“I’m not sure.” She gingerly took another sip. The taste was not entirely unpleasant. Bitter, yes, but also infused with something sweet, like berries. Almost instantly, there was a pleasant fuzziness in her mind. The world seemed to be a bit lighter than it had been moments before. The crushing fear of the Ruin almost dulled. “What’s in this?”
“Rowan berries,” Thane said, eyes smiling.
Eislyn sat up a little straighter. “You have rowan this far south?”
“We aren’t that far south, Eislyn.” He took another sip of his ale. “In fact, to most of Tir Na Nog, we’re pretty far north. You saw the mountains in the distance on our way here. They’re covered in snow and ice, just like your lands. There are rowan trees growing there.”
Eislyn nodded. It was true. Even if they had crossed the boundary between their kingdoms, the snow still fell and ice covered the tallest of the peaks. The Ice Court still had trees, even though they were not wood fae. They also had lakes and ponds—though often frozen—despite not being of the Sea Court. For not the first time, she wondered exactly how the six kingdoms had come to be. The history was fuzzy and mostly based on lore. The six kingdoms had no origin...they’d just...always been there.
Eislyn tried another sip. This time, she did not make a face. “You know, I think I might like it.”
“Good.” Thane grinned broadly. “Although that might be a side effect of the magic.”
She nodded. The rowan trees were one of the few things on the continent that had managed to hold on to the full strength of their magic. Over the years, many had tried to somehow harness that magic for their own use, but it had proven pointless. The most rowan could do was make someone feel fuzzy and relaxed.
Two things that Eislyn most definitely felt.
In the far corner of the tavern, a bard jumped onto a low square of a stage. He was tall and lean with ears that were so pointed they looked like twin daggers carving out of his head. Donned in the deep teal hues of the Sea Court, he wore a simple tunic and a matching pair of trousers. His shoes were also simple and leather. Dozens of gold rings dotted thin fingers that held a lap harp carved from whale bones. His eyes were a bright, gleaming teal, and his skin had the illusion that he shimmered as he moved.
Eislyn sucked in a sharp breath. A sea fae. The High Queen was the only other sea fae she’d ever met.
Without an introduction, the bard began to play.
All the lands above and all the lands below
Created from the god’s own hand
Blessed by the seas and cursed by the snow
Where the ash spreads far across the lands
Ghaisgeach comes riding in on wings of old
The savior of the realm, as foretold
A dance with the beasts
And a song with the kings
Only Ghaisgeach can bring the peace
The song was a sad one, a melancholy tune that dug deep into Eislyn’s heart. When the bard pulled his fingers away from the harp and jumped off the stage, Eislyn noticed her cheeks were wet with tears.
Thane leaned over and whispered. “The next one should be happier. Most bards know better than to sing sad songs at a revel.”
She brushed away her tears. “I liked it. What was he singing about? Who is Ghaisgeach?”
“Ancient sea fae lore,” he said quietly. “Stories say that thousands of years ago, the sea fae tamed a sea monster called Uilebheist. Over time, they were able to communicate with the creature. He foretold of a time when the Thousand Islands would drown beneath the Mag Mell Sea, when the northern snows melted. The savior, the one who would put the islands and the seas and the ice back where they belonged would be called Ghaisgeach. Like I said, ancient lore.”
Eislyn wanted to know more, but the next bard was already up on stage and playing a much more upbeat tune on a pair of bagpipes. She glanced at Thane, who was now smiling and tapping his foot along to the music. With a slight smile, she began to tap as well. As much as she wanted to dwell on the melancholy lore that spoke of danger and death, she thought that perhaps just this once she would allow herself to enjoy this night.
Death could wait until tomorrow.
23
Reyna
Steel whistled through the air. Footsteps thudded on stone. Shouts peppered the night. Frowning, Reyna crossed the room and yanked open the door, her heart pounding. Lorcan stood in the corridor, breathing heavily, sweat on his brow. He clutched his bastard sword in his hands, and he glared into the darkness of the castle halls.
