Page 36 of Crownless Heirs

Paradise

The morning sun bathed the sky in a warm glow as birdsong filled the air. Breakfast consisted of oats and dried fruit, accompanied by Maelan’s herbal tea. Though necessary, it tasted awful. Noctis vanished for a time, reappearing beside Sorcha. Sorcha was curious about Noctis, wishing she could communicate with her, unless, of course, Noctis was like Maelan. The thought amused Sorcha, who let out a sudden laugh. The others looked at her, puzzled, but she simply waved them away. With a flick of her wrist, she extinguished the fire, watching the smoke drift into the pink sky. They quietly gathered their belongings, falling into their usual rhythm, and headed further north. The cool morning air reminded Sorcha of the approaching winter back home.

She pulled out her map and studied it, frowning. “I don’t think we’re far from the Tuatha Court. According to the map—”

“Hey now, explorer, keep your eyes up,” Maelan said, nudging her with his hip.

Sorcha looked at him, but before she could reply, her foot caught on a root. She stumbled, muttered a curse, and shoved the map back into her bag. The air grew thick with the scent of ripe fruit and warm earth. The trees towered above, their branches laden with golden leaves. Flowers bloomed in impossible colors, their petals like stained glass. The ground beneath them was soft as feathers, as if it might give way at any moment. Lush grass, beautiful birdsong, and perfectly ripe fruit—not a rotten piece or bug in sight. Deer drank peacefully from crystal-clear rivers, while butterflies lazily fluttered around them. Kyron slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping the trees. His eyes fixed on the golden fruit hanging from the branches.

“We’ve arrived in Emain Ablach,” he whispered.

Noctis was also nowhere to be found. She had vanished the moment they entered Emain Ablach. Sorcha noted that and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

The absolute perfection of the landscape felt unsettling. Each blade of grass was precisely the same height, every piece of fruit flawless, untouched by time or decay. Even the wind was absent, as if nothing here dared to disturb the stillness. Faintly, from a distance, they heard singing. It drifted on the air, rustling through the branches. Following the sound, they emerged into a clearing bathed in golden light. In the center stood a long banquet table, adorned with silks and groaning under the weight of an incredible feast. Platters overflowed with gleaming fruit, golden goblets were brimming with honeyed wine, and bread, still steaming, appeared as if fresh from an unseen oven. Every dish was arranged with meticulous care.

Figures moved among the trees, their movements as graceful as flowing water as they danced, their laughter weaving through the air like a delicate perfume. They were stunning. Their smiles remained fixed in expressions of pure bliss, but their eyes… Sorcha felt a prickling sensation on her skin, goosebumps racing across her body. Their eyes were utterly devoid of emotion, as if they weren’t truly present, mere empty shells. The longer she looked, the more the fear intensified, her entire body becoming rigid. Sorcha’s eyes wandered to a woman in the distance, smiling as she plucked the hair from her head. Strand by strand, she plucked it away as if playing a game of “he loves me, he loves me not,” but her eyes screamed with horror as she continued. Blood stained her head as she smiled. The more Sorcha looked, the worse it became. Her eyes searched, landing on a man standing by a fire. He walked along hot coals, the soles of his feet melting as he moved. When the man turned to walk back, the same look of horror struck his eyes as tears welled. He smiled and danced across the flames as flesh slowly burned away.

Just then, a snake, long and almost indistinguishable from the grass, “Just one bite won’t hurt.” Its voice was but a whisper, winding through the air as smoothly as its body moved.

It slithered over her boots, coiling around her legs. Sorcha stood frozen.

“Join them.” The snake whispered again, then uncoiled itself, slithering back into the grass, its body blending seamlessly with the earth until it was nearly invisible.

Sorcha lost sight of it just as Maelan drifted toward the table. The fairies moved around them, their hands ghosting over his body, welcoming, encouraging, touching every part of him. Some kissed his cheeks.

They tempted him, kissing his lips softly as one woman lifted a golden apple in her palm and held it out to him. “Just one bite.”

Maelan was entranced; he wasn’t just reaching for an apple; he saw the moonstone necklace he’d been forced to give away, something the others couldn’t see. Sorcha reacted instantly, swatting the apple from the fairy’s hand. It landed softly on the grass, rolling without a blemish. She grabbed Maelan’s arm, pulling him back just as Kyron seized his other.

“Stay away from him!” Sorcha yelled, positioning herself in front of Maelan.

The fairies didn’t attack, but they smiled and blocked their path, graceful and unyielding. Their hands brushed Sorcha’s arms and shoulders.

“Stay,” they whispered, surrounding them.

The intoxicating scent of honey and wildflowers overwhelmed her senses. “Stay with us.”

“Get your creepy hands off me!” Sorcha yelled, but their voices were thick with temptation, wrapping around her like a spell.

She shoved forward, pushing through them. Kyron did the same, gripping Maelan tightly and dragging him away from the table. Sorcha noticed they never touched Kyron. It was as if they knew who he was. There were no tempting touches or whispered invitations; he seemed to not exist at all.

The Fae followed for a short distance before fading into the trees. The magic lifted with the growing distance between them and the fruit-laden clearing, replaced by a wave of grogginess.

Maelan winced, rubbing his temples. “What was that?”

“It was a test,” Kyron said. “Only the worthy pass through. Those not tainted by temptation.”

Sorcha rubbed her head. “It felt so strange, like I was dreaming.”

“It’ll wear off soon,” Kyron said, now walking a few paces ahead. “We’re almost there.”

The trees thinned, and the great gates of the Tuatha loomed ahead, their towering presence marking the threshold between this realm and whatever lay beyond. Relief flooded Sorcha, but only for a moment. She saw a figure stood before them. She knew the swirling embers anywhere, Vaelric.

18

O’Brother

He stood at ease, waiting as his presence swallowed the space between them. There was no tension in his stance, only confidence, as if he had all the time in the world. Power radiated from him, to her surprise, it looked like black and red flames dripping from his body. She had never seen anything like it before; she’d never been able to see anyone’s power. Sorcha stopped short, her breath catching. It wasn’t his power that unsettled her. It was his face. Their lips were the same shape. Their chins were identical; even her nose mirrored his. But their eyes, though, were different. Her father’s had been gold. Warm and inviting, like the sun at its peak. Vaelric’s burned embers. The same as her mother’s. Her mother’s eyes could have swallowed the sun.