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He stepped back through, brushing imaginary lint off of his silk garments. All grace and power returned to his too-beautiful face. “Let’s go meet my father.”
5
The House of Shadows
Kerrigan couldn’t stop gawking as they neared the village. The path had been deceptively long. More space than she’d assumed they’d have, but not enough to truly feel free. She fought for neutral as they walked along the cobbled steps and into the town.
“The village is called Cavour,” Fordham said. “It’s ancient Fae for …”
“Songbird,” she said.
He looked at her in surprise. “Yes. I didn’t think you were fluent in ancient Fae.”
“I’m not, but …” She paused on the word and sighed. “My father used to call me his little cavour de thiery when I was very young.”
“Little red songbird,” Fordham translated. He reached up, as if to touch a lock of her tangled red hair, but seemed to think better of it and let it fall. “I’ve never heard you sing before.”
“It was a joke,” she said. “I couldn’t sing at all. He said I scared all the birds away with my racket.”
A real smile hit Fordham’s face. As if he’d forgotten for a moment where they were. Then, he quickly let it slip and faced forward. They’d both had complicated childhoods. Neither of their fathers were going to win any awards. It could have been something they bonded over; instead, he’d hidden his exile and his father’s wrath.
As they ventured deeper into Cavour, villagers appeared around every corner. Their eyes wide with surprise at seeing their prince walking among them again. A group of women washing in basins curtsied deeply at his approach. A girl no older than Kerrigan looked out at him from a second-story balcony with open want. A group of Fae children, still too young to have grown into their ears, giggled nearby, running across their path.
“Don’t bother the prince!” their mother yelled, ordering them inside.
Fordham was impervious to it all. Kerrigan didn’t know how he did it. She wanted to scoop up the little bundles of joy and thank them for being welcoming. But this wasn’t her court. She no longer had a court.
When they made it to the town square with a three-tiered fountain at the center, a woman stepped out of the masses that had now gathered and offered him a single black rose.
“We rejoice in your return, Your Royal Highness.”
Fordham nodded his head at her but made no move to take the flower. Kerrigan smiled at the woman and took it for him. The woman put her hand to her chest and backed away quickly.
“Let’s go,” he barked at her.
His voice held none of the gentleness that she had grown accustomed. Had she made some sort of faux pas by taking the bloom? It’d seemed insulting not to accept it.
But Kerrigan didn’t know the customs, and Fordham hadn’t prepared her for any of it. She tucked the black rose into her bag and hastened after him. They finally reached the end of the village, she decided it was safe to ask.
“Should I not have taken the flower?”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I couldn’t have taken it.”
“Why?”
He still looked straight ahead at the forbidden forest that led to the base of peaks. “I will have to maintain a certain appearance through this, Kerrigan,” he said, his face like stone. “You may not like it.”
She gulped and nodded. The flower was the least of her concerns. “We’re going in there?”
“Yes, the court lies within the mountain. You should feel right at home.”
“Is it modeled off of Draco Mountain?”
“It predates Draco Mountain,” he told her. “When the dragons first landed in Alandria, they didn’t go south to the valley where you live. They made their home on Nineveh, now just called the Holy Mountain, and its neighboring peak, Ravinia.” He gestured before him. “This is Ravinia.”
“I’ve never heard the story told that way.”
“Of course not. Draco is now the seat of power for the Society. They wouldn’t want anyone to think that power had ever resided elsewhere.”
Only a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have believed it. But with everything raging through the Society now, she was sure it was possible. Power corrupted; absolute power corrupted absolutely.
The path cut straight through the forest until it reached an open meadow full of tall, wild grasses, and on the other side of the meadow lay the opening to the mountain. The path across the meadow was empty of people. Not a soul wandered the area before the forbidding entrance.
“I’ve gone to battle on these fields,” Fordham told her almost absentmindedly. “Killed on these fields.”
“It doesn’t appear that blood has been spilled in some time.”
His gaze cut to her. “Let’s hope to keep it that way.”
Fear coated her scent, but she could do nothing about it. She’d never been away from her home for this long. Not since she was a child. And she was walking into certain danger. Anticipatory anxiety laced through her.
