It was only in these small moments that I held any power.
Drawing my gaze from the old man, I stopped by the snow-covered bank of the lake. A thin layer of ice streaked across its surface. Frost dangled like ornaments from the willows.
Here, the fae's story had begun—a story about another powerless woman trying to survive in a world that wanted her cowed—and when they failed to control her, they sought her death.
Lady Mare Rohan, heir to the city that was gone. An interesting character even beyond the fae's tales of darkness and dragons.
And Bláth had sent word that it was all true.
"Do you still doubt me?"
The air grew warmer around me as the fae appeared, though I hadn't seen him for hours. He dressed like it was the thick of summer: his loose black shirt cut nearly to his belt. Flicking his raven curls out of his one visible, golden eye, he cast me a wry smile.
"I don't doubt you," I said. "I doubt your intentions."
"As you should.” The fae lord named Vaf folded his hands behind his back, hiding them beneath his purple cape.
I curled my toes in my boots, dwelling on Mare Rohan.
Vaf wanted something from her, from me. Needed us to meet. But I had yet to uncover a rationale to explain his keen interest in us.
"Take a stroll with me?" Vaf asked.
"You stand out a bit."
"So do you, dear." He strode away, and the air grew colder.
I shivered, welcoming the chill.
People who radiated warmth—I hated them—hated Solhearts and all their kin.
Pulling my cloak back up, I flicked my red waves over my shoulder and caught up with Vaf.
"Do you have a plan?" He asked. "For what you're going to say to Mare."
"My proposition couldn't be more lucrative: a stage and a voice to legitimize her." I looked him up and down. "Are you planning to say hello?"
"Oh, no. This is your show."
I frowned, staring at his black mask. What did this fae want that did not require his intervention?
Fae appeared so rarely that many believed them to be mere fairy tales. Legend.
I'd discerned how to fool him, though. Through the fae lord's otherworldly ability to read the future, I'd gained access to the heir of Tirnanog—and the secrets the city had taken to its grave.
But I would still get married. At the end of the road, when he offered me what I most wanted, I'd refuse.
I just hoped I knew what I was doing.
Vaf smirked at me. "Thinking about how to escape our deal?"
"We haven't made one yet," I reminded him. "No, I was wondering why Muirashi lets their soldiers rule their cities. Seems barbaric to me."
"I'd call it efficient. People are kept in line; rebellions are squashed before people learn they exist. There's no need for pesky, time-consuming trials when soldiers can mete out justice themselves." He took in a breath. "Gives the place a homey feel."
"Oh, the fae's a comedian. Is that why you're following me? Because I look like I need a laugh?" I flicked a hand at him dismissively. "You're welcome to tag along if you'd like, but I don't feed table scraps to dogs."
"Are you likening bards to dogs?" He sighed. "We are already so poorly respected; you don't need to rub salt in the wound." His golden eye gleamed. "Which reminds me—I thought of just the place to host your meeting with the young heir to the city of storms."
