Little Saint Bride [Death and the Maiden, #1]

Chapter Thirty One: Dragon's Breath

Elysium is like a giant cog. 

From the top of the steps, the view of the city of the dead makes it much clearer to know how high up we are. On the other side from where we climbed up, a sheer cliff face drops into a ravine, far below. That same water snakes all the way from a line of blue in the distance-- the waterfall I'd fallen from in the hopes of getting here.

From this angle, it's no bigger than my pinkie.

And between us, Elysium becomes an industrial monster of ramshackle buildings; ugly iron casts in the further districts, elevating to pretty terracotta midway and becoming flawless marble tile at Chronus' closest neighbours. Even the security, which starts as large steel gates separating out the furthest districts, becomes more lax the closer to Chronus' palace. Metal latches and padlocks and anti-vandal paint gives way to picket fences that can just about pen sheep. 

Of course Chronus wouldn't want his view in the morning tarnished by ugly , truthful sights.

An excitable voice interrupts my grudges of the villanous ruler, and from the hidden twitch of Hadrian's muscles, I suspect it caught him by surprise too.

Mercer, never one to hold a grudge, has already forgotten about being forgotten, and is tapping me on the shoulder wildly. 

'Look, look!' He cries, his breath coming out in puffs of cloud. 'I'm a dragon!'
He blows his breath in my face.

The air is quickly caught on the breeze and moved on; we, however, remain staring at one another, and my expression is flat.

Mercer laughs again. 'Come on, don't be afraid of the dragon! Ra--'

'Stop,' says Hadrian. His voice sounds pained. 

'I did that in primary school...' I shake my head. 'Minoa is always cold, and dismal, and dull. Every kid went through that phase.'

Mercer shrugs, 'I wasn't allowed to go outside very much,' he murmurs. 'Especially not with children my age. I think my father feared I'd turn out wild like my elder brother.'

'Because of the cold?' Hadrian and I ask in unison, our eyebrows symmetrically raised and matching sneers echoed on one another's faces. Even the guard, silent in her waiting, gives Mercer a curious look.

Mercer just glares at us. 'Nobody ever appreciates me...'

'I just forgot that you were alive,' I say, dead pan, 'but that's all-- not that I don't appreciate you.'

Hadrian suppresses a grin.  

The guard gives a small, polite cough, and the three of us continue on up the final steps to the palace.

If the city gets prettier towards the centre, then the middle is the biggest attraction, and it's no different than I would imagine for Chronus. Great white columns of marble form an impressive entrance, holding up an imperious archway trimmed with gold leaves and vines. Beneath our feet, tiny tiles are placed together with exquisite detail to form patterns; weaving fish of the sea, a bear of the land, and eagle of the air, and highest of all, the sun. 

The guard asks Mercer to escort us whilst she leads her horse back to the stables. The boy reddens, and then nods, leading us through the building.

The space is hollow, lined by white-robed servants, dressed similarly to Mercer, as we cross the square hall. There is no furniture here, I notice: it's strictly a path, and there's nothing homely about it. 

What was I expecting? I nearly sigh out loud. Pictures of Hadrian and Chronus as babies? The family hellhound? Cerberus's puppy?