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But as he mounted his gray, dappled horse and urged the creature into a trot, a curtain of dread fell over his eyes. Handling everything meant everything. Even breaking the news to his best friend that he would be marrying his former flame.
Not just his best friend.
But the king.
An imaginary noose wrapped around his neck and pulled tight, cutting off the airflow into his lungs. This could end their friendship. But he refused to back down. Nyana and the girls meant too much to him.
The sight of the castle took his breath away. The large, magnificent structure sat amidst the cliffs, bathed in gold and red splendor as if it were a beacon nearly as bright and awe-inspiring as the sun. A road led upward toward the palace full of bustling people selling wares, travelers coming and going from the city, and fae of all types. Since Calle had taken the throne, it was as if Heulwen had taken its first breath. Fae began moving back to the city. Hope filled the air rather than despair. Faces appeared brighter, happier.
On his way toward the palace, he nodded and smiled at many familiar faces, most with long ears like his, marking them as Sun Fae. They appeared hopeful and optimistic under a new ruler, even in the face of an upcoming winter. Sun Fae needed sunlight to not only refuel magic if they possessed the ability for it but also to survive.
Winter was not an easy season to endure for his kind.
As if in answer to his thought, a chill wind rushed through his hair and stung his cheeks pink as he rode up to the palace gates.
Two royal harpy guards stood on either side of a large stone archway leading to the palace. Brown wings lay closed against their backs, nestled against red capes pinned to their breast armor by Heulwen’s golden crest. They nodded at him as he passed, permitting his entrance.
Nostalgia crashed into him. Of running around the luscious green walkways and laughing as he and Calle hid from his tutors in the trees. Many years ago, Joel’s family had lived wealthily in a part of town with acres upon acres of lands filled with fruit trees of all varieties. Much of the wealth had been stripped away under Liam’s reign, followed by the terrible incident that forced them to leave Heulwen altogether, searching for another life elsewhere. Now only he, Nana, and his younger two brothers and two sisters remained where they had started another orchard in Ebriel twenty miles from Heulwen.
As much as he loved his home country, his heart ached to return home to his family.
However, he wasn’t sure if Nyana would follow him there. Not if she was reluctant to leave Heulwen and separate Maisy from her father, despite how she never wanted him to find out.
He left his horse with the stable hand and stalked toward the palace doors, trepidation in each step. Though when one of the harpies, Skaja’s father Typheal, nodded his head toward the training yard, he stopped. Amusement shone in the man’s eyes, accompanied by pride.
“If you are looking for Calle, he’s getting his behind whooped by my daughter.”
“Again?” Joel laughed and shook his head. “You would think he’d have improved by now.”
Typheal shrugged, the golden symbols on his face shifting as he smiled. “Oh, he has. Exponentially. But it’s not easy to best a former valkyrie.”
“Remind me not to get on Skaja’s bad side.”
Laughter trailed after him as he wound through the lush, well-manicured gardens. Most of the trees lay bare save for a few lone leaves. Bright orange pumpkins decorated the grounds in place of what used to be breathtaking blossoms and trees bursting with color. He spotted a familiar stone bench nestled beneath a cherry blossom tree, and his stomach twisted with an uncomfortable ache. He remembered sitting side by side with Nyana seven years ago, playing music for her and watching as her face lit up with a radiant smile. He’d picked a cherry blossom from the tree and tucked it into her hair. And right as he had been about to confess his feelings for her…
She’d told him about hers and Calle’s secret courtship.
He’d died that day.
And hadn’t been the same since.
The sound of a pained grunt jolted him out of his melancholy memories. As he rounded the corner, he found Calle on his hands and knees, one arm clutched around his stomach.
Skaja stood over him, expression unrepentant. Her brown hair was tied back into a braid, her brown eyes filled with a serious intensity that struck fear in many a man.
His own throat tightened with discomfort. Only months ago, she had killed men with the merciless daggers strapped to her shoulder blades. As far as he knew, she hadn’t killed any men since the battle to dethrone Liam. But he didn’t dare take his chances.
Joel laughed as he crossed the field, and both of their gazes darted toward him. Skaja’s golden-white feathers on her wings ruffled with discomfort while color climbed into Calle’s long fae ears.
“Typheal told me you were getting your behind kicked. I came to see for myself.”
“Ugh,” Calle grunted as he staggered to his feet. “Even if we snuck off into the woods in the dead of night, one of my guards will still know I’m getting my arse handed to me by my future wife.”
Joel glanced around the training yard. It was surprisingly empty. No soldiers. Only trees, weapons, long stretches of yellow grass, and stone walls. He spotted three harpies within the vicinity—one leaning against a wooden fence, his back facing them, another whose wings blended in perfectly with the trunk of a brown tree, and then the third who circled above in the skies, high enough to look like a dot in the clouds.
Briefly, he wondered if the training yard was empty to make Skaja more comfortable.
“I will see you later tonight for supper,” Skaja said to Calle before tenderly taking one of his hands. The two of them gazed back at each other with immense love. They expressed love, trust, and longing with just a single look, and Joel found he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Calle had never looked at Nyana that way, at least as far as he’d witnessed.
