“Ye are the prince. Heir to the throne. Only yer marriage to Princess Faeniana will appease the Fifth Kingdom.”
“Then they will not be appeased, and if they are foolish enough to wage war against the Seventh Realm, they will die.”
“War is no small thing. Have ye no care for those who would die?”
Jeros snorted, ready for this conversation to reach its end. “Ye speak of caring. Yet we all know yer worry is for the moonstone mines that lie within the borders of the Fifth Kingdom, not the subjects of the Realm. I am not a fool, Mother. I know how ye lust after their agates and fluorites as well.”
She took a step back and glared at him.
Momentary regret washed across him. Perhaps he should not have said that, but he knew it was the truth, and if the Fae of light, the mighty Seelie, valued anything, it was the truth. “I have a fated mate. Ye know the prophecy. Would ye have me defy it and plunge the Seventh Realm into darkness for a thousand ages?”
His mother’s scowl hardened even more. “How do ye know that Princess Faeniana is not yer fated mate?”
“Because all I feel for her is disgust and loathing. She is a cold, vain, heartless creature. Ye would shackle me tothat?”
Queen Nyna yanked an orange off a nearby tree and tore it in half, slicing through it with her long, gleaming nails. “I would shackle ye to whatever it took to maintain peace within the Seventh Realm.”
“And that is why yer word carries no weight with our son or within the Realm, my love,” boomed the mighty voice of King Salfan as he shimmered into view. “Return to our chambers, wife. I would speak to our son. Alone.”
Eyes flashing with fire, Queen Nyna sank into a low, respectful curtsy. “My king…would it not be better if both of us spoke to him?”
“No. From the ire in his eyes, I would say ye have already said enough. Be gone, Nyna. Do not test me.”
Her head snapped up at the king’s dropping of her title, but her lips pressed into a thin, tight line as she bit back her words. Jeros’s mother knew better than to challenge his father. Theirs had been no love match. Their arranged marriage had taken place because she had once been deemed the most fertile Fae of the Seelie. Perhaps that explained her willingness to deny the prophecy of a fated mate for the king’s firstborn.
After another curtsy, she disappeared from view, shimmering into the air like morning mist burning off in the sunshine. His father held up a finger and barely shook his head. “I can sense ye, Nyna. Enough games. Do as yer king bade ye.”
Jeros arched a brow.
King Salfan nodded. “She has left us. Finally.” His tensed stance relaxed, and he smiled. “Ye give me great pride, my son, but there is war to consider. What say ye?”
“I say the Fifth Kingdom will revolt no matter who anyone marries. If they canna blame it on a marriage gone wrong, they will blame it on the rain.”
“I think ye have the right of it, lad.” The king meandered deeper into the citrus trees, studying them with a critical eye. “Have ye sensed yer fated mate? Do ye know where she is?”
“I feel her unrest, but she is still verra far away.”
“Have ye consulted with Mairwen? Seven Cairns brings fated mates together to strengthen the Highland Veil.”
“She stalls. As does her assistant. They show me bits and pieces, then tell me the rest must wait.”
“Must wait?”
“Aye,” Jeros said, “puts me off, saying the timing is not right or some such other falsehood. I believe she fears the war and the Weavers becoming caught up in it.”
“Aye,” the king agreed. “The Weavers dislike war. At least, those of the light dislike it. Those of the dark side enjoy a good, mortal scuffle here and there.” He palmed an orange as if weighing it for its ripeness. “Speak with her again. Mairwen has been known to wear down those she wishes to bend to her will. Let us use one of her tactics against her. Wear her down. When she grows sick of ye, she will tell ye what ye wish to know.”
“I will speak with her today.”
* * *
As Jeros crossedthe boundary into Seven Cairns, the tingle of their magical wards swept across him like the burning sting of a sandstorm. The village of the mystical Weavers was hallowed ground, blessed and protected by the temperamental goddesses who would just as soon obliterate a Fae as look upon one.
The goddesses despised Seelie and Unseelie alike but tolerated the Seelie somewhat better, only looking upon them as lower-class creatures unworthy of their notice. Therefore, he could enter Seven Cairns. But the ancient gods and goddesses truly hated the Unseelie, fearing that the dark Fae might someday join with the forces determined to destroy the Highland Veil and throw all existence into even worse chaos. The Unseelie were forbidden access to the hallowed grounds of Seven Cairns.
“Prince Jeros.” Mairwen waited for him in the doorway of the Weaver’s ancient meeting hall. “I have been expecting ye.”
“I am sure ye have.” He offered her a polite nod, then followed her inside. Mairwen was as good as royalty among the Weavers. As the Divine Master Weaver and rumored daughter of the goddesses themselves, she deserved to be respected and handled with caution. “I shall not insult ye with useless niceties. Ye know why I have come.”
