"Queens and commoners, princes and peasants, welcome to the party of the quincentury!"
For most people, receiving an invitation to the White King's Masquerade is an honor. Even attempting to attend is a chance to go down in history. But for Sol of M...
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Asriel led us through the courtyard, although with what seemed like superhuman speed, as I was panting by time we reached the ridiculous glass doors of the Coliseum. I mean they'd be huge, even for a giant.
The doors opened to an indoor garden, tall palm trees growing towards the constant skylight with glass vines growing around them. Some of the plants seemed to be completely encased in glass, yet still blooming beautifully. I could hear Fyn's gasps of awe. But Asriel didn't give us any time to fully take in the beauty. He knew what we were here for, and he knew what was at stake.
He led us up a flight of impressive imperial stairs into a foyer of sorts. Wooden beams were on each wall of the circular room, crossing over each other to form various arcs over us, adding a whimsical flair to the area. Various pieces of antique-looking wooden furniture were arranged tastefully around the room and appeared to be growing out of the glass. And there were people draped on the furniture.
"The representatives of the five other states," I whispered to myself.
Asriel's gaze flicked to me and he nodded. And the introductions began.
"Welcome to the Coliseum," he boomed. "I will give you a few moments to introduce yourselves and get acquainted. As you can see we are missing a member, so if you will please excuse me for a moment," he said, as he swept out of the room, through the large double doors at the back of the foyer.
"But we're eight already," a blonde girl sitting on a fauteuil asked confused.
"There are two High Valerians," Fyn replied gesturing to Pelias and Prince Syrion.
"But the rules sa-" she started.
"We High Valerians are not bound by the law of the White King" Pelias interrupted, turning up his nose even higher.
A blond boy standing by one of the beams rolled his eyes.
"I mean they still didn't let you bring two bags," Fyn muttered, which garnered a laugh from a white haired boy and caused Pelias to stare daggers at her.
"Well I'm not complaining," the blonde girl said as she got up gracefully and sashayed over to Prince Syrion. "Odelyn of Melvion, pleased to make your acquaintance."
She curtsied so low I was actually afraid she wouldn't be able to get back up.
I studied her as she batted her long eyelashes at him. She was pretty. People from Melvion usually are, but she was different, dressed appropriately yet elegantly with her ears were pierced in multiple places and from each one hung a gleaming piece of silver.
She had a delicate face with dainty features though. I'd have said pixie but she had the distinctive ears of an elf. And her catlike eyes widened then narrowed as her greeting was completely ignored by the prince.
But she didn't let it phase her. She simply spun to face Pelias as if he was the intended recipient.
The white haired boy sighed, evidently having lost interest in the exchange, and leapt up from his seat, making his way to stand in front of Fyn and I.
