Page 29
Wynter
A flash of silver ripples in the clearing, and my horse, Tier, steps out of the shadows, hoofs silent on the mossy ground. Ivor pads after him, his black coat gray in the mist, flanks twitching as he sniffs the air.
Ivor bounds forward and knocks me to the ground. We roll around, and then I push onto my haunches, rubbing his ears, as I call my horse to join us.
“Hey, Tier,” I say, standing and pressing my forehead to his nose, breathing in his familiar scent. “It’s good to see you. The foolish mortal has gone and gotten herself kidnapped again, so you’re off the hook. I don’t need a ride back to the Emerald Keep anymore.”
He gives an indignant snort, ruffling my hair.
“Don’t be offended. I know you’re faster than Father’s órga falcons. But if I shift and run with Ivor, we’ll blend into the land, be less noticeable. My family can’t know I’m back, or they’ll never let me leave. Return home. All going well, I’ll see you soon. You understand, don’t you? ”
Tier blows a hard breath, ears pinned and stamps his hoofs like I’ve insulted him in five languages before plodding toward the Lake of Spirits, whinnying over his shoulder every few steps.
“Take a swim in the lake,” I call out. “Replenish your magic. Then the trip won’t have been for nothing.”
Ivor barks, growing impatient, and I shrug off the guilt of abandoning my horse and prepare for the change.
The shift comes with a searing bolt of heat that shudders through my bones.
My limbs snap and change, my senses stretching beyond my bond with the earth element, now fused with the power of fang and claw.
Fur bursts across my skin, and the sharp tang of pine and rot fills my nose, soil humming beneath my paws the moment they strike the ground.
Ivor gives a huff beside me and thrashes his tail expectantly. His favorite times are when we run together, hunting. I shake from my nose to the tip of my tail, releasing the tension from my spine, and then we turn toward the woods.
The wind rustles my fur as I run, paws drumming the damp forest floor.
Ivor lopes beside me, silent and sure, a black streak in the darkness.
Together we wind through towering trees and bramble-wrapped groves, the rhythm of our movements tuned to instinct and magical bond.
Above us, clouds scatter across a waning moon.
We cross the lowlands under the cover of mist, the Emerald Castle’s spires glinting in the moonlight, growing closer with every breath.
As we race over the bridge, the city’s waterfalls roar beneath us, and part of me aches to slip through a side door, and crawl into bed for some much-needed rest. But I can’t stop.
I’ll never stop. Not while Summer needs me .
Instead, we bypass my home, taking an overgrown path that snakes around an outer wall, ducking beneath knotted tree limbs and weaving past the ruins of Castle Black—the old seat of my kingdom, where the air still thrums with ancient magic and curses.
The grass grows sparse near the sea cliffs, giving way to gravel paths and jagged stone. We pass the old tournament grounds, thankfully, not running into any nosy sea witches, ready to flap their gills to the court about my presence.
And then, there it is—the Moonstone Cave, mouth yawning wide like the maw of some sleeping beast. It shimmers subtly, as if it remembers us and is ready to do our biding.
Which is a ruse. Only mages or queens can open this portal.
I had to enlist Ether’s help many times to journey to the Earth Realm to search for Summer until I finally got spat out near Gravenshade Hall.
I shift to my fae form with a shudder, summoning a courtly glamour of leather and armor. Ivor whines and paces behind me as I step inside, the stone glowing with bright veins of light underfoot. My hand slides over the familiar arch etched into the wall, the elemental sigils rough against my palm.
Thank Dana my sister can’t read my thoughts—though I’ve read hers often enough to know I’m doomed. She’s going to kill me when she finds out Landolin has Summer. I take a deep breath, but it snags in my throat, thick with guilt.
“Merri,” I call out across the bond. “It’s me, Wyn. I need urgent passage. I must see you.”
Our connection takes a few minutes to snap into place, as if she’s busy, occupied with court duties. I sense her confusion sharpen to recognition, then comes resignation .
“Of course it’s you, brother dear,” she replies. “You never knock politely, just barge in like a bog troll.”
The air shimmers as the portal forms—an arc of rainbow-colored water licking the stone, widening until it encompasses the full width of the cave.
Ivor and I step into the pond, through the cascading wall of water, then everything goes black.
Regaining consciousness on the floor outside the golden doors of the Merit palace’s Great Hall, I shake my head to clear it, then give the guards a brisk nod as I get to my feet.
“Evening,” I say. “My sister is expecting me.”
Ivor, ever the disagreeable guest, growls at the guards, his fur bristling. I hide a smile as a ram’s horn sounds, and the double doors open wide. At least my wolf didn’t raise his leg and piss on them.
“Wish me luck,” I whisper, and step over a thin moat of flaming oil, momentarily blinded by the flashing gold and silver surfaces as I enter the hall.
Alternating red, black, and gold columns rise upward to bear the weight of the domed-glass ceiling that spills moonlight across the polished black marble floor. Beyond them, my sister sits on the Sun Throne, a regal vision in a glittering crown of silver meteoric spikes.
The throne itself, all sharp angles and gleaming metal, looking more like a weapon than a seat, fans out in bronze beams behind Merri that span the entire rear wall of glass. Beyond the glass, a sea of stars glitters like splintered crystals.
Even from this great distance, my sister’s smile shines as bright as her vivid red hair .
On her right, wearing a matching crown of towering black, sits her husband—the silver-haired Riven éadra na Duinn, the Unseelie King who saved my uncle and aunt’s lives when they were imprisoned at this court many years ago.
They now rule over the Land of Five, largely thanks to his benevolent nature.
A flock of mechanical birds swoops through incense-scented air, circling me in a blur of metal and motion. I swipe a hand above my head, and they squawk and flee, retreating behind the broad purple leaves of palm trees and tall copper braziers alight with green flames.
Though packed with Merit courtiers, the hall is hushed, everyone waiting to see what has brought a Seelie prince to their court in the middle of the night. All hoping for drama, no doubt.
A wild screech cuts through the air, then Riven’s owl, a half-natural, half-mechanical creature, calls out, “The Wynter Prince comes. Where’s Summer? Where’s Summer?”
The damn owl knows everything. I swear she’s a better mind reader than I am.
As I move closer, I notice Lidwinia, the king’s sister and Merri’s closest friend sprawled across the top steps of the dais, cleaning her teeth with a knife like the badass she is.
At her feet, my niece and nephew play—solemn, silver-haired twins. Their blue eyes widen, smiles stretching across their faces as I approach. They sit forward as if to rise, but Lidwinia presses them back.
“Queen of Merits,” I drawl, offering an exaggerated bow, grin barely contained. “How fares the most regal of older sisters to ever exist in the realms? ”
Before Merri can answer, Lidwinia, straightens, licks the knife with her thin, forked tongue, and says, “Ah, the Prince of Earth comes seeking favors.”
I bow again. “You know me so well, Princess of Merits.”
Laughing, Merri turns to Lidwinia. “What use is an older sister if she can’t grant impossible favors to a charming but hopeless younger brother?”
A gold spider scrambles up the Merit princess’s arm and hides behind her spikes of green hair. Rothlo may appear shy, but she is no ordinary spider. I once saw Lidwinia ride her into battle, the creature transformed into the size of a fomorian, the giants that roamed Faery thousands of years ago.
“My first favor is a humble request for a private audience with my sister and her husband.”
The Merit Queen bows her head, and the entire hall disperses, most transferring by dissolving in the air like the ghosts that plague Summer in the human realm. Others raise leathery wings and flee through open windows, brave ones allowing their talons to scrape my head as they fly above me.
I crack my knuckles, and the walls shudder, dust gathering and swirling in a vortex in front of me before it erupts, covering the troublemaking fae on their way out.
“Shall we find Elas?” Lidwinia asks the children.
They nod, then hurry down the steps and wrap themselves around my legs before burying their faces in Ivor’s fur.
“We forbid you to leave until you play with us,” demands Brisa, a blast of her air magic tangling my hair.
“Air powers triumph over earth. We need you to help us prove our experiment,” Eirian chimes in .
I dare not tell my fierce niece and nephew that I’ve let them win all of our battles so far, though sometimes I am quite tempted.
“I won’t be at court long enough. But next time, count me in. Until then, stay out of trouble, chlann ghràdhach,” I say, calling them dear children in the old language.
“We’ll be up to say goodnight soon,” Merri says, blowing Brisa and Eirian kisses that turn into a swarm of playful dragonflies that swoops around them.
As Lidwinia leads them off to bed, I conjure a handful of small gemstones—tiny earthborn baubles—and toss them gently after the twins. They squeal with delight, chasing the glittering arc of stones, their laughter echoing down the hall long after they’ve vanished around the corner.
Merri vaults from her throne, descends the red-and-black stairs in a blur, and flings herself into my open arms, knocking the air from my lungs.
“Oh, Wyn, it’s so wonderful to see you. Let me look at you.” She holds my upper arms and pushes me backward for her inspection, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. Then she peers over my shoulder. “What, no bevy of pretty Emerald courtiers trailing in your wake?”
A dress of green gossamer strips, interspersed with stiff silver panels the same bright shade as her eyes, rustles and clinks as she moves.
She looks queenly, intimidating, and I have to remind myself it’s still Merri beneath the finery—the girl who once dared me to steal a draygonet’s egg, then helped me wrestle it back in the nest when the screeching chick hatched in my arms .
I laugh, my cheeks flushing. If only Merri knew how little interest I’ve had in the Land of Five’s courtiers these past seven years. The image she still holds from when we lived together in Talamh Cúig—me a carefree wastrel—seems to comfort her. And so I maintain it. But it’s nothing but an act.
I haven’t bedded anyone, fae or otherwise, since I fell for a girl made of sunshine and sorrow.
Cara, Merri’s manic mire squirrel, squeals at Ivor, launches from Riven’s lap, and chases my wolf around the edges of the hall, vaulting over channels of oil carved into the floor forming a vast triangle.
Under Riven’s father, those same channels ran crimson once a month, during the brutal Blood Sun Ritual.
Cruelty doesn’t rule here anymore. This court, once obsessed with technology and machinery, has grown softer under Riven’s reign.
Though evidence of their tainted past lingers in their half-mechanical creatures, like the owl, Meerade—who rattles her metal feathers from the king’s shoulder and coughs as if to remind me.
When Riven took the crown, the Merits returned to the old ways of the ancient Druids. And instead of dark magic and oiled gears, the air now smells of frankincense and cedarwood burning from the bronze braziers that flank the hall, and no fae have been sacrificed within these walls ever since.
“Has Dad finally driven Mom to madness?” Merri asks. “Is that why you’re here? I haven’t sensed you poking at my thoughts for at least a couple of weeks. I did wonder if you’d gone roaming.”
“Yeah. I have been traveling…” I take a deep breath and meet her steady gaze. “…in the Earth Realm. And now the Wild Hunt has taken Summer.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29 (Reading here)
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- Page 52