Bitter nonsense, yes. That's all there was. Surely I could live up to a third-grade seer who couldn't even predict my arrival…
"I tried to stop her, my Lord, but—" A voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I blink as I see the maid standing before us. She had obviously run, as she was catching her breath. Tears prickled at her eyes.
Blue hair, blue eyes… she looked like a gemstone personified. Atop her head were four little horns, small like nubs. And from the back of her head, two small wings protruded, adorning her like a headpiece. She was short, medium-built, and tanned. I blinked in surprise.
"It's alright, Larimar," Duarte said in a calming voice. "It's not your fault. We cannot expect grace and tact from just anyone."
Larimar nods, though she looks like she might start crying.
"Please, meet Enya." Duarte gestures toward me. "The new Seer… and hopefully my wife."
Shock from this news is enough to snap Larimar out of it. She puts a hand over her mouth, rendered speechless.
"Your… wife?" she whispers.
Duarte looks at her. Larimar immediately realizes her mistake—it's not her place to question her Lord's decisions.
"Of course, my Lord, my Lady…" She quickly bows her head. "Welcome to Aurea Spira… the Golden Palace."
Duarte nods, pleased.
"Prepare chambers for her. I have some correspondence to make… I cannot imagine Lord Coszcatl will be pleased with this marriage," Duarte chuckled—though it was a bitter laugh. Obviously, he didn't want to deal with the Judge. "Or any marriage of mine, for that matter."
I look at him, puzzled, as he turns around to leave… but then he stops and offers Larimar a patient smile.
"And Larimar, my precious… I trust you to keep Enya's arrival under the covers." His smile is a threat. "We wouldn't want the Old Blood to cause problems, no?"
"No, of course not, my Lord." Larimar bows.
"Then I'll leave you to it."
Duarte leaves, and I'm left with the obvious dragoness who looks at me nervously, her nerves wracked.
"Please, follow me." She looks at me expectantly and turns her back, walking ahead. I follow her.
The golden arches and pillars of the palace, accompanied by the floor made of golden marble, are like a feast for the eyes… some would say it's too much, but I disagree—for someone who grew up in a dirty wagon, this whole palace feels like a dream come true. I hold my breath as we pass the halls and turn right, toward the rooms.
"It's very polite of Lord Itzamatul to give you your own chambers… he's a fine man, he knows the etiquette. Before Lord Coszcatl approves your marriage, you cannot sleep together," Larimar babbles. "All dragon marriages must be approved by Celestia first."
I nod.
"And why wouldn't it be approved?"
Larimar blushes. "That's the Golden Lord's private business."
I frown… it sounds like he's keeping something from me, but I'm not sure what. Whatever—I'll press Larimar for explanations later. And maybe it's best not to poke the hornet's nest when I've just arrived. I need to be a good and dutiful wife.
Besides, what else is expected from me other than to tell fortunes? Nothing, really.
Larimar finally stops in front of a room at the end of the hall. The doors are huge, decorated with diamonds and opals. I've never seen such richness in my entire life.
"These are your chambers," she says. "And, um, this whole floor will be your quarters, with servants sleeping in the lower rooms. You will find it quite spacious. I—I hope it will be enough…"
I literally cannot believe it. These huge quarters… all for me? At home I barely had a bed (and I needed to share it too). This was… unbelievable. Larimar unlocks the door.
I am greeted with radiant brilliance—gold shining bright into my eyes. The light from the window reflects off warm golden surfaces and details. The room is huge—the size of a whole apartment, with a king-sized bed. For a minute, I cannot breathe.
The gold goes nicely with the warm wooden furniture… dark, deep wood that would fetch extraordinary prices in my world. But I assume Duarte could afford it and think of it as pocket money.
"It's… beautiful," I whisper.
There are shelves, drawers, a nightstand… not many trinkets or decorations, though. I assume Duarte wants me to decorate it myself, to really make this space mine.
However, on the nightstand, there is a small jewelry box. I approach it. It's dark wood, painted green, with little golden edges.
"A jewelry box," Larimar helpfully adds, "a gift from Lord Itzamatul. He's kept it here for many years as a gift for his new spouse."
I open it… there's nothing inside. Still, I smile; that box must be worth more than everything my family has ever owned.
"I will thank him when I see him," I say.
Larimar is literally shaking. I look at her.
"And, um, please… please stop being so nervous. I am nobody special… I come from the gutter." Perhaps it's not the best idea to humble myself like this, but I feel bad for the poor girl. "It will take me a bit to get used to all of this… and if you'd be my friend, instead of simply a maid, I'd appreciate it a lot."
Larimar opens her mouth slightly, eyes going wide as she looks at me…
So the fish got caught on my hook. Well played, Enya, I think to myself. Perhaps I've gained a valuable ally.
"Yes—yes, of course, my Lady." Larimar bows. "Please, let me help you unpack. Do you have a lot of things?"
I smile. "Not really." There was nothing worth keeping from my old life. I drag my hand over the wooden nightstand, enjoying the texture under my fingers… really, compared to all of this, what would I even need? The only thing I want to keep are my tarot cards.
"I will go speak with Citrine while you rest," Larimar says. "Especially since you need new clothes… but may I request that you stay here while I do? Lord Itzamatul required me to keep you out of sight."
I smile patiently and nod.
"Of course, it's no problem." I wonder why he wants to keep me hidden, though?
Larimar bows again and runs out. I sit on the bed and finally allow myself to get lost in my own thoughts.
---
Duarte's fingers glide over the spines of the numerous books he owns. His study was always his sacred space, a place of respite.
"You called for me, my Lord?" a voice interrupts him. But he does not flinch.
He calmly looks at a stocky woman—another minor dragon—dressed all in green, her hair tied back in a strict bun. She is square-ish, of strong build, commanding respect. But before the Golden Lord, she is simply an obedient foreman.
"Yes, Dioptase…" Duarte's voice is lazy and measured as he picks out a book. "Trouble is brewing, and perhaps I've just brought in something that could stir it even further."
Dioptase looks at him, puzzled.
"What do you mean, my Lord?"
He looks out the window as he crosses his hands behind his back.
"I mean that the cogs have started turning again. The era of respite is over, Dioptase.