Page 13 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Brenna

A fter breakfast, Brenna found solace in the cushioned window seat in their bedroom.

She selected a stack of books this time, and another volume of botany sat unopened on her lap while she stared at the mesmerizing shimmer of leaves in the breeze.

The forest was a patchwork of verdant evergreens and flame-kissed canopies.

As beautiful as this place was, the guilt and grief of losing their home gnawed at her, hollowing her chest and clogging her throat.

She could only keep up her cheerful positivity for so long before memories crept in.

Eyes stinging, she rested her temple against the cool glass while she counted out her breaths.

Behind her lids, the flash of Johnathon Lyndhurst’s knife, mud flying as she ran, and the shouts of their neighbors surged uncontrollably.

“Brenna,” Meara asked, “do you want to change?” Her lithe figure stood in the doorway, concern etched into the lines on her face. Meara always sensed when Brenna’s emotions were spiraling.

“Good idea.” Her voice was falsely bright, but her sister wasn’t fooled. Meara crossed the room and sank to her knees beside the bench. Her arms snaked around her hips as she pressed her face into Brenna’s waist.

Meara peered up, weighing her words. “Please tell me how to help.”

“All is well, I swear. I’m no worse for wear.” Exhaling, Brenna released the tension in her face, and then her shoulders, and finally her hands.

“Brenna,” Meara pressed.

“Help me figure out an outfit that won’t have my knockers escaping if the walk is rocky.”

Meara barked a laugh and rocked back on her heels to stand, propping her hands on her hips. “Can I convince you to wear trousers?”

“I’d prefer a dress if there are any suitable.

But not the ones we came in. I don’t want to stand out.

” Brenna allowed herself to be pulled to her feet as Meara set about picking out clothing items for her to try on.

Their selection of garments had expanded yet again to include a handful of embroidered tunics, billowing shirts, and fitted pants.

Brenna made a note to thank Kirrily when they saw her again.

Her sister happily donned trousers and a smokey gray shirt she tucked into the waistband and secured with a simple belt. Her normally cynical expression relaxed into a pleased smile. Perhaps living as a faerie suited her. She fit in better here than she ever had in Liosliath .

Unsure of herself, Brenna vacillated between a few options and finally pulled on the chemise from the night before and an ivory day dress that covered her upper arms. It dipped low in the chest, showing a sliver of her chemise, but Brenna liked the contrast. It reminded her of the layered dresses she saw the noble women wear when they rode through their rural village on holiday.

“Should we go find something to do with ourselves?” Brenna suggested, smoothing her hands over the cotton bodice.

Meara bit the inside of her cheek, carving out the hollow of her face as she deliberated.

A knock on the door caused Brenna to turn. Meara opened the door to reveal Lord Cerne. He leaned against the door frame, one half of his mouth pulled up in a charismatic smile. “Can I tempt you to join me on a tour?”

Meara regarded him, that suspicious glint back in her eyes. The way her hand rested on her hip, Brenna knew she was unhappy with the faerie, but her voice was neutral when she spoke. “I did not expect you to be our guide. We wouldn’t want to take you away from your important work.”

“Nonsense, this is the perfect excuse to spend the day enjoying my court.” Cerne held out his hand and Meara eyed it like a snake. “Shall we?”

When she didn’t take his offered arm, Cerne swept his hand out to usher them into the hall.

Meara strode past him, her shoulders and back stiff.

Something about the fae lord unbalanced her.

Unable to help her smile at Meara’s turmoil, Brenna followed the pair out.

She doubted Cerne would be able to charm her stubborn sister, but it would be entertaining to see him try.

The trio strode down the hall and through the grand entry. Brenna turned, motioning to the expansive mural. “This is incredible.”

Cerne slowed. “Yes, we have many artists here. This was painted by my great grandmother.”

“Was she the Lady of Autumn?” Meara asked.

His chin rose as he examined the artwork, as if it was new and not something he had looked at for his entire life. “Yes, she was. We are one of the longest ruling bloodlines. Seven generations.”

“Are other courts less stable?”

His hazel eyes drifted to Meara’s face. “Rulership is based on magic here. It’s not inherited like the human kingdoms. But if your parents are strong in their craft, it is likely you are as well.”

“So if someone more powerful came along, they could unseat you?”

“No,” Cerne said with a laugh. “I have earned my place serving my court. But when I pass rulership on to my heir some day, they will have to prove themselves, or another could take their place.”

“And do you have an heir?” Meara asked, her eyes widening slightly as if she was surprised at her own brashness. Brenna covered a smile.

“Not yet,” he said, moving away from the mural. Meara’s lips pressed together as she followed his lengthy stride, glancing over her shoulder to check on Brenna.

Ryles stood by the front door, holding it open as the Autumn Lord crossed the threshold with a nod of thanks. It was the first genuine smile Brenna had seen on the dryad. Cerne’s people adored him. It was undeniable as they descended the hill into the court.

Cerne led them to the left, down a different road than the one they took when arriving. A few faeries tended to shops while others walked down the cobblestone. They all smiled and greeted their lord with relaxed bows or friendly waves.

Structures lined the right side of the road, while the left opened to the river running alongside their path. A low masonry wall ran the length of the road, protecting careless pedestrians from tumbling down the hill and into the water.

One of the first buildings was dark with a brick arch and a cold forge inside. “An old blacksmithy?” Brenna asked.

Cerne nodded, slowing his steps as he turned toward the empty space. “Never used, unfortunately. I built it for a friend years ago and he was never able to take up residence.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.” Her gaze lingered on the space, understanding why it looked so clean. No soot stained the forge. No ash clung to the corners. And Cerne hadn’t offered the space to another, as if he held out hope his friend would come.

His shoulders rose and fell in a resigned shrug, his serious expression melting away to a charming smile. With a tilt of his head, Cerne led them onward. “We have a book maker up here you might find of interest.”

“Brenna loves books,” Meara said, looping her arm through Brenna’s.

“The rooms we are staying in have so many books on the shelves. I imagine it’s like the libraries in the Queen’s city,” Brenna followed the Autumn Lord, curiosity bubbling up in her chest.

“I suppose the fae produce more books per capita than humans do, though I’ve never thought much about it,” he mused, stopping at a bright yellow door with stained glass in the center depicting an open book with a golden swirl coming from its center.

“This bookshop has been printing periodicals and books for generations. I always enjoy watching them work.”

Brenna tentatively stepped into the space, taking in slate floors and rows of standing bookshelves in mismatched wood tones. Her hand pressed to her chest as she took in hundreds of books lined up neatly all around her.

An imposing desk stood to the side with a clerk taking notes on paper. Past the display area, a low dividing wall separated the workers and machines from visitors.

“So nice to have you here, my lord,” a young faerie said, smiling through her lashes at Cerne. At first, Brenna thought she was a child because the top of her head was level with Brenna’s shoulder. Pink hair streamed over her shoulders, dotted with tiny white blossoms - a nymph.

“Would you like to see some of our recent work?” She held out a book in delicate hands the same pale pink as campion flowers.

Cerne accepted the book and turned over the cover, running his hand over black leather gilded with ornamented words. Brenna drifted closer, making out the title: Wildflowers of Roven .

“Roven?”

“That’s what we call our city. Not widely known among humans, least of all Liosliath, I expect,” Cerne muttered, thumbing through the pages. “These illustrations are beautiful.”

“Thank you, my lord. Please keep it. The Autumn Lord should have a first edition of a book written about your land, should you not?”

Meara watched the machines work with her head cocked.

Brenna joined her, mesmerized by the sheets of paper moving in and out of the printing press.

She recognized the machine from the technology books that the little boy Herman loved to read, though these were intricate, petite versions.

Along the wall, a row of faeries sat stitching paper into books.

Each movement was graceful and practiced, and Brenna could have watched them for hours.

“We should leave them to their work,” Cerne said. With great effort, Brenna peeled her attention away from the workshop. She trailed after the Autumn Lord with Meara on her heels. He paused at the desk to leave coins despite the worker’s protests.

Once outside, Brenna spun to face her sister. “Can you believe it? They were creating books right before our eyes!”

“You can come back anytime you like. And if you ask nicely, they might even let you learn to operate the machinery.” Cerne said as he began to walk away from the bookshop. With one last peek through the display window, Brenna followed.

“How many people live in the Autumn Court?” Meara asked, stepping up beside him.

“Seven hundred or so? But many live away from Roven.” His brows furrowed in thought. “A few families split their time between courts.”

“That’s very few compared to the human kingdoms,” Meara said.

Cerne scrubbed his hand across his short beard. “Faeries live longer, but we rarely have children. Though we can die from illness or injury as easily as humans.” He shrugged.

Slowing, Brenna squinted through the picture window of the next shop. “Meara, it’s an apothecary!”

Shelves lined the walls, covered in jars and wooden boxes. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters in the dim light.

“Do you want to go in?” Cerne asked. “Our herbalist isn’t the friendliest faerie, but his shop is well stocked.”

“Perhaps another time,” Brenna said, noting the way Meara took a step back and turned her head.

Cerne didn’t question her, but led them around a bend in the road where it diverged from the river and shops sprouted on the other side of the road, hemming them in.

Their next stop was a bakery. Cerne procured flakey pastries filled with hazelnut cream. They strolled and ate, and Brenna was pleased to see Meara relaxing.

As morning melted into midday, some shops closed for a meal and more faeries appeared on the street. Everyone smiled and seemed genuinely happy. Something ached in Brenna’s chest. She didn’t know a town could be like this.

“Is Roven similar to where you grew up in Liosliath?” Cerne asked, leaning against a wall beside a tavern that had yet to open for the day.

“Not at all,” she answered honestly. “I doubt any part of Liosliath is as lovely as your court.” He was pleased with her answer, a charming grin spreading across his face.

“Well, we have an upcoming appointment to keep, so we had better keep going.” Cerne pushed off the smooth stones at his back and led them across the road.

“What is it?” Meara asked, her steps slowing.

Cerne turned, now walking backwards as he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not,” Meara muttered. Her eyes narrowed, but Cerne just laughed. Brenna didn’t miss the faint blush staining Meara’s pale cheeks.

“Don’t worry. It’s a seamstress. Since you were forced to leave your home without your wardrobes, I thought you might need some replacements. Especially if you’re joining me for the betrothal feast.”

The dressmaker’s shop stood nestled between a candlemaker’s chandlery and a carpenter’s showroom. A lace curtain blocked much of the view of the interior from where they stood.

“We can’t,” Meara argued, her voice dropping.

Cerne stopped one step from the door, his hand reaching behind his back for the handle. “You can and you should. Borrowing dresses from Seda and Xurey is not a sustainable option. Both of them deplore dresses and I promise you will deplete their selection rather quickly.”

Meara opened her mouth to respond, but paused and looked to Brenna, who clutched her hands together and tried to not look too eager.

“Is there a concern other than the expense?” Cerne asked quietly. “I have already placed it onto my accounts. You don’t need to worry about the cost.”

“That’s too generous,” Meara said.

“My dear, the cost of a few dresses will not hurt my court’s budget, I promise. Besides, it’s important that my guests are well dressed.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside before she could argue again.

With a reluctant smile, Brenna grabbed her sister’s hand and towed her into the shop. As she passed Cerne, Brenna said, “Thank you. I appreciate this.”

“My pleasure.”