28. THE AUTUMN PRINCE
Chapter twenty-eight
THE AUTUMN PRINCE
Ornella
“I am upset you don’t have a bathtub,” I mumbled into Sage’s shoulder after a few moments of sitting together and holding one another.
He laughed, his hands slipping across my back as he unwound his arms from around me.
“There are incredible bathhouses in the city, but most of the soldiers go down to the river,” Sage informed me. My nose crinkled with disappointment.
“I suppose we don’t have time to go for a bath before we see Rian,” I guessed.
“No, he called me just a moment ago,” Sage revealed, and my eyes widened at him.
“You didn’t say?” I demanded, quickly crawling off of his lap so I could scramble to my feet in front of him.
“You were in the middle of having a rather emotional moment, and I was not going to interrupt,” he assured me as he got to his own feet much more slowly.
“Now they will be waiting for us. I do not need to give him or any of them more reasons to dislike me!”
“It will be fine,” Sage insisted before turning toward the vargr. “Stay and rest. We will hunt in the morning.”
Neither of them made so much as a grunt of protest. They were too tired to want to hunt.
Sage took my hand and guided me toward the exit. Unlike the aes sídhe yurts, this tent had a small anteroom where it seemed Sage preferred to keep his boots and a few heavier cloaks on racks.
We stepped out of the tent and into a warm night that was set aglow by torches and campfire light. There had to be a silencing ward around the tent because once we were outside it, I could hear all the sounds of a bustling camp. The scents of leather, smoke, ale, and cooking food made me sigh with appreciation.
Some louder laughter burst out, drawing my attention to a group of boisterous males sharing a flagon at a fire. However, they stood quickly to salute Sage when they saw us walking by. There were all manner of fey among their jovial ranks but no other aes sídhe.
“Does no one sleep?” I whispered once we’d passed a few of these types of groups.
“We have a good assortment of fey who prefer either day or night and we try to respect that when it comes to scheduling watches.”
“They are on watch? In the camp? Who exactly are you expecting to attack you from inside the camp?”
“It is a long story, but suffice it to say for now that we are not wholly welcome here,” Sage explained just before we were intercepted by a large form.
My ears pressed back and down as I peered up at the looming giant and then sidled just a little closer to Sage. The male before us stood on two legs and was wearing leather armour and fur despite the humidity. He carried a massive longbow and broadsword across his back along with a wickedly tipped pike which he stomped against the ground as he came to a stop in front of Sage. His skin was a fawny, olive-green tone, and his hair was long and elaborately braided with painted bone beads. His tipped ears were tall and pierced with gold rings and wooden spacers in the lobes. The tips of blunted tusks peeked over his upper lip from the robust bottom jaw.
He was an orc; I had seen more than enough of their kind to recognize them anywhere. Although I’d only ever seen the Summer variety with vivid green eyes whereas this Autumn male had amber eyes.
I remembered Sage’s assurance that I would easily find willing partners and realized he was right. I’d fucked my share of orcs. They were rough and demanding lovers.
“A little dryad,” rumbled the orc with clear interest. “This is the prisoner for whom you have ignored us? I am much less offended,” he told Sage with approval.
“Summer, this is Uthar. He helps train new recruits,” Sage explained. “Do not touch her without permission!” he added to the orc who I realized had been reaching for the wisps of my hair on my shoulder.
“She is yours?” the orc verified in evident surprise. “We did not think aes sídhe were so possessive—”
“No, her permission , Uthar,” Sage said in exasperation that made me giggle in spite of the situation.
“Well, that is good. Dryads like me,” the orc advised us both confidently, and then his eyes returned to freely roaming over me with an intention I easily recognized.
Sage gently pressed me behind him, drawing the orc’s attention once more.
“Just consider this one off limits unless she explicitly requests otherwise,” Sage suggested.
Uthar grimaced at him, an expression which I knew was meant to convey mere distaste even though it could look quite intimidating.
“Fine. She is yours until she comes to her senses.”
“She is… Yes, alright,” Sage agreed, reaching back to grab my hand and tug me along after him. “Rian awaits,” he added, and Uthar grunted in understanding.
“I look forward to having you back,” the orc said as we passed, and Sage raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“Sorry,” he muttered to me once we had passed out of Uthar’s hearing. “I didn’t want to have to claim you like that, but I am sure you know orcs can be… tenacious. If they think you are mine, then it will keep suitors at bay until you are ready to explore your options if you ever decide to.”
“Just a necessary deception,” I dismissed his concern, cursing myself when my voice came out a little breathy thanks to the way he’d described me as his. Even though I knew very well it was not what he’d meant to insinuate. “Had I realized that there were orcs here then I might have suggested it.”
Orcs were fierce and uncompromising people who only respected physical might. They believed that if they were able to take something they wanted, then they were entitled to it. Orc females were every bit as brutal as their masculine counterparts, so they had the utmost respect of their males. But little dryads like me were considered fair game unless claimed by another male. In my experience, only an assertion of possession could dissuade them from pursuing me, and even then, they had to feel the male was completely deserving. They would challenge anyone that they felt was inferior to themselves.
“Then you are familiar with orcs,” Sage guessed.
“Unfortunately, they like dryads a lot. I am surprised they have joined your army. They don’t usually play nice with others for very long if there are enough of them to gang up on other fey.”
“Their home on the Steppes is at great risk from the blight. They tried to migrate north to safety and were attacked by Nabeene, so they were all too eager to join in our ranks. We’ve been enforcing the notion of bodily autonomy and consent with them for a few years. It has been a difficult concept for them to grasp,” Sage admitted with a sigh. “This is Rian,” he added with a nod at the tent ahead.
I looked ahead, expecting a dwelling befitting the rank of the Autumn Prince, but his tent looked just like Sage’s which had looked just like all the others. There was very little to distinguish the homes aside from a few personal touches such as painted canvas walls or decor made from plants, beads, antlers, furs, feathers, and silk. But I had seen evidence of many cultures, some I had recognized and others that were unfamiliar.
Rian had beads hanging in his doorway like the ones that the aes sídhe strung up. It hurt my heart to see it since I knew he had lost his family and village.
Sage dropped my hand to step ahead of me and parted the beads for me to pass into the anteroom of Rian’s tent. The sounds of the camp outside were muted by another ward, but I could now hear voices rising from inside.
“—cannot be serious,” Ciaran was saying very loudly, and the sound of his agitated voice made me instantly roll my eyes. Was he always complaining at someone?
“I do not need your permission, Ciaran. I will fight this war the best way I can with every tool at my disposal,” Rian retorted, sounding as if he had finally lost his temper after a drawn out argument. Despite having only spoken to him a few times, there was no mistaking the dulcet tones of the Autumn Prince. His voice was like black silk. Smooth and cool.
Sage went ahead of me to enter the main tent, and I stayed just a step behind him, admiring all Rians cloaks and footwear. He had much more than Sage, but I was not sure if that was because he liked to shop or if some of it had belonged to my… to Aodhan.
“Of course you don’t need permission, that is not what upsets me! You went alone !” Ciaran insisted.
“Sage and Ornella have arrived,” interrupted Darragh over the beginning of Rian’s response just as we reached the second doorway.
The interior of Rian’s tent was similar to the layout in Sage’s with the curtained area for sleeping on the right, the shelving and weapons on the left, and a cold hearth in the middle. Rian’s tent had more furniture than Sage’s with pieces of pottery, statues, and paintings in various frames stacked against the wall of the tent. His table was much larger with a massive map on it covered in pawns.
Rather than pillows on the ground, like the rest of the aes sídhe, Rian had a large couch piled in cushions on which he was sprawled. I thought he looked much more like an opulent merchant surrounded by art and musical instruments, rather than a warlord. Especially with a good number of wine bottles and a large and ornate water pipe on the table in front of him.
We stepped fully into the room, and my senses were assaulted first by the scent of smoke clinging to the walls. The smell prompted me to look harder, and I realized that many of the art frames, beautiful furniture, and pottery were cracked. There were broken pieces of glass, wood, and charred clothing swept under tables and into corners. It seemed to me like he had destroyed his tent in a fit of rage and then barely managed to put it all back together into a semblance of order.
I had no doubt it was me who caused him to do that weeks ago before he left for the Winter Court.
“Ciaran assured me you were both well, but it is good to see it for myself,” said a familiar voice.
“Carrick!” I gasped, stepping eagerly out from behind Sage as his father strode across the room to clap his son affectionately on the shoulders. Then the aes sídhe male looked at me with one of his warm smiles, and before I’d quite realized what I was about to do, I had thrown my arms around him. He was as surprised as I was, but he did not hesitate to squeeze me back, and it felt really good.
“It is about time,” Ciaran muttered, crossing his arms with a glare that zeroed in on me when I stepped back from Carrick. The blond rider stood to the right of Rian who was laying on the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious vexation.
Sage ignored Ciaran when Rian lowered his hand and tilted his head up so the cousins could lock eyes. It was hard to decide what his expression meant, but it was very evident that he was struggling with the emotion.
Rian sat forward abruptly and reached for a bottle of wine on the squat, rounded table in front of him without breaking Sage’s gaze.
“Drink?” Rian suggested.
Sage accepted this invitation, giving his father a quick squeeze on his elbow, and then I followed him deeper into Rian’s tent. I tried not to step on his heels, but it felt very much like walking into a den of rabid beasts. The last time I had faced the Wild Hunt all together like this was the day that I’d accidentally joined them.
The scent of the cneasú herb Rian was smoking was sweet and familiar, covering up the smell of burnt clothes as we got closer. I had not seen Darragh to the left of Rian until the demidragon moved out of the shadow of a large armoire. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement but was otherwise impassive and stern.
Rian passed Sage the bottle when he got close enough, and then ran a rough hand back through his hair to push some of the loose strands out of his face. He was agitated and moody, and I was pretty sure he was high. Or drunk. Perhaps even both which made me rather jealous since it had been a while since I’d even seen a water pipe like his. The lidded, egg-shaped bowl at the top, the elaborately detailed stem, and the wand-like mouthpiece looked to be made entirely from silver. The triangular base was glass and the long hose that attached to the mouthpiece would be made from tightly braided reeds.
Sage had accepted the bottle from his cousin but was staring at it without uncorking it or raising it to his lips.
“Rian—” he began.
“Do we need to talk about it? We have enough issues to discuss,” Rian interrupted his cousin before he finally raised his eyes to me. “Do you smoke? Please tell me you will smoke this with me. None of these other pricks will,” he said and jerked his chin to encompass the others.
My brows rose, but I could not help a tempted glance at the pipe while I nibbled my lip in consideration.
“You do smoke. I can always count on the dryads for some fun. Come sit down,” Rian ordered.
I stepped forward, ignoring Sage’s glance, the snort of amusement from Darragh, and the glare from Ciaran as I rounded the low table. I would have sat at the far side of the couch, away from the Autumn Prince, but he patted the cushion next to him when I attempted to sink down.
If he wanted to kill me, there was not much I could do about it now with my power completely obliterated.
And his cneasú smelled divine.
“I’ve never met another dryad who was fun,” I said, trying to at least appear at ease as I moved to sit closer to the Autumn Prince. “Most of us are pretty awful.”
I did not expect Darragh to laugh, but Ciaran scoffing at me was certainly expected. I tried again to understand Rian’s expression before I sat close enough to him that his arm brushed mine when he pulled his pipe closer to me. But he was unreadable.
“Perhaps just a family trait then,” he responded, and it felt like everyone in the tent suddenly stopped breathing, but Rian either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He merely blew into the mouthpiece of his pipe, causing the water to bubble and forcing the old smoke out of the glass vase through the purge valve.
He was trying to put me off guard. I sensed it.
“You clearly never met our father or any of our uncles. The appreciation for fun did not run in the family.”
I was not trying to antagonize him, I was matching his blunt and apathetic attitude. Although I was very relieved that Sage had told me about Aodhan before I met with the Autumn Prince or I certainly would have spiralled.
I could almost sense the others were having a private conversation as they worried about his reaction, but I was focused on Rian who finally betrayed the hint of a smile.
The Autumn Prince returned his attention to the pipe and opened the lid to remove the coal grate. I knew from experience that it would have been hot, but similarly to how Ciaran could handle steaming bandages, Rian was unaffected by heat. He set the grate and dim coals on a silver tray on the table before retrieving a small box from his jacket. I saw the decorative designs on the container matched the pipe and tray as he unclasped the lid.
I could not help inhaling deeply when the sweet scent of the cneasú from in the silver box perfumed the air with a distinctive flavour. The smell was unmistakable.
“Galahain,” I said confidently but with great surprise, and Rian grunted in confirmation.
“The only city in all of Sumarra that your brother did not utterly loathe,” he revealed.
I tried not to allow this disclosure to affect me visibly, but there was no stopping the way it made my stomach feel like it was falling. And I was sure that my damned ears would betray me as they often did.
“Me too,” I admitted softly. “How long—”
I broke off because I was not sure if I really wanted to know the truth or if I even had any right to ask at all.
“I was with him almost two decades,” Rian answered, his voice unchanging, but I could tell his expression had become much more serious, and he was very focused on putting fresh cneasú into the pipe bowl.
The urge to apologize swelled within me, but he had told Sage that he didn’t want to discuss all our grievances. Besides, there was no apology that could change what had been done or alleviate the hurt that altered a person down to their soul. Apologies really only made the offending individual feel better about what they had done.
Rian had finished lightly packing the bowl and relit the coals with a spark of his fire magic before placing them back into the pipe. He closed the lid to let it smoke for a moment and then grabbed the uncorked bottle of wine off the table. He took a swig and handed it to me, pushing it into my hands with an annoyed glance at Sage who still had not taken a sip of his bottle.
He wanted someone to drink and smoke with. He had lost his lover, his family, his village, and his foundation of trust in his cousin. I knew well the deep-seated ache he was undoubtedly trying to stifle.
So I raised the bottle as if to salute Sage who raised his brows at me skeptically before I took a deep swill of Rian’s wine. I was impressed by the rich flavour that was a perfect balance between the sweetness of apples and the dry spice of clove and cinnamon. It seemed to burst on my tongue and warmth bloomed in my stomach.
“Wow. You’ve got good taste,” I muttered once I had swallowed the mouthful. I raised the bottle to look at the label but could not read the Autumn dialect.
Rian had leaned away from me against the cushions behind him with his head tilted against his palm and his elbow planted on the top of the couch. He looked contemplative as he gazed at me with those stunning emerald eyes.
“Your brother admired you,” he revealed, and I almost choked on a second swig of the wine.
“He didn’t know me. He was a baby,” I reminded him, unable to help the sharpness that came into my tone.
“He grew up hearing all about you and what happened in the arena. And he ended up following in your footsteps. Fell in love with the wrong person, publicly mutilated someone who hurt him, and was exiled for it,” Rian listed some of the most painful events of my past with entirely too much nonchalance. And the apple wine abruptly made me feel sick when it soured in my stomach. “He searched for you after he was exiled and heard about the battle with the Foraoise. He captured one of your father’s men on the way home and was told you were killed.”
We had been hours apart. Hours . How different would my life have been if Aodhan found me that day?
I knew I should change the subject and redirect Rian, but he did not sound bitter. I did not get the sense that he was telling me this to try and hurt me, but that he was genuinely sharing information about my brother.
“Why would he look for me?” I asked against every instinct that screamed for me to get up and run from him and this conversation.
“I told you, he was inspired by what you did. In that morbid way that your people have, of course. What you endured is not enviable by any estimation, but you stood for something against a system intent on subjecting you. He thought the two of you could take the Rowan Wood.”
He was watching me so closely, especially my ears as they flinched against my every attempt to conceal myself. He would be able to read them easily after a twenty-year relationship with another dryad. Every fucking one of my emotions and thoughts was translated for him.
I did not respond as he sat up again and offered me the mouthpiece of the pipe. I took it wordlessly and leaned forward to take a long draw, pulling the smoke down the stem of the pipe, and the flavoured smoke filled my lungs. It was quiet as I savoured the familiar scent and taste of the cneasú, holding it in my chest until it began to fog my mind and dull my senses.
“It is ironic he felt that way,” I said while releasing the smoke in a fragrant cloud, “considering it was his birth that set all of those events into motion.”
The others shifted nervously, but I stayed focused on Rian whose expression had hardened. The change was very slight, he was better at concealing his thoughts and emotions than I was, but he was angry with my words.
“What was done to you had nothing to do with him, and it was inevitable for a female royal in your culture,” Rian asserted, his voice leaving no room for dispute. “Any catalyst would have brought about the same events eventually. What happened to the both of you happened because of your father.”
“If my brother was even remotely the kind of decent male you suggest he was, then he might have treated me a little more kindly at our first meeting. Then perhaps he might not be dead, and I wouldn’t be hunted again.”
If I had thought the tension in the room was palpable before, it was downright stifling now. I could feel four pairs of eyes burning into me, Sage’s most of all, but once more it was only Rian that I stayed focused on.
There was anger there still, but there was also some strange look of… patient understanding.
“And Sage’s village would have been destroyed.”
I blinked, shocked beyond all ability to even consider hiding my reaction at Rian’s calm response.
“Twenty years,” he reminded me, evidently amused by my shock. “Do you think I spent twenty years loving your brother and was never subjected to a barbed tongue?”
He made a scoffing sound, mocking my naivety as he took the bottle back, tearing it out of my listless fingers. He took a long swig before he set it back on the table rather hard and loudly.
“We can disagree on who your brother was, but let us not forget that I knew him and you did not. That said, I do know why you killed him, Ornella. Hard as it is even still, I have come to accept how he would have looked to you in that moment. But you have not yet had an opportunity to consider his perspective. It is not an excuse, it simply remains that Aodhan hurt you for the same reason that you stabbed him; you look like his nightmares.”
His words crashed through me with a sort of violence which I was not remotely prepared to begin processing. So I chose not to and pushed away the uncomfortable understanding that wanted to invade my senses.
“So now, if I am to forgive his crime, then I must also embrace yours,” said Rian, and now he did sound bitter although it still was not toward me. He resented his own conscience that seemed to prevent him from condemning me whilst upholding Aodhan.
But forgiveness? I was unsure if he meant it, but that wasn’t something I had even considered a possibility.
I sat in quiet contemplation, and Rian reached again for the wine bottle as if he knew I would need a moment.
Sage had implored me to trust Rian, everyone asserted that he was a good leader, and they gave him seemingly unconditional loyalty, but I had not believed it. I’d simply known too many males who led with fear and brute force, and until then, that was all I had seen from Rian. I had not expected him to be as insightful, reflective, or humble as Sage had proven. The Sua feared his potential destruction. His own riders were wary of his temper! And all of it was for good reason because evidently, when he lost control, people fucking died.
I just wasn’t convinced yet whether the constant need for his restraint made him truly disciplined or if it merely hindered an impending and inevitable doom.