In the Open Cage

Chapter 2

It took four more days before they reached the capital city, all of which were a painful blur in Misa's memory. She was sure she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep on the journey. Not with all the guilt and Nisha's threat hanging over her head.

With the treaty planned to be signed within a week and half, Misa wasn't sure how things would play out. A part of her wanted to send Royle some sort of letter to warn him about Nisha, but she knew doing so would only urge him to join her as soon as he could. And if Nisha intercepted it...Misa shuddered. She didn't even want to think about it. It had filled her mind so much that she couldn't concentrate on how different Rowemor was compared to Giligha and Harthem, and she hadn't been able to pay attention to what the streets looked like.

"We're here," Rithian said in a quiet voice. Misa had noticed, too when she snapped out of her thoughts. The enormous gates that stood before them, snugly fit between two massive stone walls that flared out and around. Towers and tips of the palace peeked from behind, almost teasing how beautiful the actual architecture would be in full view.

What should have been a heartstopping sight was dampened by the despair drowning Misa's heart. The carriages halted before the gates, and after a few minutes of announcing their presence, the heavy brass barriers finally swung open. Dread twisted Misa's stomach as the palace revealed itself.

The first thing she noticed was the enormous building that had to be the main part of the palace. Pure white stone, so devoid of life, spanned at least a kilometer from left to right. Balconies barricaded the upper floors, their delicate designs of swirls and patterns hiding the strength to keep people both in and out.

Pillars rose from the ground, holding up a slanted terrace above the ground floor. Like fingers. Misa shuddered. Statues and poles lined either side of the path they rode through in alternating intervals—previous rulers who cast their gaze upon all who entered their domain, merciless and cold.

Misa had never thought art could feel so distant. Her hopes of witnessing the rumoured genius of the architecture shattered with the taint of terror. Her hand itched to hold a paintbrush, to expel the awful demons devouring her dreams. The carriage halted once more, and Misa was slow to get out. She held Min-Min close to her chest, drawing some comfort from the purring feline.

Nisha's presence pressed into her, ever looming, ever watching. The guards kept close to them, their hands resting comfortably on the guns holstered at their hip. Most also had rifles strapped over their backs. Misa squeezed Min-Min. The sickeningly familiar weight of shackles coiled around her, but this time, there was no possibility of sneaking out for a breath of freedom. Tighter, tighter. Her vision blurred, her heart thrashed against her chest, blood roared through her ears. The box holding Tika's magic jumped.

Mrao. The cat groaned against her grip. Min-Min licked Misa's hand, her rough tongue releasing the tension. Misa let out a small gasp as a soothing wave of magic pushed against her. And through it, she could feel Min-Min's presence inside her mind. A pulse that reminded her of Min-Min's purr reverberated within her, and a sense of calm overcame her.

"Min-Min!" she breathed, loosening her grasp. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Well, well," a gravelly voice said. It was strangely familiar, as was the unpleasant laughter that followed.

The witches stilled, watching a stocky man make his way down the pristine staircase, dressed in a blue uniform trimmed with gold and sporting massive gold buttons. Beside him, a tall, remarkably handsome man wearing a similar attire descended with a slight, haughty smile on his face. Misa stared at the stocky, older man, her brows furrowing. She was sure she'd seen him before, but how would that be possible?