Maeve squeezed her legs to spur her horse to come up beside Rodan. He rode with the reins held loose in one hand, his gaze fixed on the distant valley spreading out before them, surrounded on two sides by craggy mountains. He looked over at her when she came to his side. “How does she feel?”
Maeve reached forward and ran a hand down Leona’s neck. She flicked her ears back at her rider in response. “Good. Better than I thought, considering—”
“It’s been years?” he finished for her, flashing a quick smile. “Some skills you never unlearn.” He gave her a long, considering look. “You have a good seat.”
“Thank you,” she said, taken aback. “You too, I guess.”
This time he laughed. “We learned how to ride as soon as we could walk in the Fae court.”
They were silent for a while before she spoke again. “What was it like, being raised in the court? And why did you come here? There aren’t many Fae in the Five Realms from what I remember.”
“None but I, as it happens,” he said. They rode for a while in silence before he continued. “The court is a vast place, full of intrigue and manipulations. It’s not the most pleasant home. But there are many worlds, and we can strike out on our own if we see fit. I found my way here after some exploration and decided to bring the Realms to heel. Back then, there were the five squabbling kingdoms and little to unite the people. It took a great deal of time, but I brought it all together and helped a tenuous peace take place.”
“Wait,” Maeve interrupted. “You mean to tell me that you are the original King Rodan? I knew you lived a long time, but—I thought that was a title passed down through generations.”
He shook his head. “No. I found this place, and I claimed it for my own. I have been here ever since.”
She did some quick mental calculations. “That would mean—that would make you over two thousand years old.”
He gave a subdued nod. “That is correct.”
She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. “Two millennia? That sounds—incredible.”
He glanced at her. “I have never known anything else, Maeve.”
“Except for the court and your recent time in exile, traveling all those worlds to find me. Don’t you want to travel more, discover more? Why stay here? What’s so important about the Five Realms?”
He shook his head. “I would not return to the court for anything other than state function, and exile did not agree with me. I belong to this land, and she belongs to me. I know its people and its places. I have seen the rivers change, and the cultures evolve, and I want nothing more than to continue to observe the wonderment of it all.”
Maeve tried to turn over in her mind the enormity of a life so long spent in pursuit and achievement of a singular goal.
She looked over at him, and sometimes he caught her eyes, but they remained silent. The twin suns dipped and tumbled down until they were bathed in the slanted light of near sunset. Ahead of them, at the end of the valley, rose the curtain walls of the mountain city of Ishtem, the ancient seat of the human kings and the first of the major cities of the Five Realms.
“Do you think we’ll get there before nightfall?”
He nodded, “We should be able to make it.”
The gates of Ishtem were open when they arrived, flanked by a small contingent of guards on either side. The imperial colors of gold and black had been stripped from the pennants. Instead, the red and blue falcons locked in combat flew over the rooftops. The ancient sigil of the city. Rodan looked up at the banners with a frown but said nothing.
The guards ignored them. Maeve and Rodan had to go single file once they were in among the narrow streets of the city. The last time Maeve walked these streets, the people were overcome with a plague. Weeks they spent, nursing the sick and searching for a cure. They found it, eventually, but not before more than thirty percent of the populace succumbed to the sickness.
The streets reeked then, awash in refuse and the dead lay where they fell, or else propped outside the doors of families who no longer stood the smell in their home. Rats boomed in numbers, some as big as large puppies with sleek black and grey coats and no fear of any human.
Now the streets filled with the wind making its way over the walls and through the narrow winding roads. Dust and clean straw met her nose, along with the faint odors of dozens of cookfires. Despite this, Maeve noted an eerie silence to the place that gnawed at her nerves.
Rodan led them to a large inn with a generously large stable beside it. They dismounted, and Rodan motioned to the stable hand hiding in the shadows of a stall. The boy slinked toward them, eyes downcast and back stooped, clutching a hat in both his hands.
“Boy,” Rodan said, holding out a silver coin, “Put our horses up. Brush them and feed them and make sure they have fresh straw.”
The boy gave an awkward little bow that almost made him topple over before snatching the coin and taking the reins of both horses, leading them away. Maeve stared as the boy ducked into the shadows of the stables. “There’s something wrong here,” she said, her voice low.
Rodan nodded. “Indeed, I believe there is.” He tilted his head toward the front door of the inn, which sported a wooden placard of a checkered-hatted jester toasting with a mug of ale. “Shall we?”
Rodan ducked through the low door as they entered the inn’s great room. Tall ceilings crisscrossed with thick wooden beams, a roaring fire, and two long rows of tables laid out for supper greeted them. The scent of roasting meat hung heavy in the air, as did the sharp tang of spilled ale and the dusty sweetness of fresh straw. Over a dozen people sat scattered along the tables, drinking, eating, or talking.
As the door swung shut behind them, a stocky woman bustled out of a back kitchen, wiping her hands on a stained apron and sweeping them with an appraising look. What she saw must have pleased her, because her stern expression replaced itself with a full, welcoming smile.
“Why hello, travelers,” she greeted. “My names Yolanda. Are you here for supper, or will you be needing accommodations?”
“Both,” Maeve said, smiling back. “Thank you.”
“A pleasure, my little duck,” the mistress of the house crooned. “We’re almost at full capacity because of the festival, but we still have the best room available.”
“Room?” Maeve echoed, her eyes widening.
“We require two rooms,” Rodan said. “If you please.”
The woman frowned. “I’m sorry, loves, but we’re all full. Here, let me show you the space, and you let me know if you still want it or if you’ll be trying your luck elsewhere. But I warn you, the city is crammed with visitors, and you may not find what you’re looking for.”
Maeve glanced at Rodan, who raised an eyebrow. She looked away, heat coming to her face. She hated how often that seemed to happen. Without glancing at him again, she followed the woman up the narrow stairs to the second floor. A long L-shaped hallway curved over the tavern and the kitchens. They walked until they reached the end, where the innkeeper pulled out a large set of keys and unlocked the very last door. She stepped aside and let the two of them pass.
The room, huge considering the limited space of the city, contained a massive wide bed, a fireplace, a long couch, and a private dining table and chairs.