he didn’t care about starving Kalyazi villagers; he cared about starving Tranavians.
When they were nearly at the city, Ostyia spurred her horse to a gallop to reach the gates first so the guards would be prepared for the High Prince’s arrival.
“Well,” Serefin said softly, “so it begins.”
“Cheer up, Serefin,” Kacper said. “It won’t be too bad. You just have to do some groveling and lying and then you can stab your old man in the back and be done with it.”
Serefin tamped down his paranoia. He shoved it out of his head, pushed his empty spell book into his pack where it wouldn’t be noticed—an empty spell book on a prince was considered disgraceful—and prepared to face his fate.
* * *
Grazyk was the most opulent city in Tranavia, built long before the war, when Tranavia was at its peak in wealth, and the fashion was color and light and gold. Serefin didn’t think gold ever went out of fashion, but it was certainly too expensive now to line doorways and molding with golden bricks and gold inlaid wood. A few of those buildings still stood, a testament to when Tranavia was not so poor. Most had been destroyed long ago for the paltry wealth that could be sucked from their foundations.
There was a cloud of smog that hung over the city. It was an oppression everyone had simply learned to ignore. The fog came from magic experiments gone wrong, filtered up from the ground where there had been mines nearby—not unlike the Salt Mines. While the experiments had been moved to Ky?tri, the smog never cleared. It just hung black in the air, a reminder of what happened when mages reached for too much.
Not that any mage in Tranavia would heed the reminder. Mostly it made the whole city smell like ash. Nobles attempted to counter it by wearing pouches of expensive herbs and spices or dousing themselves in fragrant oils imported from Akola. Neither worked, but nothing would keep slavhki from their outrageous solutions for things that weren’t problems.
Ostyia had a runner sent to the palace, marking the start of needless formality. Serefin tried to work up the feelings of homesickness he had experienced while out on the front, but now he realized it had been wistful delusion.
If the city was lavish, the palace was magnificent. It glittered in the distance, a promise of beauty watching over the city and its shameful fog. Spires twisted up into the sky, their hundreds of windows reflecting such a glare that Serefin had to lower his gaze.
The guards swung open the large wooden gates when they approached. Even those were hammered with gold. A servant waited in the courtyard to take their horses.
The courtyard was paved with smooth granite that turned to lush grass just past the front of the palace. It buzzed with a low hum of activity. He could hear the sound of clashing blades from the northern side of the grounds. He braced himself for the inevitable summons from his father. It arrived immediately by way of a servant wearing a plain brown mask that left only his eyes visible. One of his father’s personal servants. The servant bowed to Serefin, who spoke before he could even deliver his message.
“Yes, yes, my father wishes to see me.”
The servant nodded. Not being able to see his face was disconcerting. Serefin wasn’t fond of the masks that had been the fashion at court the past few years.
The style took after the ones worn by the Vultures. The only people who did not wear masks at court were usually the royal family. Serefin loathed wearing anything that might make his vision even worse. His mother was never in Grazyk long enough for it to matter, and the king transcended court trends completely.
Serefin raked a hand through his hair, then waved to the servant again. “Well? Take me to him. We can’t keep His Majesty waiting.”
12
NADEZHDA
LAPTEVA
Very little is known about the goddess of the sun. Quiet and eternal, she has never granted her power to any mortal; none know what would happen if she ever did.
—Codex of the Divine, 3:15
Nadya and Malachiasz were lost. Apparently direction was not one of his many blood mage talents.
Nadya wrapped her arms around herself, shivering violently. He glanced back at her before shrugging out of his bloody military jacket. She hesitated, frowning at the symbol of everything she had spent her life fighting against. But her coat had been torn to useless shreds and he didn’t appear