These Ivory Swords

| Chapter Four |

A glorified castle.

That is what stood before Iliya as she lingered along the gravel path, falling out of step with Mairin to gape.

After traveling for what felt like four to five hours, she was thirsty, exhausted, and overwhelmed by her own looming thoughts. They'd barely spoken in their travels, yet she could tell the spy was still peeking over her shoulder from time to time, observing her.

Just when she thought she couldn't take another moment of their endless trudging through mountainous hills and pine forests, they entered a clearing wrapped in stone walls and iron gates.

Iron.

To keep his own people out.

Iliya gasped at the ancient architecture, marveling at the beautiful estate.

Two stone pyres – one coming to a point and the other with a flat, grooved platform – stretched out of a two story mansion. Even with the property shielded by the Izskavi forest, giant evergreens stretching over the highest point, this massive building felt more like a home than a castle.

Iliya's gaze flickered to the wide exterior corridors skirting the stone walls, sweeping overhangs guarding outdoor hallways like she'd never seen before. The architecture made her smile to herself.

"Let's go."

Her attention snapped back to the disgruntled spy. Mairin's arms were crossed, her hip leaning against one of the many columns fortifying the mansion. Impatience distorted her features.

She was tempted to leave her standing there for another few seconds, until she noticed horses tied to a banister and dipped into her curiosity.

Slinking up the stairs, Iliya followed her inside.

An ornate, antique Foyer gave way to a sitting room on the right. Portraits lined the walls above a fireplace cavity, lodged in the corner with two chairs, an ottoman fixed between them.

"You're welcome to wait here," Mairin mused, smirking over her shoulder. "I can't promise he'll remember to fetch you though."

Irritation prickled through Iliya's skull, but she kept silent, remembering how simple it was to string up the spy in front of her. Surely she could do it again if need be.

As they stalked towards a grand doorway, Mairin pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the sound of shattered glass.

Iliya blinked.

"This is not right! They are hunting on our land!" a man shouted.

"You've no proof of this," a smooth voice wended through the room like a rolling tide. Deep and powerful. "I would need to delegate resources an—"

"Then delegate! Send surveyors to the land, take witness statements, inventory the–"

That deep tone snorted. "Would you like to be King, Chieftain?"

Silent tension choked the air.

"Please continue to tell me how to do my job," he drawled, a subtle lilt curving his vowels. Bored. This man was certifiably bored. "I thought so. I'll send my Ambassador to the Wildlands for investigation but you'll need to provide a way through the wards."

"And risk the lives of my people?"

"Gods, Ashej," a woman sniped. "How is anyone supposed to believe you if you're so inflexible?"

Ashej – the Chieftain – swore.

The tension warmed Iliya's cheeks as Mairin pressed open the door quietly and ushered them in.