The villa the king has gifted me is Garrin’s ancestral home.
I stand in the wide foyer with Mama, Melly, and Filadon. There are mosaics underfoot and shining wood paneling on the walls, and a crystal chandelier with luminae stones straight out of the mages’ complex hanging over my head. I cannot imagine sleeping here.
“I am afraid some personal effects are still being removed,” the housekeeper tells us. “Perhaps I can give you a tour of the main rooms?”
“That will be fine,” I say, ignoring the vase of flowers on the console to the side, stalks of asphodel rising above the other blooms. The villa is massive. I walk through it in a dream, the whole experience surreal. We pass the entrance to a gallery, a pair of servants engaged in removing a long line of portraits to be sent to the palac
