The older of the two nodded and wet his lips nervously. “There’s talk on the streets. Something the Grand Alderman knows but doesn’t want found out.”
Mariel frowned. “I’m listening.”
The boy swallowed hard. “They say the High King was half-human.”
“Wait. Sloane?” she asked, eyes bulging wide. “He washuman?”
“Part, ma’am. Half.”
“Huh.” Mariel sat back in her chair. Well, that certainly explained a lot. He had aged far too quickly. Some believed it had been due to the stress of his position. Others believed him to be far older than his peers. But if he had always been half-human, then...it was shocking that he even lived as long as he did.
“That is very interesting information, boy,” Mariel said, “but why are you bringing this to me now? Sloane is dead.”
“Well,” the boy said, glancing to his brother. “There’s more.”
Mariel’s heart thumped hard.
“Some say that he traded secrets with the Wood Court on how to extend his life, using Unseelie magic. He promised them our kingdom in return.”
Mariel nodded. “You’re right. He did. But his promise died with him.”
“But he didn’t know the full truth of it. The shadow fae have been using the wood fae’s king as a pawn all this time. They set up that plot as a way to disrupt these lands. To get us to fight amongst ourselves instead of focusing on what they’re doing down south. And it worked. Now, they’ve taken back Findius. And soon, they’re going to march to war.”
65
Tarrah
Shadow fae from all across the kingdom had fled to Findius to watch their High King take his throne once and for all. A ripple of excitement had spread through the land, a spark that lit the fire. For so long, the shadow fae had lived in exile. Backs bent, faces turned down, shrouded in mist.
Things were changing now. Tarrah could feel it in the air. It was the ripple of electric energy before a storm. The arrow that started a war.
She beamed as she stood in the front row of the audience, donning a new set of grey scale armor that glistened beneath the torchlight. The shadow sigil had been stamped onto her breastplate, twisting antlers spreading wide. The throne room had been packed as tight as it could and fae had to elbow themselves into a spot inside the lofted room. Some were even forced to stand outside. Others waited in the courtyard for the chiming of the bells. But the High King had insisted that Tarrah be placed right up front. He wanted her with him every step of the way.
The door behind the throne cracked open, and the king strode into the room. A hush fell across the crowd at the sight of him. Even as slight as he was, he looked tall. He wore his shadow court garb, glinting scale armor and a cloak so dark that it looked as if it led to a whole other world. He held a black staff made from antlers that clicked on the ground as he walked. With a wide smile, he stopped at the edge of the dais.
An Unseelie priest in black robes hurried to his side, a crown of twisting antlers in his hands. It was almost identical to the crown the king had once worn, but this one was far larger than the first.
It was the true crown of the Shadow Court. It had been waiting here in Findius all this time.
“Shall we begin, my liege?” the priest asked, lowering his bald head.
“Wait,” Bolg said, voice booming through the expansive space. “I wish for my champion to stand by my side as I take my vows.”
Confusion rippled across the priest’s face. “My lord, that is...out of the ordinary.”
“I do not care about the ordinary,” the king replied firmly. “My champion is the reason we have taken back this city. She is the reason I can now truly reign over this kingdom. She will stand by my side.”
“Very well,” the priest murmured.
And then the entire court turned to stare at Tarrah.
She swallowed hard, nerves shooting through her belly. This she had not expected, nor had she intended. She did not feel the need to be revered. All she wanted was to return the shadow fae to their rightful place as part of Tir Na Nog.
“Tarrah.” The High King motioned for her to join him on the dais. “You are my champion. Please join me as I pledge to rule this realm and all that it entails.”
With a nod, she strode forward, her armor clinking as she moved. She took careful steps up to the dais, her face flushed as she took her place beside the throne. And then she lifted her eyes toward the crowd. A strange wave of exhilaration went through her at the sight of so many eyes staring her way. Most held hints of admiration in them. They were awe-struck by their champion. Some reached out, as if in hope of touching her arm. With a smile, she lifted her chin, basking in the admiring gazes.
She should not feel shy. Shehadsaved them, after all.
