The fae cocked his head, examining my face, and then lowered his sword. I followed suit.
“Pity a human?” he mused. “A fascinating idea. I shall consider it. And yes, daughter of Kerezen, we will take you to the Queen of the Veil.” He offered me his arm with a mocking bow. “We are cousins, after all, you and I. Our veins carry the blood of the same goddess.”
It felt dangerous to refuse him, so I took his arm even though my entire body screamed with the urge to run. Instead I recited the old prayer to Kerezen that I’d learned as a child.
“For sight and sound and taste and touch,” I said, “for the scent of the wind and the strength of my limbs, thanks be to Kerezen, god of my body, maker of bone and blood—”
“And so it shall ever be,” he finished. “Are you surprised that I know the prayers of Edyn? You shouldn’t be. We in the Court of Shadows are great admirers of human customs.”
I didn’t trust anything about him, especially not the false kindness in his voice. “And do you admire the humans who create these customs as well?”
Laughter was his only answer. I regretted asking the question. The forest had grown dark, the only light coming from the snow crunchingbeneath our feet, which glowed with the same silver sheen as the Mist did. I didn’t dare look back at the others. Seeing fear on my sisters’ faces would summon my own. I let my escort guide us all into the trees.
***
I couldn’t say how long it took us to reach Gothyn. One moment we were trudging silently through the snowy forest. The next, the trees seemed to twist and turn around us as if we were looking at them through a rippling mirror. Though I easily kept my balance, I heard some of the others stumble behind me.
Then, suddenly, we were there.
The Court of Shadows, some called it. Others, the Veiled Court.
And it was magnificent.
Our escorts led us through a massive hall of iridescent stone. Mammoth trees cloaked in violet moss rose up on either side of us, their branches twining with the dark wooden rafters overhead. Thousands of lanterns and candles, some hanging from the trees’ branches and others hovering in mid-air just over our heads, lit the room with shimmering pools of light. The walls were made of gleaming onyx and tangled trees, their shape and color changing with my every step.
And on either side of us were dozens of fae. Some were tall and lithe with gleaming skin—green, like Posey; purest black, like my escort; stark white, shimmering silver, bright bronze. Others were short and squat, their skin gnarled as if carved from trees. Some were very small, hardly more than orbs of light; others towered, their spangled heads—glittering with dozens of heavy jewels and draped chains—nearly reaching the trees overhead.
They sprawled on couches in glittering finery and dined at tables laden with elaborate dishes in outrageous colors—bright turquoise, vivid pink, every shade of purple imaginable. Several small orchestras were scattered throughout the room, playing several differentrollicking tunes. It was a cacophony of melodies, but the fae didn’t seem to mind. They danced with unbridled glee, toasted with goblets full of steaming liquor, played elaborate card games with tokens that looked suspiciously like human teeth.
I’d read every book about the fae in Rosewarren’s libraries. I knew that they were descendants of twins birthed by Kerezen and fathered by Caiathos. They could craft glamours, they had an affinity for natural magic, and they were gifted with strength and long lives. I had been to fae courts before, and Posey had also briefed us all on what we might see.
But nothing could have prepared me for this.
At the end of the long hall stood three wide, arcing steps carpeted in velvet and moss. They led to a throne of polished bone and glittering onyx that was bolted to the floor by a tangle of flowering tree roots.
And on the throne, draped in silks and furs, sat a fae with gleaming skin the color of sandstone. On her head, atop a nest of coiled loam-dark hair, sat a slender silver crown. Her eyes were as black as the throne upon which she sat, and they narrowed as we approached.
The sight of her nearly rendered me speechless, but I managed to kneel before her on the cold, hard floor and heard the others do the same behind me.
“Lady Ifanna,” I began, remembering the greeting Posey had taught us. “Queen of the Veil. Jewel of the Court of Shadows. Your city is a marvel, your court a splendor. We come before you with gifts and request the honor of an audience.”
Lady Ifanna smiled, baring her pointed teeth. She crossed one long leg over the other, her bare ankles glittering with elaborate chains. She took a sip from the chalice in her right hand.
“But you have not seen my city,” she said smoothly. “How do you know it is a marvel?”
“I have heard tales told across the land by your many admirers, aswell as testimony from our friend Posey of the Frinthians.”
Lady Ifanna’s gaze slid past me. “Yes, I see her there, bowing so prettily. My little cousin. How good of you to bring your friends to me.”
“And gifts,” Posey added, “if your guards will allow us to open our bags—”
“I will not, and I care nothing for your gifts. None are as interesting as you.” Lady Ifanna set down her chalice and glided down the steps, the folds of her gauzy silver gown cascading over her body like a waterfall. “What an interesting group you are,” she murmured, walking slowly among us. “I see you, of course, demon. I suppose we are cousins too—you the descendant of Jaetris and Zelphenia, me of Kerezen and Caiathos.”
Talan inclined his head. “Indeed. Well met, cousin.”
“And the rest of you?” Ifanna returned to her dais and stood on the bottom step. Her gaze flicked to me. “You. Tell me, what powers exist among you?”
“My name is Mara, and I am a sentinel, Your Majesty. And my sisters—”
