Interlude
brIGHID
Muirashi was a wretched country of perverted old men and bigoted, useless women. Kentoro matched it nicely: a drab town of black buildings covered in snow, where every passerby seared you with the judgment in their eyes.
I lifted my chin and kept eye contact with the old man staring at me. Lust and disgust—a familiar combination. Oh, they all desired you, but scorned you for daring to dress in a manner that attracted them.
Shrugging my fur cloak down my shoulders, I bared the cleavage of my dress, to spite him—he'd never have me, and I didn't care what he thought.
It was only in these small moments that I held any power.
Drawing my gaze from the old man, I stopped by the snow-covered bank of the lake. A thin layer of ice streaked across its surface. Frost dangled like ornaments from the willows.
Here, the fae's story had begun—a story about another powerless woman trying to survive in a world that wanted her cowed—and when they failed to control her, they sought her death.
Lady Mare Rohan, heir to the city that was gone. An interesting character even beyond the fae's tales of darkness and dragons.
And Bláth had sent word that it was all true.
"Do you still doubt me?"
The air grew warmer around me as the fae appeared, though I hadn't seen him for hours. He dressed like it was the thick of summer: his loose black shirt cut nearly to his belt. Flicking his raven curls out of his one visible, golden eye, he cast me a wry smile.
"I don't doubt you," I said. "I doubt your intentions."
"As you should.” The fae lord named Vaf folded his hands behind his back, hiding them beneath his purple cape.
I curled my toes in my boots, dwelling on Mare Rohan.
Vaf wanted something from her, from me. Needed us to meet. But I had yet to uncover a rationale to explain his keen interest in us.
"Take a stroll with me?" Vaf asked.
"You stand out a bit."
"So do you, dear." He strode away, and the air grew colder.
I shivered, welcoming the chill.
People who radiated warmth—I hated them—hated Solhearts and all their kin.
Pulling my cloak back up, I flicked my red waves over my shoulder and caught up with Vaf.
"Do you have a plan?" He asked. "For what you're going to say to Mare."
"My proposition couldn't be more lucrative: a stage and a voice to legitimize her." I looked him up and down. "Are you planning to say hello?"
"Oh, no. This is your show."
I frowned, staring at his black mask. What did this fae want that did not require his intervention?
Fae appeared so rarely that many believed them to be mere fairy tales. Legend.
I'd discerned how to fool him, though. Through the fae lord's otherworldly ability to read the future, I'd gained access to the heir of Tirnanog—and the secrets the city had taken to its grave.
But I would still get married. At the end of the road, when he offered me what I most wanted, I'd refuse.
I just hoped I knew what I was doing.
Vaf smirked at me. "Thinking about how to escape our deal?"
"We haven't made one yet," I reminded him. "No, I was wondering why Muirashi lets their soldiers rule their cities. Seems barbaric to me."
"I'd call it efficient. People are kept in line; rebellions are squashed before people learn they exist. There's no need for pesky, time-consuming trials when soldiers can mete out justice themselves." He took in a breath. "Gives the place a homey feel."
"Oh, the fae's a comedian. Is that why you're following me? Because I look like I need a laugh?" I flicked a hand at him dismissively. "You're welcome to tag along if you'd like, but I don't feed table scraps to dogs."
"Are you likening bards to dogs?" He sighed. "We are already so poorly respected; you don't need to rub salt in the wound." His golden eye gleamed. "Which reminds me—I thought of just the place to host your meeting with the young heir to the city of storms."
"Is it a brothel?" I asked. “A dingy bar?”
The corner of his mouth curled up. "Worse." Turning his head, he stared down the road.
A group of caravans blocked the road ahead, funneling out of the narrow gate, heading west. Colorful images painted their sides, and people dressed like foppish nightmares congregated around them.
Oh, joy. It was a traveling theatre group. And I, the lead jester, would make my prestigious appearance on their stage.
I could already imagine Bláth's face—and Reese's, for that matter.
They were going to be so amused.