Chapter One, Part 6

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As they marched, the countryside morphed, growing richer and more beautiful with each new horizon. It became more and more evident why Southwind was considered the dregs of the Queendom. The grass here was fuller; flowers decorated hillsides; the air was soft and still; and most importantly, there were no monsters. The inner Queendom was kept free from the dangerous, wild animals that threatened the deep South.

The road went on without waning. Galen kept them pressing onward, guiding them over the plains, through rocky hills, and across a frothing river that was bridged with great planks of iron-bound wood. At their increased pace—even with the half-conscious prisoner dragging along—they made the four-day march in three.

It was near noon when the capital came into view.

As they trudged up a slope to the edge of the valley, the city was revealed from the top down. More than a city, it was a man-made mountain. At the tip was a great tower, rising above the land like a giant mast, and the base was a wide stone castle, ringed with heavy walls of ornate gray brick. Soldiers patrolled the battlements. Autumn vines swarmed from top to bottom. It was the sort of place so well-equipped for war that it was sure to keep the peace.

Beyond the encircling ramparts was the city proper. A thick hive of markets, pavilions, creatures, and people packed tight near the wall and thinned out into the surrounding fields where farms pockmarked the land with huts, wagons, and workers. An immense forest covered the western rim of the valley. At its center, a great river cut through the city and branched apart in the east. Wide docks lined the course, with vessels of every size bobbing along the waterfront. Farmer had said he was a Wright’s son in his past life, that he had sailed the Queen’s ships.

Asher’s search would begin there, at the docks. If his mother were still alive—if she were still living whatever life she had left him for—then his answers were near. He led the way down.

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