Chapter 67

HECTOR BAYES

The mountain city’s throne room was carved from the tears and sweat of the village workers thousands of years ago, but I don't tell the maiden that as we entered the ornately designed expanse, closing the door softly behind us.

“Hector,” Nola breathed, and heat swarmed my chest until I was about as puffed up as a courting rainbow peacock.

I watched the woman’s eyes go wide as she took in the red, high ceiling of the throne room and the gold cups of the snake-like chandelier that was swinging slowly in the space.

“It's beautiful,” The maiden gasped, walking up to the glossy shine of the gold glass walls and scrubbing it back to its shine when her breathing fogged up the pale yellow glass.

I followed her tentative steps, touching each gold-lined crevice until we were at the foot of the great dias where my throne was.

Small silver skulls lined the frame of the square seat where the diamond had been matted with brown fur.

I did not need to tell the maiden that the skulls were