Holly
quarters in the south-eastern tower are luxuriously furnished, swathed in dark green and gold silks and tapestries, with an enormous four-poster bed fit for a queen to sleep in.
Set deep into the black and jade curved walls are seven arched windows that overlook the Black Forest and the soaring mountain peak where the future city of Talamh Cúig will one day be built.
Surprisingly, the gilded doors aren’t locked, and I spent yesterday, my first day in residence, wandering through the castle and grounds with Mern and her attendants, doing my best to ignore the dark prince whenever I found myself caught in his orbit.
Whenever our paths crossed, Gade looked cold and distant and refused to meet my gaze, and I got the distinct impression that he wished he had never stolen me from beneath the crystal tree, where I had the misfortune to arrive in Faery.
In his own land, Gade’s dazzling true nature is revealed. From his crown of multi-colored gemstones that Mern tells me represents the five elements, to the hard, beautiful lines of his glamor-free body clothed in materials that change with the light and environment—embroidered with gold, tipped and cuffed with feathers and furs—he’s a breathtaking sight to behold.
Returned to his castle and stripped of all artifice, Prince Gadriel appears to grow stronger with every breath, his sky-blue eyes reflecting power and a frightening intensity that stems from the curse burning madness like a contagion through his blood and illuminating his supernatural nature.
How did I ever convince myself this spectacular, dangerous creature was a mere palace guard?
I’ve spent the morning with Mern and her group of raucous courtiers, watching them compete in an archery competition, where no less than three fae left the tournament grounds with elaborately fletched arrows pierced through their hearts. In Faery, sporting skill is a matter of life or death.
After the games, which the Prince of Five neglected to attend, we meander toward the Great Hall, taking the long way around the city, so I can gape at the sights. My new friends laugh at my awe, but if they could only see my home—the ramshackle village, my tiny cottage, and the nearby forest and ocean that conform to the laws of nature—they might better understand my astonishment.
Talamh Cúig’s castle is a dazzling, light-filled structure made of black and green stone with an abundance of arched windows lining its walls, through which refreshing briny breezes blow in from the Emerald Sea below.
The ground floor houses the Great Hall, kitchens, and the sprawling quarters of most fae who live in the city. Subsequent floors hold smaller but no less grand reception and meeting rooms, quarters for the fae of higher station, and the imposing sky-high towers where the royal family and their retainers live.
The city itself sprawls over the mountain, and the outdoor areas contained within its jet-black walls include a dairy, wild gardens, no less than three forges, and quaint stores that ramble up and down the hillside. All paths lead to the oval tournament ground at the bottom of town, nested between the cliff edge and the wall of shiny black rock the castle sits upon.
Everywhere I look, magic abounds. Creatures seem part animal, part forest. Beautiful cruel-eyed fae command the elements with a flick of their hands. Indescribable colors of flora and fauna delight my senses, and floating lights follow me unbidden. Strange music calls from afar, beckoning me to join a dance that Elden says might keep me twirling into insanity or death. I do love to dance, but it might be best to avoid joining a faery reel if I can.
Mern links her arm through mine and pulls me up the stairs into the Great Hall for lunch. Even though the midday sunlight pours into the hall from tall windows, and flames from thousands of candles burn from sconces and candelabras, a strange fae light dusts everything with the sparkle of stars, the effect both charming and unsettling.
I stare at the flashing jewel-toned colors of the faeries’ clothing, their skin, eyes, horns, and wings, all a sumptuous feast for the eyes.
“Close your mouth, Holly,” says Elden, holding a wine goblet up to his wide grin.
His brother, Blade, blows on his palm and sparks dance around me, landing on my clothes. I yelp, shaking out my fur-lined tunic. He winks, then disappears into the crowd in a flutter of red and gold velvet, his chestnut braids swinging.
Mern’s hands brace my waist, and she spins us in a tight circle. “We won’t see Blade again for days. He and his band of trouble-makers hold revels that last a whole sennight.”
“That’s fine with me,” I admit. “Your cousin’s fangs make me nervous.”
Mern laughs. “Oh, he only bites those willing to receive. Remember, this is the Seelie Court; we aren’t entirely wicked.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
Today, the hall is only half full. Most fae gather around the long tables that heave with the weight of food and trailing vines, loading up their gilded plates as they chatter loudly. We join the rabble, collecting elaborate dishes and utensils of our own.
I snack on fruit and sip water from a golden goblet, Gade’s presence calling to me from the dais, but I keep my eyes averted from the throne and hope he doesn’t notice me.
After Mern’s tour of the Great Hall yesterday, I can easily picture the throne in my mind—multi-colored crystal spikes set in a grand pattern to match the Crown of Five. I haven’t allowed myself to look at the prince, who is no doubt lounging upon it, but I have no trouble imagining his regal magnificence.
My flitting gaze snags on a fae huddled in the corner closest to the dais with its bony knees drawn into a narrow chest. Leathery flesh hangs from a skeletal body, and sunken eyes glare from a hollow face, topped with a puff of bright-green hair. The creature seems barely alive.
“Who is that?” I ask, pointing at the wretched faery.
Mern glances up from the golden pear she is eating. “That’s Nestera, a changeling who was thrown out of the human realm centuries ago. Although she has moments of clarity, if not wisdom, the poor thing has lost her senses. Take care not to go too close, Holly. Unlike Blade, she bites without permission.”
“Perhaps she needs help. Is she sick?” I ask, my healer’s conscience making me ignore Mern’s advice and move toward Nestera.
Voreas, Mern’s best friend, who appears neither male nor female, but something glorious in between, tugs the rust-colored cape hanging from my emerald tunic. “The changeling’s fractured mind connects her to dark forces. It is best not to attract her attention.”
For a moment, I pause and consider Voreas’s words, but it’s too late. Nestera has already noticed me. Creaking and clacking, her limbs unfold, and she rises to her feet, then hobbles toward me.
A full head shorter than me, the creature paces a circle around me, cackling and moaning. She stops and gathers my hands between hers, her nails clawing at my skin as her flat, brown eyes rake over me.
“Nestera, leave Holly be,” says Mern. “She has done our kind no harm.”
“As yet,” rasps the changeling as she pulls me closer. “There is still time for much mayhem.”
“Release the girl,” booms Gade as he approaches the edge of the dais, the points of his black and gold shoulder armor flashing as if covered in tiny diamonds. The armor matches his ornate arm bracers, and he is dressed in leather that displays the contours of his lean, strong body to great advantage. “Now. Or your next breath shall be your last.”
Nestera bows her head, shuffling away from me. She stops moving when a tall, lanky fae with long braids that skim his calves stands next to Gade. “Come now, Gadriel,” he says, lifting a highly polished staff carved from a white branch. “Your subjects have a right to meet our mortal visitor. Nestera will vow to do her no harm, isn’t that so, my dear?”
Kindness infuses the fae’s voice, and his pale gray eyes resonate deep peace and contentment. He reminds me of the priests who pass through my village on pilgrimages to the nearby holy springs.
Another fae steps down from the dais, his black braids trailing behind him and his black eyes cold as he fixes them on me, sending a shiver down my spine. Crow’s wings sprout from his shoulders, their midnight hue matching the intensity of his dark smile.
The changeling grins, bowing to the gray-haired fae beside Gade. “Lord Fyarn. “I mean no harm to the lass. It won’t be I who attempts to cause her downfall; I vow that much to our Prince of Five. Fate long-woven works through the girl, as it is with all creatures—fae or mortal.”
“That’s our father’s brother, Uncle Fyarn,” says Mern. “Elden and Blade are his children. Their mother, Sheanna, died in childbirth—a stillborn daughter with roots for arm and legs. Our legends say that Fyarn is part dryad, a creature of the alder trees, and speaks their language like no other can. The fae next to him is my brother’s chief adviser, Lord Serain. The nature of his work demands a suspicious mind, so don’t fret if he doesn’t seem to warm to you. He disapproves of nearly everyone except for Gade.”
The smiling Fyarn is handsome and his bearing stately, but he wears drab-colored robes of brown and gray, and his skin appears papery, like young bark, lending credence to the story that his ancestors once grew in forests.
Voreas tugs Mern backward, leaving me standing alone with the changeling. A hush falls over the courtiers surrounding us as they watch the proceedings with interest.
Stern-faced, Gade descends five broad stairs onto the marble floor and comes to a halt quite close to me, the position of our bodies forming a triangle with the changeling’s.
“As my uncle wishes,” he says. “Speak your piece, Nestera, and know this: if you harm the human by word or deed, before my court, my blade will slit your throat. I protect what is mine and suggest you heed my words as you never have before.”
In alarm, my gaze cuts to Mern. She shakes her head, warning me to remain silent.
“Fear not, princeling,” says Nestera. “I have no desire to harm your precious things. But I would like to admire her honeyed eyes and come to know her a little better. Will you allow it?”
A muscle jumps in Gade’s jaw, but he nods consent.
Nestera grasps my hands and focuses her attention on me, breathing deeply. A vibration of magic sparks in my forehead, traveling to my stomach. I consider calling out and asking her to stop, but my stubborn nature keeps me quiet, my muscles frozen and expression calm.
Finally, Nestera speaks. “All the forest beings recognize your name, mortal. Tiny spiders and the smallest beetles cower as you pass. They know you.” She faces Gade, letting my hands drop. “They all know her, Your Highness. And there are some who wish her harm.”
Gade seizes Nestera by the shoulders. “Tell me what you’ve seen,” he commands. “What could the ancient forests of Faery know about a mortal girl?”
The changeling laughs. “Ask your High Mage. Does she not see all things in all realms?”
I scan the hall for Ether but cannot find her.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” asks the prince. “No matter how small the detail, I must know it.”
“Only this: there are some who hope to use the mortal to their advantage. Do not give them the opportunity. I have an amulet bargained from Morgana, a powerful sorceress from the mortal realm, long dead. It will alert the girl to danger when it crosses her path. Will you allow me to gift it to her?”
Gade opens his palm, and the changeling drops a chain onto it. His eyes close, and a heavy silence thrums through the hall.
With a rough sigh, the prince looks in my direction without meeting my gaze, then he beckons Mern over with an impatient gesture. She covers his palm with her own and stares at their hands, concentrating. Several moments pass, then her eyes flare open, the irises glowing a fiery green. “It is fine, Gade. Not cursed nor spelled to harm. Protection resonates at its core.”
“That’s what I felt, too,” Gade says.
He nods at Nestera, passing the necklace back, and the changeling closes in on me.
“While you wear this necklace, dear one, ill will shall be revealed to you.”
A pendant of stormy teal labradorite dangles from her fingers, and as I reach for it, she snatches it away.
“Not too fast, Holly Cure All,” she says under her breath. “Gift givers must be rewarded with a blessing of equal worth. What will you give me in exchange for it?”
“Nothing,” announces Lord Fyarn. “Gadriel, will you stand by and let your mortal bargain with a changeling? Nestera’s visions are the deceptions of an unstable mind. She returned from the human realm damaged. I sanctioned a greeting, but do not trust her to bargain fairly.”
“And yet my sister and I sensed no harm in the gift.” Gade’s eyes fix steadily on mine for the first time since we arrived at Talamh Cúig. “Ask Nestera what she desires for the pendant, mortal. And don’t agree to her terms until I approve them.”
“I only wish for simple things,” says Nestera. “Nothing costly of coin or cunning of meaning.”
“Then tell me what you want.” I give her a warm smile.
“At my time of need, you will bring me twenty-three arm lengths of the orb spider’s web, the same of our weaver’s golden twine and her silken rope—one of which can hold my weight—a crested pigeon, and a biscuit soaked in the old queen’s favorite honey.”
“But how will I find such things?”
“Every item is easily obtained within the castle walls. You merely need to ask. Is that not true, Prince?” she says.
“Yes, quite true,” Gade agrees. “As a safeguard, I will order that no one at court can refuse your request.”
“But what if, for some reason, I can’t deliver them at the time you need them? If I was sick and bedridden or… no longer in this realm.”
Gade frowns, then smiles his approval, sending a rush of warmth through my blood.
Nestera inclines her head. “If it is in your power to bring these items, then you must, but if not, you will be free of the bargain and may keep the pendant.”
My eyes search Gade’s, and he nods. “That sounds fair,” I say. “I’m very grateful for the gift and accept the price as you have stated.”
Nestera spins three times in a circle, like a giddy child. “So be it.” She presses her cheek to mine and whispers in my ear. “The jewel will heat and become uncomfortable to wear when you are in danger. Heed its warning.”
The gold chain is cool on my neck as Nestera drops it over my head. The moment it’s nestled under my tunic, Lord Serain gives me a tight smile and retreats with Fyarn back to their matching chairs that are shaped like exploding stars and set the same distance apart behind the throne.
Elden and Voreas sidle up and lift the pendant from my chest, cooing over its setting of gold and silver eagles’ wings.
Something about Lord Serain strikes me as amiss. A heavy sensation fills my chest as I watch him speak with the lesser court advisers who stand by his side, disdain dancing at the edges of his smile. He is a faery, a species that believe themselves superior to all others, and arrogance is likely the least of his bad traits.
“Is all well with Lord Serain and Lord Fyarn? Serain in particular seems unhappy,” I say, glancing at each member of our party—Gade, Mern, Voreas, and Elden—to check their responses. Their faces remain clear and relaxed, no worry or fear flickering over them.
“They’re fine,” answers Mern. “During last night’s meeting, when we discussed you, Holly, our Uncle Fyarn argued the most vigorously for you to stay. In fact, he hoped you’d remain in Faery for longer than the period of time agreed with my brother. He likes you. And as I told you, Serain is difficult to please, but nonetheless he is our land’s greatest defender.”
I scowl at Gade, who steps closer, hoping he wasn’t swayed by his uncle’s appeal to keep me in Faery for any longer than we bargained. Gade promised to help me return home after seven nights and seven days, and he must stick to it. After all, a vow is binding, even more so in Faery than in my world, or so Mern tells me.
“Don’t worry about Lord Serain,” says Gade. “You must promise not to go anywhere without a guard. Serain may be troubled by your presence, but he wants you safe. Whenever he senses danger, it is nearly always present.”
Mern swipes a creamy pastry from a tray that a winged fae carries past. “Holly spends most of her time in our company, Brother, and you know we can protect her. There’s no need for guards.”
“Must you talk with your mouth full?” Gade says, laughing as he turns to me. “Heed me well, when you’re not with Mern or Elden, you must have no less than two fae guards beside you. They will deliver you from your room into my sister’s or cousin’s protection. And don’t bother arguing. This is not negotiable. The alternative is having guards posted outside your room with you locked inside the chambers for the duration of your stay.”
“So despite my efforts to save your life in the hut, you would still imprison me?” I ask.
“Only for your protection.”
“Any other instructions before I take my leave, Your Highness?” I say, mocking him with a false expression of eagerness that he fails to notice.
“Yes, I’m glad you asked. You must attend tonight’s feast.”
“What?” I’d much prefer to eat in my chambers and avoid the sight of him lording it over his court in all his obnoxious gorgeousness. “Why?”
As he opens his mouth to reply, Voreas slings an arm over Mern’s shoulders, his shiny silver locks swinging out and whipping the prince’s face.
Gade pushes him away. “Watch out.”
Voreas grins. “’Tis only hair, not a blade.”
Gade rubs his cheek. “Braided through with rusty barbs, no doubt. Strike the mortal with that ridiculous hair of yours and see what happens.”
“My pardon, my Prince. Would a dance with your captive improve your mood perhaps? The musicians have taken up their instruments.”
Gade’s lips compress. “As you know, I rarely bother to dance, so what makes you think a human would inspire the effort?”
“That isn’t precisely a no,” whispers Mern. “If you had a dance card, you would scratch his name in it for certain.”
I ignore her teasing and smile stiffly at the prince. “You haven’t told me about last night’s meeting with your mages and council. Did you inform them that with your help, I’m leaving in five days’ time?”
“Six,” he corrects. “Come to tonight’s revel and we shall speak more of it then.”
“I’ll think about it.” I incline my head and back away. Just before I turn around, he raises an eyebrow at Mern and Elden and tips his chin in my direction, no doubt bossing them into following me.
Holding my head high, I stride toward the stairs that lead to the east tower where my room is located, the sounds of my friends’ footsteps striking the marble hard behind me.
As I weave through the crowded hall, pieces of material are torn from my fine tunic, faeries’ sharp nails scratching my skin. Elden shoos them away, and they cower for a moment before pressing closer again, chanting rhymes and snickering amongst themselves.
“Are you being a bore and returning to your room?” asks Mern when she catches up.
“I can think of better things to do than watch your brother smile smugly from his throne while his courtiers attempt to pinch my flesh off,” I say, tickling her ribs.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s confused at the moment, and that doesn’t sit well with him. We need to let Gade adjust.”
“To what?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” says Mern mysteriously as we start up the stairs. “I have a wonderful idea—let’s visit the apothecary. You must be curious to see how our healer works with plants and magic. Gade says you’re very skilled with herbs yourself.”
Surprised at his compliment, I feel my cheeks warm.
But Mern is right. I’d love nothing more than a visit to the town’s healer.
Grinning, I retrace my steps down the staircase. “That sounds excellent. Which way do we head?”
Mern laughs, linking her arm through mine. “Turn left.”
“Wait, we’re coming, too,” says Elden, he and Voreas catching up.
I hope the healer is a little more welcoming than the rest of the fae in this city. Most seem to view me with a mixture of curiosity and fear, which is ridiculous. They’re the ones who possess formidable power and magic.
As we step into the Great Courtyard, I glance over my shoulder and meet a pair of narrowed cerulean eyes. Gade stands in the doorway to the hall, arms crossed over his chest, an elaborate ruff blowing in the breeze around his neck and chin, so black I can’t tell the fur apart from his silky, raven hair.
I give him a mock salute, and he shakes his head and strides back into the hall.
As I skip down more stairs, I can’t throw off the feeling that out of all the Court of Five fae, their ruler fears me the most.
