Selivia had spent time in the Far Plains, another vast desert, but it had seemed wild and unique, with strange creatures creeping among the rocks and brightly colored banners fluttering from the buildings. This place felt dead.
“Why do people live here?” she muttered. “Why did I agree to live here?”
“The coastal cities will be better, Princess,” said Fenn, who perched behind her on Mav’s back. “It’s not all like this.”
“I hope not.”
Selivia couldn’t help feeling apprehensive as she crossed the sunbaked center of her new home. She had originally planned to hug the coast the whole way to Sharoth, but after the incident in Fork Town and the animosity she’d sensed in Pendark, she decided not to delay any longer. Relations among the southern kingdoms had become fragile, and she needed to find out why.
She never imagined Fork Town could become so hostile so quickly. Heath had been right to worry. She wished she’d had time to apologize for not listening before rushing off.
Selivia put Heath out of her mind deliberately, her thoughts turning to what she would find in Sharoth, the capital city located on the peninsula’s southern coast. There had been no letter from Latch waiting in Fork Town to confirm whether or not she should complete her journey. She had been debating whether to remain in Fork Town to wait for word when the incident with the dragon decided the matter. She had to find out why the southern lands had become so volatile.
As Mav glided onward over the parched earth, Fenn hung on behind Selivia with her usual placidity. She wasn’t the type to fret, but she’d spent extra time sharpening her short sword throughout their journey. She must be nervous about what they’d find in Soole too.
Eventually the desolate land sloped upward to a stubby mountain range. Scattered mines and bleak mountain towns were the only signs of civilization. After a straight flight over the mountains, four days after leaving Fork Town, they approached the capital city of Sharoth.
As Mav flew down from the mountains, Selivia wiped the dust from her eyes and got her first glimpse of her new home.
From afar, the city of Sharoth blended in with the landscape thanks to red clay tiles covering many of the rooftops. As they got nearer, the walls were revealed to be of the purest white stone. Balconies protected by lacy wooden screens adorned many of the houses, and all the screens, doorframes, and window shutters were painted in tasteful colors. The sea spread blue and calm beyond the neat lines of the city. Compared to the muddy chaos of Pendark, the Soolen capital was a work of art.
“Okay, maybe I understand why people live here now,” Selivia said as she admired the city nestled between the mountains and the sea. A cool wind blew in off the water, providing blessed relief after their hot journey. She was looking forward to resting at the royal palace and then perhaps going for a dip in the famously temperate waters. And trying Soolen rawfish! There were plenty of things to look forward to here. Most importantly, she would get to see Latch after all this time. Her stomach gave an anxious flutter at the thought.
Mav glided over the red clay roofs toward their destination, the Soolen royal palace. It was an elegant structure, crafted with a careful symmetry that was even more apparent from the air. The white stone walls were carved with subtle designs that changed the aesthetic of the building as the afternoon shadows lengthened. It was defensible too. Pretty wooden screens hid armed soldiers guarding the high walls around the palace proper.
This was where Latch stayed whenever he was in Sharoth, where they would live together after their marriage. Selivia’s stomach churned, her nerves asserting themselves more insistently as she got closer to her betrothed. She hoped they still liked each other.
Mav flew lower, heading for the palace walls. At the last moment, it occurred to Selivia that the residents of the palace might not be expecting her. Perhaps Latch had sent a letter asking her to wait a little longer. It could have gotten lost on its way to Fork Town.
“Wait, Mav. We should go to the gates first and—”
Before she could finish, Mav snorted impatiently and flew right over the palace walls. Shouts rose from the guards as his shadow swept over them. Faces turned upward to follow his flight. Sunlight flashed on swords and spears.
Mav landed in an inner courtyard with a large garden. Tables paired with large blue umbrellas were scattered around the garden, many of them occupied by men and women enjoying iced beverages in the shade. The people stared up at the massive true dragon, shocked into silence at his sudden appearance.
Mav roared a jubilant greeting, and the people began leaping to their feet, knocking over their drinks, and scrambling backward, as if they expected him to begin rampaging among the tables. One woman fainted dead away. Mav gave a throaty chuckle.
“Really, Mav,” Selivia muttered. “Didn’t anyone teach you manners?”
She slid off Mav’s back and strode forward, not allowing her confidence to waver. Fenn scrambled off the dragon with less grace behind her.
Most of the people gasping and clutching at their hearts appeared to be nobles. They had been lounging beneath the blue umbrellas while servants carried trays of cold drinks among them. The Soolens—including many of the women—wore long, flaring vests and trousers tucked into high-topped boots, and both men and women kept their black hair long.
They all gaped at her, unsure what to do about the dragon in their midst.
“I am Princess Selivia Amintelle of Vertigon,” she announced. “Would someone please inform Lord Latch Brach I have arrived?”
The nobles exchanged worried glances, a current of tension weaving among them. No one spoke. This wasn’t quite the reception Selivia had been hoping for. Her face and clothes were covered in red dust, and she must not look like much of a princess.
“Can anyone direct me to Lord Latch’s rooms?”
The Soolens continued to stare at her—well, at her and at Mav looming impressively behind her. He was rather distracting.
Selivia was beginning to regret announcing herself when a woman wearing a long vest over flowing white trousers approached her with deliberate steps.
“Welcome, Princess Selivia. I am the steward Piersha. Apologies, but we did not know you were arriving today. We’d have prepared a proper welcome.”
“Oh, I don’t need any fuss,” Selivia said, trying for a breezy tone despite the uneasiness burbling through her. “Is Latch here?”
“Forgive me, Princess.” The steward smoothed her vest, which was already perfectly straight. “Lord Latch has not been seen in weeks. We thought perhaps he had gone to meet you.”
Selivia froze. “What do you mean, he ‘hasn’t been seen’?”
Piersha glanced around the courtyard. All the nobles and servants were watching them, and a group of guards had surrounded Mav—albeit from a safe distance. Fenn’s hand hovered near her sword hilt.
“Perhaps we should go inside,” Piersha said. “Queen Rochelle will want to see you.”
“Very well.”
Selivia gave Mav a few quiet instructions, then she and Fenn followed the woman to an ornately carved stone archway leading into the palace. She kept her head high, holding on to her confident bearing by a hair. She felt the touch of a hundred eyes on her back.
They entered a wide hall that was dark and blessedly cool after the sunlit desert. The palace interior was tastefully decorated in elegant neutrals with the occasional burst of color: a delicate blue vase, a vermilion carpet, or a stained-glass window. A strain of music drifted through the corridor, creating an air of dignity and sophistication. Selivia felt grubby and out place in her dusty traveling clothes. She really should have freshened up before dropping into the royal palace like a baby bird falling out of a nest.