“According to the story, my cousin took the discarded skin of a great snake and hung it from a sacred rowan tree. For months, he collected pieces of the forest’s creatures that would make him a good spy and servant: the ears of a fox, the fangs of a badger, the wings of a red hawk; one eye from a stag and one from a jackdaw. You see? He stuffed them into the snakeskin and added his own magyk, trying to meld the disparate pieces, to bring them to life, but it is the Huntress who grants life in the Arden. She alone decides when a child will be born, and when her people return to the earth. I would just as soon not know what Oberon had to do to give that…monstrosityform and breath, not to mention the gift of Lightweaving. He certainly has no heart to speak of, and no blood in his veins but magyk. He is a mockery of life itself.” Antenor’s eyes shifted over my shoulder and I turned just enough to see Devil stalking across the dancefloor, eyes rimmed in pale golden light and fists balled. The song ended just as Antenor stopped talking, and I stepped away from him. Devil stopped behind me and gripped my shoulder.
“Peace, demon,” said Antenor lightly, “I only wanted a dance, not a fight.”
I could practically feel the heat of Devil’s fury on my skin, so I turned and put a hand on his chest. “Don’t. It isn’t worth the trouble.”
He looked down at me for a moment, then shot Antenor a hateful glare and spat, “If your eyes so much as fall on her again, I will pluck them out and send them back to the mountains in a purse made from your own—”
Thankfully, his obscene threat was interrupted by a single, long horn blast. Everyone in the Bower stopped and faced the stone circle, while Antenor meltedinto the crowd. Eager to put the unpleasantness behind me and enjoy the evening, I turned my back to Devil and watched the stones too.
“Are you alright?” he whispered in my ear, standing with his shoulder and arm pressed against my back—a strangely comforting gesture.
“He ambushed me,” I replied softly, “so you needn’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry with you, but why didn’t you tell the bastard to go fuck himself? Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean you can’t hit him.”
I looked up at the way his brows knit together in concern. “I didn’t want to cause a scene…”
“May…” My name came out of his mouth as a harsh breath. “I would much rather you cause a scene than be uncomfortable. But…if that is still too much for your human instincts, I would beg you to call for me instead. I do so love causing scenes.” I couldn’t help but smile, and Devil returned it with a pernicious grin of his own. “Now, what did the little blind bat want with you?”
I craned my neck over the heads of the fay in front of me, trying to see the stone circle, where a small contingent of guards now marched in formation. “Oh, he was truthful in that he only wanted a dance, but I got a little more than that from him in return.”
“Did you, now?”
“Yes, the Captain was kind enough to tell meyourstory, Devil,” I murmured, looking back to watch his reaction. “About how you were…fashioned. By your master, Oberon.” His eyes merely flickered down to my face for a moment, then back to the stone circle.
“And? Will you change my name now? Abomination, Monstrosity, and Crime Against Nature are all quite popular, and I have been trained to answer to any of them.” There was something in his voice—almost hurt, or apprehensive, as if he thought the truth had altered my opinion of him. But I just waved my hand dismissively.
“Those are all far too lengthy, and I’ve already grown accustomed to Devil,” I said, keeping my voice light. I didn’t see his expression, but he shifted closer to me as the horn sounded again.
I could see now that, at the center of the stone circle behind a stone-slab dais, an ancient and twisted weeping willow grew. Its thick roots held the dais aloft, creeping around its edges and then fanning upwards to form two intricately knotted thrones, while its long branches formed a sort of curtain behind the two chairs. The leafy tendrils also glittered and sparkled in the faint light, as though encrusted with diamonds. The ring of guards inside the stone circle parted, and two people stepped through, climbing onto the dais opposite each other. Onewas a fay man, thin and slightly hunched, with the features of a great horned owl: enormous yellow eyes, a small, sharply pointed nose, and actual brown feathers in lieu of hair, which formed a pair of spikes atop his head. He wore long, purple robes with feathery epaulettes and ascended the dais with a shuffling gate.
“Is that Oberon?” I asked softly, and Devil snorted.
“Certainly not. That is Simeon. He is a…minister of sorts, an advisor and scholar. Andthat,” he motioned to the other person now standing on the dais, “is Hippolyta, Commander of Lady Titania’s army and, if the rumors are to be believed, commander of the queen’s bed as well.” I swallowed hard as my eyes shifted to the fearsome-looking woman, with an elegantly arched nose and straight, dark hair cropped to her chin. She wore a bronze breastplate secured at her shoulders with leather straps, leaving her brown, muscled, and heavily-scarred arms exposed. At her waist, alongside a kilt made from leather strips laid over a red cloth skirt, was a short sword, and a pair of magnificent golden eagle’s wings grew from her back. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd carefully, fixing on several people in turn before alighting on me. They lingered for a moment, but her face betrayed no emotion, and she continued her survey uninterrupted as Simeon stepped to the front of the dais, hands held out.
“Children of the Arden!” he called in a stuffy voice that cracked when raised. “It has come time once again for the wheel to turn, for our precious summer to fade into quiet autumn. As always, we give thanks to the Huntress for our lives and home—the shelter she created for us, that we might live in peace.”
On a silent cue, every voice around me, including Devil’s, lifted into a lilting, choral chant:
How came ye to the Arden Wood,
by foot or hoof or wing?
I came by grace,
the grace of her who made the Arden sing.
She forged the land, she spilt her blood,
she bade the trees grow strong,
and so we give our thanks, our hearts,
our gifts, and all our song.
The prayer stirred something in my belly and caused my skin to pebble, even though it was terribly warm beneath the Bower. Simeon stepped back, concealinghimself behind the throne opposite Hippolyta, whose gaze was fixed stoically on the oculus above our heads.
“Now, you shall see them,” Devil said. He pointed to one side of the stone circle, which had darkened, consumed by a cloud of swirling shadow lit with pinpricks and streaks of silvery light. From the center of this haze stepped a man who could only be the faerie king.
