Chapter 209

Delta guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. It turned out that the room in the d’Celestin palace meant to hold unruly guests was well defended. There wasn’t a single way out she could find. Even the windows were reinforced to the point that she, a fourth advancement wayfarer, couldn’t break through them. And the only real escape—the front door—was watched over by an absurdly strong guard.

So. Delta had to sit there, annoyed, until she was sent for.

She didn’t have to wait long. Not more than twenty minutes after the incident with the guard, a polite knock came at the door. Delta briefly considered being petulant and not responding but decided that would be too childish. She didn’t want to seem like a complicit, happy prisoner, but there was an extent to how annoying she would be. Especially in the d’Celestin palace. Delta couldn’t help herself from stepping on toes and testing limits, but she had some level of self-moderation. Just less than most people’s.

Swinging the door open, the same guard from before greeted her.

“Honored guest. Please come with me.”

“To where?”

“I’ve been instructed not to engage with you.”

“Seriously? Why the hell do you need to be so secretive about everything?”

“I’m simply following orders.”

“Does Rosalie’s daddy want to talk with me?”

All at once, the man seemed immensely uncomfortable. Delta assumed she’d gotten it right.

Because that was the reasonable assumption. Lucinda had dragged the four of them back to Mantle upon Rosalie’s father’s instruction. Considering the brief imprisonment and how they’d been separated, Delta figured he wanted to speak to them. Perhaps he didn’t approve of Rosalie’s choice of teammates, or if nothing else, simply wanted to meet them.

And who was her father, anyway? Delta already knew that he was a high-ranking officer of the Deepshunters guild—or had assumed it—but he might be even further up the ladder than she thought. Maybe to the point she would recognize his name. Though she didn’t know much about the top-ranking Deepshunters, besides the ones everyone knew.

“Please follow me, ma’am,” the guard just repeated.

Delta eyed him with annoyance. She obviously wasn’t going to get anything out of him. Eventually, she sighed and did as she was told.

Winding through the hallways of the opulent palace, Delta had yet another opportunity to half admire, half be disgusted by the wealth on display. The ancestral home of one of the world’s most prominent wayfaring families. It was really something.

Seriously, why was she here? In the d’Celestin palace? Surely Rosalie’s family had their own estate. Perhaps not one in Mantle, and so instead, they were temporary guests of the d’Celestins? Or any of a hundred other reasons?

Still, Delta found herself disquieted. The d’Celestins. She’d known she’d be mingling with high society thanks to having grouped with Rosalie, but this was something else.

The guard led her through the halls to an enormous set of double doors, even more massive and ornate than everything prior. He took a deep breath and straightened himself out, as if bracing himself, before opening the doors. He ushered Delta in along with him.

She walked in.

Into...

The throne room.

Zoey was already there, having presumably just arrived herself—the two of them being sent for at the same time. She met Delta’s eyes, and instantly, a distressed expression crossed her face, which set Delta even further on edge.

But her attention was only briefly on Zoey.

Because there, on the tall white and blue throne, sat a man.

He was in his late forties, wearing a short, neatly trimmed beard with speckles of gray. Pale ice-blue eyes watched Delta with a cool, regal impassivity. A crown sat atop his head: white and silver, plain except for an engraving of a splintered circle. He lounged in a way that suggested long familiarity with the seat, and despite how relaxed he seemed, he felt no less regal for his lack of posture. His cheek rested on one hand, idly, as he watched Delta walk in, escorted by her guard.

A man sitting on the d’Celestin throne.

Wearing one of the most legendary items known across the world: the Crown of Shattered Starlight.

Holy shit.

Delta guessed she’d been wrong.

Rosalie’s dad hadn’t sent for her. The godsdamned Guildmaster of the Deepshunters, ruler of Mantle and nearly half the Fractures, had.