Not on the Seat of Power in the presence of their god.
And that made all the difference in the world, especially to Tarrah.
The two guards pushed opened the wooden doors of a large building that made up most of the castle’s grounds. They led Tarrah down a long corridor before pausing at another set of doors. The taller of the two disappeared inside. Tarrah waited, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Now that she had made it through those walls, she knew the king would never turn her away.
Her visions had shown her that much, at least.
A moment later, the door opened once again, and the guard motioned for her to join him on the other side. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped through the archway, her heart pounding hard at the thought of finally meeting her king.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the stone. The cavernous, empty room was large enough to hold thousands but only a handful stood inside. Four, Tarrah counted. The king himself and three others who were clustered around him.
Tarrah strode forward with the two guards on either side of her, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. The only object in the entire room—the throne—sat beneath a circular window that glowed with the red light of the sun. It was a basic black chair that had little decoration. Not even antlers curved out of the top.
The king himself looked just as he had in her visions, though it was a shock to see him all the same. The most powerful fae in the entire kingdom was a small, hunched male with a large nose and small, shifting eyes. His brown hair barely reached his ears, and he wore simple black scales that did not stand out from the armor of his warriors.
There was a lot that Tarrah would need to do in order to transform him into the powerful ruler she knew he could be.
“King Bolg Rothach.” Tarrah bowed before him, lowering herself to her knees, the stone floor cool and hard beneath her hands. “In the darkness, may I find you well.”
“Rise.” He appeared weak, but the king’s voice was strong, commanding, and sure. Tarrah could understand how he had found himself rising to the throne. He had a power about him, a magnetic force. If given the proper ammunition, he could be a force to be reckoned with. She hoped.
Tarrah rose, but kept her eyes cast to the stone dais. Deference, she knew, was important here. He needed to see that she had no greater ambitions than coming to his aide.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the king’s advisors frowning at her, though she did not raise her gaze to look their way. She would converse with them some other time. Her focus now was on the king.
“My guard has told me that you wish to speak with me. He said that you insist you have information that is of great value.” He did not sound convinced.
“I do, my liege.” Tarrah’s words were a breath on her lips. She had worked so hard to get here. She had fought death and had won. Now, against all odds, she stood before her king, and the next stage in her plan had begun.
No, not my plan, she reminded herself.My god’s plan.
“Well, go on then. Tell me what it is you came here to say. You do not have long. I have other…obligations to attend to this evening.”
Tarrah knew what obligations he referred to. The king’s many dalliances had not been kept a secret, not like his war with the Air Court.
“I know of your secret mission to upend the Air Court’s status as the most powerful kingdom in Tir Na Nog.” She lifted her eyes then to watch the king’s face. Surprise, then concern, and then anger flickered in his dark eyes.
“Nonsense!” He slammed his fist on the arm of his throne. The entire floor beneath her feet shook in response. Just as Tarrah had expected. The king held some measure of power. “Whoever has threaded together these tales was only weaving lies.”
“I saw it in my visions, my liege,” she said, raising her voice so that it echoed off the stone walls. “You have sent an instigator, a spy. You aim to use him to cause chaos and strife so that you may worm your way back into power. So that you may end our exile and become part of Tir Na Nog once again.”
The guards beside her shifted uncomfortably on their feet. As for the king himself, he leaned forward, pure, unbridled anger flashing in his eyes.
“Where did you hear this? Your king demands you tell him right this instant, or you shall be thrown into the dungeons with the petty thieves and murderers.”
“I have already told you, my king.” Tarrah took a step closer to her liege. The guards on either side of her flinched, their fingers twisting around their antler hilts. “I have seen this in visions. I swear it is true. And it is not the only thing I have seen. Visions of the future. Ones I swear you will wish you knew.”
“How can I be certain you are not lying to me?” He shook his head. “Visions? No one has seen any visions since Unseelie took the magic from these cursed lands.”
“Because I believe it is Unseelie, the shadow fae god himself, who has given me these visions. And I believe he wishes for magic to return to us once again. If we fulfill the mission he has given us.”
The king shifted on his black throne. After staring at her for a moment longer, he nodded. “Continue.”
“The Air and Ice Courts have allied. They are heretics who believe in the wrong god. The Dagda, who was nothing more than a mere mortal that walked these lands. With their forces joined together, they have more strength than any other court can withstand. If we do not make a move against them, they will invade our lands and end the Shadow Court once and for all.”
The king stiffened, and his lips were pulled down by a heavy frown. “They have already exiled us. Why would they invade?”
“They will want our lands. They will want our people. Slaves, we will become, taken up north to mine the Ice Court’s caves for ice glass.”
