Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
This, too, was a way to transport large numbers of people distances that would take a great number of horses, carriages, or a good deal of walking up and down (sometimes steep) avenues.
It was, no other way to describe it, extraordinary.
Even through this, it was not lost on me that the streets were not clear of people and the return of their king (Gallienus rode before us with his own guard) and prince after a time away and a return heralded by a sea battle could not have been missed.
But although it couldn’t have been missed, it didn’t seem to matter.
This was the only thing (at first) that made me uneasy.
For there were very few women and what women there were, were not dressed in finery, out for a stroll on an overcast day. They were dressed drearily, and in some cases tattily, busy going about doing what they were doing.
And this busyness seemed fretful, and in some cases, frantic.
They didn’t stop to watch our procession (not the women, or the men). The women scurried on their way, heads bowed, but clearly paying attention, for they were careful to steer clear of any man who might need their share of the path.
And I did not have to watch long to see that any man, dressed finely or not, received right of way.
But the men, they might glance our way, but other than that…
Nothing.
What made that uneasiness start to shift to worry was when my wonder at my surroundings began to wear off and the fact that I sensed there was absolutely no joy or even liveliness started to drift in.
Indeed, the air was void of it.
It was incredibly odd, especially in a place of such beauty, apparent prosperity and obvious ingenuity.
I did not, by far, expect it to be the happiest place on earth.
It was, after all, a city whose women rose up and slayed the men who were their masters, then fled to become the Nadirii Sisterhood.
But this was unexpected, disturbing.
Further, it didn’t appear any of the citizens were suffering under siege. No one looked haggard. And still, although the harbor had been freed very recently, there was no response.
There was no cheer that their monarch and his son were amongst them, had secured the harbor, the four ships docked there bringing supplies.
There were no jeers either.
Not even at the sight of me riding alongside their prince caused a reaction.
A Nadirii in their midst (actually, three of us with twenty more riding at our rear).
I received some glances, many (from men, obviously, the women didn’t even look our way) baleful.
But other than that…
There was nothing.
Yes, this was troubling.
When we finally made it to the tall, austere iron gates that guarded the switchbacked lane that led up to the Citadel, all my admiration at all that was Sky Bay had leaked from me.
So much, I felt actually drained.
I wanted to race up the jagged lane, drag Cassius off his horse, into that castle, be certain Jazz and Hera and Cassius’s men made it in with us, and barricade the doors against that air, that mood, that atmosphere.
And then take Cassius to bed, not for enjoyable activities.
To hold him tightly to me, absorb his strength, the depth of his need to protect (which had to be the depth of his ability to love, which was bottomless) and infuse him with anything light and sunny and cheerful and good.
Anything.
Even just a whisper.
He had often called his home bleak and miserable.
He did not mean the look of it.
He meant this.
The fact that the very air seemed permeated, heavy, even clogged with despair.
I did not race up the lane.
I had to stay alert.
There were soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, lining each side of that lane, wearing their black battle leathers and slate-colored wool mantles, staring at us under their shining black helmets with long, lethal-tipped lances pointed to the sky and held tucked to their shoulders.
We could be felled in a trice.
But not a one of them moved, nary an inch. I didn’t witness one so much as twitch.
What I did was wonder why they weren’t fighting the radicals that were laying siege to the city for that lane was long in its rise up to the fortress. There were easily hundreds of them.
However, they just stood at attention for their king and their prince, their leathers, lances and helmets pristine.
Odd and not a small amount of unsettling.
I noted Cassius didn’t feel that way.
But upon glancing behind me, I saw Frey and Lahn, both visibly alert and openly taking in the lines of warriors, absolutely did.
At the top, dead center in a large, stately courtyard paved in smooth cobbles and dotted at the sides with some shrubs that were not pleasing-to-the-eye hints of nature in this dark stone landscape, but precisely trimmed in squat cone and pyramid shapes, sat an enormous fire pit that raged with orange flames.