Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Not a tinkling, peaceful fountain.
Perhaps it was an ode to ancient times when Airen and Firenze were one and they were ruled by the Fire King.
Perhaps it was once a fountain, but some ruler along the years preferred something threatening and severe, not welcoming and tranquil.
I did not have the chance to ask after this (not that I would). I also did not have the chance to grab Cassius and drag him somewhere safe so we could hold onto any happiness we might have left lingering in our souls.
Out of the high, wide, arched double doors to the Citadel that were open (both of them), three women drifted down the steps that were lined with servants who also stood motionless, uniformed and at attention.
These were the only women I witnessed wearing what might amount to finery in Airen, though I vowed to my goddess I would never wear such.
Thick, leather, what only could be described as engineered corsets over silk blouses confined their ribs. The blouses were buttoned all the way to their throats, the collars stiff and uncomfortable-looking. Their skirts were wide and appeared heavy, with a variety of deep ruffles, bunches or ruching (or all three) that made them seem like they weighed stones and stones.
And their faces were painted to extremes. Thick kohl around their eyes, stark and unnatural red at their lips, white powder on their skin and clownish rouge at their cheeks.
Indeed, there was so much paint on their faces, I could not tell if they were aged sixteen or sixty.
They wore tangles of strings of pearls and gold chains that fell about their chests, dangled from their ears and bound their wrists.
This demonstration of wealth was not only ostentatious (most specifically because of the absolute lack of such adorning the women in the city), it also seemed more like manacles and yokes than gilding.
It was a shock to the system, for seeing it, I realized there was no color in this place. Not anywhere. Not here, at the Citadel, not down below, in the city.
No flowers. Even if it was late in the season, mums, sage, goldenrod, roses, sunflowers and asters still bloomed.
No colorful awnings.
No bright pottery or brightly glazed tilework.
There was not even color in the fabrics, not in the uniforms of the servants, not in the clothing of the women (the corsets were all in shades of brown or gray, the blouses white or cream, the skirts, black or gray).
My thoughts were turned when the women all rushed directly to Gallienus before he even dismounted and fell into such low curtsies, their skirts looked like pools of dark silk on the cobbles.
His wives.
All three of them.
Nearly prostrate before him with their heads bowed.
I felt bile chase up my throat and heard Jazz choke down hers.
“Welcome to my home,” Cassius drawled, and I looked to him in alarm.
With one look I knew more than I already knew.
He hated it here.
Abhorred it.
And here we were.
Here I was.
And he did not want me here.
But here was also where he was raising his beloved daughter, his Aelia.
He did not want that either.
And I could now understand why.
I stared into his eyes, seeing the sky-blue was gone. They were dark as night and blinking with miniscule stars.
This, how they looked when he felt deeply, in the haze of passion or in a blaze of anger.
And looking into those eyes, I sensed something gathering along my spine.
Not my magic.
Something even more important.
Vital.
Fundamental.
I needed to save him from this.
I needed to save him and Aelia and Dora from this.
I needed to protect them from this nightmare, deliver them from it.
And the only thing I could do in order to achieve that was to transform it.
At first in mind.
And then in reality.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I only partly lied.
His chin jerked into his neck.
“The whole city. Those…I don’t know what they’re called, carriages on rails,” I went on.
“Trains,” he said.
“Trains,” I repeated. “And the canals. And the rose windows. The steepled roofs.” I looked up to what seemed like the interminable towers of the Citadel, doing so gazing past gargoyles in shapes of everything from lizards to bats to trolls to griffin to dragons to, well…gargoyles to see intimidating wrought iron finials spiking into the sky. “And this…” I searched for words. “It’s just extraordinary.”
It appeared my words only served to make Cassius even more aggravated, and he underlined this by stating, “Elena, do not lie.”
“Right,” I gave in a little. “So, I would hope in the spring you’d let me, or, say, some royal gardener plant some ivy, because really,” I flung a hand toward the castle, “there needs to be more green and it’d look lovely climbing up the walls.”
Cassius blinked.
“And a few more shrubbery wouldn’t hurt,” I went on gamely.
He simply stared at me.