The forest loomed before her only a few feet from the beach. Down the coast, white stone buildings with thatched roofs clustered together beside a wooden port. Several small ships were docked there, and the distant clang of bells from the local Adhradh drifted toward her.
She’d washed up onto shore only a short distance away from Craobhan. There was little chance of success, not until Wingallock returned to her side. It could take days for him to find her. By now, Lorcan would have received her letter. He didn’t know how badly she had failed.
He was counting on her.
With a deep breath, she nodded to herself, ignoring the Ruin’s demands to give up. The only choice was to push on. For Lorcan. For Duff. For all of Tir Na Nog.
* * *
After drying her clothes on some rocks by the beach, Reyna slipped through the city gates amongst a group of travelling minstrels. They danced as they walked while a green-skinned Dryad tucked a fiddle beneath his chin and sang. The cart they dragged behind them added to the orchestra, clanking along the rough path.
They were making such a ruckus that no one noticed Reyna. Or, if they did, they only saw her as one of them.
Craobhan was one of the Wood Court’s most prosperous cities, third only to the capitol, Murias, on the eastern coast, and Annwyn, the lake city with a direct trade route to the Empire of Fomor. Here, the ravages of war were nowhere to be seen.
Glistening white stone made up most of the buildings, brushed clean every morning by the city’s human servants, of which there were many. The thatched roofs were bundles of perfectly-aligned water reed, farmed from the many rivers that stretched across the Wood Court’s lands. The cobblestone streets, lined with colorful banners, glistened beneath the dying sunlight. Smiling faces passed by, and many were dressed in crisp dyed cotton or luxurious silks.
Reyna had never seen anything like it. Tairngire was a grand, sparkling city, but only parts of it. There were pockets of filth, and the poor were left to fend for themselves. Her home, Falias, was a beautiful town, but it didn’t have an abundance of wealth. Not much grew beneath the ice.
For once, she began to understand why the wood fae so blindingly followed their cruel king. He had brought them prosperity. They flourished beneath his reign. All of his sacrifices to the dark god had paid off.
She would find no friends here.
A tavern on a corner street caught her eye. As a building crafted from timber, it stood out from the rest. A bright orange sign flapped in the light breeze, creaking on its hinges. It read, The Green Rose. Reyna wet her lips as she approached. This was where Duff had said they must go if they had any hope of infiltrating the wood king’s army.
Two wood fae stood just outside the door, speaking amongst themselves in their lilting, musical accent. Reyna’s heart faltered. Duff had planned to take the lead in this part of their quest. His voice would fit right in. Hers, on the other hand, sounded as harsh and biting as the ice.
She pushed inside, and warmth from the blazing heart enveloped her like an unwanted hug. She shivered, shaking it off. How could these fae possibly need more heat when they already had more than enough of it with their incessant sun? It was only spring, but it already felt hotter than the warmest Ice Court summer day.
There were only a handful of patrons lounging around the tables dotted throughout the tavern. The sun had only just begun to set, and this place was tucked back, away from the bustle of the main thoroughfare. Reyna shot a furtive glance around to pinpoint anyone who might give her trouble.
There, in the back corner, sitting beneath three battered shields that hung on the wall. A male with a weathered face and faded green hair clutched his tankard and stared at her with eyes as clear as glass. Donned in sturdy leather armor, he was no common low fae. A hunting knife lay by his right hand, the sharp tip pointed her way.
“Can I help you, lass?” the tavern wench behind the bar called out.
Reyna twisted away from the strange male in the corner and crossed the room in two quick strides. The tavern wench smiled and wiped her hands against her drab brown apron. With frizzing orange hair and matching eyes, she reminded Reyna of fire.
Reyna dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m looking for someone.”
The wench didn’t even bat an eye. Instead, she turned to the rickety shelves behind her and grabbed a metal tankard, along with a dusty bottle of Wood Whiskey. “Your someone, her name wouldn’t happen to be Suse, would it? ‘Cause that’s me.”
Reyna smiled when Suse slid the tankard across the bar. She dug into her pocket, thankful to find a few airgead had survived the sea. When she dropped the coins onto the bar, a wrinkle appeared between Suse’s brow.
“No, I’m looking for someone named Rhain.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. Then, she pushed the airgead back to Reyna’s side of the bar. “Careful, love. Best not go flashing those around anywhere else. It’s the sign of an outsider.”
A fist squeezed Reyna’s heart. “What?”
“Wood fae don’t barter with each other using airgead. The king took all our coin from us a long, long time ago. You throw that stuff around, everyone will know you’re not from around here.” Suse leaned closer, pinching her eyes together. “Such pretty silver eyes you have.”
Reyna took a step back, reaching for her dagger. A strong, unyielding hand closed around her wrist before she could draw it from her belt. Heart banging like a war drum, she whirled, fists raised. The creepy male from the corner towered over her, her nose only reaching the middle of his chest.
Growling, she ripped her arm away and snatched the dagger out of her belt. Fear whistled through her veins.
“I’d put that thing away unless you plan on killing the fae you’re trying to find.”
“Careful, Rhain,” Suse said. “I’d bet these airgead on her being an ice fae.”
