A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 2)

When I saw the medieval architecture of the castle, I thought perhaps they would be old fashioned with women in gowns and men in breeches, stockings, and waistcoats. Instead, the fashion—at least on the females—is modern and outlandish all at the same time. The females wear dresses for the most part, but they absolutely look like some of the bizarre couture outfits seen on models walking the high-fashion runways.

“I feel like we’re walking into the Hunger Games Capital,” I muttered to Carrick, but he didn’t respond.

We pass one woman in a peach dress that is nothing but layer upon layers of foamy-looking ruffles that practically swirl around her. Across her bodice, over her shoulders, and around her back to make sort of a halo hood around her head and then back down to her knees. Truly, I can only see her face peeking out, which is done in precise yet bold makeup. Below her knees, she wears some type of hosiery that is studded with peach-colored gemstones. Her stride is effortless in platform heels that must be six inches in height.

I can’t help but look over my shoulder as she passes by so I can see the back of that concoction she’s wearing, but I promptly run into something big, hard, and immobile.

Bouncing backward, I turn to see what I hit, an apology already on my lips. It dies as soon as I spot a massive fae dressed in black leather pants, solid boots that are meant to crush ribs, and a black leather vest. His hair is long and black, and his eyes are, too. Not even any white showing.

He growls at me, reaching one arm behind his back. To my dismay, he pulls out a double-sided ax that must have been holstered there.

“Human,” he snarls. How I don’t pee my pants is beyond me. I’m stunned and frozen, and it never occurs to me to pull out my whip or dagger.

Luckily, Carrick is there, placing himself right in front of me. The fae has a good five inches on Carrick. I’m betting he also has double the arm and leg circumference. He has muscles growing on top of muscles.

The man’s eyes light on Carrick, and he immediately takes a wary step back. I can’t see Carrick’s expression, and I have to peek around him to the left to see the fae, who is lowering his weapon to point to the ground.

“This woman is under my protection,” Carrick announces, not just to the brute of a fae who I know without a doubt would have sliced me in half without an ounce of regret, but loud enough that any fae walking or flying by can hear. “An insult to her is an insult to me. An affront to her is an affront to me. I suggest you pass this word along as I don’t relish spilling your black blood in the queen’s home.”

The fae starts walking backward, almost tripping over a gnome, before pivoting away and melting into the crowd.

“Damn,” I drawl in appreciation. “You have some major clout here.”

“Or I just talk a big game,” Carrick suggests drolly.

Perhaps to avoid this again, he ends up taking my hand in his. He urges me to walk close to his side as we make our way across the inside bailey and up a set of marbled steps to the front double doors. They’re massive, at least twelve feet in height, and each door appears to be molded from silver and inlaid with chunks of more of the white crystal.

Before we can knock or even look for a doorbell, the left door swings slowly open and a male fae appears. He’s also big, but not as big as the guy with the ax. His dress suggests he’s military as he has white pants tucked into black boots and a blood-red jacket with gold epaulets on the shoulders. It’s rather a sedate ensemble compared to what I’ve seen.

“Carrick,” the man says in a deep rumble. It’s a greeting and clearly Carrick is well known here.

“Rebsha,” Carrick replies. “I’d like an audience with the queen.”

The fae’s eyes come to me and I’m slightly surprised by the lack of hostility there, but he doesn’t say anything. I wonder if he somehow heard Carrick’s proclamation in the bailey, or if he knows Carrick well enough to realize I wouldn’t be with him without sound reason.

He takes a few steps back, then bids us inside with a sweep of his hand. As the door shuts behind us, I’m momentarily stunned by how cavernous the inside of the castle is. The ceiling goes up probably a hundred feet, and it slopes inward on all sides like the inside of a cathedral.

I immediately realize the inside structure doesn’t match the squared exterior we walked into. My assumption is magic makes the exterior look a certain way to appease the queen, and the interior a different way for the same reason.