She clears her throat. “Don’t you have more to do as King?”
“I cancelled all of my appointments today,” I explain, sliding across the bench so I’m directly across from her.
“Can you do that?” She looks surprised.
I place a hand on her knee and squeeze lightly. “The country was stagnant for a thousand years; it can be stagnant for another day.”
Verity blushes softly and falls silent as we pass through the castle gates. The road to Desmarais is a decline, lined with tall trees and lamplights. There are a few wagons trundling down the road, returning from bringing goods to the castle. Verity leans forward, her face halfway out the window so she can take it all in. I feel a pang of regret that this is the first time verity has been out of the castle walls with permission. She was trapped like a little bird for so long. But there was no helping it; the Bloodbane witches would have killed her otherwise.
The wagons pull off the road to allow us to pass, they recognize the royal sigil on the doors. The castle slowly disappears above us, perched on a cliff that overlooks the city. Verity peers up at it, taking in the buttresses and elegant towers.
“Verity,” I say softly as the scent of delicate spices reaches my nose. She turns at the sound of my voice and her eyes widen as she notices the sight laid out before her. “Welcome to Desmarais, the City of Glass.”
Her lips are parted softly as we enter the outskirts of the city. The City of Glass is not named so because of its architecture or building materials, but rather because of the bright and pearlescent light that shines in the night and day. It glows merrily with lamplight that reflects off of the white stucco of the buildings. Verity’s hands clutch the windowsill as she stares at the crowds of Fae wandering through the shopping streets. The road is lined with buildings packed side by side with large windows displaying baked goods, jewels, clothes, and more. Fae children dart between the carriages that wander down the road. She gasps at the sight of them and points.
I laugh. “Yes, there are children.”
“How old?” She asks, her voice breathless with delight.
I peek out the window and squint at the children. “I would guess maybe seventy-five years old.”
“Seventy-five,” she echoes. She bursts into bright laughter and my heart warms at the sound. “They’re older than me.”
“It’s been a long time since I heard you laugh,” I murmur.
She glances at me, startled, and then bites her lip. “It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed at all.”
Wordlessly, I move across the carriage to sit beside her. She edges closer to the wall, away from me, pain lances through my chest but I try to ignore the subtle distance. I lean over her and point out the window, showing her the different sights of Desmarais.
“What’s that?” Verity asks, pointing to a tall, white spire in the distance.
“That’s the Library of Desmarais,” I say. “It has the greatest collection of knowledge in the world.”
“I thought your private library was impressive,” she whistles softly. “I’d love to see it.”
I smile. A visit to the library would be perfect for Verity. “Perhaps another day, they aren’t open to the public. Even I have to arrange a visit beforehand.”
“But you’re the King,” she says incredulously.
“Yes, but they’re the librarians.” I grin, nudging her shoulder gently. I peek out the window in time to see the window display of a famous jeweler in Desmarais. “Driver, stop here please.”
The carriage rolls to a stop and Verity looks around, worry bunching her brows. “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to visit one of my favorite stores,” I say, opening the door and crawling around her. I hop out of the carriage and onto the cobblestones. Verity bites her lip but takes my outstretched hand to leave the carriage.
“Is it alright for you to walk around like this? Out in the open?” She asks softly as the crowds of Fae go quiet.
They stare as we stride past. I lean close to her ear and when I speak, she shivers pleasantly. “Fae don’t bite. Except on occasion,” I tease her.
She purses her lips, glaring at me for a moment before suddenly lurching to the side. Panic flares in my belly as Verity presses herself into me, a soft whimper escaping her lips. I turn furious eyes on the Fae who startled her. But it’s only an elderly Fae woman draped in a light shawl. I resist the urge to bare my teeth and, instead, only throw a protective arm around Verity.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” the woman says in a lilting voice. “I didn’t mean to startle her. I only wanted to thank the Curse-Breaker.”
Verity stiffens at the name. I run my thumb over her arm to soothe her. “Lady Chastain,” I say to the Fae. “You may call her Lady Chastain.”
“Lady Chastain, you have my gratitude.” The woman’s voice trembles.
Verity nods. “It was nothing,” she stammers.
Without another word, I lead Verity away from the Fae woman. Slowly, the Fae turn their attention away from us, having gotten their fill of the King and his Curse-Breaker. Verity detaches herself from me, wincing as pain lances through her belly. I glance back at the carriage, where her cane is tucked away.
“I’ll get your cane,” I say, turning away partially.
She latches onto my arm. “No,” she says firmly. “I’m fine.”
“Verity,” I
