Or, at least, I’d thought I could dedicate myself to my passions forever. A compulsory genetic test later, I’m here, my knighthood replaced by the life of royalty. I can’t complain, really. I get to continue training as a knight—it is a requirement of all royal family members—and now, I can rest and recover in the lap of luxury, every book I could ever want to pass the time at my fingertips. This is luck at its finest.
I wander the many corridors of the castle, noting the layout as I go. This side, the west side of the palace, appears to be the living quarters for all the royal family members, the royal advisors, and the palace staff. It is at least three times the size of the east side of the castle, with long hallways, sprawling bedrooms, and numerous tower suites. The corridors feature ancient decorations of all kinds, with most of them being encased in magically reinforced glass called spellglass. I’m pretty sure the displays will curse me if I touch them, so I give them at least five feet of clearance when passing.
All the corridors of the palace are open to some sort of open-air courtyard. The courtyard nearest Alessia’s bedroom appears to be a Zen garden, but the one I’m passing now appears to be a cherry blossom grove. I see many wildflowers in the grass below, and there’s even a bubbling stream running through the space, probably recycled by a magic charm.
There really is magic all over this place.
Although the entire palace is made of marble, as I approach the center of the castle, more limestone appears between the marble. The cracked floors, which had been worn from years of weathering, are filled in with pure gold. Overhead, they attached light charms encapsulated with spellglass to the ceiling, ready to light the pathway when night falls. There are far less decorations here, and the pathways are wider, as the public regularly passes through the central columns of the palace to reach the central hall, where they lobby for new laws at the Protestation Stage before the queen.
Huh. The cracks are filled in with gold, but that book talked about a silver-laced path, I note, tapping the floor with the heel of my boot. Interesting. I think I know what I’m looking for.
I make it to the entryway of the palace, which is just a giant arch overtop of the steps that connect the mainland of the capital city to the palace. I stare at the people bustling below, taking in the view.
With my vantage point at around fifty feet above the city, I can see the high-rise modern brick apartment buildings straight ahead to the north; block after block of two-story, polished oak storefronts on the street leading to the palace; the rolling hills of the aristocrats’ neighborhood off to my left; and the enormous swath of townhomes off to my right, making up the entire east side of the city. The marble, brick, limestone, wood, and cobblestone constructions of the buildings give the city a vibrant mix of color when looking at it from afar.
“You never fail to impress, Celestia,” I murmur, a smile working its way across my face.
Then, I turn and walk further into the palace. It impresses me even more than the city, as it has every time I’ve walked these ancient, sacred halls.
The limestone bridge connecting the entryway to the banquet hall crosses over an enormous courtyard filled with well-maintained shrubs and statues from across the many centuries of Celestia’s existence. I follow the bridge, then take a left and pass by the hallway that would take me to the central hall. Since I had more than enough of that place yesterday, I pass by it hoping my presence isn’t required in that gilded, obnoxiously bright hall for many more months.
I continue walking into the east side of the palace, taking the stairs down to the first floor as I explore. Most of these rooms are storage rooms or sealed rooms, meaning they’re ancient and being preserved for historical purposes. There are more decorations in the halls than I can count. I continue onward, finding more convoluted hallways down here, the usual rectangular layout of the palace abandoned for diagonal and crisscrossing corridors. It gets darker the deeper I go into the palace, and the floor slopes downward until I’m certain I’m underground. The spellglass lights glow a faint yellow overhead.
“This can’t be right. I’m searching for a ground-level garden,” I mutter.
Just when I think I should turn around, in the dim lighting, I catch a strange glimmer out of the corner of my eye. My head snaps in the direction of the shine, only to discover that the gold of the floor has disappeared here, and silver is in its place.
No way. Down here?
I turn the corner, and sure enough, the silver of the floor leads onward, even deeper underground. Abandoning all logic, I pursue the silver-laced pathway, noting the ancient architecture around me. This must be the oldest part of the palace, judging by its many sealed doors and centuries-old painting styles on the walls. I shiver as the corridor gets even darker.
Wait—it’s not darker, it’s just colder. I shiver again as a small draft comes out of nowhere to freeze the surface of my skin. I draw my arms to my chest, suppressing the urge for my teeth to chatter.
“Must be getting close,” I mutter.
I continue walking, and walking, and walking for what seems like forever, then suddenly, I’m presented with the wall of a dead-end hallway. I stare at it, puzzled, wondering what to do next.
“The book said a dead-end hallway. I wonder….”
I reach out, attempting to touch the wall, only for my hand to pass through it. I gasp, suppressing a panicked yelp as my hand disappears on the other side of the illusion. Surprisingly, I feel a warm breeze beyond it, a breeze that can only be from an outdoor space.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You were right, book.”
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and bravely step through the illusion, subconsciously bracing for impact.
But the impact never comes.
When my eyes flicker open, my jaw drops to see a scene straight out of a fairy tale sprawled out before my eyes.
But before I can explore it, I freeze in my tracks.
Because another set of eyes is on me. Beautiful blue eyes. Ones that I recognize.
And they are not happy to see me.
Chapter three
Alessia
