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The fort was abuzz with tailors and seamstresses fitting courtiers and nobles for gowns, fine jackets, and doublets for tomorrow’s masque. Servants and warriors trekked the steps up to the four corner towers to ensure the rulers of every realm were well tended.
While the Night Folk clan tower was quiet and docile, the second tower, belonging to the Eastern realms, always had a great deal more noise heard throughout the fort.
“Is Sander tormenting your people?” I asked Jonas when we crossed through the open great hall. Beautiful as his brother, sly much the same, but Jonas’s twin brother brought out the solemn side of the pair. Where Jonas reveled, Sander observed. When Jonas fell into bed with a new lover every gathering, Sander remained with us—his friends, his family, his familiars.
Jonas peered toward his family’s tower, laughing. “No, I think someone called my dajHighnessor some other royal term of endearment; now the hells are breaking loose.”
I laughed, but in truth, it could be true. Like my parents, all the kings and queens of our realms fought wars for their titles. Not all were born into the life of a royal, and the twins’ father much preferred being remembered for his life as a schemer and thief than a king.
“There they are. Looks like Alek is being swarmed. Gods, look at that sod.” Jonas pinched his mouth in disapproval. “He’s returned to us all proper and stiff.”
Outside the open gates, our families were gathered near a caravan of black coaches surrounded by our Rave warriors. Aleksi, dressed in his dark, silver-trimmed Rave uniform, was enveloped in embraces, croons, and praise from the royals of the Night Folk clans.
I chuckled when my cousin offered polite grins but shook out his hands in unease. His soft brown skin was clean shaven, and his thick, chestnut hair was braided down the center of his head. Kohl lined his gold eyes and down his lips.
“He’s stiff because you know how he feels being the center of attention.”
Jonas snorted. “You can’t tell me Alek isn’t secretly dreaming of becoming a grand hero. He’s just quiet about it.”
We quickened our pace, carving through the preparations, my gaze on my cousin and family. Alek’s fae ears were sharper than mine, but only because I was half-fae. I grinned when my mother’s icy, pale braids came into sight when she wrapped her slender arms around Alek’s shoulders, holding him close.
Elise Ferus was a fae queen, but mortal by birth. Her life was extended like the fae folk after she underwent a fury spell once she took vows with my father.
Jonas strained his neck. “Dammit. Look at the sky. We’ll hit storms if we don’t get to the cove soon.”
The doors to the wooden gates were tied back, letting in the shimmer of sunlight on the dark water. I followed his gaze to the jagged edges of the shore. Angry clouds still rolled over the horizon. Almost like they were waiting for some catalyst to bring the storm’s rage to our doors. Fear wanted to take hold, wanted to convince me the dread I felt earlier was some dark premonition of something to come.
Not far from the shore, a dark streak carved over the surface of the sea. A current where the water was different, where the sea frothed like stagnate waves that never crashed into shore. The Chasm, a barrier between my people and the fae of the sea.
Most folk hardly paid it any mind during the festival, but I could never look away. Almost as though the tension in my chest simply awaited the warded barriers of the Chasm to peel back and a rush of sea fae to burst through.
Another poisonous thought left to fester from promises made by a boy in a prison cell.
The Chasm was sealed. Undisturbed as always.
Breathe.Focus. Nothing was different. The fortress was well guarded with Rave guards trudging the watchtowers and outer gates. Laughter still filled the corridors, be it from a servant or noble. The Chasm was there, a mark of a different world, but one locked away between the tides.
Nothing had changed. It wouldn’t change.
“We have plenty of time to watch you get drunk on the shore. Come on, there are the others.” I led us to a canvas canopy where the heirs of every realm hid from the morning heat.
Sander Eriksson lifted his dark green eyes from the yellowed pages of a leather-bound book. The same eyes as his brother, but with even more cunning. “Livie. What story did Jonas say to get you down here?”
“You don’t want to know.” I released Jonas’s arm and went to stand beside Mira, the princess of the Southern regions.
She adjusted the circlet in the shape of spread raven wings braided into her dark hair and gave me an exasperated look. “Take this beast from me.”
Rorik, my younger brother, kept flinging a wooden sword and catching Mira’s hips or thighs as though a fierce enemy stood in his sights. Only nine, but small for his age, Rorik made graphic battle sounds as invisible invaders died gruesome deaths.
Sander slapped his book closed, tucked it into the back of his trousers, then scooped Rorik onto his shoulders. “You want to be a Rave, Ror?”
Rorik grinned. “Hells yes.”
I reached up and flicked the tapered point of his ear. “What did Maj say about language?”
“Don’t be snitchin’, Livie, and she won’t know.”
Jonas barked a laugh and clapped hands with the small prince. “Ror, when did you become a smartass?”
