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There were benches along the walls, but generally the space was sparse. Again, no throne. A hearth in one corner, topped by a rudimentary stone chimney. This was not a temporary residence. This network of tunnels and rooms had housed the Faeries of the Fen for a long time. Thousands of years, maybe.
The Faeries of the Fen.
Quite literally, figures from the pages of my childhood fairytales.
Veyka and Taliya squared off in the center of the room. The latter was hovering several feet above the ground, her iridescent wings flapping rapidly to keep her in place. To bring her face to face with Veyka.
Who looked like she’d sooner stab than talk.
Not much of a diplomat, my mate.
“We will speak later. My companion needs care.” Veyka planted her hands on her hips—not even bothering to play at a conciliatory tone.
“Isolde is a healer. Your friend will be better tended in her care than anything you could hope to achieve.” The bite in Taliya’s words was vicious enough to draw blood.
Veyka angled her chin.
Fucking Ancestors.
“You think your magic is a match for ours.” A challenge. A brilliant one—to find out just how powerful the faeries were.
“We don’t pretend to be as powerful as the mighty fae of Annwyn,” Taliya spat. “Our magics are small, but they are vital. How has your realm fared in our absence?”
“Annwyn has gotten on just fine for the past seven thousand years,” Veyka returned.
“Has it? How are the summers in Baylaur? Or the winters in the Spine?” Taliya laughed, not an ounce of humor to be found. “Without the faeries to moderate the weather, to bring the mild rains of spring or nurture the long autumn harvest?”
“You are keepers of the land, just like the fairytales.”
Both females cut their eyes to me.
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
I wasn’t much better at diplomatic relations than my mate. Give me a battlefield any day.
“The terrestrial kingdom has not forgotten,” Taliya said, her eyes softening slightly. She didn’t dissemble like the elementals. She didn’t follow any of the rules and customs of the fae I knew. Another indication that she’d spoken true—that she and the other faeries were not held to our conceptions of power and magic. “We are the keepers of balance and harmony. Without us, the lands become inhospitable. Extreme. But the fae can adjust to anything, it seems.”
The derision in her voice might have burned if I didn’t recognize it. The same sort I’d held for the elementals. Still did, generally.
Didn’t I?
“Yes, yes, we are a cunning, brutal bunch,” Veyka said sharply. “Why does Isolde seem to think that you answer to us?” She jerked her head in my direction.
Taliya hissed through her teeth, her wings flapping faster, carrying her higher. “We answer to no one.”
Veyka looked vaguely bored.Ancestors above.
“Isolde doesn’t seem to agree.”
“Isolde is a young fool!”
“What about the other faeries?” Veyka cast her eye meaningfully back toward the arched doorway. It was the only one we’d seen fitted with a door, and that door was closed.
How keen was the faeries’ hearing? They had the same pointed ears as Veyka and I.
Veyka wasn’t done. She pulled her remaining dagger and tossed it up casually. Taliya twitched as if she might try to snatch it from the air. The hilt landed perfectly in Veyka’s palm.
“You left Annwyn—were you forced, or did you flee? Did you once answer to the High Queen and King? Should I go out there and see how many of them will follow me?”
