The light in the sky faded, and as it grew dim, Tahki saw the faintest bit of red sun reflect through the low clouds and bounce off the walls. He’d never seen a castle shine before. It frustrated him that he couldn’t identify the material. The black spires looked thin and sharp enough to prick open the sky. He counted seven spires in total. The castle, perched on a cliff’s edge, looked as though it had been built over a waterfall. He hoped it hadn’t.
Something about the stark silhouette held him. His eyes couldn’t break away. Suddenly, he felt his body jerk back, and he saw Rye holding on to his arm so tight it pinched his skin.
“Let go,” Tahki said.
Rye appeared annoyed. “Watch where you’re going.”
Tahki pinched his brow and then glanced to his left. His toes almost touched the edge of the cliff. Another step and he would have gone over. He stumbled backward into Rye. Rye steadied him and then pushed him away.
“You won’t last long here if you’re daydreaming all the time,” Rye said.
Tahki should have said thanks, but Rye would probably roll his eyes and call him a moron again.
He steered away from the cliff and made sure to focus on where his feet landed.
GALE MADE to part ways with them before they reached the castle.
“You don’t live in the castle?” Tahki asked.
“No, I don’t live in the castle.”
“Why not?”
She jabbed one bony finger into his chest. “Explaining myself to you is not something I need to do.”
Before she shuffled away, Rye snatched her sleeve. “Are you sure about this?” he asked her.
“You have to trust me,” she said.
Rye let her go. “If you say so.” And then she was gone.
Tahki followed as Rye led the way. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Gale is the last person in Vatolokít you need to worry about.”
“But where will she go?”
“She lives below the cliff in a small home she built herself,” Rye said. “She says the castle gets too drafty. And she needs her own space.”
“What did she mean when she said, ‘You have to trust me’?”
“We’d get there faster if you didn’t ask so many questions.” Then after a moment, he said, “She and I had a disagreement.”
“Over what?”
“You.”
Tahki let out an indignant huff. “Gods, what did I do?”
Rye turned toward him. He gave him the same kind of pointed look as before, and Tahki wondered if he’d said something wrong.
“She thought you’d be good for this job.” Rye faced the path ahead. “I didn’t.”
At that, Tahki realized nothing he could say or do would get Rye to like him, so there was no point in trying.
When they reached the castle, he noticed a river flowing beside and beneath it. If he knew his geography right, that river was called the Misty River. It ran all the way from the Calaridian Sea to the other side of the continent, and it looked like the castle had been built overtop of it. Water fell over the edge of the cliff. A waterwheel had been built beside the castle over the river. Why anyone would want their home on top of a river, on top of a waterfall, was beyond him.
He took a deep breath and tried not to let his anxiety show. Rye already seemed to think so little of him. He didn’t need to know how terrified Tahki was of drowning.
The entryway arched fifteen feet above his head. Two solid doors made of dark wood rose before him. The light had nearly gone now, and no candles burned inside. Outside, someone had crumpled lightning roots into a ball and stuck them in a lantern. They flickered blue and sputtered as a breeze rattled the lantern.
Motion inside caught Tahki’s eye. He craned his head so far back the skin on his neck pinched. Something moved behind one of the high windows. Tahki squinted, and that’s when he saw her. The palest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The people of Vatolokít were fair-skinned, but he still hadn’t seen anyone who compared to her. She looked drained of blood, her face gaunt. Though he couldn’t see her eyes, he swore she looked directly at him.
He shuddered as Rye yanked the door opened. They stepped inside. He could smell a fire burning somewhere, but cool drafts slid along the white marble floor, keeping the inside chilly. Rye stretched his arms, the first attempt at relaxation Tahki’d seen.
Stepping inside the castle felt like stepping inside the belly of a whale. Though spacious, the walls somehow seemed to press in around him, the high windows watching through half-lidded eyes, as though the castle might try to digest him if he stood in one place too long. A sharp scent hit his nose, like someone had burned coffee. The air, too, tasted thick, like it had sat too long undisturbed.
He shook the feelings away and slid his hand along one glassy wall, his fingers massaging the hard surface.
“Obsidian?” Tahki said. “That’s a strange choice.” The volcanic glasslike stone was used in many northern countries for jewelry and statues, but never for buildings.
“It’s mixed with other minerals,” Rye said.
“You can’t mix obsidian. It’s too fragile.”
Rye raised an eyebrow. “You know best.”
Tahki felt like rolling his eyes. Instead, he studied the room they’d entered. He couldn’t see the ceiling but imagined it came to a point where the spires rose. Black columns held up the second floor. A row of doors stood to the left. In the center, a wide staircase led to the next floor. The walls were black, the floors white. Not so much as a colored vase to brighten the entryway.
Tahki looked up and noticed a circular room hung on the third floor, over the center of the castle. An odd design choice, but not as odd as the lack of castle paraphernalia. Tahki
