Page 18 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

The suite was lavish, opulent even. Rich crimson and gold tapestries draped the stone walls, their edges embroidered with ancient sigils I didn’t recognize. The floor was covered with a deep-violet rug that felt far too expensive to exist in a place meant to hold criminals. A low table carved from dark wood sat in the center of the seating area, surrounded by plush velvet chairs and a curved couch with dragon-scale inlays along the arms. Shelves lined the far wall, filled with tomes and crystalline decanters that caught the glow of the enchanted sconces overhead.

To the right, a closed door hinted at an adjoining bedroom.

“What the hell?” Tae whispered. “This looks similar to the king’s sitting room.”

Before I could answer, the bedroom door opened with a soft click.

And he stepped out.

Fae.

There was no mistaking it.

He was tall and elegant, moving with the kind of grace that made it feel like the air bent around him. His hair was a cascade of silver-white falling down his back, not from age but from something older—bloodline.His features were sharp, too perfect to be human, with skin that looked ageless except for the fine lines around his mouth and eyes. If I had to guess, he looked like he was in his fifties or sixties… but with the fae, that could mean anything. Some said they lived as long as seven hundred years.

His eyes, lavender and piercing, landed on me first. And then he smiled.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had visitors,” he said, his voice smooth, melodic. “Though I’m guessing this parley was not… sanctioned?”

“It’s not,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even.

His eyes roamed over me again, thoughtful. “It’s been even longer since I’ve seen my hair color.”

I tensed.

Was he implying… kinship? Or merely remarking on the shared white hair of fae ancestry?

His pointed ears twitched slightly as he studied me further. “How rare,” he murmured.

He was beautiful, in the way storms and ruins could be beautiful. Something that had survived and been shaped by centuries.

“Are you a prisoner?” I asked.

He chuckled softly, the sound like the rustle of silk. “Not really.”

My frown deepened. “Then how have you gone unnoticed? No one said anything about a fae wandering the castle.”

He raised a single elegant hand, and in the blink of an eye, his form shimmered. His frame shortened, thickened, and shifted until he was the spitting image of one of the guards who had fled moments before. Uniform, face, even the scar above the brow. Perfect mimicry.

“Wow,” Tae whispered. “That’s… that’s some advanced glamour magic.”

The fae returned to his true form in an instant and gestured gracefully to the seating area.

“Please,” he said. “Have a seat. I promise you’re safe here.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Tae, then moved cautiously toward the couch and lowered myself onto the velvet. Tae settled beside me, still tense.

The fae took the armchair opposite, legs crossed, every movement deliberate, controlled.

I leaned forward slightly. “What is your name?” I asked. My voice didn’t shake, but it was close.

The fae inclined his head with regal poise, long fingers folding together atop his knee as if we were seated for tea rather than in the depths of a secret dungeon.

“My name,” he said, voice as smooth as silk and shadow, “is Alahathrial.”

The name echoed in the chamber, old and heavy with power. It curled in my chest like smoke.

I swallowed. “I’m Ashe, and this is Tae. Why are you here?”