Chapter 11 Rhianelle
Panic claws at my throat as I tear through the contents of my jewelry box for the third time this morning.
My wedding ring is gone.
It's crafted from a piece of rattan and bears no gems or royal markings. But Tallula and Lenna know not to throw it away. My fingers tremble as they search the drawers, under the pillows, and between the sheets.
No, this can't be happening.
I feel like crying. Svenn left for the mountains three days ago. He asked Aelfric and Garrett to chain him in some cave I'm not allowed to know about. They won't tell me where. Even when I begged, they refused.
And now his ring is gone too.
"Your Highness?" Lenna's voice carries concern as she enters the chamber. Her arms are full of the clothing and accessories I will need for today's deception. "Is everything prepared for your departure?"
I compose myself, burying the storm inside.
"Everything is ready," I lie, hoping she cannot hear the tremor in my voice.
She nods, though her sharp eyes glimpse the disarray of my jewelry box.
Please, Keeper of Lost Things, help me find my ring, I whisper a prayer to one of the gods.
But the ring doesn't materialize. Its absence gnaws at me. I lost my anchor today of all days, when I must venture into the heart of enemy territory. Maybe this is an omen of disaster.
I force myself to stop searching. My hands are shaking and that won't do. Not where I'm going. I press my palms flat against the cool wood of the dresser and breathe slowly, counting each inhale.
I blink hard against the burning in my eyes.
"The carriage is ready whenever you are, Your Highness," Lenna says softly, and I realize she's still standing there waiting for me. "But if you need more time—"
"No." I straighten and turn to face her. I need to leave now. "Calanmai begins at sunset, and I can't afford to miss the opening ceremonies."
She sets the clothing on my bed. I'll be wearing a gown of midnight silk that will help me blend into the fae Court of Nightmare.
Lenna helps me dress without speaking at first. She leans closer as she pins my hair, her voice lowering. "Hrolf arrived safely in Volundr."
I look up.
"Last night." She smooths the fabric at my shoulders. "They moved him under cover of dark. There were attempts in the capital before they could manage it. Three attacks in his cell. Too many people who remembered Dunrovin and wanted him dead."
She meets my eyes in the reflection. "He's in the cliff prison now."
I close my eyes briefly. At least one thing has not fallen apart.
"Will you be safe?" Lenna asks, and there's something raw in her voice that makes me meet her eyes.
"I'll be careful," I say, because that's the only promise I can make.
The cerulean gown fits perfectly, hugging close before flowing around my legs. She adds rouge for my lips and kohl for my eyes. Every inch of me is glamoured, from the slight curl of my hair to the barest shimmer on my skin.
Finally, I reach for the enchanted mask on the dresser.
The moment my fingers touch it, I feel the thrum of fae magic. But it's the best protection I have. I slip it over my face and the transformation is immediate. The mask molds to my features, altering not just my appearance but my very presence. It blurs me into nothing and everyone all at once.
"Can you recognize me?" I ask Lenna.
She stares at me for a long moment, her brow furrowed.
"No," she finally whispers. "I know you're there, but I couldn't describe you if someone asked. It's like trying to remember a dream."
That's exactly what I need.
I take one last look around my chambers, then I turn away. The ring is gone. There's nothing I can do about it now. But I can't delay. Calanmai is tonight. I need the intelligence that could save my kingdom.
The palace corridors are quiet this early.
I move through the familiar passages silently, my slippered feet making no sound on the marble floors.
I manage to sneak around Darstan while he sleeps.
His light snore makes me smile a little.
He's slumped in a chair outside my chambers with his head tilted back.
Looking after a newborn is hard. I wish he would take more days off duty to be with his family.
I will apologize for this later, but if I tell my royal guards they will never let me go.
I descend the servants' stairs at the back of the palace where people rarely tread.
The carriage Tallula arranged for me waits in the courtyard. No insignia marks the black lacquered wood and the driver is one of Blaire's acquaintances. He has made the journey to Avalon a dozen times with his two Noctrals and lived to tell about it.
Waiting for me inside the carriage is the Maiden of Arawynn herself. She's already dressed for the journey in a gown of deep emerald that makes her blonde hair more striking.
"There you are," Blaire says softly. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind."
"You know me better than that."
"I do…" She mutters, studying my features. "I'm standing right in front of you and I can barely tell it's you."
I smile and reach out to squeeze her hand. "You're sure about this? It's not too late to back out."
Blaire is trained in the sacred arts of the temple but I worry for her.
"I'm not letting you do this alone," she says, eyes flashing. "Besides, someone needs to watch your back."
The door closes and the carriage lurches forward.
I settle back against the cushioned seat and watch through the window as my kingdom slides past. Dawn is breaking over Aelfheim. The soft golden sunlight spills across the mountains, turning the palace walls to glittering diamonds.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Blaire murmurs.
"It is."
And we might never see it again.
The thought sits heavy in my chest but I push it down.
I can't afford fear right now. The journey takes hours even by the magic that governs the Noctrals.
We travel through mountain passes where the snow still clings to the peaks, then down into valleys where spring has already begun to green the earth.
Blaire and I talk intermittently during the journey, going over our stories and memorizing the details of our false identities. But mostly we sit in comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
The landscape changes gradually as we approach the fae border on the Red Road. Trees begin to grow taller and stranger, their branches twisting in strange patterns.
"We're close," Blaire says, pressing her face to the window.
I feel it too as I gaze at the twilight sky.
Avalon.
The realm of shadows and ancient malice.
Standing here I understand why they call it that, and I also understand why it has never been enough to keep anyone away.
The land of the fae is beautiful. Black spires rise against the sky between buildings wrapped in climbing night-flowers.
Stars hang lower here than anywhere I have ever been, close enough that I find myself wanting to reach up and take one.
Even the air is sweeter, rich like wine.
Invitations were sent across the continent, reaching dwarves, orcs, the animals, even elves of Tiamat and Kashran. Everyone is invited except for the elves of Aelfheim. No one looks at our carriage too long. We're just another anonymous arrival, one of hundreds making the journey for Calanmai.
Towering over the city is Eirik Bloodhound's castle, the Palace of Bones.
My breath catches despite everything I know about the king who built it.
The structure rises from the highest plateau, its walls constructed entirely from the bones of leviathans of the past. Dragon skulls serve as cornerstones, their empty sockets filled with flames.
Massive ribs form archways tall enough for titans to pass through without bending.
But the palace is dark, its bone-fires burning low. Because the fae king's ball is not held at the palace.
It's held at the Dawnroot of Dunethar. The tree is far grander than any palace could ever be.
Its trunk is wider than Aelfheim's great hall and its bark silvered with age and magic.
Branches spread out in every direction, each one thick as a city wall, and they're covered in leaves that glow with their own ethereal light.
It is said that deep inside the great tree lies the fountain of youth.
Platforms have been built among its branches, connected by bridges of living wood that grow and shift as I watch. Lanterns hang from every limb by the thousands and they cast shifting patterns of light across the bark.
It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It's the most dangerous place I've ever been.
And everywhere here, there are fae.
The other carriages stop at the base of the tree. Attendants in silver livery move efficiently, helping guests descend and directing them toward stairs that spiral up the trunk. Ours stops far behind the main entrance, away from the glittering procession of nobility.
Blaire's eyes are sharp and focused. "Remember, gather what you can. But don't get caught."
Her contact in town isn't expecting her until the festivities are fully underway.
"Same to you," I tell her. "Your mission is just as dangerous as mine. Maybe more so. At least I have the mask."
"I have charm." She shrugs and flashes her brilliant smile.
The carriage comes to a complete stop. Outside, I can hear music, voices, and laughter.
This is it. The moment I step out, I'm on my own.
"Rhianelle," Blaire says, and there's something in her voice that makes me pause. "If it becomes too dangerous… just leave. The information isn't worth your life."
But we both know that's not true. The information about Eirik's planned invasion could save thousands of lives.
Still, I nod. "I promise."
Blaire doesn't call me on my lie.
The driver opens the door and extends his hand to help me down. "This is as far as I go," he says quietly.
"Thank you," I tell him, meaning it. He's risking his life just bringing me here.
He nods, though his face is grim. "May the gods watch over you."