8. The Palace of Blackenroot.

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"My Prince, your hand…" she said quietly, a gentle reminder.

He let out a low growl. Could she not forget it—just for a moment—and let him hold her?

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"Alright, if that's what you want." He released her waist and gripped the reins with both hands instead. A shiver ran through him the moment her softness slipped from his touch.

He had liked the feel of her—soft, smooth—like silk beneath his fingers. It stirred something in him, something unfamiliar. No one had ever made him feel that way before, had ever cracked open a part of him he hadn't known existed.

The horse moved at a steady pace along the dense road. This part of the land had paths paved with marble, and the trees stood tall, their leaves curling and weaving into each other like a silent dance.

But she didn't see any of it, not really. Her eyes might have been fixed on the trees, but her mind was elsewhere—caught in the hollow space his touch had left behind. Even with his arms on either side of her, clutching the reins, it didn't feel the same as when he had held her waist.

She tried to ignore his low grunt as he rode, the soft rasp of his breath, the scent of him thick in the air—but it was overwhelming. It wrapped around her, pulled her in, threatened to consume her whole.

Thankfully, they emerged from the dense woodland and rode into open land where homes began to appear. But when her gaze lifted, a gasp escaped her lips.

It was as though the palace and its surrounding inhabitants lived in another realm—separate, untouched. Before the palace stood not a village, at least not one like hers. This was a town, grand and unlike anything she had ever known. The roads gleamed, carved entirely from crystal marble. There wasn't a single thatched hut, not even a rough stone dwelling. Every building shimmered in marble, like the earth itself had been carved into splendor.

They weren't using oil lanterns. The lamps lining the streets looked far more advanced, casting a steady glow that lit up every corner, leaving no shadow untouched.

But what startled her most was the life that pulsed through the streets—even at the heart of the night. People roamed freely. Maidens swayed their hips with purpose, as though each step was meant to catch a suitor's eye.

Their skirts shimmered, cut short, their dresses tight enough to reveal more than modesty allowed. Beads clung to their waists and necks—so many, they jingled with every movement. Their faces were dusted with white powder, softening their features into porcelain masks.

The men stood tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in fine kaftans and richly woven fabrics that spoke of wealth and status, and so were the elders.

Shops and roadside stalls lined the streets, bursting with color and life. Trays of food, baskets of fruit, bolts of fabric, and crafted wares stood proudly on display, as though the night itself had turned into a market of wonders.

"Woah." Her lips parted in awe as she stared, completely taken by the sight before her. So much so, she didn't notice the stares that followed them as they rode past. The people watched, eyes wide with curiosity—but Hereon paid them no mind.

When she finally noticed, a flicker of fear crossed her face. "Will they not recognize me?"

"They don't know what you look like," he said, urging the horse into a quicker gallop, as though to outrun their gazes. "They've only heard of you." It was the only road to the palace; if there had been another, he would have taken it.

Karina gasped. "They've heard about me?"

He threw her a quick glance. "Of course. You're one of a kind—who wouldn't know of you? Your voice carries the kind of power that can shift the world. That's far from ordinary."

She drew in a sharp breath. Then why had he brought her here? No matter how many times she tried to unravel it, she couldn't understand why he had chosen her to sing for him. Did he not fear the very power her voice held?

The rest of the road bloomed with flowers, but most were artificial. Karina could tell—her spirit always drew toward nature, but this... this stirred nothing in her.

At last, the palace came into view, and Karina couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips. Prince Hereon had been right—it was grand enough to hold the entire Blackenroot within its walls. The structure towered into the sky, both majestic and imposing.

 At its entrance stood a massive gate, slowly pushed open by a sturdy, mighty elephant, guided by the firm hands of royal guards.

The clash of metal and the thunderous stomp of the elephant's feet echoed through the air, a sound that rumbled like a distant storm.

The palace courtyard stretched so wide, it felt as though it wrapped around her completely. The grass was neatly trimmed, and as she walked along the path, fountains carved in the shape of lions lined both sides.

"My ancestors believed the lion is the king of all animals: a symbol of royalty and strength," he said as she took in the row of lion statues.

As they moved deeper into the courtyard, multiple paths appeared ahead, each leading to a different section of the palace—towering buildings that housed smaller structures within.

"My quarters," he said, guiding her toward a tall building tucked at the far end of the palace grounds.

She gasped at the sight. Unlike the other parts of the palace, where lights glowed in every corner, his wing held only a single lantern burning faintly at the entrance. Though it lit the steps, the tall building itself remained cloaked in shadow. Only the smaller surrounding structures were touched by light.

They dismounted. He helped her down, his hand firm around her waist—a reminder of just how strong his grip truly was.

"I shall take you to your quarters and introduce you to the head maiden," he said, extending his hand toward her. But she only stared at his face, unreadable. After a moment, he withdrew his hand. Displeased.

"And when does my task begin?" she asked, sarcasm lacing her voice. Now that she was here, her heart thudded so wildly, she questioned whether she could even go through with it.

"I shall call for you. For now, you need rest and food," he murmured.

She turned away with a frown. So now, she was to be caged—like a bird?

"Do you not like the palace?" he asked, one brow raised.

"I do, I... it's just—"

"Hereon." A voice sliced through their conversation, cutting her off.

They both turned toward the source as a figure approached, his steps light but deliberate.

"And who is this you've brought in at the dead of night?" he asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity.