Hunter of Midnight

Ch.6 Truth Above All

My body is shaking and far beyond confused. I have the rising panic that chokes me as it lodges itself in my throat, yet I also have Bula's reassuring hand squeezing my own. This time when we pass though the castle halls, I feel dizzy, like at any moment my head will just spin right off of my body.

Before we left the bathing chamber, Bula had me thrown into a loose white tunic, black pants, and black leather shoes. When I'd commented on how loose the shirt and pants were, Bula had looked concerned and assured me they were in the smallest size. With no other options and no time left, Bula dragged me from the room and down the maze of halls. Now, approaching what she told me were the throne room doors, the reassurance is gone and the panic is all that stays.

It grows stronger when we stop in front of the door. I feel cold and clammy, like I'm either going to faint or toss up the whole lot of nothing I have in my stomach. Daring a glance between Bula and the door, I shut my eyes and make to remove my hand from hers. I haven't known her for very long, but I need her comfort. I want so desperately to ask her to come in with me, for her to stay with me, but I know it's not my place. Whatever lies behind this door, I have to deal with it alone. Just like how I've dealt with everything else on my own.

"Ari," Bula's voice breaks me from my panicked trance. She squeezes my hand, giving me a sweet smile. "I can go in with you if you'd like, sweetheart."

I want to say yes, the word is just there on the tip of my tongue, but I swap it last second. "N-no Bula," I gulp, "it's alright..."

Bula sighs, staying at my side and squeezing my hand tighter as she nods to the guards. When the doors start to open and we go to walk through, she squeezes my hand again and whispers, "You are a bad liar."

We walk into the throne room, and I am beyond speechless. I'd never—likely not ever in a million years—seen the inside of the manor that belonged to the Lord of Kavia, though if I had to make a guess, it would never in a million years compare to the sight before me. Before entering, I believed to be on the verge of faint. Seeing the throne room now, the people standing on the dais before me, I feel it stronger than before.

The columns of white stone are brushed with bronze, carved to look like massive and unyielding trees which gave way to a glamorous stained glass roof above. Images of people, Gods I realized, were depicted above me. The stone beneath my feet was a white so clean I would've thought I was walking on snow if I didn't know any better. It was polished so finely it was like a mirror, reflecting any and all that it saw. The windows stretched tall, their panes clean and clear, green velvet curtains pulled back and away from the view of the outside.

On the dais, right in its center, sat a throne of bronze. Like the columns in the room, it was twisted and carved like the branches of trees, pink and green shaded crystals serving as its leaves and its blossoms. On the throne sat a woman, slender and graceful. Her jaw was rounded, to an extent, yet somehow seemed sharp. It, like her eyes, were crisp and sharp, like freshly cut glass. Her eyes are beyond vivid, reminding me of the sunflower fields that sprung up around Kavia within those first days of summer. By no means was her skin fair. It seemed dusted with bronze, a golden glow highlighting her sharpened cheek bones. From between the braids of her woven, honeycomb colored hair were two pointed ears.

Unlike Bula's and Tundra's they went straight up, as if confirming she was of a higher power. I knew instantly upon seeing those sharpened ears of what she was, I'd heard tales of these folk before. The Fae. All at once, her other features made sense; her sharpened eyes, jawline, and cheekbones, the slenderness of her body, and the powerful gaze with which she stared at me.

My legs began to shutter, and I felt my mouth go bone dry. I'd heard tales of the Fae from the women and men in Kavia alike. Tales from the women talked of violent and vicious males that would kidnap young girls to be their brides, and of wicked females that would snatch up naughty little boys and feast on their flesh and bones. Tales from the men talked of their cunningness, their brutality and strength. From them I heard tales of treachery and murder.