this feels right.
“Come, Ahandral,” Eliph says. “Let’s get this over with so we can return to our room. I am certain we will be able to leave safely first thing in the morning.”
I give him a doubtful look but press close against him, allowing him to pull me close as we continue to follow the elf into the palace.
This place is like nothing I could have imagined. Carvings in stone almost appear to shift as if alive. Heads turn eerily, their sightless stone eyes following us, and carved arches, columns, and bannisters appear to rearrange themselves at will, some of them bursting with green life right from their rock. A stone door pounds loudly, practically bulging in a warped manner as we pass, and I jump but Satharal just hurries along without any explanation. Even the shadows in the various corners feel as if they’re alive.
“This place gives me the creeps,” I whisper to Eliph as I tuck my head in close against her bicep.
He makes a soft sound of agreement, and his ears prick and turn as he tries to make note of everything around us all at once. I can feel the tension radiating through him down to the tip of his tail, which lashes uneasily against the back of my legs. I don’t like the weird way that his horn is glowing again, and there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his fur.
“Eliph?” I whisper up to him in concern. My ‘fuck-this’ meter is going off big time, and I give his arm a yank.
“We are here,” Satharal announces as she pulls open the doors. “King Varthal awaits your company.”
I freeze at the sight of the dining room. It’s indoors, but strangely not. I would swear that we’re out in the garden. Roses grow everywhere, climbing up columns and filling corners. Even the air is filled with their scent. As if going with the garden theme, there’s a dim light as if dusk had recently settled, and the long table before the throne is illuminated with numerous lanterns.
One wall that I’m sure is a window almost seamlessly blends into the garden just outside the room as silvery light from the rising moon drifts in. I imagine that if the room faced another direction it might have been lightened with the fading colors of the sunset, but this entire setting was one of purpose.
It’s really a shame I can’t package this whole look for prepping the real estate I show because this is killing it.
It’s the sharp scrape of a chair, however, that draws my attention to the throne just as the king stands. He gives massive Thranduil vibes. His hair is white and hangs straight as a pin down his back except for the elegant braids that pull it away from his face, each knotted with beautifully crafted gold leaves. It seems that long jackets are the thing here because everyone in the room wears one, even him, although his is a beautiful emerald—matching