“Where else am I needed?” I asked the Arden.
She answered by pulling me to the very edge of the trees, where I had a clear view of Nottingham’s southern facade, and of Locksley Abbey. My heart ached at the sound of the great, iron bell, but then I heard men’s voices too, and I tensed. Staying hidden and walking west, it did not take me long to find the source—a small encampment, just beyond the treeline, which appeared to be occupied by the Iron Fist. Around a dozen men milled about between the tents, Sheriff Osric Scarlett amongst them. Shadows crept out of my fingers and snaked along the grass, but I pulled them back.
“What are you doing here?” I murmured, skirting behind trees to try and get closer. Just as I found a good position to observe from, however, something small and hard hit me between the shoulder blades. I whirled around, half expecting Devil to be there, but instead, all I spied was a pair of black boots dangling from the low branch of an apple tree nearby. I approached slowly and found Antenor’s handsome, brown face grinning down at me.
“Playing spy, cousin?” he asked quietly, offering me a hand.
I frowned. “No more than you are.”
“I am not spying,” he said, holding up an apple. “I am eating my lunch.” He leaned down further, his empty hand still outstretched, and I took it. With a shocking amount of strength, he hauled me straight up onto the branch beside him and offered me a second shiny, red apple. “Where is your pet demon today?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea,” I said with a too-casual shrug. “Is this part of your investigation?”
Antenor narrowed his eyes at me before answering. “It wasn’t originally, no. But they started setting up this camp a few days ago, so I have been…observing.”
“And what have you learned?”
“That humans are a brutish species.”
“And the Fair Folk are not?”
“Not the children of the Arden,” Antenor laughed.
“Hippolyta told me something about you,” I said, and he raised a perfect eyebrow. “You’re a prince. You failed to mention that before,Captain.”
“I do not like to bandy it about,” Antenor sighed, appearing rather displeased with the topic. “My father, Mariaat, and Lord Oberon shared a great-grandfather. Their grandfathers were the heir and the spare, respectively, and so my father is now King of the Pallasian Court.”
“And the title of Royal Spare has now fallen to you?” I asked with a smirk, which he returned.
“I am the first ofmanyspares, who will only be noticed if our precious big brother ever decides to drop dead.”
I couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in his voice, and gently asked, “Is that why you spend so much time in the Arden?”
“The food is better here,” he said with a strained smile. “And the company.”
“Surely, your mother notices your absences though?”
Antenor gave me an odd look. “Two fathers,” he corrected. “Two fathers, who raised me, and a woman who was paid handsomely for the use of her womb.”
“Oh…” It was clear he did not want to elaborate, so I attempted a change in tack. “You said…that you and my mother were quite close…”
“Very.” He grinned again. “We used to get into far too much mischief when I visited. Oberon always sent me home early because he got so tired of our antics. Once, we nearly brought down the entire Bower with stolen human fireworks.”
I stifled a laugh in my hand. “I shudder to imagine Titania’s rage.”
“She was…different back then,” he said softly. “Before. I heard about your encounter with her, and with the Rot. I am glad you’re safe.” His brow knit together, and it felt as though there was something else he wanted to say—something he swallowed instead.
“Where doyoubelieve it came from?” I asked.
Antenor let out a long sigh. “I cannot say for certain. Lyric’s death devastated the Arden, of course, but I have seen the Unseelie creatures the Rot makes. I cannot help but wonder if it came upon us because of what Titania did to those human soldiers…her anger and cruelty. It turns our own people against us. But what do I know?” He stretched out his great wings and his arms at the same time. “I am only a soldier, not even blessed with a magyk gift.”
I let a few of my shadows out, twisting them around my wrist like a bracelet. “I think I’d trade all my magyk for your wings.”
“You’d be out of luck,” Antenor chuckled. “I would not trade my wings for anything, not even a gift like Shadowspinning.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, eating our apples, before he began gently questioning me about the Iron Fist, the Sheriff, and the goings-on in Nottingham. I told him everything I could, while trying to afford Will some anonymity, and in exchange, he told me stories of my mother. In spite of all the time Oberon and I had spent together, it was clear that talking about Lyric was painful for him, so I had not asked. But Antenor seemed eager to recount every memory he had, and I listened greedily. He told me of her gentle kindness and generosity, but also of her shrewd intelligence and willingness to stand up for others. By the time I realized how long I’d been away from the Bower, the bottom of the sun was kissing the tips of Nottingham Keep’s towers.
“Meet me here tomorrow?” Antenor asked. “Same time? There’s so many more stories I want to tell you.”
