Talia peers up at yet another man that she doesn’t know, immediately distrustful of the warm smile on his face.

(A smile, after all, is one of the most dishonest expressions a human face can make.)

“Who are you?” she asks, blunt.

June swiftly steps in front of her, bowing. “Pardon her rudeness, Your Excellency.” He shoots her a warning glance over his shoulder. She fights down the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. “It’s been a long trip and the Keeper is very tired.”

“It’s fine,” the man says with a magnanimous, dismissive wave of his hand. A few gemstones glint on his fingers. “I received your messages. I understand that the Keeper is suffering from some … confusion.”

June reluctantly returns to his place at her side. “My name is Aevum,” the man continues with another smile. “I am the head of the Order of the Scrys.”

So that explains the gold, Talia thinks. Followed by the fact that wow, she must really be important if the head of an order has come to greet her himself.

“I see,” she says because nice to meet you would probably sound too insincere—even she isn’t quite that good of a liar.

June is glaring again. She can tell without having to turn her head.

Aevum (though that feels strange without some kind of title in front of it) doesn’t seem fazed by her lack of manners.

“I’m going to be taking over the next part of our journey,” he says and the delegation parts behind him like they rehearsed this, revealing a new kind of transportation.

This one looks like a carriage, but there are no giant birds or even wheels attached, and it’s surrounded by a subtle, glowing blue field of some kind. It takes Talia a moment of staring at it to realize that it’s hovering several inches off the ground, probably held aloft by the blue energy.

She was just acclimating herself to giant birds and now this?

She’s tempted to turn around and climb right back into the old carriage. Demand that she be returned to the field where she arrived and she’ll either figure out a way back to Earth on her own or die trying.

She’s careful not to let any of that show—her face, masked like Polo’s. All of these Scrys remind her of vultures in their black robes, hovering around her, waiting for signs of weakness.

“Shall we?” Aevum beckons to her and June.

June seems surprised to be included, but hurries forward, shooting her a look that clearly means follow me.

Talia reminds herself that she can’t find Polo or get home without more information and to get information, she has to play along. So she gathers up her cumbersome robes in big handfuls and trails after June towards the ominous, floating carriage.

A Scry opens the door for them. June climbs up first, then extends a hand to her. This time, she takes it, not wanting to make a fool out of herself by tripping over her own clothing. Aevum enters after them, moving with fluid grace, and shuts the door with a firm click.

No one sits up front to drive. Instead, Aevum lifts his ringed hand. The gemstones have all turned blue—lines of energy extending along the backs of his fingers and up his arm until they disappear beneath his sleeve. More crawl up the sides of the carriage, forming an intricate web on the ceiling. Talia leans back in alarm as several lines pass by the side of her head, vanishing out the window.

She feels a spark of electricity from them, sheer power, and valiantly keeps from panicking.

The lines pulse. The carriage rises smoothly from the ground. It feels a little like being in an elevator, except Talia can look out the window and watch as they get higher, higher, gaining speed as they go. As the Scrys below turn into ants and then they’re sailing over the city walls.

She squeezes her eyes shut in terror. She’s never liked heights and she certainly didn’t like heights mixed with magic. Her heart starts rabbit-thumping in her chest. This is wrong, unnatural. People aren’t meant to fly in airplanes, let alone like this.

A nudge to her side, elbow digging in. She cracks open an eye to find June watching her.

“You should look,” he whispers, nodding towards the windows.

“Yes,” Aevum chimes in, “I promise that you will want to see this, Keeper.”

Absolutely not, Talia almost says but curious conquers her fear just enough to allow her to open her eyes all the way and turn her head to the windows … and the city beyond them.

It sprawls beneath their flying carriage and stretches all the way to the walls running around it in a giant circle. Talia stares in awe at the colorful roofs, gleaming white buildings, sparkling canals, green gardens, and glimmering fountains—like something out of Renaissance painting from her history textbook. On either side, other carriages float along invisible pathways.

It’s all too fantastical to properly take in. She wishes, suddenly, that Clara was here to see it—one of her novels come to life.

“That’s our headquarters,” June says, pointing to another walled section of the city, dotted by several towering spires. “The home of the Order.”

A part of Talia is brimming with questions. Like how exactly is Aevum driving this carriage? He looks so relaxed, leaning gracefully against the seat with his glowing hand in his lap, as though elevating a carriage with magic isn’t a strain on him at all. How many people live in this city, what sort of other crazy magic do they possess? Will she be able to do things like fly carriages and create flames out of thin air?

But another, larger part is afraid to show too much interest, lest they think she actually wants to stay.

This isn’t her home. She shouldn’t care about it.

(But the city is so beautiful.)

Approaching a third walled section, Talia nearly gasps as she sees an imposing series of hilltops dotted with large buildings made of white stone, sporting colorful roofs of green and red and blue and gold. The detail of them is breathtaking: sculpted winged figures perched above doorways, giant stained glass windows containing intricate landscapes, statues of big cats along the edge of a few of the roofs.

But among them is one even grander than the rest, even its outer walls boasting intricate detailing: creeping vines and blooming flowers crafted from gold and spires that reach into the sky, topped with golden parapets. It reminds Talia of the Palace of Versailles that Clara used to talk about wanting to see. Or the sprawling Winter Palace in Moscow—home to the last of the Tsars.

This is a kingdom, isn’t it? She thinks. It would make sense for there to be a king.

“That’s Mendirik Alutana,” June murmurs, noticing her staring. “The high palace.”

“And our destination,” Aevum adds with another of his smiles.

Talia feels a fresh, sudden spike of terror. Are they really taking her to meet a king? A real king?

Protests perch on the tip of her tongue, but before she can voice them, Aevum twists his hand. The blue lines pulse, fading, and the carriage begins its descent. Talia’s stomach nearly crawls up her throat and she latches onto the windowsill with a white-knuckled grip as the buildings rush closer, closer, closer.

She closes her eyes again, gritting her teeth when she feels the carriage stop. There is no impact with the ground like she was expecting, nothing to anchor her like the sensation of a plane landing and the knowledge that you’ve made it safely.

But she hears the carriage door open and Aevum says. “Come, we must move quickly. Everyone is waiting.”

Her eyes fly open. “Everyone?”