Lorcan raised his brow as he took in the prince of the Air Court. With long golden hair and matching eyes, he was the portrait of air fae nobility. His ears were as sharply-cut as his cheekbones, and an elaborate tattoo had been etched into his skin years ago, that of a leafless hawthorn tree, its naked branches stretching wide across his forehead. He lounged on his glistening black steed, his crown of twisting golden thorns askew. On official royal business, Thane wore a sleek set of leather armor dyed gold. However, he usually preferred a much more relaxed approach to daily dress.
“Your own garments are often stained with dirt, Thane. Particularly after a lively revel,” Lorcan said with a smile as his horse cantered ever forward. These past years, he had grown close with the prince, and Thane didn’t seem to mind when Lorcan spoke freely to him. What would cause offense from anyone else, Lorcan could get away with.
It put him in a perfect position to learn all of Thane’s secrets.
“That may very well be true,” Thane countered, “but what is expected of me is quite different to what is expected of a future High Queen.”
Lorcan could not argue with that. Females in the nobility were not afforded the same freedoms as males, which was why most of Tir Na Nog had been shocked when the High King of the Ice Court had allowed his daughter to choose her own path.
Lorcan thought for a moment as they continued toward the forests ahead. Glencora Darragh had been a good match for Thane. The eldest daughter of a respected High King, she had been well-taught in the ways of courtly life. Together, she and Thane would create an imposing alliance against the sea and wood fae, two courts who were desperate for a chance to tear the Air Court apart.
Reyna Darragh, on the other hand, was unpredictable. Lorcan liked unpredictable.
“Reyna might not be the ideal match,” Lorcan began, “but if you fulfill your promise and wed one of the Ice Court’s daughters, you will have a new ally and one fewer enemies vying for your crown. And, if you do not…”
“The fighting will begin anew,” Thane said with a frown. “And we cannot beat the Wood and Sea Courts alone, not with Ice battling us from the north.”
Indeed, they could not. With Ice to the north, Wood to the south, and Sea to the east, the Air Court—and the great capital of Tairngire—was surrounded by enemies. The only relief came from the far southern regions where the Fire Court lay in ruins and the exiled Shadow Court was kept at bay by a stronghold that could never be breached.
Tir Na Nog had been at war for a century. Peace was a fickle thing, scarcely in their grasp. The alliance with the Ice Court held the potential for relief from bloodshed after all these years. If only Thane could marry Glencora Darragh instead of the wild creature who would no doubt bring more chaos into the Air Court. Of course, Lorcan should not care. The weaker the Air Court was, the stronger the exiles could become.
“Perhaps Reyna would be a good match,” Lorcan replied with a hidden grimace. “Just because she has fought in battles does not mean she’s as wild as the tales would suggest.”
“The truth may be twisted but never false. Reyna will be everything we fear.”
The truth may be twisted but never false. It was a particularly popular expression in the Air Court. Fae could not lie. It was some deep, honor-bound magic that had not vanished from the continent even with the Dagda’s curse, at least for those fae who were still part of Tir Na Nog. Ice, Air, Sea, and Wood. Lorcan supposed those few remaining survivors that fed on soot and ash in the Fire Court could not lie either.
But the exiles could. When they had been banished from Tir Na Nog, all the ties that bound them to the lands had vanished, including the inability to lie.
They had lost the benefits of being a part of the continent, but they had also cast off the downsides.
“I believe it will be a great match,” Lorcan said.
When Danu, one of their two moons, glowed high in the steel-colored sky, Lorcan spotted a bustling inn just off the Rowan Road. It backed up to the edge of a thick forest that rose up to scratch the clouds, evergreen limbs sagging from the heavy snow.
A large hanging sign was affixed to the wooden wall above the door, thick black paint spelling out the name, The Sapphire Axe. It swung in the icy breeze, the creak of the hinges drowned out by the cheering and pounding of drums that spilled from windows that glowed with blue light. There were stables to the left full of horses, along with several carts that dotted the snow-packed landscape around the inn. Even from a distance, Lorcan could feel a warmth seeping from the cheery building.
Thane sat up a little straighter on his horse. “We’ve been camping for days. I could use a night at an inn.”
Indeed, the route from Tairngire to Falias had once been full of bright and bustling taverns and inns, but the war had left many too poor to continue on. No one travelled between the two cities anymore except for smugglers and thieves.
“I’m not sure that is wise, your grace,” Vreis, a fellow guard, said from the head of the party. Lorcan had known Vreis almost as long as he’d known Thane. He’d joined the prince’s personal guard around the same time ten years past. Vreis, unlike most fae, had short-cropped light brown hair and eyes that did not match: one dark brown, one golden. The short hair highlighted his wide jaw and pointed ears. Just like the rest of the guard, he wore dark leather armor with steel braces around his wrists. And he carried a bastard sword made from Tamaris steel, strapped to his back.
“Why ever not?” Thane asked. “It is cold in these lands. We should go inside and enjoy the warmth of the hearth.”
“There will be many ice fae inside, your grace,” Vreis replied. “Some may not be pleased to meet with the prince of the Air Court.”
“I have come here to become their ally,” Thane said with a frown.
“Yes, but Thane,” Lorcan said, “we’ve been at war with them for a hundred years. It will take time for such deep-seated wounds to mend.”
“Maybe so,” Thane said. “However, we will never feel like our kingdoms have become joined if I avoid the ice fae. We will go inside.”
Lorcan frowned, but there was little he could do. Once the prince made up his mind about something, he was as impossibly stubborn as anyone he’d ever met. With a sigh, he urged his horse forward and fell into step with Vreis, leaving the rest of the guards to keep an eye on Thane.
He lowered his voice as they approached the inn. “I have a bad feeling about this, Vreis.”
“Aye,” Vreis replied. “Do not leave the prince’s side. Stay on high alert.”
After dismounting the horses and leaving them in the stable, Lorcan and Vreis pushed inside the inn to scan for any threats. Thane had not been wrong. As soon as the door swung open before them, a soothing warmth flooded Lorcan’s body. He glanced around.
The inn was packed, full of warriors donning Ice Court garb. They wore light armor beneath silver hoarfrost cloaks, the ice fae’s sigil etched deeply into the undyed leather at their chest. Every one had a shade of silver hair, some lighter or darker than others, but silver all the same. These would be the warriors who stood guard at the border, rotating in shifts. They clustered around long wooden tables that held flickering blue candles and tankards of ale. The benches were covered in the fur skins of silverclaw bears, and a bard beat at a set of drums beside the roaring hearth. Several of the ice fae warriors turned to stare in their direction, eyes hardened.