Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

There was a good reason, Siraay thought, as to why the Xarconians had always been considered the hardiest of peoples out of the four cities.

Until the war, and its end, when nearly all of them had been wiped out.

Upon reaching an even larger reception area, which also appeared to house the main doors of the palace, Siraay’s escorts led her up a grand staircase made of the same polished black stone, the handrails glittering gold metal, and then guided her towards the left branch of the dividing stairs.

Siraay couldn’t help but pause to look out one of the large windows set into the wall on that section of steps, and she set her hands down on the waist-high flat stone as she stared through the glass and admired the view.

She could see a lower part of the structure jutting out below, but otherwise the palace wall on this side was flat, almost aligned to the edge of the cliffs, which fell away further still. Waves crashed at the base of the bluffs, and Siraay could hear the faint cries of purple seagliders as they used the eddies of air to sail along the wall of the palace and dive along the sheer rock face, their taloned wings useful for slashing at prey hiding in the crags.

She brushed a dirty strand of red hair away from her face as she titled her head this way and that, to observe as much of the palace’s positioning as possible, silently approving its location.

This side would be impenetrable from nearly all attacks, and Siraay could see by the fierce movements of the water amongst the rocks below that any sea vessel that was foolish enough to attempt such an endeavour would find its own end swiftly enough.

If the Resistance would use technology against them, it might be different, of course. But they wouldn’t, because the sea was technically out of the city’s bounds, and thus the very idea would go against everything they stood for in trying to preserve the world outside of their cities.

Siraay smirked through the glass at the world beyond. From her history lessons, she knew the Xarconians held to the same culture as other Kaslonians, but they weren’t afraid to bend the rules a little in their favour.

She looked down and touched the pendant lying against her chest, its purple brilliance mirroring the colour of the afternoon sky. Never had she felt so clearheaded, so sure of what needed to be done.

She dropped her hand and turned from the window, moving back to the left branch of the stairs, and starting climbing. Her escorts, both of sturdy builds, one with brown hair the other with black, waited silently near the top of the stairs, standing like pillars to either side of the top landing, awaiting their lady’s pleasure.

As Siraay approached the top of the staircase, noting that there was still yet another floor above this one, her escorts both turned silently and began to move once more ahead of her down another corridor, this one wide enough that four soldiers could have marched shoulder to shoulder along it without touching the sides.

Siraay’s dirt-encrusted boots made almost no noise against a lush carpet that ran the length of that hallway, its hue such a deep blue it was almost black, with sets of double and single doors positioned infrequently at intervals along the hall like mysterious sentinels.

Although tempted to stop and explore this unknown, but impressive, residence, Siraay’s distaste for her current attire overwhelmed the fleeting inclination, and with each passing moment, the longing to rip the soiled clothes from her body grew stronger.

How Chezran could have bared to touch her while she wore such filthy rags to place that stunning necklace about her neck, she didn’t know.

Siraay was trying to determine the sheer size of the palace when her escorts finally halted and positioned themselves to either side of a double door set into the wall at the far end of the corridor. One of them rapped on the door smartly with a knuckle before resuming a position of alertness.

The doors were quickly opened by a light-haired female, this one a young servant about Siraay’s age, who moved aside from the doorway to give a small dip of her head as she curtsied. ‘Welcome, my lady,’ she greeted, keeping her face down.

Siraay lifted her chin and strode into the room, walking several paces forwards until she stood in the centre of the elegant space. Towards one wall, three steps ran the length of the room, effectively dividing a third of the area off on a different landing, upon which was centred a beautiful round bed. Just looking at the velvety pillows and silky-smooth sheets piled with blankets made Siraay want to throw herself down upon it to feel that softness against her skin.

Instead, Siraay looked towards the other end of the room, where another three steps lead upwards to a wall of mirrors, and before which a giant bath was embedded in the floor, barely noticeable save for the wreaths of steam curling up from the still water.

But immediately before Siraay was probably the best part of the room—three sets of paired glass doors were linked together to let afternoon sun pour through. A necessary requirement, considering that second winter was upon them, although Siraay didn’t think it would snow here. She walked towards the glass doors and, pushing the centre set open, stepped out onto a large balcony, crossing to its edge.

Peering over the solid balcony railing, which was made out of a lighter-coloured stone, Siraay saw the lower levels of the palace spread out before her, Xarcon guards positioned at various places on the lower roofs and balconies, and beyond that the domed glass ceiling of the arena and the yard with the cells and pit, their layouts well known to her.

Siraay even thought she could make out a number of dark silhouettes sprinkled against the sands of the arena—the captives in training.

Looking away from them, she