Our path took us through a small village. A few people smiled and waved at me from the side of the street. There were people who looked like me, with the same pointed ears. Everyone wasdressed for warm weather, apparently more than accustomed to the kingdom’s pervasive sunshine.
I observed a group of villagers sharing a loaf of bread outside a bustling bakery, and I smiled at the picturesque scene it painted. And yet, I suspected that things were not quite as harmonious as they appeared, if my status as an orphan was capable of evoking so much fear during my childhood. The Fae were still the ruling elite here, and tensions still existed, bubbling just beneath the surface. As the scenery shifted to rolling fields, I turned my face away from the carriage window and dozed against the cushions.
The sound of clashing swords woke me from my slumber. I peered out the window again, spotting a regiment of soldiers training in mock combat. Their armor was red and gold and bore the emblem of a shining sun. A soldier brought his opponent to his knees with an ease I could only dream about. The carriage traveled onward, approaching the Summer Palace, and its massive golden gate. I gulped, looking down at my plain tunic, then back up at the opulent display of wealth. At least I had the new cloak I had been gifted to wrap around myself.
To either side of the gate stood a statue of a lion. Gold. Everything was gold. Even the gate’s handles were gilded—probably more valuable than the entire contents of my small cottage. By magic or some other unseen mechanism, the gate swung open at our approach. The carriage came to a stop in a spacious courtyard, and the driver opened my door, offering me a hand safely down.
I spun around in a slow circle, marveling at my new surroundings. Marble paving disappeared into a maze of manicured hedges and babbling fountains. In a daze, I followed my escort into the palace, the sweet perfume of the courtyard gardens hitting me in full force as we stepped inside.
The perfume lingered indoors as we walked down a long hallway lined with cascading florals, straining to escape their ceramic vases. Fragrant arrangements of soft pink peonies, bright yellow sunflowers, and deep purple irises filled the hallway, a cheerful distraction from the grandeur of the palace. Rich tapestries, ornate chandeliers, and detailed artwork covered the palace from wall to ceiling. I trailed after my escort, trying not to touch anything remotely valuable.
We entered the throne room, and I could finally narrow my attention to a single focal point. Sprigs of greenery sprouted from the boughs of the living wooden throne positioned in the center of the room, along with vibrant summer flowers. The man sitting on the throne exuded raw power and elegance. There was no question whether or not he possessed magic. A shining golden aura swirled around his fair skin. His salt-and-pepper beard was a testament to his long life since the Fae notoriously didn’t show their age at the same pace as humans. He loomed over the room and I suddenly felt very, very small by comparison.
“ELVIRA HALLWELL,” a voice rang out, announcing my presence.
He forgot to announce my title, but I was too overwhelmed to make any noise of protest.
King Filvendor stood, assessing my appearance with an intensity that raised goose bumps along my arms. “Wonderful, I see you received your gift,” he said in a deep, authoritative tone that echoed throughout the throne room. He swept down the dais with predatory grace—a fluidity of movement which hinted at lethal restraint, and I was suddenlyverycertain I didn’t want to find out what happened when that restraint was broken. Filvendor flung his arms wide. “Welcome home,” he boomed, his voice exuberant. And when he smiled at me, it was as bright as the summer sun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
King Filvendor continued his slow sweep down the dais, smiling at me the whole way.
Out of the corner of my eye, I detected a large form slinking away from the shadows to follow him. As the creature walked into the light, my blood ran cold. Golden coat, shaggy mane, large wings—manticore. Its presence in the throne room defied all logic. There was no way it stalked me all the way here from the cavern. Or was there? My mouth went dry as the manticore slunk even closer to the king. Surely, his guards would interfere. At any moment…any moment now… Why was nobody doing anything? I reached frantically for the small dagger at my side.
And the manticore lay peacefully down, curling its tail around its body.
A lion’s tail. Not a barbed scorpion tail. Skinny like a rope, with a large black tuft at the end. I released the hilt of my dagger. At closer inspection, the creature shared the manticore’s resemblance to a lion, but its wings were much more golden, and it had two twisted horns growing out of the front of its head. No, not a manticore—something else, something new to me.
Behind me, King Filvendor clapped in delight, evidently aware that I reached for my weapon. “I’m touched, Elvira. But Lennox would never hurt me. Like most of the Dentaria, his life force and loyalty are tied to the crown he serves. In fact, nobody will hurt you. For as long as you’re here, you’ll remain under my strict protection. You have my word.” His declarationcarried the faint, permeating tang of magic. He crooked a finger, summoning a member of his guard. “Please, let Selphie here keep your dagger for you; you won’t be needing it during your stay.” Mutely, I surrendered my blade to the female guard, my cheeks flushing in deep embarrassment.
From his spot on the floor, the lion spoke to me, his voice a low rumble, further adding to my surprise. “Don’t worry, little one. I will not bite you.” His lip curled in what might have been an attempt at a reassuring smile, decidedly less effective for the sharp row of teeth it revealed, suggesting that if hedidchoose to bite me, the outcome would likely be severe mutilation or death.
Not thinking at all,I mentally chided myself.Of course,if there had been an actual threat, any one of the many guards lining the throne room would have sprung into action. I twisted back around to face Filvendor, hoping it wasn’t a mistake to leave my back exposed to the winged lion. “Please forgive my ignorance.”
Filvendor raised his palms in protest. “No offense taken. Let’s waste no more time with apologies—I hear the staff have prepared quite the feast in your honor. I’ve even invited a special guest. Someone I think you’ll be very excited to visit with. But first, if you’ll humor me, I have something I’d like to confirm. A quick test, if you will. Very simple. You see, I know your grandmother, Elvira, and personally, I would be very interested in knowing whether or not you’ve inherited any of her powers.”
“I have a grandmother?” I asked, choking out the words. “What about, what about my parents?”
“No longer living, I’m afraid,” he responded, his gaze sympathetic.
I swallowed past the disappointment that swelled within me. Was he telling the truth? I was aware Fae found it more difficult to tell an outright lie as they aged—that the land began to cling to their words, as well as their promises. And King Filvendor wasveryold. What reason would he have to lie to me anyway? Did I really have living family in Solaris?A grandmother.Did she know I existed? Had she ever tried to find me? I gave him my full focus, hope shining in my eyes. “Do you know where I might find my grandmother?”
He nodded. “Yes, I do. She lives deep within the kingdom. However, all of my subjects are required to appear when summoned by their king. She hasn’t been seen in quite some time, your grandmother, but I could bring her to the palace for you if you’d like.” Without waiting on my reply, he gestured toward a servant woman, who quickly approached, presenting a small cushion, atop which sat two different items—a shimmering emerald necklace and an embroidered leather sheath. King Filvendor jerked his chin toward the cushion. “This necklace belongs to a member of my household, somebody within this room. I’m curious—can you tell which one?” he asked, offering me no further hint as to the owner’s identity.
I stepped closer, scrutinizing the expensive-looking necklace. It wasn’t just shimmering from the light hitting its emerald gemstones; it was shimmering with the faint tendrils of magic, a lavender glow, wrapping itself continuously around the chain. My eyes drifted around, surveying the people who were present in the room. An elegantly dressed woman with emerald earrings was fanning herself in a corner. An intentional red herring? Frustration overtook me. I had no idea who owned the necklace. Why make me guess? Was this whole test a trick? What was I missing? And more importantly—what would happen if I failed? I cast an eye over the throne room once more, figuring there must besomeclue thus far eluding me.There.A man, leaning against the wall, dressed in plain clothes. And a flicker of magic, the same lavender glow as the necklace, flaring to life in his hand.
I pointed toward the man. “Him. His magic matches the magic on the necklace.”
King Filvendor’s eyes flashed. “Excellent. One more test. The insignia on the sheath. What does it look like to you?”
I peered back down. “It’s actually a serpent—not a lion, like the glamour would have you believe.”
“Very good, Elvira.” He smiled widely, showcasing every pearly-white tooth in his mouth.
But his praise made no sense to me. “What do you mean? Surely anyone with Fae Sight would have told you the same.”
He shrugged. “The individual who cast this particular glamour is quite skilled. Many Fae would be fooled by it.” He clicked his tongue. “But not you, it seems. I’m certain you must have inherited some of your grandmother’s astonishing eyesight. Eyes powerful enough to sense magic, to peer through glamours and illusions, even to gain glimpses of the past and future, or so I’ve been told. They don’t call her the “all-seeing” for nothing. And it appears you share some of that same power—at least, I couldn’t fool your eyes just now.” He clapped in another show of approval. “Absolutely delightful. What an extraordinarily useful skill to possess.”
