They’d heard about us being mates, even here in Eilean Gayl, almost as far as one could travel on the continent of Annwyn. Then they had also heard about my power, that explosion of light and my disappearance. They knew we had left Baylaur, might even have been waiting for us to arrive here, at Arran’s ancestral home.
But they had not expected us to arrive without Arran.
The Battle of Avalon was still unknown.
I could use this to my advantage. I shoved the panic down. Anchored myself to the friends standing on either side—one gold, one white, both eternally steady and unflinching.
“Duty has always been paramount to Arran. I look forward to telling you of our travels,” I lied. If Elayne and Pant realized the falsehood on my tongue, neither of them showed any hint of it. “My Knights and I will need adjoining chambers, if you have them. We will keep our prisoners in our custody.”
“Knights?” Pant asked, nonplussed by the mention of prisoners. This was the terrestrial kingdom, I reminded myself. Pant’s vines had paused their advance down the bridge, though one now moved to his hand.
“Knights of the Round Table,” Cyara answered this time. A declaration that she would not be ignored. I felt a surge of pride in my chest—and gratitude. I may be made of ice, but I was not entirely unfeeling. Not when it came to the two females who stood unflinchingly at my sides.
Hushed whispers swept through the small crowd behind Arran’s parents. Not courtiers, exactly. This wasn’t the official terrestrial court. It was a family home—though still a castle. My education on the terrestrial kingdom had been superficial at best. Arthur had been the one trained on their customs, the structure of their noble houses.
They did have noble houses, I knew. Arran had been born into one of them, as had Gwen. But in the end, those historical lineages meant little to the terrestrial fae. All that mattered in this kingdom was strength and power.
At least now I had both.
All eyes deferred to Elayne, even her husband’s. Which told me enough. She was the power here.
But Pant played his part well. He stepped forward, one white bloom in each hand, and offered them to the Knights at my sides. “Welcome to Eilean Gayl, Knights of the Round Table.”
Moving on impulse and instinct, only the barest strategy sketching itself out in my head, I stepped forward and offered my hands to Elayne. A gesture of goodwill, of welcome. Of family. What I hoped we might be… what I’d never had before.
“You shall have everything you request, Your Majesty,” Elayne said, taking my hands. “Eilean Gayl and all of its resources are at your disposal.”
She stilled, lifting my hands slightly higher between us. The pad of her thumb stroked once and then again. The ring. Her ring—given to me by Arran. Slipped on my finger in the quiet, stolen hours before we went to the Tower of Myda. That nightin Baylaur seemed thirty years ago, rather than a mere three months.
I sucked in a breath, ignoring the thaw that threatened in my chest. I could not give it to her. No matter what diplomacy demanded. It was the only part of Arran I still had, the only connection, this narrow band of gold.
But Elayne said nothing. Only squeezed my hands a little tighter and then released them. As she turned to address the surrounded groups, elemental and terrestrial, I reached inside myself. Found the golden thread of the mating bond and clung to it.
“Tonight, we shall feast in honor of our royal guest. Let it be known across our territory—the High Queen of Annwyn has come to Eilean Gayl.”
The group assembled behind Elayne recognized it for the command it was. A blink, and half the terrestrials had shifted into their animal forms. Birds took to the sky. A fox and several hounds bounded past us. What might have been a seal disappeared over the side of the bridge into the water before I could get a good look.
How the flora-gifted terrestrials would send their messages, spread the word of our arrival, I did not know. But Elayne had made this move without asking for my approval.
As I followed her into the castle, more vines slithered out along the stones. Some moving so fast, curling like they meant to close around my ankle, to trip me up.
Maybe my instincts about Eilean Gayl were wrong.
23
ARRAN
I had been tortured before. I was little more than a child when I was stolen away, tortured until my beast exploded out of me.
The pain did not ebb, but my thoughts cleared.
Thoughts or dreams?
I could not open my eyes, no matter how often the command echoed in my mind—my soul.
This pain… it was a soul wound. Deeper than anything I’d ever felt… ever allowed myself to feel…
I landed softer this time. Did not land at all, really. Just appeared on that dusty orange plain, trapped by the ring of mountains. But this time was different. The pain was gone.
