23
Keltania
Instead of the estimated two weeks, it takes us close to three to make it back to the Winter estate. Our slower pace is mostly due to bad weather, but the bickering between Wren and Gensted doesn’t help much, either. Nor does the fact that Valen won’t take his eyes off her for a second. He doesn’t trust the Spring monarch, and I can’t say he’s wrong. But time will tell. Suria slows us down, too. She’s young and tires easily—not to mention complains about everything. It’s a wonder we make it back in one piece.
Despite it all, there’s a new surge of hope in the group since Suria joined us. If the transfer works and we have access to another Winter magic wielder…then maybe we have a real shot at surviving this mess. I’m not thrilled to arrive back at the estate, but at least our outlook has significantly improved.
The council must see us approaching, because they’re waiting as we make our way up the hilpberry tree–lined path. The moment we walk through the gate, Valen is bombarded by questions from Kopic, Celpin, and the rest of the council—even Delkin doesn’t seem to understand that Valen needs rest after the journey.
Everyone is pulled in different directions. Suria is taken to Zana immediately, who is excited to see what she can do, and the monarchs are shown to comfortable rooms. There’s a small bit of disappointment when they realize we’re missing representation from the Summer Court, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the possibility Suria presents. Valen has the pleasure of debriefing the council, and I decide to sit it out in order to refresh the wards. With Suria here, we can’t be too careful.
No one seems to mind my absence. Being treated as though I’m invisible should be a blessing, considering the harsh words and stares of suspicion I’m used to getting. But it’s not. All it does is reinforce the fact that I’m alone.
That I don’t belong.
I busy myself renewing the wards on the perimeter, as well as the silence wards around Valen and Zana’s rooms, and by the time I start back to my room to get ready for dinner, I’m about to drop. When Aphelian manipulated the link between Valen and me, it became easier to tap into the druid magic Valen had access to after living on top of the tear for most of his life. Unfortunately, doing all those wards still knocks me on my ass.
“Keltania.” Gensted stops a few feet from me as I’m crossing the courtyard and bows. “Happy to be home?”
“There are worse places to be.” The druid ink used for my sigils, given to me when I left Lunal, is once again safely tucked into my belt. “Please, my friends call me Tania.”
“Only if you call me Gen.” Gensted smiles, then glances around the courtyard. “I’m not sure what I think of all this—of Valen—but I will say this. He’s bold for doing what he’s done.” He starts walking, and I fall into step beside him. “I heard stories about Aphelian.”
Being Avastad’s son, I wonder what version of history he’s heard. Stories about a war between Servis and Avastad over Aphelian have, apparently, been circulating Winter Fae communities for centuries. But, given that what we once knew as fact turned out to be fiction, how can anyone be sure? Even Delkin, who was around back then, didn’t know the whole truth.
“There are many stories about Aphelian,” I say. “Though most of them appear to be false.”
“From what I understand, my father was quite taken with her. It created quite the scandal. Humans and Fae were taboo. They were never equals in the Winter Court, but they were far more accepted than they were in ours. My father didn’t care, though. He was enthralled by her.”
“So there’s some truth to the rumors? Your father’s interest in Aphelian fueled the conflict with Servis?”
He laughs. It’s a boisterous sound that echoes through the courtyard. “I’m sure it irritated Servis, but I don’t think it fueled the conflict, no. From what I’ve been told, my father would have cut off his hand to have her, but she hated him.”
“Really?”
“She came to the Autumn Lands after Servis stole the druid tear from her, begging for asylum. My father was taken by her beauty and allowed her harbor.”
“I’m surprised the stories about Avastad’s and Servis’s feud aren’t true. If your father cared about her…”
“Cared about her? No. I said he was infatuated. There’s a big difference between the two. He wanted her body—not her heart.” He frowns. “All I can tell you are stories. The only one who truly knows the whole of it all is my father—and he’s been gone a very long time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We never met. Not directly, anyway. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I would have liked him very much. He had some traits I find…undesirable. I was raised by my uncle.” Gensted squares his shoulders. “When we started to rebuild and I took over, I promised to be a better man than he was. I intend to keep that promise. That’s why I agreed to come with you. I believe Valen wants to do what’s best for all Fae…”
“You and Valen have a lot in common.”
“Oh?”
“He took over as monarch after his uncle.” It’s not entirely true, since his aunt, Liani, was technically playing puppet master, but it’s the simplest explanation without going into all the details. “But his uncle wasn’t concerned with the welfare of the people. Valen intends to do better.”
“And you? Where do you fit in here?” He studies me. “I have to say, I’m surprised to see a druid working with the Winter Fae after what happened with Servis and your people.”
“There’s no hope for the future if someone doesn’t take the first steps. We had a rocky start, but things are improving.”
Gensted nods, watching me closely. “Interesting.”
“It’s not that interesting.”
“You’re probably right.” He leans a little closer. “After all, how riveting can a human’s life be?”
I smile. It’s all I can manage. “You’d be surprised.”
Backing away, he tilts his head, studying me. No one, aside from Valen, has ever looked at me with such intense scrutiny. His brows draw together, and he shakes his head.
“What?”
He takes another step away and folds his arms, eyes narrowing. “You’ve never been to the Autumn Court, right?”
“Until I came here, I’d never been outside Lunal.” It almost feels like if I stand too close, all that he is will swallow me whole. It’s unsettling, and the way he’s looking at me makes my pulse race. “Anyway, I should get going.”
He offers me a stiff bow and heads into the house. I wait for him to be out of sight before doing the same. There’s a welcome dinner to get ready for, and I’ve run out of excuses to put off facing everyone again.
Every surface of my room is covered in gowns. Green ones made of silk, ice-blue ones with lace—there’s even a black one made from leather and sheer mesh. That one goes right into the trash.
In the end, I settle for a simple silver gown with a trail of crystals that resemble icicles down the center of the bodice. It’s pretty, but more importantly, it’s comfortable and not nearly as restricting as some of the other things Valen sent over.
I step into the hall and find Delkin waiting for me. “You look lovely,” he says, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
“Valen sent you to make sure I actually came?” I slip my arm around Delkin’s and laugh. The truth, more likely, is that Delkin knows how out of place I feel. He’s done his best to make me feel at home here, but it’s never going to erase the mistrust his people have for me. “I hope someone is doing the same for him. I’m not the one who’s known to avoid these things.”
“How bad would it be if I said I simply didn’t want to walk in by myself?”
“Very bad, because I know better.”
The halls are quiet as we make our way to the banquet room. Delkin sighs. “I just wanted to see how you are doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk since you got back.”
“We’ve only been back a few hours.”
Delkin and I have grown close since we all came back together over a month ago. Sure, he and Valen share a fiery temper, but there’s a stillness about him, a calm that puts everyone around him at ease. In those early days, when I was trying to figure out how to deal with all the changes, Delkin was there for me much like Levina had been. Like a parent. A constant source of advice and wisdom—or simply a listening ear when I needed it.
“I am dying to know, though,” I say. “How was it dealing with Celpin while we were gone?”
“He’s…a lot.” Delkin laughs. “That’s all I’m willing to say on the matter. I imagine you had just as interesting a journey with Daroose in attendance.”
“He’s a lot ,” I mimic him, then laugh, too.
We round the last corner, approaching the double doors of the banquet hall. They’re wide open with a Winter Guard standing on either side. The one on the left, Marcil, smiles as we pass. His partner, however, glares.
“So glad you finally decided to join us.” Zana sighs as we enter. She gestures to a couple of seats at the other end of the table.
I move around to the back of her chair and lean forward. “How is our new guest?” I whisper.
Zana sighs. “That child is…a handful. She’s getting a much-needed cleaning and some new clothes. I made sure a guard is with her at all times.”
“Good idea.” I pat her shoulder, then move to take my seat.
Valen sits at the head, with Wren on one side and Celpin right across from her. At the other end, Gensted smiles and waves. Daroose is nowhere to be seen, which is surprising. The kelpie usually does his best to insert himself into everything. Now, with the revelation that he essentially represents the entire race, as their king, I wonder if it will be best to include him going forward. As an ambassador. I’ll have to talk to Valen. Daroose should have an official title.
“Evening, Tania.” Wren lifts her half-full glass. There’s hesitance in her smile.
All I can muster is a curt nod as I settle into my seat. I apologized for snapping at her before, but the feelings she stirred are still raw.
Everyone gets settled, and it takes all of three seconds for chatter to start.
Zana takes a sip from her cup. “So please, tell us, Gensted—how did the Autumn Court survive all this time?”
“What was it like, living in hiding?” Celpin adds.
“Wren, how hard has it been as one of history’s few female monarchs?” Guria leans forward, eager for her response.
“Are you spoken for, Gensted?” one of the servers asks with a blush.
“Give them a bit of breathing room, would you?” Valen says good-naturedly, but I know he’s annoyed. “At the very least, give them the chance to drink a glass of wine or three.”
The room collectively laughs.
Gensted clears his throat. “I understand their curiosity. I promise you all, we have just as many questions as you do. It’s been centuries—as far as I know—since members of more than one court have been in the same room together. Now, three monarchs sit here, ready to mend bridges. Not only is this overdue, but it is historic as well. Honestly, I never thought it could happen.”
“Me either,” Wren says. She dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “But, to be fair, had I known sooner that the other courts were still around, this meeting might have gone a bit differently.”
“Oh?” I ask.
All eyes turn to her, and she shifts in her seat. Her discomfort only lasts a moment, though, before she squares her shoulders and plasters on a grin. “The circumstances would have been more joyful, I imagine.”
“And by joyful , I assume you mean bloody?” Gensted says tightly. “Because it sounded more like you were insinuating your meager forces could have invaded us…”
“I’m offended you would think such a thing.” She sips her wine, then sets the glass down with a clank . “But, to be fair, it wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility.”
Gensted laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You didn’t see the Autumn Court. Maybe we have twice your forces.”
She flashes him a pitying glare. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here, would you? If you were so powerful, you would have taken the Winter Lands already.”
“Wow,” Valen says, then downs the rest of his wine in a single gulp. “That escalated quickly.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Spring,” Gensted says, “but not all of us are power-hungry maniacs. Some of us believe in honor and—”
Wren glares. “And what, exactly, will honor do for your people? Will it feed and house them? Protect them from predators?” She flicks a finger at him. “Honor is overrated, if you ask me.”
“If I recall, it was honor that won us the battle of the Hilburg.”
“Valen and I passed through there on our way to Ventin,” I say, hoping to defuse the fight. “The forest still bears the mark.”
“Honor?” Wren continues as if I haven’t spoken. “The way I heard it, that was pure luck.”
“Well, it was a nice try.”
You should do something.
“I am doing something. I’m enjoying some light dinner entertainment.”
Valen…
He clears his throat loudly, and everyone looks up. “Tensions are high. But fighting each other isn’t why we’re here.”
“Valen is right.” Zana leans forward, looking from Gensted to Wren with a furrowed brow. “Do you feel that you’ll be able to move forward peacefully?”
“That depends.” Wren folds her arms, still glaring at Gensted. “When I get my magic—”
“You’ll what? You realize Autumn magic is fire, right? I’m fairly certain that trumps whatever you’ve got, Spring.” He leans in closer. “You’ve seen what fire does to leaves, right?”
“Should we—should we hose them down? Separate them?”
I doubt it would help…
“This parlay was meant to bring our people together—not tear the rift further apart,” Delkin says. He stands, staring down both Wren and Gensted. “Is that not possible?”
Gensted raises his glass of wine. “Moving forward, all I want is peace—”
“Lord Valen!” A guard rushes into the dining hall. “I’ve just come from the southern outpost. Riders are approaching.”
Everyone looks to Valen.
“Okay…” He sets down his glass. “Send out several guards and escort them onto the estate.”
“You don’t understand.” The guard huffs, still trying to catch his breath. “They’re not alone.”
Another guard comes barreling into the room. He’s huffing, his face red, and he manages to croak out, “Trees! They’re being chased by trees!”
Valen turns to me, his eyes wide, and in an instant, we’re both on our feet. The rest of the table follows. As I pass Gensted, he says, “I suppose peace is off tonight’s menu?”