Page 35 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Meara

H e stepped from the shadows. Whatever aide summoned the Lord of the Court of Darkness and Void was successful, because darkness coalesced, thick enough to be a door, and a fae male stepped out.

His skin was warm sepia, his glossy hair falling over his forehead in a stylish swoop.

He looked young as a teen as he smiled, unbothered by the angry high king standing in front of him.

“Kyrell, you are not who I called,” King Argyro said, calmer than he was a moment prior. “Why did your brother send you?”

The heir of darkness cocked his head, looking amused. “Something about cleaning up my own mess.”

“I would like to know why you took the human princess,” Argyro asked, a threat brewing in his voice.

Kyrell shrugged, adjusting the embroidered vest that hugged his tapered waist. “She asked me to. ”

“Her parents and her betrothed are demanding her return,” Farran interjected, his hand resting on the dagger in his belt.

Meara’s pulse pounded in her throat. Surely violence would not break out in the high king’s throne room.

She wished for her hunting dagger, stashed in her bag in the Autumn Court rooms.

“Don’t fret. I’ll send her back if she asks me to,” Kyrell stated.

“Child,” the king said, “you will not defy me in this. You will return the girl who is not yours to have.”

Kyrell straightened, his expression turning stony. In that instance he went from a careless youth to an ageless fae. His voice stayed cool, casual, but the gleam in his dark eyes promised violence. “She is mine, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

Argyro nodded to his attendants and two armed guards moved toward Kyrell. As one reached for him, shadows flashed and a hand grabbed the guard’s forearm, forcing him back.

Another faerie stepped out of the darkness, this one an older version of Kyrell. Endlessly dark eyes glittered as he said, “If you lay your hand on my brother, I will remove it at the wrist.”

“Sigmis,” Argyro said. He wore his courtly smile, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You realize the human kingdoms are threatening war if they do not get their princess back. She is in a marriage contract.”

“I will not return my brother’s plaything.

I suggest the human kingdoms forge a new treaty, one that does not rest on bartering a girl.

” Without waiting for a response, Sigmis spun, his dark cloak whipping behind him and raising shadows that swallowed the two males, leaving an empty floor and shocked mutterings breaking out among the courtiers watching.

“Damn it!” Argyro said. “Everyone out! Go enjoy the banquet while I clean up this pile of griffin shit.” He waved his hand dismissively.

The chatter of the crowd rose, debates breaking out all around them. Meara gripped Cerne’s sleeve in an attempt to keep the chaos from overwhelming her sensitive fae hearing.

Queen Araluen rose and kissed her husband on the cheek before leaving the room. The crowd filtered out behind her and Cerne led them into the middle of it. No one bumped or pushed, but she stayed close to her escort.

Tayen had coached them on what to expect - delicate bites of food, faeries drifting between conversations as they strengthened their social alliances, and of course, dancing.

As they breached the doors, there was no formal announcement. The tightness constricting Meara’s lungs loosened a fraction.

The court members lounged around in seats, leaning against the soaring pillars, laughing and drinking.

Faerie wine covered the long table on one side of the room, beside the spread of food, and most guests held a flute in their hands already.

The mood was lighter, jovial, compared with the tense atmosphere of the throne room below.

Sunset was dying, the series of arched doorways leading to balconies darkening as the light from hundreds of tiny crystals from chandeliers above their head shimmered over them.

At her side, Cerne looked over the gathering. The tilt of his chin was regal, and she drifted closer, brushing his side.

She was on his arm at a court function. They made it through being presented to the high king and queen and perhaps won the queen’s approval. She had every reason to feel good, but it was the memory of his kiss that surfaced. She wanted to do it again.

Lilting music hummed in the background, similar to what they enjoyed in the pub but refined, lighter, brighter. Her hips swayed. Cerne smiled and leaned closer to speak to her. “Hungry?” She nodded and he guided her to the table spread with food, Tayen and Brenna trailing behind them.

Meara took the plate that Cerne offered.

Everything on the table was meant to be a single bite.

Miniature tarts, stuffed dates, little pieces of meat skewered on stems. Cerne placed a bite of cheese on her plate that he thought she would like.

She reached for a sliver of bread topped with a terrine that smelled of olives and wild boar, her mouth watering.

“Here, I know how you like these,” she said, putting a tiny cake topped with pomegranate on his plate. It felt intimate. He leaned closer to speak in her ear when a flash of gold caught her eye. Cerne stiffened beside her.

Garbed in deep turquoise trimmed in gold, a tall, broad fae male strode through the crowd.

The spear that peeked over his shoulder seemed to shimmer with magic.

His hair was the same molten gold as Brenna’s, and his skin a rich tan that seemed to glow.

She squinted, trying to determine if it was magic or simply the slight glow of sunset on his skin.

“Who is that?” Meara muttered.

Cerne lowered his face toward her, and she shivered as his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “That is Luce, the heir of the summer court.” He didn’t have to say he disliked the male, it was apparent in his tone and curl of his lip as he straightened.

“Let’s find a place to sit,” Tayen suggested, his hand resting on Cerne’s wrist where the faerie gripped his plate hard enough Meara was surprised it hadn’t broken.

Cerne blinked and then nodded, allowing Tayen to locate a group of seats at a small table along the edge of the room.

Meara’s eyes traced the columns upward where they arched into a vaulted ceiling.

Shadows revealed intricate carvings of white marble.

“Can we get some of this at the Autumn Court?” Brenna said, covering her mouth with her hand as she chewed a bite. Her other hand held a round pastry topped with pale green icing.

Tayen chuckled. “That’s a specialty of the spring court. Do you like it? Maybe I can arrange something.”

Brenna’s eyes crinkled as she grinned. “I was kidding. But yes, it’s incredible.” She took another bite. “Don’t worry, I love our food at the Autumn Court too. I could never go back to eating human food again.” Meara pressed her lips together and looked away.

Cerne’s hand drifted to her thigh. His fingers skimmed the silk, settling above her knee. It was a casual gesture, but it felt like a public claiming and her heart rate accelerated.

Without looking at her, he leaned closer.

“I apologize, but I must go speak with the Rangers again. Farran looks… unsettled.” He glanced at Tayen.

“I’ll bring news.” His hand released her reluctantly, fingers tracing over her knee as he stood.

She watched his antlers gleam ivory in the crystalline light as he walked away.

Brenna giggled at something Tayen said and Meara turned. “You guys should dance,” she said, catching her sister staring at the couples whirling across the marble floor to the string instruments’ tune.

“We couldn’t leave you,” Brenna protested.

Meara took a bite of creamy cheese and swallowed before answering, “I will be absolutely fine.” Her gaze met Tayen’s and she raised her eyebrows.

Understanding her silent command, Tayen stood, offering Brenna his open palm. “We are still in the same room, and no one here would harm her while she is under Cerne’s protection and in the high king’s court. Not so publicly, anyhow.”

Brenna’s brows furrowed, but she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and walked onto the dance floor. Meara watched them fall into the steps of the dance and twirl away as she ate her last bite of food. Frowning, she noted her empty plate. Time for a refill.

As she moved back toward the banquet spread, she heard the distinct sound of whispers and smothered giggles.

It had been weeks since the last time she received such treatment among humans, and she had grown accustomed to moving through public spaces without gossip or mockery following her.

Her shoulders tensed, refusing to turn and look for the petty gossip mongers.

Despite her lack of acknowledgement, her skin heated with a clammy sort of anger.

Perhaps it wasn’t directed at her, but somehow she knew it was.

She set her plate on the tray of a passing server and turned back.

The room was too warm, stifling, and she could not fill her lungs without feeling like she was choking.

This shouldn’t affect her like this, but after the last few tumultuous days, she felt raw.

Vulnerable. She scanned for reprieve and her eyes fell on the closest balcony, the door open a sliver. She fled.

Sliding into the night air, her heart slowed and her panic faded to a bearable hum in her mind.

The quiet rush of the rivers below and the zing of nighttime insects soothed her and the tension wound taut in her chest slowly unraveled.

Exhaling slowly, she drifted toward the railing and peered over the dark water.

Moonlight coated the treetops and sloped grassy hills.

Rivers wove like ribbons through the landscape until they disappeared into blackness.

She knew the sea was somewhere in the distance.

Leaning her forearms on the railing, she studied the shining line of water and let the chilled breeze cool her flesh.