All For Honor

CHAPTER 4

As we approached the High Lord of Valeverin's palace, another wave of awe swept over me, almost knocking the breath from my lungs. The structure rose majestically against the backdrop of rolling hills and dense, emerald forests with elegant spires piercing the sky. The cool, pale limestone of its towering walls were richly adorned with intricate golden cladding, sharply contrasting with the deep red rooftops, which gleamed in the golden light of the afternoon.

Ahead, a magnificent staircase stretched toward the entrance, flanked by rows of meticulously manicured hedges and statues carved with such precision they seemed poised to step from their pedestals. Above the grand entrance of the palace, an opulent stained glass mural drew my attention upward. The vibrant colors of the glass shimmered in the sunlight, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the stone floor below.

The center of the mural depicted a dark haired woman, her expression calm and poised with the smallest hints of a smile. Draped in a gown of shimmering gold, she looked almost ethereal, a goddess watching over the palace. Her outstretched arms seemingly placed to welcome all who entered.

Flanking her were two children. The little boy with tousled curls and a mischievous grin, reached for a soaring bird and the girl beside him held a bouquet of wildflowers, her wide eyes filled with wonder.

"Wow," I gasped.

Fenris chuckled, "It's something, huh?"

Fenris gave me a knowing smile before stepping forward, his boots echoing softly against the polished stone. I followed him, my eyes still lingering on the mural as we passed beneath it and crossed the threshold of the palace.

The inside was almost more impressive than the outside. The high ceilings seemed to stretch infinitely above us, supported by columns of smooth, pale stone that gleamed delicately in the soft glow of faelights hanging from golden chains. Fine paintings covered the halls. Some of bountiful harvests and others of rich green woods and tall white stags.

As we stepped further, I felt the weight of eyes on me. Fae attendants moved gracefully around the room, bowing their heads slightly as Fenris passed.

Fenris came to a halt at a pair of towering golden doors. He reached for the handle and looked at me with a reassuring smile, though I could see the flicker of something else in his eyes—nervousness, perhaps, or something deeper.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly, his voice losing some of its usual playfulness.

I nodded, swallowing the lump rising in my throat, "As I'll ever be."

With a firm push, Fenris opened the doors, revealing an expansive room bathed in warm light. At the far end of the hall sat a figure in an enormous gilded chair—no, a throne—a man whose presence seemed to fill every inch of space. This had to be the High Lord of Valeverin.

The man was imposing, impossibly regal, his deep red robes a stark contrast to the cascade of chestnut hair that fell to his shoulders. His sharp gaze landed on me as if pinning me in place, assessing, probing, with eyes that hinted at an intensity both calculating and absolute. His expression was quiet, almost unreadable, yet there was a force behind it—a controlled storm that made the hairs on my arms prickle. My pulse quickened, a whisper of fear curling in my stomach.

"Fenris," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, a deep rumble that held a lifetime of authority behind it. His gaze flickered to me, "This must be this year's tribute."

Fenris stepped forward, bowing slightly but with an ease that spoke of familiarity. "She is. This is Renata of Wolhaven," he said, his voice calm, respectful yet untroubled, like he was addressing an equal rather than the High Lord himself.