Chalices were full of wine and mugs were overflowing with ale as servants moved through the hall with endless jugs. Everyone was at least six or seven mugs into the night, save the High Queen. She was infamous throughout the realm for her sobriety, a display of her dedication to the Dagda. Dozens of dishes covered each table, from spit-roasted pig, peacock and spinach pie, and jellies dyed golden with saffron. Sweet pastries were mixed in with the savory dishes in luxurious chaos. Lorcan could only imagine how the buttery crust must taste. As a guard for the evening, he could not partake.
Movement at the head table caught his attention. Princess Reyna stood from her seat. Wearing a courtly gown in an ethereal shade of silver that matched her eyes, she was a sight to behold. The bodice’s neckband, lined in sparkling ice glass jewels, dipped low between her breasts, before the delicate hoarfrost silk flared out behind her in a long and flowing train. Unlike the style of the Air Court’s gowns, this one had no sleeves. Instead, there were two simple strips of fabric that covered her shoulders, embroidered with sapphire wings. Her abundant hair was loose around her shoulders, just as she always wore it, but the strands were somehow wavy this night. An Ice Court circlet perched on her head, and the flickering torchlight from nearby sconces reflected off the silver band.
Lorcan did his best not to stare.
She was now moving across the floor, her eyes locked on where Lorcan stood in the shadows, away from the bustle of activity.
Her eyes were ice blue and her hair long and silver, but the heart of her was fire. He could see it in the way she moved. Her little chin held high. The flush in her cheeks. The heaviness of her footfall as she stomped across the Great Hall to stand before him. She’d brought her bloody owl along with her, too. Wingallock perched on her shoulder, his wings tucked tightly to his sides, staring at Lorcan with piercing yellow eyes that saw right into his very soul.
“Evening, princess. Look what the dragon dragged in.”
She narrowed her fierce little eyes. “Yes, it appears he aimed to chew you up but then he spit you out instead. You must be pretty revolting when a dragon refuses to eat you.”
“Well, then. With that kind of attitude, you certainly aren’t playing the part of a sweet, little betrothed thing, now are you?”
“And you’re not playing the part of a guard,” she said, lifting her chin ever so slightly higher. “You’re always there. Watching. Listening. Spying.”
He crossed his arms. “What do you want, princess?”
“There’s something I need to speak with you about. In the castle gardens.” Two pinpricks of red dotted her cheeks. “I’ll go out first. Follow me after a moment.”
Lorcan frowned but curiosity got the better of him. He nodded and watched her weave her way through the throng of revellers. Her hips sashayed beneath the silken material, and her hair trailed behind her, down the length of her backless gown. She was slim, but Lorcan could see the lines of muscles etched into her back. Not the sweet, little betrothed thing, indeed. She was so much more a warrior than a future High Queen.
Lorcan followed after her, but before he reached the door, Vreis stepped directly in front of him. He wore leather armor that matched Lorcan’s own, his bastard sword strapped to his back. His mismatched eyes flickered with concern.
“What are you doing, Lorcan?”
“Standing guard over the princess, just as I have been tasked.”
“Careful, Lorcan. You have become exceedingly friendly with the girl.”
Lorcan frowned. “I’d hardly call us friendly. She spends half the time insulting me. Just now, she suggested that a hungry dragon would find me too distasteful to eat.”
Vreis clasped Lorcan’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “Just be careful, my old friend. The prince does not take kindly to those who try to play with his toys.”
Lorcan frowned down at Vreis’s hand. He knew his old friend only meant to help, but he didn’t appreciate the suggestion. Surely Vreis knew him better than that. But...of course, he didn’t. Vreis did not even know who Lorcan truly was.
“I wouldn’t interfere with the alliance,” Lorcan said.
But wouldn’t he? Lorcan no longer knew. His mark had been strangely silent these past weeks while he’d been guarding Reyna. At times, it would throb or hum, but it rarely blinded him with pain. It was almost as though it finally approved of what he was doing. But protecting the alliance was surely at odds with his true liege’s goals. The Air Court was stronger with the Ice Court by their side.
“Good. Just be certain you remember that.” Vreis patted his shoulder and then drifted away. Lorcan pushed aside his fellow guard’s words and strode toward the door that would lead him outside where Reyna was waiting for him in the castle gardens.
The misty, wind-battered night enveloped him as the clattering noise of the court dimmed. Both moons would be high in the sky at this hour, but they were hidden by thick, rolling clouds. Reyna stood waiting in the shadows of Mistral Tower, beside a thick shrub that had yellowed from the wintry sun, her arms wrapped around her body in an anxious hug. Wingallock still perched silently on her shoulder, watching him.
“Are you chilled?” Lorcan strode toward her.
“The wind is harsh, but I am fine.” Her eyes flicked in the direction he’d come. “Did you tell anyone you were coming out here?”
He crossed his arms. “No.”
“You answered a yes or no question plainly.” She arched a brow. “Only those who can lie do that. Such as the shadow fae, or the wielder of Mochta’s Axe.”
How odd that she would mention Mochta’s Axe. It had been lost somewhere inside of the fire fae lands, during what many believed was the end of the elemental powers of the fae. No one had seen or heard of it since. Lorcan believed that the axe had been destroyed, burnt to a crisp by its own wielder, who had used it to lie one too many times. But that was only lore.
“You’re pretty feisty toward someone who is trying to help you,” he merely said. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to speak with me about? But if you would rather hurl insults, then I’ll return to the feast.”
“No, don’t go,” she said quickly, shivering as another gust of wind blasted her in the face. “I do need to ask you something. You...know more about this castle than you let on, yes?”
