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“It’s a poem, or maybe a song,” he said, narrowing his gaze to make out the faded ink.
In the shadow of the mountain they meet
In darkness she goes, Serena sweet
There they wait, the Gods of old
For their mate, a female bold
Graced they were, with power strong
Their sweet Serena would never belong
What could they do but give her a part
Of each of their soul
Of each of their heart
Together they remained, five Gods and one Fae
Until that last, sorrowful day
The water, they had blessed
Her last request
In shadow she lived, alone in her grace
Her five had gone without a trace
Night after night sweet Serena did yearn
But the Gods of old, they would never return
I sipped my tea, contemplating the song’s meaning. If it was to be taken at face value, then the gods of old were real and had loved one of our kind so much that theyeachgave her a Grace. And together they remained, five gods and one Fae female—until the gods departed the land without a trace.
They left her.
“Do you believe in the gods?”
He made a noncommittal shrug, “I don’tnotbelieve in them. But it doesn’t matter. In all the tales of the gods, it’s clear they abandoned us here—to go where, I couldn’t say. Our kind stopped worshiping them as deities some millennia ago.”
“Well, you’re right. It’s interesting, but more of a storyteller’s yarn than a documented event.”
Finn nodded his ascent, “I agree, though it’s odd. Not to mention the first thing I’ve been able to find that mentions anything about a Fae with more than one Grace\.”
“And what of the Mad King? Have you found anything about him?”
He inclined his head towards the stack of weathered tomes next to his elbow, “Take your pick. There’s no shortage of tales and documents about him. I’ve read just about all I can stomach.”
Rin poked his head around the arched entry to the dining room, “Hello,” he said, “Do you mind if I come in? Or are you—”
I waved him inside, “Please do, my tea is getting cold.”
He tensed, as though he expected a lashing for making me wait, “Rin, it’s alright. You’re doing great.”
And he was. Since appointing him as my official royal taster the week prior, I had had no regrets. Despite his past crimes and violations, he was loyal. And he was just a boy. Still mortal, too. And the envy of every one of the other more-qualified tasters who had wanted the position.
