Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo (z-lib.org).mobi

country that had long been at war.
The gate swung open.
We rode along a wide path paved in glittering gravel and bordered by rows of
elegant trees. To the left and right, stretching into the distance, I saw manicured
gardens, rich with green and hazy in the mist of early morning. Above it all, atop
a series of marble terraces and golden fountains, loomed the Grand Palace, the
Ravkan King’s winter home.
When we finally reached the huge double-eagle fountain at its base, the
Darkling brought his horse up beside mine.
“So what do you think of it?” he asked.
I glanced at him, then back at the elaborate façade. It was larger than any
building I had ever seen, its terraces crowded with statues, its three storeys
gleaming with row after row of shining windows, each ornamented extensively
in what I suspected was real gold.
“It’s very … grand?” I said carefully.
He looked at me, a little smile playing on his lips. “I think it’s the ugliest
building I’ve ever seen,” he said, and nudged his horse forward.
We followed a path that curved behind the palace and deeper into the grounds,
passing a hedge maze, a rolling lawn with a columned temple at its centre, and a
vast greenhouse, its windows clouded with condensation. Then we entered a
thick stand of trees, large enough that it felt like a small wood, and passed
through a long, dark corridor where the branches made a dense, braided roof
above us.
The hair rose on my arms. I had the same feeling I’d had as we were crossing
the canal, that sense of crossing the boundary between two worlds.
When we emerged from the tunnel into weak sunshine, I looked down a gentle
slope and saw a building like nothing I’d ever seen.
“Welcome to the Little Palace,” said the Darkling.
It was a strange name, because though it was smaller than the Grand Palace,
the “Little” Palace was still huge. It rose from the trees surrounding it like
something carved from an enchanted forest, a cluster of dark wood walls and
golden domes. As we drew closer, I saw that every inch of it was covered in
intricate carvings of birds and flowers, twisting vines and magical beasts.
A charcoal-clad group of servants waited on the steps. I dismounted, and one
of them rushed forward to take my horse, while others pushed open a large set of
double doors. As we passed through them, I couldn’t resist the urge to reach out
and touch the exquisite carvings. They had been inlaid with mother-of-pearl so
that they sparkled in the early-morning light. How many hands, how many years
had it taken to create such a place?