"We're finally here," Reloua muttered.
The Palace of the Gold Kingdom stretched across the horizon like a golden monument to excess. Massive red sandstone foundations caught the afternoon sun, but it was the gold that grabbed attention—not decorations, but everywhere. Rivers of gold flowing across every surface.
Beside her, Teleu stood completely gobsmacked. His eyes darted around, warrior composure momentarily forgotten. The walls towered seven men high, topped with battlements of pure gold. Circular towers dotted the perimeter, each crowned with conical roofs of hammered gold plates overlapping like dragon scales.
Teleu had seen fortifications before. Ankh's temple walls spoke of spiritual defense, barriers between sacred and profane. These walls just screamed money.
The great gates drew people like moths to a flame. Merchants with retinues carried chests needing four men to lift. Exotic animals—horned beasts from southern deserts, jewel-colored birds, even a young elephant with carved tusks.
Envoys from the Ace Kingdom stood in blue silk robes, diplomatic faces hiding constant observation. Teleu recognized their posture—hands never far from hidden weapons. These weren't just diplomats. They were spies in fancy clothes.
Representatives from Fairyland whispered in flowing white garments, crystal pendants catching light. Even from a distance, Teleu felt weird energy coming off them—something that prickled at his senses.
Even emissaries from Mura had shown up—desert-hardened faces studying the walls with warriors' calculating gazes. Bronze armor, red cloaks, completely out of place. Teleu's jaw tightened. Mura. The kingdom of tyrants. What were they doing here?
Gold Land officials moved through the crowd efficiently, robes trimmed with gold thread. Guards in golden mail kept order—ceremonial-looking but genuinely dangerous.
The air buzzed with conversation in multiple languages. Spices and perfumes mixed—frankincense, desert roses, sweet oils. It was overwhelming, a sensory assault screaming center of the known world.
Near the back, Reloua and Teleu waited patiently. The princess wore a copper-colored silk veil trimmed with tiny golden bells. Under it, her face was carefully neutral, but her mind raced. Three weeks gone, and now she was back at a palace that probably thought she was dead.
Beside her, Teleu looked like just another bodyguard—though one whose bearing suggested serious violence. His eyes never stopped moving, cataloguing faces, exits, distances.
"Remember, from now on you're my personal bodyguard," Reloua said quietly. "Stay by my side, protect me and my brother. Don't worry—like we agreed, you'll get your freedom. Just do your job well."
Teleu nodded, posture shifting into professional guardian mode.
Honestly, Reloua found herself increasingly curious about Teleu. Who was this guy she'd found in a hollow tree? His combat skills were undeniable, but it was more—his intelligence showed in careful words, his aloofness spoke of noble upbringing, his manners screamed prestige. Whatever else Teleu was, he wasn't the type to serve corrupt masters.
The line moved forward slowly. Redu's preparations worked perfectly—a bribe here, a forged document there, and suddenly Princess Reloua became just another veiled noblewoman with her bodyguard.
As they crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to drop. Or maybe it was just memory—Reloua had walked through these gates a thousand times as a kid. Now she walked through as a ghost, officially missing, returning to a home that had tried to kill her.
Beyond the gates, true magnificence revealed itself. The palace rose in terraced levels, supported by massive columns covered in gold leaf. The central structure soared like a golden mountain, walls punctuated by tall arched windows framed in gold. At the peak, a great dome crowned everything, surface so polished it mirrored the sky.
Gardens cascaded down the terraced sides. Golden fountains sent water dancing, palm trees lined pathways with trunks wrapped in gold bands.
Teleu knelt briefly, running fingers over the path. Smooth, almost glassy—precious gems ground to dust and made into walkways. In Ankh, such gems would be treasured, placed in shrines. Here they were walked on.
This wasn't just a palace—it was a statement. A declaration that the Sichom dynasty had wealth enough to make the earth jealous. But there was something hollow about it. All this gold, and somewhere inside—according to Reloua—a king was losing his mind, a prince locked in grief, conspirators plotting murder in golden halls.
Reloua's eyes narrowed behind her veil, cold fury settling in her chest. Somewhere behind those walls walked the people who'd tried to kill her—and they were going to pay.
They thought she was dead or broken. Wrong. She'd survived Botankeu's forest, survived assassins and wilderness. Now she was back—not as a fleeing princess but as something harder, forged in fire.
Her fingers tightened into fists. Somewhere in there, her little brother Gyan was suffering. Somewhere, her father was being manipulated. And somewhere, the truth was waiting to be dragged into light.
Patience, she reminded herself. Move too fast and you'll tip your hand. They wanted you dead. Use that.
"Come," she said quietly to Teleu.
Together they walked deeper into the golden palace, two shadows moving through a world of light.