State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(76)
She’d bought him a set of clay paints, three brushes, and a small sketch pad. She didn’t know why, only that she’d wanted him to have them, because once he’d wanted to be an artist and maybe it wasn’t too late. She wanted to give him something to thank him. Something to give him the hope he’d given her. The same kind of friendship. For the first time since she’d lost Rasmus, life felt as though it had something worth fighting for in it again that was more than revenge. Something long-term.
Adavaria
Adavaria was a maze of dense stone streets and cobbled pavements, so different to Rhannon, and Sorrow drank it all in. Where Rhannish houses and shops were usually squat, white buildings, spaced apart to help the heat escape, Rhyllian buildings were tall, at least two storeys, pressed together in rows with only the occasional alley to separate them. Chimneys emerged from the slate roofs, perches for the maglings – dark, small birds that were considered pests by the Rhyllians, but that Sorrow, who’d never seen them before, found oddly sweet.
It was a pretty town, Sorrow realized, as they moved slowly along, progress hampered by pedestrians and other carriages. Doorsteps were scrubbed clean, lined with mats decorated with Rhyllian script. Outside one door a fat orange cat lazed, watching the carriage with an unimpressed look on its squashed face. The doors themselves were painted brightly; cheerful curtains framed windows that housed window boxes full of flowers Sorrow didn’t know the names of. There were wreaths of flowers on every door too, and Luvian told her they’d been made especially for the Naming, and would be tossed down to carpet the streets when the queen and her husband took baby Aralie on her first tour of the country.
Sorrow admired it all. It would be easy to make Rhannish towns look as lovely as these, and she asked Luvian to add it to her plans.
People turned curiously as the carriage made its way along the wide streets, pointing it out to each other, some even waving. At Luvian’s quiet command Sorrow waved back, surprised when the people responded, more of them turning, coming out of their homes and from shops to see what the fuss was about.
“I wonder if we could do the same thing on the way home,” Luvian said, pulling out his ever-present notebook.
“Here? Or in Rhannon?” Sorrow remembered the Sons of Rhannon, and thought of all the things that could be thrown at her, or fired at her, as she leant out of a carriage.
He looked thoughtful. “Yes, in Rhannon too. Dain will be there, and it’ll make you look confident and unafraid. Good leadership qualities.”
“Great,” Sorrow said through her teeth as she smiled out at the rows of Rhyllians.
By the time they arrived at the castle, both of Sorrow’s arms ached from waving. They drew up to the gates, and Luvian gave their names to the forbidding-looking guard who approached the carriage with a slim folder in his hands, crossing them off as he found their names on the list within.
“Who’s that?” He nodded to Dain.
“My bodyguard, Dain…” Sorrow realized she had no idea if Dain was a first name, a surname, or even a nickname.
“Dain Waters, sir,” Dain offered. “Commander Dain Waters.”
The man looked at his list. “We weren’t expecting a third member of the second Rhannish party.”
“Surely we’re not the first to bring staff?” Luvian said.
“You’re the first not to tell us,” the Rhyllian said, deadpan.
“She’s a new addition,” Sorrow said. “I don’t know if news reached you of the incident in Prekara two nights ago, but I was attacked. Commander Dain was assigned to me for my protection that night.”
The guard gave her a long look, and then silently passed the list, and a pen, through the window.
Sorrow wrote Dain’s name, and role, and where she was from, beneath her own details, and handed the folder back to the man, who read it, and then raised his hand to open the gates.
“Enjoy your stay, Miss Ventaxis.” The man’s voice was a fraction warmer as the carriage lurched to life and they entered the castle complex. “Welcome to Castle Adavaria.”
Castle Adavaria was situated on an island, at the end of a long, narrow drive over the water. Luvian leant out of the window, peering into the huge lake that surrounded the castle.
“What are you doing?” Sorrow asked.
“Legend has it there are merrow in there. Merpeople. They help guard the castle by sinking any boats that try to reach it and eating the sailors.”
“That’s not true.”
“Only one way to find out,” he grinned.
She didn’t believe him – surely Rasmus would have told her about it – but that didn’t stop Sorrow gazing out of the window too. She did feel safer here, though, she realized. No one could get to the castle over land without dealing with guards, and even if someone did manage to row across the lake, the fifteen-foot walls that bordered the island would deter anyone from trying to get into the castle, where they would only face more guards anyway.
Though the entire complex was referred to as “the castle”, it was actually multiple buildings acting as satellites around the main keep, which was home to the royal family. The keep was the oldest liveable part of Castle Adavaria, built as a replica of King Adavere’s castle, which had long since fallen victim to the weather. The rest of the complex was a hotchpotch of buildings: working spaces and chambers, guest quarters, the palaces of nobles who lived at court, servants’ housing, a theatre, and even a small market square, all showcasing centuries of Rhyllian architectural trends: pastel walls, soaring columns, exposed beams.