13
Keltania
The Autumn Fae have a mostly functioning society, masterfully hidden from the outside world, but they’re barely surviving. The only entrances to their village are a series of underground tunnels that lead to a massive valley surrounded by impenetrable rock and trees. Their failing source of fresh water, and the fact that they’d exhausted the native wildlife, have made things challenging over the last decade.
Valen tells Gensted everything. Aphelian and Servis and their joint betrayal. Servis’s fall and Liani’s trickery. He fills him in on Orbik and the state of the Winter Lands, as well as his disaster of a coronation and the odd note hinting at a bigger plan, then he pleads our case.
“It’s certainly a lot to take in.” Gensted leans back, pulling a long swig from his cup. Homemade blue dandelion ale is one of the only abundant resources these Fae seem to have. The small flowers grow from every crevasse in the rocks that border their home, but sadly they aren’t a sufficient source of nutrition. “And I sympathize with your problem. But I’m not sure how I could help.” He drains the rest of his cup and sets it down with a clatter. “Or why I should.”
“Our fathers were friends,” Valen says, glancing up through a small hole in the ceiling. The Autumn Fae have made their houses from mud and stone, but harsh storms have them rebuilding at least once a year—sometimes more. This home still has half the roof missing. “I know there’s a lot of bad blood between you and the Winter Court, but that was Servis and all those who came after Delkin.”
“Not to mention that this isn’t only our problem.” I set my own cup down and spread my arms. “You’re trying to bring yourself back from the devastation of the war, still, after all this time. How far do you think you’re going to get once Aphelian finds you?”
“Who says she will?” The Autumn Fae leans back in his chair, studying my face like he’s trying to place me. It’s annoying. He’s been watching me closer than the others, and each time I feel his gaze on me, I have to bite back the urge to call him on it.
“She’s not going to stop with us,” I say. “She’s angry with the Winter Fae specifically, but I know her. Eventually, once that anger is sated, she’ll decide all Fae must pay. She’ll come looking for you, and trust me, she’ll find you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I know her.” I do my best to keep my tone even. “Very well.”
Gensted pushes away from the table and stands, going to a small pile of tinder surrounded by large rocks in the far corner. Using the torch on the wall, he lights the wood, then opens a wooden hatch above it.
He studies me, then Valen. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“We’re asking for your help, but not without offering something in return.”
“Yes. You said— How did you put it? That you could save my court?” As the fire catches, Gensted warms his hands. “Please. Enlighten me.”
Valen extends his arm, hand out and palm up. A small snowflake, surrounded by tinier flakes of cascading snow, forms in the center.
Gensted stumbles away from the small blaze, mouth agape. “Is that—”
“I was born with magic,” Valen says. He curls his fingers, crushing the small snowflake, and stands. “If you’re willing to help us, then I can offer to share it.”
The Autumn ruler regards him carefully, then laughs. “That simple?”
“There’s nothing simple about this.” I join them by the fire. “Aphelian is dangerous. If you agree to help us, then you’re agreeing to put your life at risk.”
“But the reward is worth it,” Valen says. “Just think of all you could do for your people if you had Autumn magic.”
Gensted laughs again. This time it’s not a small chuckle or a friendly guffaw but an outright, hysterical chortle. “You seem confused as to how Autumn magic works, Lord Winter . Our fire? It destroys. It consumes and it devours, and if not for what the war did to these lands, I’d consider it a mercy that we lost it all those years ago.”
“Well, shit. Didn’t see that coming…”
Don’t give up yet. “Well, if you won’t do it for the magic, then what can we offer you?” I sink back down into the crudely crafted wooden chair. “Surely there’s something we could offer.”
Gensted tilts his head and studies me. “Is this common in the Winter Lands? A human speaking for the Fae?”
He says human like it’s some kind of disease. Like he fears it might be catching. “Is it common here to be so rude to guests?” I counter.
“Absolutely not.” Gensted’s voice takes on a darker tone. Menacing. “But you’re not guests, are you? You showed up at my home, uninvited, to ask for favors.” His gaze skims me from head to toe, and he scrunches up his nose. “With a human, no less.”
Valen tenses. “Do you have an issue with humans?”
“I find them untrustworthy and low. Dishonorable . I allowed one to stay here for a time. She tried to kill me.”
“Too bad she failed…”
Shh!
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say. Being betrayed by a human he trusted—one he offered sanctuary, too—complicates this. But I’m resourceful. I can be convincing . “Not all humans are the same. As, I’m sure you know, not all Fae are the same.” I smile sweetly. “Obviously you’re nothing like Servis…”
For a moment, I’m sure he’ll lash out. His expression turns stormy, his shoulders taut, but it passes and he snorts. “You are exceptionally bold for someone so weak, human.”
“Trust me, she’s probably stronger than the both of us put together,” Valen says. He’s trying to make it sound like a joke, but the venom behind it is clear.
“So here you are, Winter, traveling with a powerful human and a kelpie—” Gensted eyes Daroose, who’s been leaning against the far wall, uncommonly quiet. The Autumn Fae takes his seat, eyes refocusing on Valen. “Why come to me for help? How do you know I’d be of use to you?”
Valen relaxes some and takes the seat next to mine. “Well, as I said, I’ll make sure you get your magic back. Obviously, I’d expect you to use that magic to aid our cause—”
“Since I’m uninterested in magic, you’ll have to try harder than that,” Gensted says. “You took a huge risk coming here to ask for my help. What made it worth the gamble?”
“What am I supposed to do here? Flatter him? Tell him he looks good in red?”
Tell him that you’ve heard stories about the Autumn Fae and their unparalleled skill in hand-to-hand combat.
“What?”
Valen!
“Okay, okay…” He leans forward, flashing Gensted a knowing grin. “It’s no secret that the Autumn Fae are skilled fighters. It’s true I want your court magic fighting by my side, but I also wouldn’t mind—”
Someone skilled in the art of Firshani.
“That sounds like a disease.”
Just say it!
“—an expert in Firshishi.”
Firshani!
Valen rolls his eyes but doesn’t look at me.
Gensted lets the flub go unnoticed. “Our combat skills are the one thing that hasn’t been lost to time or war,” he says. “But that still doesn’t tell me what’s in it for me.”
“The magic is yours by birthright,” Valen says.
“And perhaps regaining it will help us in some ways. But, as I said before, it’s not what we need. It won’t help us thrive.”
“Then what will?” Surely there’s something we can offer him. I can’t believe we’ve come this far only to have failed.
They’re floundering here. Living in poverty and mud. There must be something we can give that will help them.
“As you can see from looking around, we need supplies. Our homes are falling apart, our people starving. But we’ve managed without help from the outside world, and even if you offered, I have no way of knowing you’d make good on your promise. I would have to take you at your word—and I’m afraid it’s not that easy.”
Valen nods. “How can I prove myself?”
“One of the highest regards an Autumn Fae has is respect for honor.” Gensted stands and smooths out the front of his shirt. “Show me that you are honorable. Prove to me that you are worthy of my trust, and you will have my aid.”
“How the hell are we supposed to do that?”
I…I have no idea.
Gensted meets my gaze. “My Fae will show you to a vacant hut. You are welcome to spend the night. The invitation is limited, though. In the morning, you will move on.”