We await our audience seated on an ornate, cushioned bench to one side of a wide receiving hall, the floor tiled in colored marble, the walls banded with sections of fine floral mosaics separated by engraved white tile. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, dozens of luminae stones glowing gently even now, when the daylight is bright enough. It’s a careless show of the sheer wealth of magic the Circle commands.
A fountain plays before us, the water rising up to dance in breathtaking arcs and shifting patterns. I consider the curtains Niya sewed for us, catching sunshine and summer breezes in her stitches, and know that what I’m looking at is nothing more than a magical parlor trick.
Bren reaches out and covers my hand with his own, his skin warm against mine. “You ready for this?” h
