structure erected from stone, procured from the Deep Mines, but not before the surrounding city was built first. The palace was the final touch on the glimmering city in the Deeps, and its towers soared the highest of all the buildings in Mervidia. Flinn’s sister Cassondra raved about what she called the Royal Palace’s architecture, comparing its design to the homes of the other High Houses. Flinn didn’t care for all that technical jargon; he was happy to simply gaze appreciatively upon the fluid lines that seemed to effortlessly float up from the seafloor. The palace’s massive double front doors were beautifully carved with a relief of all seven of the Merwin races floating side by side. Above it, House Lumen’s crest was set with orihalcyon and pearls in the shape of the Fangs, the coveted crown of Mervidia.
The impressive sigil cast a soft orange glow, shedding its warmth into the dark waters. It also served as a reminder to Flinn that his family expected much of him. Perhaps too much, he thought.
The patrol passed and Flinn flicked his tail, propelling him up and over the wall, leaving the palace behind. He was anxious about entering open water; he would not be able to defend himself should a passing predator spot him. Luckily, the mauve-finned ethyrie was a fast swimmer; a trait that had saved his life several times. Usually, I just avoid these situations so that I don’t have to flee, he thought, wondering again why Ghita and Damaris had summoned him. Surely, it is something to do with my cousin Beryl’s death, but I don’t see how that involves me.
Cassondra, Flinn’s sister, had woken him, saying that his mother and aunt wished to speak to him outside the Royal Palace , away from prying eyes and overeager ears. Flinn did as he was told. It is just easier that way, he thought, usually brought to tears by his sister’s impatience and often unpleasant words when he failed to perform even simple tasks . It isn’t my fault that I don’t follow directions well, that I can’t wield a blade well, nor heal a wound as most machi can, Flinn thought. I haven’t had a single ethyrie vision in my whole life. I am just not like the others.
Flinn was more than happy to go see the frilled sharks. That was a task he could do, and do so gladly, feeling at peace near the animals when he assisted the shark trainers in their exercises. Flinn had a bond with the Royal Palace’s mounts that most thought asinine. He quite enjoyed their company though, especially when his own kind picked on him so relentlessly. At least, the sharks do not judge me. Only Mother and Auntie Damaris understand me as well and accept me for who I am.
Ghita and Damaris wanted their meeting to be a secret, so Flinn avoided the guards that p atrolled outside the Royal Palace’s expansive wall. He thought himself brilliant for stealthily dodging between the moving patrols, doubled in number and passing more frequently after the Queen’s assassination. Flinn would dart behind a rock outcropping or under a large clam to avoid their searching eyes. He kept getting an odd taste in his mouth whenever he would stop, but he didn’t think anything of it. Next time, maybe I need to linger a little longer amongst the schools of cleaning fish, he thought, thinking the anomalous tang was the result of poor hygiene.
Flinn a rrived at the frilled shark pen, which was situated not far from the Royal Palace. However, it was distant enough that should one of the predators break free from a trainer that there would not be many casualties before the beast was put down. The area around the pen was empty, as expected, save for the mounts themselves. The enclosure was an exceptional piece of architecture, a giant dome of spell-hardened fire coral, rumored to have been originally grown from a small sample taken from King’s Reef itself. The machi said that the spirits of the past monarchs helped break the sharks and keep them in line, making them humble beasts
The impressive sigil cast a soft orange glow, shedding its warmth into the dark waters. It also served as a reminder to Flinn that his family expected much of him. Perhaps too much, he thought.
The patrol passed and Flinn flicked his tail, propelling him up and over the wall, leaving the palace behind. He was anxious about entering open water; he would not be able to defend himself should a passing predator spot him. Luckily, the mauve-finned ethyrie was a fast swimmer; a trait that had saved his life several times. Usually, I just avoid these situations so that I don’t have to flee, he thought, wondering again why Ghita and Damaris had summoned him. Surely, it is something to do with my cousin Beryl’s death, but I don’t see how that involves me.
Cassondra, Flinn’s sister, had woken him, saying that his mother and aunt wished to speak to him outside the Royal Palace , away from prying eyes and overeager ears. Flinn did as he was told. It is just easier that way, he thought, usually brought to tears by his sister’s impatience and often unpleasant words when he failed to perform even simple tasks . It isn’t my fault that I don’t follow directions well, that I can’t wield a blade well, nor heal a wound as most machi can, Flinn thought. I haven’t had a single ethyrie vision in my whole life. I am just not like the others.
Flinn was more than happy to go see the frilled sharks. That was a task he could do, and do so gladly, feeling at peace near the animals when he assisted the shark trainers in their exercises. Flinn had a bond with the Royal Palace’s mounts that most thought asinine. He quite enjoyed their company though, especially when his own kind picked on him so relentlessly. At least, the sharks do not judge me. Only Mother and Auntie Damaris understand me as well and accept me for who I am.
Ghita and Damaris wanted their meeting to be a secret, so Flinn avoided the guards that p atrolled outside the Royal Palace’s expansive wall. He thought himself brilliant for stealthily dodging between the moving patrols, doubled in number and passing more frequently after the Queen’s assassination. Flinn would dart behind a rock outcropping or under a large clam to avoid their searching eyes. He kept getting an odd taste in his mouth whenever he would stop, but he didn’t think anything of it. Next time, maybe I need to linger a little longer amongst the schools of cleaning fish, he thought, thinking the anomalous tang was the result of poor hygiene.
Flinn a rrived at the frilled shark pen, which was situated not far from the Royal Palace. However, it was distant enough that should one of the predators break free from a trainer that there would not be many casualties before the beast was put down. The area around the pen was empty, as expected, save for the mounts themselves. The enclosure was an exceptional piece of architecture, a giant dome of spell-hardened fire coral, rumored to have been originally grown from a small sample taken from King’s Reef itself. The machi said that the spirits of the past monarchs helped break the sharks and keep them in line, making them humble beasts
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