I shoved those thoughts aside before they could weigh me down. We were pretending, and that meant there was no future, even if we couldn’t escape the past.
Luckily, a distraction arose a few moments later. Riding out of the wooded area, I finally saw what Casteel had built.
My grip loosened on the saddle as I took in a piece of Atlantia hidden away in Solis.
Stygian Bay glistened like the darkest hour of night to our right. Ahead of us was a town the size of New Haven. Yet again, I was struck speechless as we rode along the dirt road. I only half-noticed those who acknowledged our arrival, who either bowed or called out.
One-story homes made of sandstone and clay dotted the gently rolling landscape. There had to be around a hundred of them, and each one was spaced out to accommodate private, curtained terraces, and small gardens. As we drew closer to the homes, I could see that the gardens were full of ripe tomatoes and tall stalks of corn, cabbage, and other vegetables planted in neat rows. The only homes in Solis that had any land beyond a patch barely large enough to grow a tree were the ones in places like Radiant Row.
“My gods,” I whispered as I looked around.
“I’m hoping that’s an exclamation of approval,” Casteel stated as we neared the crest of a small hill.
“It is. These homes… And the gardens? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Food supply is far easier to manage when each household harvests as much as they can,” he said, drawing Molly closer to him when the mare appeared to take note of a vivid, yellow butterfly. “All the gardens were planted by farmers who have experience with crops. Those who agreed to settle in Spessa’s End were required to apprentice with farmers to learn how to keep them healthy and spot disease. With the temperatures rarely dropping below freezing at night, we’re able to grow some of the crops longer than places farther north.”
In Solis, food had to be paid for or grown, but very few had the land to grow anything, which meant that many spent the bulk of their income to acquire food. If there was no money, there simply was nothing to eat.
As soon as we reached the top of the hill, the scent of grilled meat replaced the sweetly scented breeze. It was then that I realized I hadn’t truly seen anything yet. The town center lay in the valley between the homes. There were other buildings—larger than the houses, numerous columned pavilions adorned with bright canopies or curtains, housing various markets. There were businesses—butchers, seamstresses, blacksmiths, and bakers, and in the very center and raised higher than any of the other buildings was the ruins of what had once been a great coliseum. Or so it appeared. Only half of the structure remained.
“Concerts and games were once played there,” Casteel said, having followed my gaze. “I remember sitting in those seats, watching plays.”
Thinking of all the souls that had once filled the massive coliseum twisted my heart. “Will it be repaired?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted as we traveled down the sloping hill. “I never wanted to tear it down. It’s become a monument in a way, a reminder of what once stood here. Perhaps one day we will repair it.”
There were more people in the town center, drifting between the pavilions and stalls. Pretending that he was just Hawke and I was Poppy ended as the people either rushed forward to greet Casteel or lingered back until others passed on.
There were wolven and Atlantians among the Descenters, and out of the blur of faces, I realized that all of them seemed genuinely happy to see Casteel. Most called him by name and not by his title, which was something not tolerated in Solis. All Royals were addressed as Lord or Lady, and to not do so was seen as greatly disrespectful, and worse yet, potentially a sign of being a Descenter.
I watched Casteel as he grinned or laughed at something someone said, asked about a family member or friend, seemingly as fascinated with them as I had been with the Guardians. I smiled when he introduced me to those who approached. My fiancée. My fiancée. My fiancée. I listened as he spoke to many, addressing them by name, and he was attentive and welcoming as we traveled along. If this wasn’t another mask—if this was who he was with his people—he was a Prince that anyone would be honored to rule beside.
Something nameless and unknown inside of me softened and then opened up even as my senses thrummed under my skin, stretching and throbbing in response to the cyclone of conflicting emotions spilling out of the crowd and into the air around me.
I noticed that, more often than not, the people’s reaction to me was far more subdued. Smiles went from warm and genuine to cold and tight. Welcoming glances became ones of curiosity or turned blank. Some gazes lingered on the scars for the briefest of moments while others openly stared. There were quickly averted gazes, and mumbled greetings.