Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(20)

“It looks… basic,” Resven said.

Miralitt raised her eyes for a fraction of a second. “It looks strategically sound. No place to hide. One group at a time?”

Sean nodded. It was a simple plan – we would welcome each delegation and channel them down the appropriate hallway into their chambers, sealing it behind them.

“How long do you need between the groups?” she asked.

“Fifteen minutes would be ideal,” I told her.

“We can do better than that,” she said. “I can give you an hour between each party.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. Please follow me,” I told them.

We started across the chamber toward the main door.

“Why stone?” Resven asked. “Why this particular shade?”

“Because it’s radically different from anything found in the Dominion’s capital,” I explained. “It will immediately reassure the guests that the transition has occurred, while its perceived age will command a certain respect.”

“How old is it?” Resven asked.

“I made it yesterday,” Sean told him.

We entered a stone hallway. Tiny constellations of lights flared as we approached, illuminating the way.

“The Sovereign is very particular when it comes to his accommodations,” Resven said. “Sophistication. Refinement. Dignity. Those are the key concepts of the Capital design. Have you familiarized yourself with Lady Wexyn Dion-Dian?”

“Yes,” I said. Lady Wexyn was one of the spouse candidates.

Resven turned to me and paused, so I would understand the full gravity of what he was about to say. “The opposite of that!”

“Lady Wexyn is a free spirit,” Miralitt said.

“She is an agent of chaos and entropy,” Resven said. “The woman has no decorum, tact, or restraint.”

“It is my understanding that Lady Wexyn is sponsored by one of the White Rose Cluster Temples,” Sean said. “Which one?”

“Was that not in the summary?” Resven asked.

“No.”

“She’s sponsored by the Temple of Desire,” Miralitt said.

Nothing changed in Sean’s face, but I knew him better than they did. The name of temple was important, and it clearly meant something to him.

“The theme must be one of elegant opulence,” Resven said. “Graceful, restrained, tasteful, never ostentatious, yet also not cheap. Nothing vivid like the otrokar’s barbaric decorations. Nothing drab or blood-soaked like those favored by the Holy Anocracy…”

I chanced a quick glance at Miralitt. Her upper lip rose a fraction betraying a glimpse of a fang. Yep, vampire blood.

“Nothing garish. Nothing vulgar. Nothing…”

We stepped into the main ballroom. The floor was a soft cream with just a touch of sheen. The same shade tinted the walls and against that backdrop silver geometric patterns climbed and twisted in a trademark Dominion mosaic, accented with drops of gold and aquamarines in the corners, as if a ghost of luxury had floated by and brushed them with her phantom hand.

Tall windows interrupted the walls, their angles crisp, spilling sunlight into the space. Between them, at a height of ten-feet, square planters dripped vines with leaves carved from pale green chrysoberyl. The vines bore clusters of delicate golden flowers Gertrude Hunt had shaped from pale amber and berries of golden pearls.

At the far end of the chamber a raised rectangular platform rose, accessible by five steps. On the platform stood the spire throne, an asymmetric, ergonomic chair, formed from the same material as the floor and the walls. Strands of gold slipped through it, with flecks of aquamarines winking here and there. The throne looked like it had grown from the chamber itself, an unmovable part of it.

Resven clicked his mouth shut.

“It’s almost as if they know what they are doing,” Miralitt said.

“Domicile of the Sun,” I said.

Sean moved his hand. The floor and walls darkened to a deeper purple blue, bringing the geometric pattern into focus. Astronomical symbols of the Dominion ignited above the throne in pale turquoise. A glowing constellation of nine stars – the replica of the Dominion itself – descended from the ceiling, illuminating the chamber in soft white glow. The massive purple moon of the Capital slipped onto the darkened sky on the left side.

“Domicile of the Moon,” Sean said.

Miralitt clapped quietly. “Respect.”

“You are too kind,” I said and turned to Resven.

The chancellor looked about for a few seconds. His gaze met mine.

“I suppose this will do,” he said.





Sean settled deeper into the couch and stretched his legs, and the inn thoughtfully grew an ottoman under his feet before they had a chance to hit the floor. “Resven is going to be a pain in the ass.”

I slumped on the soft cushions. We were in the small break room we had made off the grand ballroom so we wouldn’t have to walk too far. It was furnished with couches that felt like clouds and I loved them to pieces.

“He manages the entirety of the Capital palace, all 20 million square feet of it. Being a pain in the ass is in his job description.”

My feet hummed. It wasn’t even an ache, it was this odd throbbing vibration. I was so tired.

“I thought the half vampire would stab him,” Sean said and smiled. “That would have been fun to watch.”