Eventually we passed through that neighborhood as well, and into an area where elegant houses and mansions butted up against the coastline, vying for the coveted view of Solantha Bay. I swallowed as I caught sight of Solantha Palace jutting above the others in the distance, and darted my eyes back to my lap, knowing soon enough I’d be seeing it up close and personal.
The journey ended all too soon, and as the guards pulled me from the carriage sweat broke out at the edges of my temples and in the palms of my hands. My eyes darted around, hardly able to appreciate the old, elegant décor of the neighboring houses around me, or the magnificent view of the Firegate Bridge that spanned the length of the bay in the distance. I was far more aware of the late afternoon sun beating against the top of my head, and the palace that loomed directly in front of me – a sprawling white stone edifice with red tile capping the roofs and turrets. The beauty of the ornate carvings in the stone and the sparkling glass windows were lost on me as I was marched through the meticulously trimmed gardens and up a wide stone staircase – all I saw was a monument to the absolute power and greed that had corrupted so many of the mages in this city, and it filled me with a simmering resentment that made me forget about my anxiety.
That resentment only grew as a servant dressed in blue and gold – the Chief Mage’s colors – opened the door to receive us, and the guards led me into a large, elegant foyer. The sun shining in through the large stained glass windows splashed colorful patterns on the wood-inlaid flooring, and tasteful oil paintings of landscapes hung from the walls. The décor was warmer than I expected – my mind had conjured stone and marble and crystal – but it still spoke of a lush extravagance that was undeserved, in my opinion.
There was a reception desk in the center, manned by an old mage, but we didn’t approach it. Another mage dressed in the grey robes of an apprentice was already descending the grand double staircase that curved around the foyer to greet us.
“Hello,” the young mage greeted me in a stiff voice. “My name is Elgarion ar’Manit. I am Director Chartis’s apprentice, and I’ve been sent to escort you to the audience chamber.” His dark eyes glittered with disdain as he took me in. “He will be pleased you’ve arrived so promptly.”
“I was actually thinking I may have arrived too soon,” I responded coolly, lifting my chin to look the mage in the eye. Just because I was quaking in my boots didn’t mean I had to let any of these people know I was intimidated. “Surely the Chief Mage has more important things to do than bother with someone as insignificant as me?”
Elgarion wrinkled his nose. “Yes, that was my opinion too,” he agreed with a hint of annoyance. “But for some reason he’s taken an interest in your case and demanded to see you immediately.”
An interest in my case? Just what the hell was that supposed to mean? A chill went through me as Elgarion turned and led the way up the right side of the staircase. The last thing I needed was the most powerful mage in the city taking more than a passing interest in me, especially when the man was known for holing himself up in this admittedly gorgeous palace to perform magical experiments. I wasn’t interested in escaping my death sentence only to end up as a lab rat.
The apprentice led us down a carpeted hallway, and as we passed by several open doorways I caught glimpses of crystal chandeliers, rich, colorful drapes and carpeting, and parquet floors. The number of rooms bordered on ridiculous – the Chief Mage could house a third of Solantha’s homeless population based on what I’d seen so far.
I bet that would just mess with his magical energy, I sneered inwardly. Having a bunch of humans and shifters running around breathing his sanctified air.
The hallway branched off into a separate wing of the palace, and my nose wrinkled as the scent of magic intensified abruptly. This must be where the Chief Mage does most of his work, I thought apprehensively as Elgarion stopped outside a set of double doors made of dark, heavy wood.
“Prepare yourself,” he told me sternly. “We are about to enter the audience chamber.”
Well la-dee-dah, I thought crossly as he turned to open the doors – and then nearly swallowed my tongue as I was ushered into the room. I was expecting something smaller, like a fancy office, but this chamber was more like a hall. Tall, gleaming mahogany columns held up the soaring ceiling, and the walls, of pale pink granite veined with gold, gleamed in the warm glow of multiple lamps. A long blue and gold carpet carved a path through the center of the parquet floor, and the guards escorted me to the other side of it, where a tall man dressed in dark blue robes awaited us behind a large desk made from the same pale pink granite as the walls. Standing off to his right was Director Chartis, who stared imperiously down at me, his arms tucked into the folds of his dark green robes.