Chapter 1
Year 1, 567 of the Human Era
Present
The Great Marble City of the Fae; white marble and golden spires shimmered in the half-light of the moon.
The courtiers – both knights and lords lounged upon stone benches, propped by velvet cushions, heads tilted upwards. Flowing, diaphanous robes and golden filigree jewellery adorned limbs both slender and muscular.
Their bright eyes glinted in the pale light of the rune-lights, like light reflecting upon a shimmering pool.
High in the great palace the child stirred in her sleep, a sigh escaping lips that would be full and plump when she grew older.
A porcelain hand stroked the sun-kissed skin, resting in the short gold-spun locks, an ethereal colour betwixt chestnut and gold. Too young to have wings yet, the year old fae slept in the blissful ignorance of childhood, sheltered from the world in her land of dreams.
With a voice no louder than the soft whisper of the waving grass, the woman completed the rune-spell; her wings fluttering with anticipation as the rune that she had carved blazed for a moment with light. Runes for protection and sweet dreams.
Anya, the High Queen of the Fae, smiled softly at her daughter. But a frown marred her forehead – though it did not distract from the beauty of her heart-shaped face, with its wide eyes and thick lashes. Her distinct high cheekbone, fae cheekbones. Though once they had been rounder, softer.
"Why do you worry so, my love?" It was Adamyr's voice, as gentle as his hands upon her waist.
Anya sighed, a soft exhalation leaving her lips as she withdrew her hand, resting it upon his darker one; she turned her face to look at him over her shoulder.
His golden eyes pierced her own. Searching.
"I will not leave her here when we go to Albaa," she said.
Quiet, as to not wake Aaloka. But unwavering.
"Anya –"
"I will leave her, Adamyr."
Adamyr nodded, his golden wings fluttered nervously behind him, as did her own flame-coloured ones. Responding to the worry that clouded their hearts. "You do not trust the humans? Our people will do anything to protect their princess; you know they dote upon her."
Fae children were precious, rare, not born as often as human offspring.
And a child born to the royal family was more rare than most.
Anya smiled, her lips brushing his cheek in a gentle caress. She turned in the circle of his arms, her head resting in the crook of his neck. "I have seen treachery in both humans and fae. At a time such as this, I will not let Aaloka out of my sight."
His hand stroked her auburn curls, unbound from their customary braid in an unruly tangle. "The lands still crawl with all manner of dark creatures; both mortal and not. The Cursed do not take heed and all fae must be united if we are to make peace with the humans."
Anya kissed his neck. "Will the Myr-King be attending?"
She felt him nod. "But he is loathe to tangle himself in the affairs of the Drylands, from what I recall – as long as the myrfolk are safe Below, he will not interfere."
Anya snickered softly, poking his shoulder as she recalled the stunning daughter of the Myr-King who had tried to seduce him many years passed. "I hope he reigns in his daughters, true sirens if ever I saw one."
Adamyr laughed, but quieted when their daughter stirred. "They would not; humans and us common fae are beneath them. The myrfolk are a proud people, they will not wed outside of their colonies."
"It was not marriage that I meant," she chucked, raising a dark brow. "Will they make good allies?"
She felt Adamyr's pause.
She felt his frown.
"They would certainly make for dangerous enemies."