Always To Ashes

Immortal Morality

Chapter Seven:

No sight had ever struck me in the same manner as the Red Palace. Home of the Coven Pure Bloods, it was a sight to behold. The outside was a wonder in itself, and the interior matched. The walls were bathed in gold, the domed ceiling swooping up to the skies, the floors marble. Even the air felt expensive.

Entering the Palace was quite the reprieve from the summer heat. Everything in here, from the crystal to the silk, was opulent and absolutely chilled. It felt fantastic. I wiped my hand across my forehead and fixed my hair, not wanting to be sweaty for the Founders.

“This way, if you’ll please,” said one of the debonairly dressed Chaser gentlemen who had escorted us in. He was gesturing down a long corridor opposite the entrance to the meeting hall where my trial had taken place, some weeks ago.

“I know my way around,” Chance replied shortly, giving the guy the brush off in order to lead the girls and me down the hall. My wedges tapped obnoxiously against the floors while the Chasers that surrounded me moved as soundlessly as spirits.

“How is it,” I began, my voice echoing down the empty corridor, “That you know this place so well?” Everything in my studies had indicated that Chaser presence in the Palace was uncommon.

“Chance grew up here,” Tabby answered for him, which I was sure would irk him. He hated being spoken for, but Tabby didn’t even seem to realize she was doing it. There was a nervous restlessness to her, a distance in her eyes that suggested her mind was elsewhere.

“Yeah. Palace brat,” Rowena chimed in, scowling childishly at Chance who didn’t even bother to roll his eyes in response. He was walking ahead of us with efficient, brisk steps.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, “I thought only the Founders lived in the Palace.”

“Well technically yes,” Tabby said absently, “But the Korol can take in whomever he likes, often his Premier.”

“Ah,” I vocalized my understanding, recalling from my lessons that the current Premier, or Head Chaser, was Chance’s father, Ulysses. It was a coveted position, being the Korol’s most trusted advisor. Only the mightiest of warriors were ever considered for such an honor.

“Everybody satisfied then?” Chance snapped without looking back, “Anything else you’d like to know about my family history? No? Fantastic. Let’s focus on the issue at hand then, shall we?” He made a sound like a growl as he spun around on his heels, causing us all to stop short. “Don’t mess this up, any of you.”

He pushed open a pair of ornate doors roughly, letting them swing violently on their hinges. He marched into the room, me following just behind him while Rowena and Tabby flanked his sides. They always seemed to move in formation that centered around me; like I was the weakest member of the herd.

We had entered a large dining hall and were currently staring down the length of a red clothed table. An elaborate chandelier of scarlet crystal hung above, rubies dripping off of it like blood. Archaic masterpieces lined the gold soaked walls and breathing statues occupied the chairs.

The stone creatures moved like normal people, but there skin was the white of snow that had yet to touch the ground. The only color in their faces stemmed from their glowing, crimson eyes.

Aside from their eyes and skin though, there was a lot of variety among the occupants. Things such as hair color and height varied, though they were all dressed elegantly. Nineteenth century top hats and ball gowns made appearances amidst the diamonds and silk ties.

At the head of the table sat Korol Abram, looking very much like a king holding court. Behind him stood Premier Ulysses, hands behind his back and slate eyes on the wall; he didn’t acknowledge his son. The indifference went both ways though; Chance didn’t spare his father a glance as he entered.