A Dryad jerked back, his roots creaking like an old house.
King Rory stepped closer to the bed. “Queen Vervain, how are you feeling?”
I sat up, looked around the room, and took stock. Back in Crith-Fuinn then. In my guest room. Only Rory and the Dryad with me. Yawning, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and said, “Much better. I just depleted my fire. It's all right. I'll recover soon.”
“Good because we have a problem,” Rory said.
“What problem?”Oh, dang it! I forgot about Cahal. Please, don't let the problem involve Cahal.
“Your husband.” Rory waved the Dryad away, saying something in Fey.
Oh, just my husband. That's fine then.
“Which one?” I asked without thinking. When Rory gaped at me, I quickly added, “Just joking. What has Arach done now?”
“He's in my throne room, demanding I hand over his wife,” Rory said.
“Oh,nowhe wants to claim me as his wife, eh?” I snorted. “Just so he can slap me in magic-suppressing manacles and drag me back to Fire. What a Fred Flintstone.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You're right. That's not fair to Fred. He was a nice caveman.”
Rory blinked, then went on as if I hadn't spoken, “Queen Vervain, I very much want to keep our bargain, but I can't start a war with Fire. I've just taken the throne.”
“Don't worry about it, King Rory. I'll handle Arach.” I stared at the door. “I, uh, just need you to show me the way back to the throne room.”
“Of course.” He waved toward the door.
Through the winding, plant-filled corridors we went, occasionally brushing vines out of the way. Not that I minded. I kind of liked the lush tunnels with their fake sunlight and fresh scent. Plants growing underground felt more magical to me than the magma beneath my castle. But I did have the Hidden-Ones. They trumped plants any day. Plus there was that whole grass is always greener thing. In this case, that saying was literal.
“The Hidden-Ones,” I whispered, an ache growing in my chest. They'd be hiding below Castle Aithinne, as their name implied. Treated like monsters by their own people.Do not cry, Vervain!
“Did you just say Hidden-Ones?” Rory asked, his eyes growing wide.
“Yes, sorry.” I blinked rapidly. “I was thinking out loud.”
“About the Hidden-Ones? Why?”
“I can't tell you.” I grimaced. Going with the Flintstones theme, I cursed, “Fruity Pebbles! I can't do anything for them. That stings.”
“You want to do something for the Hidden-Ones? Aren't they the monsters in the caverns below Castle Aithinne?”
“Don't call them that!” I hissed at him.
Rory gaped at me.
“Sorry.” I settled down. “I'm a bit touchy when it comes to them. Yes, they are monsters to many people, but to me, they're family. You do know they were the first faeries made?”
“I don't think so, Queen Vervain,” he scoffed. “The first faeries were the elemental races of Sidhe.”
“I got it from the highest authority,” I said loftily.
“And who would that be?”
I almost told him, but I'd already said too much. “I can't tell you.”
Rory chuckled. “Convenient.”
