Grounding the Storm ✓

Chapter 8

The door to the prison wagon opens and Renit's bland expression greets me. He doesn't bother helping me out as he yanks on the chains and my bare feet scrape on the stone. I've never felt something so secure, other than my boots now lost to the sea. I woke up without them and with the scraps Renit barely bothered to give me; the prince wasn't about to have a spare pair of boots lying around.

Although he drags me towards the castle quickly, I try to take everything in. The spiraling hedges in the gardens, the flowers, the stables, and the royal cemetery lined with tall headstones covered in vines.

The castle looming over my head is massive. Every surface is glass except for the stone rim securing it all together, the bottom half of the wall on each floor. The afternoon sunlight reflects off one of the many glass windows, expanding from one of the five towers pointing towards the cerulean sky.

Shaped as perfectly rounded arches, the windows are the focus of the castle. Vines travel up the stone corners, sometimes finding their way onto those windows to blot out the sun but for the most part, the castle is clean and cut to kill.

Renit doesn't care that I'm trying to witness everything as he shoves me towards the front doors with my family following closely behind. The chains rattle with each step we take and I look back, ready to snap at the guard escorting Celestine, but he's being gentle with her already. Having persistence paid off and now he's learned to keep his hands off her.

Same as me, her eyes are filled with wonder as she takes in the sight. I have distant memories of the castle from when I was a child but nothing past the front gates. Now that I'm witnessing it up close, the words are tied around my tongue and I can't get any of them out.

Just as I'm about to walk through the front doors with Renit standing next to me instead of pulling me along like a dog, someone appears from around the corner and raises a hand in greeting. The group stops and I almost slam into Renit's shoulder but dig my bare feet into the stone to avoid doing just that. If I had, the snarl in response would have been one for the ages. Simply asking him questions makes his blood boil. Besides his father.

The man approaching is young and shares similar features with Renit. My first instinct is to scowl at him for even looking like the prince—then I see his broad smile. The features are much softer on him and chestnut brown hair to his shoulders is much less intimidating than the black mess on Renit's head.

I'm taken back when he not only smiles at Renit but smiles at me like he doesn't see me as a lowly prisoner. The prince extends the chains to the newly approached man. "Take her. Be careful, she'll bite," Renit instructs with a bored tone.

The royal seal over the man's chest, a sword dripping blood and flame, shimmers as he steps out into the sunlight. With a confused look for the ages, he takes the chains and Renit saunters off.

"Where are we taking them?" He shouts after the prince.

"To the throne room, I'll be there soon," Renit responds without turning back around. I stare angrily at the space between his broad shoulders and imagine a knife sinking into his skin. A waste. The prince is a waste.

This man shifts uncomfortably at my side for a moment before taking those easy steps into the castle. Two guards open the large glass door they stand on either side of and the man holding my chains nods his thanks. There's no way he's part of the royal family, not if he's this kind to the prisoners and the nameless guards working in the castle. He has to be part of something else.

Instead of tugging me along, he walks at my slow pace as I examine everything in sight. The ceilings of the main room reach higher than anyone can ever touch, five chandeliers hanging at all different lengths, sparkling with candlelight. That sparkle takes my breath away.

Five to symbol five leaders. This kingdom is old and the king's bloodline has ruled since its existence. His father served, his father served, and on down the line. They're powerful, every one of them.

The world slows as my family, the family who spent most of their time in a small village, stares at the looming stone walls bordered by glass windows allowing in as much sunlight as possible. Everywhere I look, there's a different masterpiece of shimmering gems or crystals twinkling together like chimes, creating a golden rhythm so similar to that of a flute.

"I'm Silas, by the way," the man holding my chains says. I almost evade hearing him as we walk down a hallway, lined with copper marble floors. White strips of tile intersect through it all, twisting and stretching like sunlit vines.

"Silas," I repeat, passing by a dusty portrait. "Is there anything I need to know about you, Silas?"

"Well, I'm the crown prince, if that means anything." There's a hint of pride in his voice as he sticks out his chest and straightens. Behind me, Celestine chokes on her own spit.

I'm surprised, too, but I hide it. "Don't take it personally but I don't bow to the likes of you." I shift my gaze to meet his and watch that bright smile fade.

His grey eyes swirling with displeasure are much less intimidating than his brother; a spark twists through the bland color that Silas somehow turns bright. It's a shame I see his brother in his face. Otherwise, I might not want to claw off his skin.

Silas clears his throat. "I don't expect you to. By the looks of it, my brother didn't treat you kindly." His voice softens.

"He's an asshole, to say the least."

Silas laughs and I scoot away at the sound. Is it acceptable to make a prince laugh or is that against the rules? I can imagine the courtiers frowning at me from the shadows as they watch his every move, his every laugh. If they see another making him laugh, they might claw my skin off. Royalty can be fickle; that's the one thing I remember from living in this city as a child. All anyone talked about was marrying off the prince.

The crown prince leads us down more stretches of stone hallways sitting on the bottom of windows. The panes glisten around the edges and on every ledge or alcove, a candle sits idle, waiting to be lit for the evening hours. I can't imagine the masterpiece this castle turns into when darkness slides over the sky like a sheet. This entire city must turn into a hillside of magic, from the candles to the chandeliers to the light posts I saw around every street corner. As much as I want to hate it...I can't.

Finally, he gestures towards an arched stone doorway leading into a small, circular room. There isn't much here other than an elevated dais and four thrones, two large in the center and two smaller on the outer sides. Symbolizing protection and the future. I know immediately the outer thrones belong to the princes and the other two, well, they must belong to the king. His love, his wife, had long ago died when he decided she wasn't worth the alliance.

His power was enough, and he didn't need her anymore. She lost her head days later. Two boys lost their mother.

It isn't the flags hanging from the rounded ceiling that intimidate me. Their royal seal is one I've seen thousands of times and up close, the blood looks real. It's not the overwhelming presence of guards in the room, eyes watching my every step, weighing me down as Silas walks me to the center of the room and stops, directly on the marble symbol of a sword dripping with blood and flame. Mostly blood.

I gulp. Celestine's reassuring warmth presses into my side and although she can't stretch very far, her hand brushes my arm.

That's not what intimidates me either. Instead, it's the man slouching in the golden throne on the dais, the three sharp peaks reaching towards the ceiling in arrow tips. He rests his chin on a tanned fist and smiles down on us, a predator closing in on prey.

I'm face to face with the king of Esaria, Arego's lifelong enemy.