What could I do?
49
FINLEY
The entire nation of Rahava flows beneath Corvan’s massive leaps. He covers leagues upon leagues in a single jump. We cross forests and rivers, frost-limned fields and tiny hamlets, crude dirt roads and wide paved highways. We fly over villages and townships, patchwork fields lying barren in the winter.
We even pass over Ruen. I recognize the castle from the air, and it is indeed smaller than what I remembered. Compared to Tyron, it’s insignificant.
And I wonder exactly what my father was so proud of all these years. Ruen is barely productive. Aside from its small army and a scattering of wheat and sheep farms, there’s nothing much.
Father just squeezes every last drop of taxes out of the villagers. Season after season, they grow poorer.
Corvan’s feet hit the ground again, but I never feel the impact. He absorbs everything with his strong, inhuman body.
He leaps.
Again and again.
We’ve left Ruen. We’re flying over a vast network of lakes, dotted with islands covered in silver-trunked trees. The onset of spring is earlier here; I can make out tiny buds on the ends of the branches.
We cross a rocky landscape, where the stone formations give way to open pits where they’re digging things out of the ground. Then there are farms. Acres upon acres of farmland, fields ploughed and planted; waiting for the onset of spring. They’re lined by long, straight irrigation channels that stretch as far as the eye can see. There are more houses here, large farms and lands giving way to smaller blocks and narrow streets. Eventually, there’s nothing but buildings and houses.
Corvan drops to a rooftop. And then we’re off again, with a clatter of roof tiles.
Moonlight gives way to artificial light. Tall lamps illuminate the streets, giving off a warm gaslight glow. The streets become straighter. I can see vehicles. Carriages and carts. Horses asleep, tied to their posts for the night.
Occasionally, I even see a person, walking hastily, eyes downturned, coats tightly buttoned, as if they’re trying to ward off the night.
They have no idea of what soars overhead.
We’re ghosts in the sky; mythical things that only exist in fantastical stories.
The houses grow larger, the buildings grander; now they’re made of more substantial materials, wood and tin and reed giving way to stone and tile and brick. There are taller buildings, too, not just one or two, but three, four, even five stories.
We cross a river spanned by four or five bridges, some made of stone and graceful arches, others metal, suspended by an array of metal cables.
I see avenues. Trees. Skeletal branches are budded with the promise of spring. Corvan lands on the street itself. A passerby turns in the darkness, startled by something—a sense of our presence, perhaps—even though Corvan doesn’t make a sound.
And then we’re gone again, before they have a chance to perceive what was right in front of them.
We’re so fast. We’re invisible. The realization is intoxicating.
We can go anywhere.
And all of a sudden, Corvan stops. We’re standing on the rooftop of a four-story tall building, one that gives us a wide, sweeping view of the city.
My breath catches.
Lukiria is magnificent.
It’s a vast sea of glittering lights, almost as dense and infinite as the stars themselves. It’s wide roads and intricate architecture. It’s tree-lined avenues and stately parks. It’s hewn sandstone and smooth marble.
And everything leads upwards. The higher they go, the larger and grander the buildings become.
It’s astounding. Lukiria really is beautiful.
All the wealth in the empire is here, in this city.
And right at the top, on a vast hilltop surrounded by imposing granite walls, topped with parapets and battlements that make Tyron Castle’s defenses look small in comparison, there’s a palace.
The palace.
It’s grander and vaster than anything I could have ever imagined.
It glows, illuminated by powerful lights that form a gradient of light and shadow on the walls.
It’s flat and wide and rectangular, and it’s the size of at least a hundred Ruen Castles combined. The walls are made from pale sandstone. Tall columns rise on all sides, forming elegant arches between one another.
That’s the Lukirian palace.
The seat of all power in the empire.
The jewel in the crown that Corvan was supposed to inherit.
The palace. The vast city. The lands and the rivers and the people.
All of this was supposed to be under his command.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. The man holding me against him with such gentleness… this sweet, clever, man, who tries to be righteous in the face of all that he is…
He willingly gave up all of this, without even a hint of regret or bitterness.
It’s almost as if he didn’t want it in the first place.
“It’s bigger than I’d imagined,” I say softly, the gentle breeze stealing my words away. I’m a little breathless. A little stunned. My world is expanding at blinding speed. It feels like my mind’s about to explode.
“Annoyingly big,” Corvan grumbles. “Takes half a morning to walk from one end to the other. But that also makes it easier to infiltrate. We’ll go in through one of the underground tunnels. Through the sewers. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience, but I promise you won’t get wet.”
“Stop apologizing, Corvan.” I squirm in his arms. He relents, setting me on my feet. “I’d rather traipse through the sewers than have you carve a path of blood overland.”
“We’ll come up through the dungeons. Nobody will expect it. It’s the middle of the night, after all. From there, we must pass through seven rings of security. My father’s chambers are in the innermost sanctum of the palace. That part will get bloody, but as you know, I move very fast, so it’ll be over before you know it.”
My blood runs cold, but I steel myself. This is necessary. If he doesn’t strike at the heart of the matter, the attacks on Tyron will continue, and I won’t get any closer to finding my mother. I need to stand beside Corvan at all costs. It can’t be easy for him. He’s returning to the place where he grew up, and he’s resolved to become an instrument of death if he has to.
I suspect he doesn’t know the full limits of his power.
Regardless, I can’t just stand back and watch.
“I feel like I should have something… a weapon of some sort.”
Corvan turns to me, his eyes glowing faintly. He looks both hungry and controlled. A flutter of desire stirs within me.
The mysterious power in my veins reacts to his very presence, filling me with effervescent energy.
How I wish I could control it. I’d spare him all of this pain.
“I will not allow the blood of men to sully your hands for my sake,” he says softly, his tone both dangerous and comforting. “No matter what happens, just stay close to me. Whatever strength I need, I’ll take from you.”