JUNE ZEILRAN knows one thing: he is destined to live a quiet life in the servant's quarters as a half-blood in a territory of fairies. When the Imperial High Queen offers him a job he cannot refuse, he is thrown into a world of secrets and murder t...
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The Imperial Palace dwarfed June much like how fairies in the Lantegian streets did whenever he met them. His fingers tightened around the scarf his mother tucked him into before he left at dawn. "Be good, ankina," she had said before planting a quick kiss on his head. "I'll make your favorite stew for lunch. How does that sound?"
June's stomach grumbled at the possibility of tasting huiye stew. That's another reason to get this summon done and over.
He pursed his lips and smoothed his dark hair off his forehead, warding off the beading drops of sweat on his head. Thick, humid air made it hard to breathe and walk at the same time. All around him, the streets bustled with activity. Merchants and travelers mingled about. Dagrine and their other variants with bright and muted coats strolled past him, their tailored hooves clacking against the cobblestones being baked in the morning sun.
It had taken him a whole two hours trekking from the servant's quarters until the actual Imperial Palace. No wonder there were some days his mother came home at odd times in the night or at dawn. His worn boots bit at his ankles and cloistered around his toes. He hadn't gone out of the house since forever so naturally, his feet would have grown past the boots he'd had since he was five.
He stared back at his hand. Streaks of black resembling the color of coal or the ashes left by burnt wood from the fireplace smeared his skin. Oh. Mother did say to be careful about his hair getting wet or else the dye would wash off earlier. Sweat could hardly count as water but maybe they'd need to change the formula they used. A little more of nightgrass, probably?
Eventually, after the road sloped and dropped enough times, June stood at the lip of a huge lake in the middle of Edgerift. The wind had risen and blown a hot gust into his face, almost stinging his skin. A mirage shone in the distance, past the stark white building in the middle of the moat which only succeeded in reminding June of a convent he saw sprung once in Nanvera before being shut down by the Unities.
Bridges spanning two merchant carts side by side peeled off the lip of the moat and ran all the way towards grand arches peppering the building's walls, one for each cardinal direction. June tapped his soles against the first board. Wood. Creaky wood.
He lifted his eyes at the four towers rising from the pillars of the building resembling horns growing out of the mythical figures in the murals in the Temples he and his mother visited during Jered Hyngtis. Without having much of a choice, he squared his shoulders and trudged forward, towards the white walls.
Footfalls of leather soles against wood joined his. He and other people with business inside the Imperial Palace strode towards and away from it, wearing resolute expressions on their faces and straddling their satchels, parasols, and patterned scarves. June's nose itched at the sudden abundance of stray feathers flying in the wind. That only meant one thing—the Air Sprites, the Imperial Race, were in town.
Not that June had something against it. Lanteglos was built to serve the Imperial Race, to provide them a place to live, relax, and conduct their duties. It's just that the Air Sprites, and in turn, the rest Sprites, have been holing up in this place for so long they seemed to think it was theirs to begin with. That, and the fact that the rest of the territories and races seemed to be forgetting as well, wasn't doing Umazure any favors.
