And then she would kill him, taking control of his kingdom herself.
7
Tarrah
Tarrah Glas stood outside a short, squat castle made from the gleaming black stone that could only be found in the shadow fae realm. The hulking structure hid in the shadows of the Misty Wastes, but she was near enough to spot its square towers as she demanded to be seen by the exile king. Her head was thrown back, and her long raven hair swished against her armoured waist. The two guards who stood at the gates eyed her with a distinct air of wariness. She did not blame them. Even though she was a low fae of humble birth, they should be careful of her.
“What business do you have with the king?” the larger of the two demanded. Wearing grey scales and a thick helmet that shielded all of his face but a piercing set of silver eyes, he was a formidable presence. Indeed, he was almost as twice as tall as she. Clearly, he had ancient Unseelie blood running through his veins.
“Important information. He will wish to hear what I have to say.”
The second guard gripped the elaborate hilt of his longsword. The blade was made of shadowsteel, and the hilt had been carved into two black interwoven antlers, the infamous sigil of the Shadow Court, the very court that High King Sloane Selkirk had destroyed when he’d exiled them from Tir Na Nog fifty years past.
The guard peered down at her with narrowed eyes. “You are a commoner. A low fae. You cannot demand to see the king whenever you wish. If you have need of his assistance, you may bring your concerns to him on the first of the month, just like everyone else.”
Tarrah let out an impatient huff. “My concerns are not mine to bear alone. They are important to the future of this exiled court. It has to do with the king’s secretive war with the Air Court.”
Both guards suddenly straightened. Now, that had gotten their attention.
“Where did you hear such a thing?” the taller asked with suspicion in his voice.
“As I stated, I have some information for the king.”
The two guards turned away and bowed their heads as they spoke in quiet whispers. Tarrah watched, striving to hold back her eager hope. She had been trying to speak to the king for weeks. She had travelled across the Shadow Court’s lands, across long stretches of scalding deserts with hills full of black shifting sand, with no one to keep her company but the visions churning through her mind.
Finally, the guards turned back toward her, and the taller of the two spoke in a low growl. “We will allow you to see the king. But be warned, low fae. If you make any move against our ruler, your life is forfeit.”
Tarrah held back a smile. “I would not expect to survive such a thing.”
The guards led Tarrah through the looming gates. The ancient castle rose through the mists, red light from the baking sun glinting across the black stone walls. She walked up the long and winding dirt-packed pathway, her feet struggling to find purchase on the crumbling rocks. Olc Fortress sat atop a dormant volcano, the stone walls looming out of jagged cliffs. Battlements glowed as they rose from pits of fire that flashed against the churning sky.
Olc Fortress only had two small towers, one on each side of the castle. It was an impressive and imposing structure, but it did not hold a candle to the true home of the Shadow Court, the one where their kings and queens had once lived, where rulers had been coronated in the sight of the Unseelie god, where the shadow fae’s Seat of Power still sat waiting.
They had been driven out of that stronghold by the Air Court, the king and his entire family brutally slaughtered during the attack. Exiled from the rest of Tir Na Nog, the realm of the shadow fae had been plunged into chaos. In the end, the Lord of Olc Fortress had taken up the mantle of king, but he had never been coronated.
Not on the Seat of Power in the presence of their god.
And that made all the difference in the world, especially to Tarrah.
The two guards pushed opened the wooden doors of a large building that made up most of the castle’s grounds. They led Tarrah down a long corridor before pausing at another set of doors. The taller of the two disappeared inside. Tarrah waited, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Now that she had made it through those walls, she knew the king would never turn her away.
Her visions had shown her that much, at least.
A moment later, the door opened once again, and the guard motioned for her to join him on the other side. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped through the archway, her heart pounding hard at the thought of finally meeting her king.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the stone. The cavernous, empty room was large enough to hold thousands but only a handful stood inside. Four, Tarrah counted. The king himself and three others who were clustered around him.
Tarrah strode forward with the two guards on either side of her, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. The only object in the entire room—the throne—sat beneath a circular window that glowed with the red light of the sun. It was a basic black chair that had little decoration. Not even antlers curved out of the top.
The king himself looked just as he had in her visions, though it was a shock to see him all the same. The most powerful fae in the entire kingdom was a small, hunched male with a large nose and small, shifting eyes. His brown hair barely reached his ears, and he wore simple black scales that did not stand out from the armor of his warriors.
There was a lot that Tarrah would need to do in order to transform him into the powerful ruler she knew he could be.
“King Bolg Rothach.” Tarrah bowed before him, lowering herself to her knees, the stone floor cool and hard beneath her hands. “In the darkness, may I find you well.”
“Rise.” He appeared weak, but the king’s voice was strong, commanding, and sure. Tarrah could understand how he had found himself rising to the throne. He had a power about him, a magnetic force. If given the proper ammunition, he could be a force to be reckoned with. She hoped.
Tarrah rose, but kept her eyes cast to the stone dais. Deference, she knew, was important here. He needed to see that she had no greater ambitions than coming to his aide.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the king’s advisors frowning at her, though she did not raise her gaze to look their way. She would converse with them some other time. Her focus now was on the king.
“My guard has told me that you wish to speak with me. He said that you insist you have information that is of great value.” He did not sound convinced.
“I do, my liege.” Tarrah’s words were a breath on her lips. She had worked so hard to get here. She had fought death and had won. Now, against all odds, she stood before her king, and the next stage in her plan had begun.
No, not my plan, she reminded herself. My god’s plan.
“Well, go on then. Tell me what it is you came here to say. You do not have long. I have other…obligations to attend to this evening.”
Tarrah knew what obligations he referred to. The king’s many dalliances had not been kept a secret, not like his war with the Air Court.
“I know of your secret mission to upend the Air Court’s status as the most powerful kingdom in Tir Na Nog.” She lifted her eyes then to watch the king’s face. Surprise, then concern, and then anger flickered in his dark eyes.