Page 90 of His Realm

“We do, yes,” he replied, giving me the skull-smile again.

“I wondered if there was glass here because in the home we were in, there wasn’t any,” I said, gesturing at the enormous window, set in the raw stone of the mountain, that had to be fifty feet high. It looked out on an interior of rock formations covered in ice now lit from the sun. Walking to the window, I stared out at the stunning natural beauty. “This is breathtaking. You must sit here and stare out at it all day.”

“I have seen this all for centuries, and so my interest in such has long ago waned,” Balon replied softly. “Though seeing it through your eyes once more makes it as beautiful as you say.”

I smiled, and he inhaled deeply.

“You have the most fascinating scent.”

“I hope that’s a compliment,” I teased him.

“Oh my, yes, yes of course.”

It made sense why Zev had lived in the castle, and not only because of Leda. Everyone had years ago. Balon explained that when they closed Ophir to outsiders, only then, without threat, were the iceni and the huskar class moved out of the castle to the areas Cirillo and I had seen.

“You didn’t answer about why I was brought here,” I said as we started walking again and I marveled over the carved archways we walked through.

“That is for my brother to inform,” he said, stumbling beside me when he turned to look at me, nearly falling.

I reached out instinctively and grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“My gratitude, my consort,” he said, holding on to my hand, and only then did I realize he was wearing gloves.

“May I ask where you got your leather armor?”

“These were all brought from other places back when there was still trade.”

“Gotcha,” I said, keeping easy pace with him.

Cirillo had let go of me when I reached for Balon, and if his face was any indication, he was horrified that the man was holding my arm.

At the end of a long hallway covered in portraits and ancient weapons mounted on the walls, we stepped through a doorway, and here, finally, was the cavernous throne room. Lots of people were milling around, and when they turned to look at me, Balon, and Cirillo, I saw that all of them looked similar to Balon.

Some of them seemed to be rotting, while in others there was a marked loss of hair accompanied by shriveled skin. Some, mostly men, were without noses, only the bone underneath visible, while on several women, the skin on their faces clung tight to their skulls.

I had the urge to pull my hand back and try to find some lye to wash it with, but I refrained and walked at his side as people moved aside for us.

Close to the throne, I saw Carice, and instead of her looking smug or pleased or anything that I was expecting, she smiled, or tried to, with her bottom lip trembling. Reaching sideways, her hand was grabbed by a stunning woman with curly mahogany colored hair that fell to her shoulders, large liquid brown eyes, and full lips. Her skin was a beautiful golden bronze.

I noted that Carice looked to the dais and the man there, his face in much the same condition as his brother’s, though perhaps a bit worse from what I could see of him. When he gave a nod, both women rushed over to me and bowed low.

“You don’t bow to me,” I groused at Carice. “And when Varic finds out what you did⁠—”

“Yes,” she agreed fast, and I saw her tremble before she straightened up and grabbed my hand tight. “I deserve every punishment, and I am so deeply sorry for my part in this, my consort. When we get home, I will happily have you remove me to wherever you see fit, only please, please…do not leave me here.”

The shudder that went through her had to be real. She was absolutely terrified.

“I don’t like you,” I stated. “And you know that.”

She nodded quickly.

“Varic may have you executed for your part in this.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Better to stay here and live.”

Those huge sea-blue eyes of hers lifted to my face. “Please let me die in Valletta.”