The carriage crossed the Arch of the Fallen, entering the Noble Sector. Here, the squalor of the suburbs disappeared, replaced by cold opulence. The mansions were not made of wood, but of volcanic stone and reinforced steel.
Adara watched out the window, noticing that even the immortal servants walked with a military posture. Here, responsibility was the price of privilege: each Immortal, from the lowest to the Supreme, was required to serve in the legions or in the courts of justice.
"Remember what I told you, Adara," Karan whispered as the carriage stopped in front of the Obsidian Palace, where the welcome reception would be held. Don't look down on anyone. In this room, kindness is interpreted as submission.
The Reception
Upon entering the great hall, silence fell like a slab of granite. Hundreds of immortal nobles, dressed in dark hues and ceremonial armor, turned around. Adara's presence, with her robe of light silk and her aura of elven purity, was like a speck of light in a sea of shadows.
On the main dais, the three house leaders waited.
"So this is the jewel of the lake," Lord Malakor's (House Obsidian) voice crept through the room. It's... delicate. It almost looks like it would break if the wind blew too hard.
Vespera, her heir, approached Adara, surrounding her like a panther.
—Tell me, little elf, in your kingdom do they also teach women to do something other than dance? Here, if you don't know how to hold a dagger, you end up being the dinner of the shadows.
Adara felt the air become heavy. The human meanness he saw in the suburbs here was disguised as elegance. She looked at Karan, waiting for him to intervene, but he remained motionless, watching her with an intense gaze. He knew that, for her to be respected by the clans she must speak for herself, Adara must begin to find her own voice.
Adara took a deep breath, remembering the nobility of her lineage. He didn't use magic; used the word.
"In my kingdom," Adara said, with a clear voice that surprised those present, "we learn that true strength is not that used to intimidate guests, but that which is needed to maintain peace for a thousand years." My husband did not choose me for my skill with the dagger, but for what you seem to have forgotten: the dignity of a soul that does not need to attack to be respected.
A murmur ran through the room. Dante (Casa Ferrum) let out a hoarse laugh, slamming his metal tankard.
—The little girl has fire! Maybe it's not so fragile after all.
Karan stepped forward and circled Adara's waist, marking his territory.
—My wife is under my protection, but as you have seen, she does not need me to speak for her. Tomorrow you will begin your instruction in the laws of our kingdom. I hope that House Obsidian and House Ferrum show the same "respect" that they have shown today.
The night ended with a cold dinner. Adara realized that this world was a nest of vipers. Vespera kept looking at Karan with desire and at her with hate. Malakor plotted in the corners, and General Arkon sized Karan up as if looking for a weakness.
At the end of the night, in the safety of her new room, Adara plopped down on an armchair.
—Is it always like this? he asked Karan.
"Always," he replied, taking off his cloak. But today you took the first step. You showed them that you are not a trophy. In this world, Adara, you are either the hammer or the anvil. And I will make sure that you are the one who dictates the rhythm of the blow.
Adara looked at her hands, the same ones that would one day trigger the prophecy. For now, they were just the hands of a young elf who was beginning to understand that, to survive among immortals, she would have to learn to be as cold as the steel that surrounded them.