3
Thane
Prince Thane had never visited the centuries-old city of Falias, and it was nothing as he’d expected. In the midst of so much ice, he had imagined a dark and dreary hulking mass of nondescript buildings sat amidst barren lands. But Starford Castle sat atop a majestic hill, surrounded by snow-blanketed evergreens, its six magnificent towers topped with ice-blue spires that glowed.
The city itself spilled out on the hills around the castle. Buildings were interspersed with the ancient trees, stone houses with thatched roofs that sagged with snow. Most of the buildings were simple structures, but every inch of the outside walls had been carved with designs—a pair of flared wings on some, a single eye on others, one that seemed to watch him as he moved down the snow-packed street. No smoke puffed out from chimneys. Fire wasn’t needed here. The ice fae didn’t feel the cold.
Still, the city teemed with life. Ice fae hurried through the bustling market streets, eyes alight, mouths turned up into smiles. They wore little, at least compared to Prince Thane and his entourage, now down to five instead of the seven they’d once had. Because of the slaughter at the inn. Thane tried to push those thoughts into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, but it was next to impossible. That night at The Sapphire Axe would haunt him to the very end of his days.
A crowd had gathered to watch Thane’s procession up the hill to the gleaming castle that he could barely see through the snow and mist that swirled through the air. The further north they’d travelled, the thicker the falling snow had become. Thane could not help but be amazed. Falias was in one of the most southern regions of the realm. What would the ice be like on the northern shores? Perhaps one day he would journey across these strange lands, so long as the alliance went according to plan.
Several ice fae guards, donning armor that matched those of the fallen warriors he’d met at The Sapphire Axe, led the prince and his companions through the open castle gates. A large courtyard stretched out before him. Here, his boots still crunched on snow as the white flakes clung to the elaborate stonework that stretched high into the cloud-scudded sky. The castle here was not as expansive and imposing as the one back home, but it was impressive nonetheless. It looked as though it had been carved from the very ice beneath his feet, as if the ground and the stone had become one.
The royal family stood in the icy courtyard, save the eldest daughter. Their expressions were pinched and their eyes were hooded. Even Reyna, who he recognized at once, had a hollowed look about her. Something must have happened here. He had passed a village hit by the Ruin only two days past. The strange dark magic seemed to be clawing its way through these lands.
If Thane’s mother had seen the extent of the damage, she would have insisted they turn back. The Ice Court was a cursed place, she would say. Thane wasn’t entirely certain she’d be wrong.
But she had decided to stay behind at the capital while he went to fetch his betrothed. The High Queen was not here, and Thane had made a promise. Despite his hesitance toward the two younger Darragh sisters, he would never break his word.
Thane regarded Reyna carefully. She was not exactly what Thane had imagined when he’d dreamt of his future queen. Her eyes were wild, along with her cascading silver hair. She was quite tall and awfully lean and toned, most likely due to her insistence on gallivanting around the countryside as if she were a Shieldmaiden. Her father seemed to allow it. Reyna would have to become accustomed to quite different expectations if she were to become his betrothed.
The High King of the Ice Court stepped forward. Cos Darragh towered over his daughters and the various lords and ladies that had come to meet Prince Thane. He wore his dark cloak just as well as he wore an air of superiority. A crown of thick silver branches perched on his head, the sigil of the Ice Court etched deeply into the front of it. Ice wings. A reminder of their magic, their heritage. But very few ice fae still had their owl familiars in a world that had fallen from magic.
Cos Darragh with his waist-length silver hair had long been the ruler of these lands. He was as old as the war. Older, in fact. Thane could see the age in the lines on his face, whiskers stretching out from his eyes. This king had fared far better than Thane’s father. With the magic gone from Tir Na Nog, fae were beginning to grow old and die. The alchemists had been unable to find a way to reverse the decay.
“Prince Thane of the Air Court,” Cos said, his voice ringing loud and clear in the hushed courtyard. “We welcome you to Falias. I trust you had a good journey.”
“Long and cold,” Thane said, choosing honesty rather than the mincing of words. “And I believe we passed some of your Ruin not two days past.”
The High King nodded. “Yes, there have been several recent brushes with it, I am afraid.”
Thane understood. “Princess Glencora. Is she...”
“She is recovering,” the High King replied. “However, we fear she may be permanently scarred from the incident. I hope that in her stead you find Eislyn, my youngest daughter, agreeable.”
Thane turned his attention on the two daughters who stood silently by their father. They were alike in many ways. Silver coloring, bright eyes, strongly tipped ears that sliced through their hair. He would not deny that there was a breathtaking, ethereal beauty about them.
The youngest sister appeared courtly enough. She wore a pleasant expression, and her hair was perfectly coiled on top of her head. Her cheeks were rosy, and her posture straight. Quite the opposite of her older sister. Reyna clearly held no regard for courtly customs, nor did she seem embarrassed by her unruly hair that flowed around her shoulders. Pride flickered in her eyes, as well as defiance. If Thane cast a too-long glance in her direction, he was certain she might transform him into molten metal with her very eyes.
But it was Eislyn who huffed. “This is ridiculous.”
“Eislyn,” Cos said, turning toward his daughter with a frown.
“No, I will not bite my tongue,” Eislyn said before turning her wide eyes on Prince Thane. “You mean for me to marry this male, but he is our enemy. He has been for as long as I’ve been alive. He fought in the Battle for the Shard. So many of our people died that day. And he killed them. Go on and make this alliance if you must, but I will not be a part of it. I will never marry this air fae.”
Her cheeks went pink after she’d shot out the words. Thane’s spirits promptly darkened. Eislyn whirled on her feet and stomped out of the courtyard. Her silver hair sprung free of its bun, cascading down her slender back.
Cos let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My apologies, Prince Thane. I—”
“Do not worry yourself. The change in circumstances has clearly caught her by surprise.” Thane turned to the only sister left standing in the courtyard. Reyna gazed after Eislyn, her face lined with worry. “May I see your sister, Glencora? I would like to wish her well.”
Reyna shot him a scorching look that could have melted his very armor. “Very well then. Come along if you must.”
As she turned to march toward the nearest tower, Lorcan edged up to Thane and spoke quietly into his ear. “The tales are wrong. Reyna is a great beauty.”
“Beauty does not a queen make,” Thane said tightly.