Chapter 21
SEAN
As days passed, Sean learned that the natives called the first month of fall Septinia and celebrated the equinox with nightly bonfires praising the Great Mother for her bounty.
The air caressed him each morning with notes of decaying leaves and woodsmoke.
Cool air curled its fingers around his neck as he watched Anna beat the shit out of David on the other side of the clearing.
He’d have thought the sight would be supremely satisfying, but instead, he cringed.
Why didn’t David ever bother to protect himself?
At first, Sean thought he was hiding his true nature, the better to fool people into trusting him, but he was wiser now.
Being in this place, regularly exposed to this man who’d always hated him, Sean recognized he didn’t actually know David Berkeley.
For years, David had been a mere villain in his mind. Motiveless evil.
There was a lot more to it than that, wasn’t there?
Was it penance or something, this refusal to defend himself from pain?
Or perhaps it was simply that, like other sylphs, he loathed violence.
Given everything Sean knew about David, the notion had never occurred to him, but it slapped him in the face now.
An undercurrent of revulsion radiated from David’s bare body language.
He hated taking part in this and was forced to do it anyway.
The idea was painfully sobering.
“So are you in love yet?” Autumn asked, drawing his attention from David. She’d snuck her way from the sidelines to stand beside him as Cathaire instructed Anna and David. Isobel remained sitting near the water table, watching David fight with narrowed eyes.
He considered Autumn’s question, unsure how to answer.
They call you the Savior. I am the Martyr.
Those words played on a loop in his head, constantly distracting him.
What he felt for Isobel couldn’t be put into words. It was all fever and magnetism, difficult to trust. Isobel Faywood was like oxygen—life-giving but reactive. With the heat that brewed between them, just the smallest spark would set off a wildfire.
Sean wasn’t sure he was ready to burn. He didn’t think he’d ever want to.
Autumn smiled. “You’re already in the flames.”
He expelled a long breath to stave off the panic of the inevitable. He struggled not to dwell on his future, on a prophecy that predicted he’d save the realm, on David’s possible role in it. On Isobel’s death.
Instead, he’d filled his days with training and his nights with sex, keeping his mind too exhausted to ruminate.
The thoughts came now though, and Autumn eyed him. “Sean?”
Behind her, sparkles filled the air. Golden sunlight streamed through gaps in the leaves above, dappling the ground. Her face was open and willing, but he wasn’t ready. He needed to know the details. Needed to read the words Isobel had only hinted at, but—not yet.
He still couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was wrong. He wasn’t this person they believed him to be. He didn’t belong here.
Autumn nodded. “There’s no rush.”
“That’s it for today!” Cathaire called, making his way toward the gear table.
Isobel stood and stretched, and Sean meandered that way, Autumn following.
“Perhaps tomorrow we introduce a bit of archery,” Cathaire said after downing some water. “Anna has become quite skilled. She can show you the way of it.”
A glimmer of excitement woke. “Yeah? I’m down for that.”
Isobel stretched onto her toes to kiss away any minor injuries from training. She smiled. “Hi.”
He grinned back. “Hi.”
Anna appeared at Sean’s side, stripping her bracers off. She shot him a sassy look. “Archery, huh? We can start at the range we use for children.”
Funny, Sean Signed. He’d learned that one yesterday.
Sweat drenching the ends of his blond hair, David snatched the water pitcher and poured himself a cup. “What is the point of learning to shoot an arrow when humans have guns?”
A good question.
Anna raised a brow at him. “It teaches you to aim,” she said, as if this was obvious.
David didn’t look at her. “So do guns.”
“Archery is an ancient skill,” Cathaire said. “Mastery of the bow is mastery of the wind, of nature itself. Until you learn the bow, you cannot move to the Honor Guard. ’Tis tradition.”
“Ah, yes. Tradition.” David set his cup on the table. “The best way to ensure the past keeps ruining the future.”
Sean snorted. Autumn laughed outright. Bel rolled her eyes.
Cathaire sighed. “It will strengthen your arms and shoulders. It will improve your posture. And most importantly, I am telling you to do it.”
David’s bare smirk appeared, along with a slight glint in his green eyes. “Yes, Blademaster.”
Once his gear had been removed, David slipped away, murmuring something into Anna’s ear before he left. One by one, the others departed, as did the crowd surrounding their training clearing, until Sean stood alone with Isobel.
Relief swept through him as all the usual eyes on him turned away. The reprieve only lasted until they reached the Tree. Kywyn waited in his quarters with unwelcome news. “The Council wants to meet you.”
Sean froze halfway to the dining table. “Why?”
His father grimaced. “They’re antsy.”
As Sean sat, he reached for the bowl of fruit. Glowberries had officially become his favorite food. He also ladled a generous portion of soup from a bowl on the table.
Isobel sat beside him, and he scooped some for her as well.
“Can’t you just hold them off?” Sean asked around a mouthful of glowberry.
“I have held them off, but it’s time. You are an heir of a noble family who’s been missing for two decades. They want to meet you.”
Isobel added, “And the Sending says—”
He threw a hand up. “Stop!”
“You told him about that?” Kywyn asked, brows raised.
“No,” Sean said. “She told me some prediction about me existed. We did not discuss it, and I don’t want to discuss it. I’m not interested in prophecies.”
Slipping into the chair across from Sean, Kywyn leveled him with a frank stare. “Denial doesn’t change this situation, Sean.”
He knew that. He did. Why was this so hard to accept?
Whatever. He’d stick to his petulance as long as possible. “Why can’t you remain Sovereign until I’m prepared?”
“I have ruled as Sovereign for four-hundred thirty-seven years. Normally you’d have been trained, but given the circumstances… You are of an age, and it’s your turn. Tradition is important.”
Sean’s mouth slowed to a stop, glowberry half-chewed. How many years did he just say? How old was his father, exactly? But then Sean registered Kywyn’s last words and sighed. “So they think I need no training simply because of my name and plan to just throw me in because it’s tradition?”
He remembered what David had said earlier about tradition—the past ruining the future. And to think he believed he’d never agree with David about anything.
Kywyn chuckled. “Tradition is important to the people. It helps them feel at ease. The Council and I will be there to guide you. You don’t have to do this alone, but you need to accept the crown and take your place as a figurehead.
I don’t think you understand what a symbol of hope you are to the realm. ”
Sean stirred a spoon through his soup, thinking. “So they’ll crown me and David at the same time?”
“Yes. Isobel and Autumn were coronated on their twentieth birthdays as well.”
“And David… Is the Council dying to meet him, too?”
Kywyn hesitated and exchanged a brief, pained glance with Isobel.
“David has been forbidden to sit on the Council,” Bel said quietly. “For obvious reasons.”
Silver linings, Sean supposed, but instead of relief, he battled a wave of loneliness. How had he reached a point where he preferred David Berkeley’s company to being alone?
That wasn’t a good sign.
“Fine,” he said, resolving to get at least this small obstacle out of the way. “Let’s meet them.”
High in the Tree, a vast portion of space was dedicated to the Council room.
Large windows gave a spectacular view of the forest, and several doors swung open to a great balcony beyond.
A round table sat in the center of the room with several seats already occupied.
Lines of empty chairs stood against one wall, almost like a viewing area.
Brownie attendants awaited instruction near the door.
As Sean entered, Bel trailing behind, those at the table stood.
Bow. Bow. Temple tap. Temple tap.
Nish, the deva who’d introduced himself at the bonfire several nights ago, rushed forward to kiss Sean’s temple. “’Tis an honor to finally have you at our table.”
“The honor is mine,” Sean said—his stock answer.
He bowed again. “I am Council leader. I have served as leader for these ninety-seven years past and served as a courtier at the Seelie Court for longer than that. Everyone at this table has much experience to offer.”
“Wow.” Sean glanced at the others. “I hate to intrude.”
“Nonsense,” Nish said. “We welcome your guidance.”
What guidance? he was tempted to ask.
Kywyn extended an arm toward the round table, and Sean settled into the seat he indicated. His father sat to his left while Bel took the chair to his right.
“Does Autumn not sit on the Council?” Sean whispered toward Bel.
An indulgent laugh burst from the woman beside Isobel. “Lady Autumn has little patience. She attends the meetings that are required and nothing more. Today we only want to meet you.”
Seven others occupied the table. Nish sat directly across from Sean.
Kywyn addressed them all. “I’ve been helping Caden get up to speed, but there’s still much we haven’t discussed.”
“Of course,” Nish said. “This is a joyous time, but I understand it may be daunting.”
Sean shifted in his seat. “Er—yeah. A little.”
“Let us start at the beginning. As a Sovereign, you assume your place as a noble in the Seelie Court, just as the other Sovereigns of their races have done. The four of you are our figureheads, the descendants of our noble houses. And now that you’ve reached an age, you are expected to serve on this governing Council as your predecessors did. ”