They had lost the benefits of being a part of the continent, but they had also cast off the downsides.
“I believe it will be a great match,” Lorcan said.
* * *
When Danu, one of their two moons, glowed high in the steel-colored sky, Lorcan spotted a bustling inn just off the Rowan Road. It backed up to the edge of a thick forest that rose up to scratch the clouds, evergreen limbs sagging from the heavy snow.
A large hanging sign was affixed to the wooden wall above the door, thick black paint spelling out the name, The Sapphire Axe. It swung in the icy breeze, the creak of the hinges drowned out by the cheering and pounding of drums that spilled from windows that glowed with blue light. There were stables to the left full of horses, along with several carts that dotted the snow-packed landscape around the inn. Even from a distance, Lorcan could feel a warmth seeping from the cheery building.
Thane sat up a little straighter on his horse. “We’ve been camping for days. I could use a night at an inn.”
Indeed, the route from Tairngire to Falias had once been full of bright and bustling taverns and inns, but the war had left many too poor to continue on. No one travelled between the two cities anymore except for smugglers and thieves.
“I’m not sure that is wise, your grace,” Vreis, a fellow guard, said from the head of the party. Lorcan had known Vreis almost as long as he’d known Thane. He’d joined the prince’s personal guard around the same time ten years past. Vreis, unlike most fae, had short-cropped light brown hair and eyes that did not match: one dark brown, one golden. The short hair highlighted his wide jaw and pointed ears. Just like the rest of the guard, he wore dark leather armor with steel braces around his wrists. And he carried a bastard sword made from Tamaris steel, strapped to his back.
“Why ever not?” Thane asked. “It is cold in these lands. We should go inside and enjoy the warmth of the hearth.”
“There will be many ice fae inside, your grace,” Vreis replied. “Some may not be pleased to meet with the prince of the Air Court.”
“I have come here to become their ally,” Thane said with a frown.
“Yes, but Thane,” Lorcan said, “we’ve been at war with them for a hundred years. It will take time for such deep-seated wounds to mend.”
“Maybe so,” Thane said. “However, we will never feel like our kingdoms have become joined if I avoid the ice fae. We will go inside.”
Lorcan frowned, but there was little he could do. Once the prince made up his mind about something, he was as impossibly stubborn as anyone he’d ever met. With a sigh, he urged his horse forward and fell into step with Vreis, leaving the rest of the guards to keep an eye on Thane.
He lowered his voice as they approached the inn. “I have a bad feeling about this, Vreis.”
“Aye,” Vreis replied. “Do not leave the prince’s side. Stay on high alert.”
After dismounting the horses and leaving them in the stable, Lorcan and Vreis pushed inside the inn to scan for any threats. Thane had not been wrong. As soon as the door swung open before them, a soothing warmth flooded Lorcan’s body. He glanced around.
The inn was packed, full of warriors donning Ice Court garb. They wore light armor beneath silver hoarfrost cloaks, the ice fae’s sigil etched deeply into the undyed leather at their chest. Every one had a shade of silver hair, some lighter or darker than others, but silver all the same. These would be the warriors who stood guard at the border, rotating in shifts. They clustered around long wooden tables that held flickering blue candles and tankards of ale. The benches were covered in the fur skins of silverclaw bears, and a bard beat at a set of drums beside the roaring hearth. Several of the ice fae warriors turned to stare in their direction, eyes hardened.
They should not have come here.
Vreis momentarily cringed, but then he threw back his broad shoulders, lifted his chin, and stepped forward. Lorcan quickly shook his head and held out a hand to stop him. It was customary to announce the prince when he arrived, but Lorcan did not believe the ice fae would respond favorably to that.
For a moment, Vreis merely stood in the entrance of the inn. And then with a sigh, he turned and opened the door. Prince Thane strode in from the cold night, shining in his golden armor. Lorcan and his fellow guards might blend in, but Thane surely did not. The drumbeat stopped. The buzzing conversation transformed into silence.
Lorcan tensed.
A muscular fae, whose hoarfrost cloak had been tossed onto the bench beside him, slammed his hands onto the table and stood. The contents of his tankard sloshed. “I know who you are. You’re that prince.” He spat the last word like a curse.
“You’re right,” Thane said easily. “Prince Thane of the Air Court. I’ve come to wed one of your princesses so that we may finally end the bloodshed between our two realms.”
“Our princesses are too good for someone like you,” the male said in a low growl. “You’re not welcome here.”
Lorcan cast an uneasy glance at Vreis. As much as Thane hoped for the alliance to solve their woes, there was far too much bad blood between the two kingdoms. In time, the ice fae might thaw to the prince, but it would take more than a day. Perhaps even decades.
But Lorcan also knew that Thane could not back down now that he had stepped foot inside the inn. He was a prince, the future High King. To leave would be to show weakness. And weakness in Tir Na Nog nobility was a death sentence.
Thane ignored the male glowering at him from his table and strode toward the bar maid, a slight female whose cheeks had gone white with fear. Her hands trembled as she reached for a tankard, but another loud slam stopped her short.
“I said you’re not welcome here.”
Thane turned to regard the fae behind him, face impassive. There were two of them now, both burly males who looked as though they could punch a hole through the very walls of the inn. One had drawn his sword, a glinting silver blade with a hilt carved into a pair of flared wings.
