Page 33 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Brenna

T he forest thinned and the autumn colors fell away until they walked through evergreens scattered over rolling hills.

Brenna could feel the Autumn Court leaving her behind, but there was magic in this land too.

It felt different, cooler, sharper. It wasn’t something she could explain, just a sense.

“So are we going to discuss the Princess situation?” Ayala asked. Tayen’s head whipped toward her. “Brother, there are two with us who may not know the implications of what was shared. Would you send them in blind?”

Tayen’s features softened. “Good thinking.” He slowed Eirlys to walk beside the sisters.

Brenna threaded her fingers through Clover’s dark mane, steadying herself.

“Princess Elysia was taken by darkness, and that is the craft of Lord Sigmis of the Court of Darkness and Void. I know of no others who can shadowwalk.”

“Why would he take a human princess?” Meara asked.

“I don’t know.” Tayen sighed, looking out over the hills.

Ayala turned back in her seat. “His younger brother, Kyrell, likes pretty things.”

“That's one way to put it,” Tayen said, scrubbing his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how he would have known of Elysia.”

“She’s part faerie,” Brenna added. “I think her mother was half.”

His hand dropped. “You didn’t think to share that sooner?” She shrugged and he raised his voice. “Cerne, did you hear that?” The stag tossed his head in response.

“Sigmis is unpredictable,” Tayen said darkly. “We will see what happens.”

As they crested the hill, a confluence of rivers spanned the valley before them.

Sparkling water stretched wide, separating and rejoining around an island that rose up like a crystal jutting from the earth.

The sparkling, white stone was carved, and as Brenna studied it, she saw a network of buildings, stairs, and terraces making up what must be Court Tara.

“Welcome to Court Tara,” Ayala said, a hint of sardonic humor in her cool voice.

The river ran deep until it crested a ford.

The water streamed over the wide platform, bubbling and frothing as it tumbled over the far side.

This was where they crossed, their horses’ hooves sending up a spray of glittering river water.

Brenna dropped her hand and felt the water sprinkle across her fingers.

On the far side, they passed through a wide, ornate archway of stone.

Silver veins ran through the white stone, and Brenna realized that was the source of the reflective quality she admired.

Even the ground under their feet was the same stone, carved away to leave a rough texture, making it easy to scale the hill.

Balconies and windows covered every wall, and most were draped with greenery, filling the air with the verdant scent of leaves and flowers.

Between the windows, ornate columns and corbels decorated every solid surface.

It was the most decadent architecture Brenna had ever seen.

Her lips parted in awe as she took it in, letting Clover guide her.

Faeries of every variety surrounded them.

They formed a living, breathing rainbow of colors, sizes, and shapes.

She spotted fox ears, rounded horns, whiplike tails, claws, whiskers, bright red eyes, scaled skin, and every shade of skin and hair, many of which were not possible with humans.

The bustle was quiet compared to the peasants in Dornadan.

Every faerie moved gracefully, going about their business and stopping to speak quietly with their friends or neighbors.

She smiled, loving the way the mass moved as if it was choreographed. A dance in a city center.

Part of the way up the winding path, Cerne stopped.

With a shake of his head, he shifted back and reached for a door.

The white stone was carved with falling leaves.

An array of antlers branched out from the top of the door frame, marking it for the Autumn Court.

A pair of grooms, short, stout faerie with goat’s legs, appeared, offering to take the horses.

Brenna slipped off Clover and patted her hindquarters as she was led away.

Cerne stood in the doorway, scowling at the other side of the road. It was an identical door, this one carved with waving wheat and a rising sun. Light shone from within the windows, diffused by sheer ivory curtains. His lip curled. “Good to know Luce is here.”

“Luce?” Brenna asked.

“The heir of the Summer Court,” Tayen answered, coming up behind her. Cerne’s exhale was derisive, and with one last glare, he pushed the door open and walked inside. Brenna raised an eyebrow, and Tayen leaned in. “Cerne’s least favorite person.”

Brenna followed him into the Autumn Court’s quarters. While their rooms in Roven were luxurious, nothing prepared her for the decadence of Court Tara. White wood and silver trappings made up all of the furniture, with ivory linens draping upholstery. Massive pillows welcomed her toward the settee.

Light poured in from floor to ceiling windows along the wall, broken up by glass doors opening onto a balcony.

Brenna was frightened she would mar the beautiful decor with her touch.

Doors stood open along the side wall, revealing spacious bedrooms beyond.

Cerne moved within one of them, and Tayen claimed another.

Meara stood in the center doorway, beckoning Brenna into the room they would share. Clasping her hands together, Brenna crossed the room to join her sister.

A four poster bed draped in sheer, white organza stood in the middle of the room.

The headboard was a complex carving of silver, depicting leaping deer, dashing foxes, great trees, and hundreds of tiny mushrooms. She ran her fingers over the polished design, marveling at its intricacies.

It shone under the bright afternoon sun pouring in the open door.

“We have our own bathing room,” Meara said, and Brenna followed her voice into the second room.

A porcelain tub stood in the center of the space with a silver faucet arching over it.

A huge mirror covered the wall above dual washbasins, and Brenna blinked at the crystal clear reflection of herself.

Her fingers went to the pink of her cheeks and lips, the glow of her skin.

It complimented the warmth of her hair. The top layer had lightened with all of the time she’d spent in the sun since they left Liosliath.

“Yes, you are lovely,” Meara teased. “Tayen said we should dress for court. Nicest dress, apparently. He said that twice, so I think he’s concerned I’m going to stay dressed as I am.

” She chuckled, and Brenna smiled, grateful for her efforts to cheer her.

Meara hated when Brenna was the morose one, and she would do whatever it took to bring back Brenna’s good spirits, so Meara could be the grumpy pessimist once more.

“Sounds good. Which dress do you think?”

Drifting back into the bedroom, she scanned the dresses Meara had laid out.

Something urged her toward the dress the color of burnt caramel, like the darkest shade of her hair.

Iridescent webbing embroidered with pale yellow vines threaded along the top layer, stitched with dozens of flowers rising up the corset and trailing down the hips: blush roses, burgundy ranunculus, and ivory peonies.

Hundreds of miniscule chips of tourmaline gemstone sparkled at the sweetheart neckline, forming a field of wildflowers across her bust. Once on, the sheer sleeves swayed around her wrists, more gems twinkling as she moved.

“You look incredible,” Meara said quietly as she tied the last lace in the back.

Brenna pressed a hand to her corseted waist. “I’m glad, it’s a bit tighter than what I’ve grown accustomed to. Who knew I’d grow to prefer the flowy faerie dresses?”

“Formal court wear tends to be more structured. That’s why I picked that.” Ayala stood in the doorway. Her gaze flicked down Brenna’s figure. “Meara, get dressed,” she snapped, closing the door sharply.

Sighing, Brenna helped ease Meara’s dress over her head.

It was yards of black fabric, dark enough she could barely see the shadowy lace embellishing the bust. The silk skirts draped over her hips in a cascade of gleaming obsidian fabric, fading into the deepest shade of blackberry around her feet.

Meara eased the coordinating capelet over her shoulders.

It was simple, save for the raven feathers sewn along the top.

They framed her shoulders and softened her features.

“This is all so sudden, I feel as if I will stumble over my own feet and then say something crude, and get us imprisoned,” Meara muttered.

Brenna let out a bark of a laugh. “That is quite the imaginative disaster. Relax. You almost never fall over your feet. Just hang onto Cerne’s arm. I know you want to,” she teased, fluttering her lashes. She was gratified when Meara’s face flushed.

“I don’t, absolutely not,” she protested, a blush spreading to the tips of her tapered ears, reflecting pink in the silver ear cuffs. She scowled, giving her head a little shake. “Come, let’s go.”

Meara pushed the door open and they faced the sitting room.

Cerne turned, dressed in the darkest emerald from his doublet to his fitted pants.

The bright light in the room reflected off a copper crown on his brow.

It was shaped like a laurel wreath with realistic leaves encircling his head.

Metallic threads draped between the tines of his antlers, tiny chips of garnet and topaz catching the light in a sparkling spiderweb.

As he turned his head, Brenna spied a chain across the back allowing the crown to fit around the base of his antlers.

It must have been made specially for him.

The effect was stunning, she had to admit, with his long, dark lashes framing those mossy eyes lined with kohl.