Page 21 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Meara

T he day faded, and specks of purpled dying light danced over Meara’s hair, picking up the blue and green tones under the blackness.

The forest dropped away, and they entered a wide slough.

Dornadan huddled against the slope of the Brae Mountains.

The muddy grays of the fortress blended into the rocky crags.

Below, the city sprawled across the marshland formed from the mountain springs flowing into what must have been prairie long ago.

The party walked along wooden slats, the horses’ hooves stomping with hollow thuds. Meara surveyed the fields of verdant arrowgrass and foxtail.

She knew Dornadan did little agriculture - how could they when ocean water welled up, mingling with fresh water until everything was salty and damp? They relied on trade with Brynmor to supply the grain and produce they required.

The outermost row of buildings stood evenly spaced with wide troughs between them. They were canals, drawing water out of the city and draining it into the fields. The structures were raised on embankments, and as they reached them, the path turned from slats to dirt.

The residents looked up as they passed, but quickly returned to their business. Women pinned freshly laundered clothing to lines tied between the timber trusses supporting peat roofs. Wood-clad walls held shuttered windows above the dark stone that made up the lower half of the homes.

The path wove through winding streets at a steep incline, and Meara leaned forward in her seat as Bran climbed toward the watchtowers seemingly built into the mountain itself.

As they grew closer, dwellings gave way to shops and businesses.

One of these might be her mother’s new apothecary.

Meara couldn’t help but check the signs nailed above the doors painted in shades of charcoal and ash.

More faces turned their way as they ascended.

The men wore their hair in braids down the center of their skulls with the sides shorn off.

Silver and black beads decorated beards and braids.

The style revealed more than a few humans with a slight point to their ears, and she wondered how many half-fae had taken refuge in Dornadan.

Or conversely, how many faeries visited this city and found the comfort of a human lover, resulting in hybrid children?

The ground evened out as they broke from the twisting labyrinth of shops and stepped into the stronghold’s courtyard. Guards in black uniforms edged in silver fastenings strode between doorways, long swords hanging at their thighs.

Sleek horses of every color followed their masters, for Dorandan was known for their equine husbandry. Her lips parted as she watched the beautiful creatures. Surely, the Autumn Court’s horses came from this stock.

Cerne dismounted and offered to help Meara down, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to accept. She slid down Bran’s side and landed in the gravel softly.

“My lord,” a brusk man exclaimed, bowing to their group. He lacked a sword and had the look of steward with the softness of his middle. “We are blessed by your presence. Let my groomsmen take your horses and I will show you to your rooms so you can refresh yourselves before the feast tonight.”

Tayen ducked his head, leaning close. “Where have you placed the party from Liosliath? We would like to avoid any unnecessary conflict.”

“Of course, Lord Tayen. They are in rooms along the south side, and I have prepared suites closer to Sablewood as I know you prefer.”

“Good man.” Tayen patted him on the back, an easy smile on his face. Perhaps Tayen was this friendly with everyone, but Meara sensed a familiarity befitting an ambassador who made regular visits.

They trailed behind the steward as he led them to the left.

Colorless stone rose up in sheer walls. The man pushed open a nondescript door and bowed his head as Cerne strode inside.

A dark, cold sitting room opened to three small bedrooms. At least the sleeping spaces had windows cut into the stone high on the walls, sending down shafts of gray light that clashed with the pools of warmth from the flickering oil lamps.

Xurey stuck close behind her, and Meara turned, dropping her voice. “What do you expect for sleeping arrangements?”

“You and Brenna will share a room. That is your preference, correct?”

“Does that mean you have to share with Ayala?” Meara pressed her teeth into her bottom lip.

Xurey shook her head, a light laugh punctuating her words. “Oh, I don’t expect Ayala will spend the night here. Nor Tayen.”

Meara frowned, but Xurey was already moving away, claiming the smallest bedroom for herself. Figuring Cerne would take the grandest room with the canopy draped over the bed, Meara decided on the middle room for herself and Brenna.

Their bags were delivered moments later, and she stood by, holding items when requested as her sister aired out their dresses.

“I wonder if Mum knows that we are here,” Meara mused.

Brenna nodded, laying out the linen pouch that held their borrowed accessories. “When do you think we can see her?”

“Now?”

“I’m not sure there is time before the party. The day is growing late already. But tomorrow we have time set aside.”

Delicate fingers untied the laces and folded back fabric to reveal a collection of jewelry. Brenna murmured, “I cannot believe we are attending a king’s betrothal party.”

Meara turned over the hair pins in her hands. The darkened gold would disappear amongst Brenna’s curls, but they were still beautiful. The tourmaline gemstones would add sparkle, and that befitted her sister’s cheery nature perfectly.

“Stop glowering at the jewels and come wash up,” Brenna said.

“I wasn’t.” Meara pressed her lips into a line. With a sigh, she followed her sister to the washroom. They scrubbed their faces and arms and then set about preparing for the feast.

Much to Meara’s distaste, Ayala set out her gown in Cerne’s room and promptly sat at his dressing table brushing out her long hair. Her auburn waves flowed over her shoulders and down her back like a length of fine silk.

Ignoring the fae female, the sisters retreated to their room and took turns styling each other’s hair.

Brenna braided the front pieces of Meara’s hair and tucked them back, leaving the rest smooth.

Once they traded places, Meara tucked the gemstone pins into Brenna’s curls, holding the front pieces back leaving the rest loose.

Xurey appeared in the doorway with a subdued smile and an ebony dress hugging her statuesque frame. Sheer fabric flowed over her shoulders.

“You look gorgeous,” Brenna said, beaming at her friend.

“Thanks. I was wondering if you needed any help.” Xurey perched on their bed, her hands folded loosely.

“Thank you. Is there any advice you have for us as far as fitting in with the nobility here?” Meara said, an anxious edge to her words as Brenna untangled her darkly iridescent hair.

“They’re used to us. Do not feel as if you need to conform to human styles,” Xurey said quietly.

Ten minutes later, the girls tied the laces on their dresses and stepped into the shared sitting room.

Ayala sat on the settee with her legs crossed and her foot twitching impatiently.

Her body dripped with liquid bronze, the fabric conforming to her body.

Metallic beads flashed in spiderweb braids adorning her long, lush hair.

Painted lips thinned as she regarded the sisters.

Meara tugged her dress. It was the most conservative style Dyani had created for her. Silk the color of wet soil rose to her collar, scooping lower in the back. Her hands rose to cover her exposed upper arms.

Brenna’s dress rustled as she moved. Skirts the same shade as dogwood blossoms layered over a bodice of gilded ocher that clasped at the nape of her neck. Metallic stitches formed vines that feathered out over her waist and hips.

“You look lovely,” Cerne said, his voice brushing across Meara’s skin as he appeared in the door. Meara was surprised to find Cerne’s eyes sweeping down her body and up to focus on her face.She looked away, swallowing.

“Thank you,” Ayala said, a small smirk brightening her face.

Cerne rolled his eyes as he crossed the room and sank into an armchair. “Are we ready to go?”

Tayen glanced toward the door. “We have some time yet.”

Xurey perched beside Ayala, nibbling at her lip. “I apologize, but I am offput by this betrothal. I mean, he is four times her age.” Her naturally quiet voice rose with indignation. She must have been stewing about this for some time.

“That is common among the upper class in the Queendom,” Brenna said apologetically, her brows drawing together as she regarded her friend.

Ayala shrugged, unbothered. “It makes her a queen.”

Xurey scowled. “She is the sole child of a king. Wouldn’t she have become queen some day anyway?”

Shaking his head, Tayen explained. “Malacia did not make Elysia her heir when she and Barrach wed. But this marriage will bring peace between two rivals. Eldric and Elysia both know this. I imagine that is enough motivation.”

Sitting back, Xurey crossed her arms. The crease between her brows deepened. “She could have married one of his sons.”

“Emeric is single.” Ayala said, her eyes sliding to her brother. “ Though I’m not sure if he has similar preferences as Eladin or not.”

“Prince Eladin does not care for…?” Brenna said, cutting herself off and raising a hand to her mouth as her cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s not that Eladin dislikes humans, it's that he prefers a particular faerie,” Cerne said, winking at his friend.

Tayen ignored them, though a blush crept up his neck. “Get all this talk out of your system now. It’s about time to leave, and I’d like to at least appear composed.”

“I’m ready,” Ayala said, rising and brushing off her metallic dress.

As they walked toward the door, Cerne paused, turning to face the sisters. “It would be best if you did not discuss your prior lives. It would be unwise to risk the guards of Liosliath catching wind of your history.”

“So no discussing our old home,” Brenna muttered. “What about our mother?”

“Maybe keep your mouth closed,” Ayala hissed with her fist propped on her hip. “We will be unacceptably late if we stay here prattling on.”

Cerne inhaled, his eyes narrowing, and began walking, forcing Ayala to double step to return to his side and take his arm. “Ayala,” he rumbled, so quietly Meara almost missed it. The reprimand brought a small, justified smile to her face.

The air had chilled, and dust plumed from the many humans in the courtyard. Sweat and the scent of burnt charcoal assaulted Meara’s nose.

Guards swarmed among Dornadan citizens looking for a chance to glimpse the royal visitors from Liosliath. The crowd parted and Cerne led the way to the formal entrance of the keep. Once ushered inside, they paused at the massive blackened iron plated doors leading to the great hall.

Stewards bowed and heaved the doors open to reveal a tapestry of rich brocade and jewels lit by hot firelight as the scent of smoke, sweat, and musty furs enveloped them. Crimson spilled over the shoulders of Liosliath nobles intermixing with the blacks and mixed metals of Dornadan courtiers.

Heads turned as the steward called out, “Lord Cerne, ruler of the faerie Court of Autumn Harvest, and his guests, Lord Ambassador Tayen, his sister Lady Ayala, Lady Xurey, Lady Brenna, and Lady Meara.”

Meara stiffened at hearing her name announced like she was worth everyone taking note.

From the gemstones glinting at the throats of every person in the expansive space, she knew she did not belong here.

She would have turned away, but she walked with her fingers resting in Tayen’s grasp, and his hold on her tightened as if he sensed her hesitation.

Meara’s stomach twisted, watching Ayala’s haughty sneer. She stayed on Cerne’s arm as he spoke with a few human men wearing expensive mink coats, one with massive sapphires for buttons. Another’s hands glittered with white stones as he shook Cerne’s hand with a smile that made her skin itch.

Anxiety took hold and Meara crowded closer to Tayen and her sister. Tayen expertly threaded through the throng, towing them along.

As they neared the center of the gathering, Tayen smiled at her over his shoulder encouragingly. Despite the knots in her stomach, Meara raised her chin. She was a faerie among these human nobles. She would not cower before them.