Page 44 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Brenna

T he sisters sat in their rooms, watching the faeries working the fields from the chairs they moved to the window.

Hair ranged from green to gold to the dark shade of tree bark, skin from darkest mahogany to swirls of gold and ivory.

They walked between the rows, skimming hands over the plants and encouraging them to grow.

Fruit lay heavy upon the vine and its colors darkened as the gardeners tended the plants.

The faeries slowly moved to the edges of the field and then dispersed as the final light of day faded into a tepid darkness.

“Tending my garden would have been so much easier if I could do that,” Brenna said, leaning her temple against the glass. It warmed her skin. Meara hummed her agreement.

A soft knock on the door interrupted their thoughts. “Ready for supper?” Ayala asked, tapping a manicured finger against her arm. “You can have food brought to our rooms if you don’t feel like socializing.”

“We are coming,” Brenna said, smiling. She tugged on Meara’s sleeve, and her sister rose with a huff. Most likely, she would rather eat in their rooms alone, but Brenna needed some cheering and making new friends would do the trick.

Ayala sashayed down the hall as if she owned the summer palace. While it would have bothered Brenna in the past, now it provided comforting familiarity. Even Meara’s steps lightened as they passed beautiful tapestries of sun bursts falling over sunflowers and grains.

Their hall opened into a wide terrace. Ornately carved marble columns the color of wheat rose up with sheer curtains draping between them. Two faeries lounged across sofas, and they straightened when Ayala greeted them.

“I hope you haven’t missed me too terribly.” She flashed a brilliant smile and sank onto a cushion.

The female laughed. “I hear what you aren’t saying, Ayala. You’d prefer to stay in the Summer Court with us. You do not have to hide it.” Her slender frame relaxed back into the cushions, a riot of white gold curls fanning around her head.

“I know that’s your dream,” Ayala quipped, waving the sisters forward. “Brenna, Meara, this is Vasara,” she motioned to the female beside her, “and Harin.” The male could have been her sibling, with the same tan skin and pale gold hair. A tidy beard shadowed his jaw.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, leaning forward to take Brenna’s hand.

She tensed, not wanting another male to kiss her hand after Emrys touched her so tenderly, but he merely raised it in the air in a short greeting and released her.

Leaning back, Harin rested his hands behind his head.

“So what is the news from the Autumn Court?”

Ayala scoffed. “Are you mining me for information?”

“Maybe,” he said, a devious smile widening his full mouth. Not a hint of guilt. From the way Ayala watched him, Brenna wondered if they were close. Perhaps Harin collected information the way Ayala did.

“You’ll have to work harder than that to get anything out of her,” Vasara said lightly as she reached for a small plate.

Brenna studied the spread. Small flatbreads lay stacked in a round dish, while bowls surrounded them with various toppings.

Vasara scooped a smooth beige dip onto her flatbread, followed by a spoonful of diced tomatoes and something green.

Brenna breathed in the scents and tried to pick through all the new smells. Was that cucumber?

“Have some. It’s not going to poison you,” Vasara said, her soft smile turned on her. Brenna nodded, taking a plate and copying her choices. Her first bite of flatbread was floury and dense, layered with the rich, salty dip and bright, acidic tomatoes.

Vasara motioned to a bowl of pomegranate pearls. “Try those too. They’re delicious.”

“Vasara, stop flirting. She is smitten with a high court faerie,” Ayala said, rolling her eyes.

Cheeks flushing, Brenna opened her mouth to protest, but Vasara interrupted. “Just for that, I won’t be chilling your drink for you,” she said, scrunching her nose.

Both women laughed, but when Ayala raised a goblet of sparkling drink, Vasara held her palm up in refusal.

“Oh, you are the worst.” Ayala pouted, sipping her drink.

Meara and Brenna accepted their own goblets, and Brenna took an experimental sip. It was lighter than wine and it fizzed across her tongue. The tang of alcohol was softened by a sweetness that reminded her of peaches.

A flash of burnished brass caught her eye.

Luce, heir of the Summer Court, stepped in the room and halted, his brow furrowing as he took in their guests.

Brenna’s flush of embarrassment shifted to one of indignation. From the curve of his lips, Luce clearly did not want them here.

“Sit down, Luce, and be friendly. Cerne isn’t here,” Vasara said.

Exhaling, the golden prince settled into a chair as far from them as possible.

Brenna pressed her lips together, trying to not be offended, but his rejection stung.

It shouldn’t. He was rivals with Cerne, and not someone she wanted to associate with.

From Ayala’s easy smile, she was unbothered.

Beside her, Meara was so tense, Brenna worried she would break. Her food sat untouched.

“Eat,” Ayala said softly, eyeing Meara. Brenna felt a surge of gratefulness for the prickly fae female.

Luce sighed audibly, and Brenna focused on her plate. It was Vasara who broke the awkward silence. “So there was word that the humans are moving against us?”

“Yes,” Luce said, rubbing his forehead. “We’ve already received a request to mobilize whatever forces we can offer.”

“Us too,” Ayala added. “We had to deal with a few humans testing our borders already.”

Brenna rubbed at her ribs, phantom pain twinging in her gut. “That’s why we came early. To stay out of their way.”

“Wise,” Harin said, nodding knowingly.

Luce laughed bitterly. “I don’t know what they expect from us. Our guard is well trained, but it is small. We are a land of farmers, as you are craftsmen.” He swept a hand toward Ayala and the sisters.

“I hope they can negotiate a peaceful solution,” Brenna said.

“Unfortunately, I believe we are past that.”

Meara's grip on her skirts tightened, wrinkling the fabric. “So will the fae march on the humans?”

“Absolutely not. We will only respond if they move against us,” Ayala said, her confidence unwavering.

“Perhaps they won’t,” Meara said, though it sounded hollow.

“Enough of this saddening news,” Vasara said. “We are here to have fun.” She raised her goblet and took a long drink. “Let me tell you about my day.”

Stories bled into each other, and Brenna drank and laughed. Even Meara relaxed and smiled. The moon was high by the time they trudged back to their rooms.

Birdsong woke them. The summer finches and jays were louder than the soft whistles and chatters of the forest birds in the Autumn Court. She turned, smiling at her bleary-eyed sister. Meara grunted, dragging herself out of bed and to the washroom.

Brenna followed, washing her face in the ivory basin and gazing out of the arched windows painted the saturated yellow of marigolds.

The fields glistened and glittered with dew before the heat of the day burned it away.

Fresh flowers covered the table beside the white porcelain soaking tub pushed up against the windows.

She wasn’t sure she could bathe in that tub when the windows were clear glass.

The entire court would see her. That was a problem for later.

“Ayala is gone,” Meara said, her voice gravelly. “I thought she was here last night.”

“She’s a spy, so the sneaking around shouldn’t surprise us,” Brenna said with a dry laugh. “Let’s go look for food. I’m starving. We didn’t eat nearly enough last night.”

Meara nodded and dressed in her typical trousers and loose tunic, while Brenna selected a dress that would work for an active day.

She might as well be comfortable if there was no formal gathering today.

They had the entire day free, and tomorrow the rest of the guests would arrive and the celebration would commence.

“Where do we go?” Meara asked, easing the door to their rooms open.

Brenna shrugged. “I suppose we should find someone to ask.”

They took a few tentative steps into the hall, and when no one appeared, they started walking. Brenna tried to remember the way to the terrace from last night, knowing that path would not lead them to any private bedchambers or office that could get them in trouble.

“Ayala!” Meara yelped.

The female closed a door behind her quietly, her orange hair falling around her in voluminous waves, as if it had been mussed recently.

“Shush,” Ayala said, darting toward them and crossing her arms across her chest. “What are you two doing?”

“What are you doing?” Brenna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Going back to freshen up,” she snapped.

“Whose room is that?”

Ayala wrinkled her nose. “None of your business.”

“Was Harin working harder to get information from you? ”

“Shut up!” Ayala crossed her arms and started to walk away, pausing to look over her shoulder. “Keep going straight and you’ll find the kitchens.”

“Thank you!” Brenna chimed.

Ayala raised her middle finger over her shoulder as she walked away.

Meara pressed her hand to her mouth. “Sounds like she had a nice evening.” Brenna grinned at her.

The kitchens were at the end of the hall, and a trio of brownies prepared breakfast for the estate. Egg quiches cooled on the stove, melon was being sliced, and glaze glistened on hand pies. The chefs loaded up two dishes with sticky sweet bread and slices of a vermillion melon with a green rind.

It was early enough that most of the court still slept, so the sisters crossed the hall and stepped onto the grassy hills surrounding the Summer manor.

Strolling along, Brenna admired the rainbow of flowers growing along the edge of the estate. Were they intentionally cultivated, or was the land responding to the magic within the walls?

Meara’s steps faltered, and Brenna turned. “What?”

“Luce is there.” Meara tipped her chin, directing Brenna to the edge of the field a short ways down the hill.

The heir of the Court of Summer Harvest stood looking out over the ocean of stems. The stalks before him rippled, something moving through the field toward him.

Brenna gasped as a huge hound burst from the tall grass.

Its tongue lolled from its mouth and its tail wagged.

Its head snapped to her, and the creature was bounding up the hill before she could turn to run.

Luce threw his hands up to cup his mouth and called, “He is friendly. Don’t be afraid.”

The creature barreled into Brenna, and only Meara’s hold on her arm kept her upright. She steadied herself and lowered her hands to scratch at the beast’s neck. He sat, his long, thin tail sweeping the ground and scattering wisps of dried twigs and leaves.

“Aren’t you the sweetest boy?” Brenna crooned, letting the dog lick her hand with so much enthusiasm, his butt lifted from the ground as he scooted closer to her skirts.

“Sorin, down,” Luce commanded, and the dog settled. His deep brown eyes begged for more attention, and Brenna couldn’t help but scratch below his ear. His tongue fell from his mouth. “I apologize. He is spoiled.”

Brenna shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Meara watched Luce warily, so Brenna straightened and put on her sweetest smile. “We understand there are no organized events today. We can stay in our rooms, but what else might we occupy our time with?” The dog nudged her hand with his wet nose, and she ran her fingers over his head.

“You are welcome to explore. Although I understand you are still training in your magic. Would you like to join us this morning?”

“Join for training?” Meara clarified.

Luce nodded. “I train with Vasara and Harin. It’s good to learn from others.”

The sisters exchanged glances. Brenna was intrigued, while Meara hesitated.

“Yes,” Brenna agreed. “We would appreciate that.”