The wagon arrived at the final hill, and the Iron-Wood forest abruptly ended.
"At least it looked civilized," Roxy whispered.
"It is soft," Zarek grunted from beside her. His eyes scanned the shining walls with disdain. "Stone that cannot take a Dragon's fire is just decoration."
"It smells of perfume and stagnation," Kaelen added from the driver's seat. The Wolf King was tense, his knuckles white on the reins. "There is no scent of the hunt here. Only trade."
The massive gates of the Citadel swung open silently, balanced on precision-engineered hinges.
Two rows of guards lined the path. They were Tigers, massive, hulking men in gilded armor, but they stood perfectly still, their expressions blank and disciplined. Behind them, servants in silk robes bowed low as the wagon rolled past.
And at the end of the path, standing at the base of a grand staircase, was the King.
Torian.
He was breathtaking. If Kaelen was rugged earth and Zarek was raw fire, Torian was polished steel.
