I straightened my jerkin and handed my cloak and pack to a member of the royal guard, who would see that they were sent to my quarters. Then I hastened downward, following the spiraling ridge that ran along the inner walls of the tree until at last I came to the floor.
Almost immediately after I pressed into the midst of the Court—a jostling body of heat and fresh-spiced winter scents—arms were flung around my waist from behind, nearly knocking me into another Fae. I craned my head around and saw exactly who I expected to find embracing me. My best friend Ione, her blond waves adorably woven through a headband of scarlet berries, had playfully ambushed me.
“I was hoping you’d be back tonight,” she exclaimed, beaming in her modest way. “The entire Court was. May the Queen’s reign flourish!”
The cry was echoed by the Faefolk who now surrounded me, and I managed to return Ione’s hug before shouts of “Sale!” floated from the crowd. A bark mug was thrust at me, and I happily accepted the drink that ran from our trees and nourished the Faerie kind more powerfully than any food.
Once I’d finished sharing greetings and toasts, I abandoned my empty goblet and approached the Queen. A long queue, monitored by the Queen’s Blades in their bedazzling tunics, led to her throne of gnarled and ancient roots. My aunt smiled, kind and patient, as every member of her Court endured the procession to greet her and extend their respects. I drew up beside the line and walked its length, nodding to the Blades I passed.
The Queen’s face lit up when I drew near, and I fell to one knee, placing my forefinger upon her earthen perch. When I removed it, a droplet of dew was left in its place among hundreds of others frozen there in her honor, for tonight marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of my aunt’s coronation. The droplets were gifts from Water Fae, sparkling amidst leaves and berries from Earth Fae, glowing embers like rubies from Fire Fae, and clearest crystals filled with whispers of fog and cloud from Air Fae. The elemental offerings would dissipate within the week, allowing room for the city’s general public and not just the Queen’s Court to pay tribute to her.
“Anya! How was your journey?” Queen Ubiqua effused, leaning forward to be heard above the revelry. Having her gaze upon me, as always, was like meeting Time—there was something incomprehensible about her, something infinite. She didn’t suffer the same worries I did because her wisdom transcended them.
“Enlightening,” I replied, rising, but I could not keep my eyes from drifting toward Davic. It was proper to acknowledge the Queen before the others around her, but it was he who was foremost on my mind. His gray-blue eyes muted the bedlam in the trunk, drawing me in as though nothing existed beyond the landscape of his elegant jaw, the black hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and the parting of his lips, an aphrodisiac in itself. He grinned at me, gripping the arms of his chair like he might propel himself upward at any moment and fly to my side.
“Go to him,” Ubiqua laughed, tipping her head in Davic’s direction, aware that she no longer held my attention. “You and I can talk later.”
In need of no convincing, I hurried to my promised. He’d come to his feet, and he snatched the hand I extended to haul me onto the dais and into his arms. I laughed, wrapping my legs around his waist when he picked me up and holding his face for a lengthy kiss that was continually disrupted by our smiles.
“I almost forgot what you looked like,” he teased, pushing our foreheads together. Our pose, somewhat unseemly for a royal and her partner, nevertheless charmed the assembly and drew a few shouts. We both turned scarlet and hid our faces in each other’s shoulders, then Davic returned to his seat, taking me with him.
“I missed you, too,” I murmured, settling against him and twining our fingers together. Soon I felt the heat of someone’s gaze; I turned and exchanged a warm nod with my father, then took his hint that I should move to my own chair. I kept Davic’s palm snug against mine while I scanned the empty seats, making note of who else was missing—Zabriel, the long absent Prince of Chrior; and my cousin Illumina, the orphaned daughter of Queen Ubiqua’s brother.
Leaning close to Davic, I asked, “Where is Illumina?”
Though I could have guessed his answer from his resigned look, I waited for him to confirm it.
“She only stayed for an hour, maybe less. At least she was here for a while. Let’s not dwell on her tonight.”
I nodded, for Illumina’s lack of participation was not unexpected. Quiet, studious and easily overshadowed, she avoided crowds to whatever extent possible. Still, I would have liked for her to be here. Not only was she a niece of the Queen, she was also heir to the throne due to the Prince’s defection, and learning to connect with the people was an important part of her future.
Davic and I did not have much opportunity to talk during the festivities, and we were glad when Ubiqua called her Court to a close and we could fly to the branches of the Great Redwood where I made my home. Davic also had an alcove in the mighty tree, though his family had no interest in Court life and lived far on the other side of Chrior. There was only one section of the Redwood that was unoccupied, a place where the branches were dry and dead and could hold little weight. The destruction was viewed as a tragedy and rarely discussed, but from what I understood, a fire had defiled our people’s ancient refuge.
My residence was a small place, but practical. Davic walked the perimeter of the main room, focusing on the energy inside himself as he ran his finger along the love-carved indentation to spark and ignite it. Finished, he fell onto the sofa, putting his hands behind his head. The house warmed at once, and I curled up beside him, breathing in his familiar scent, musky with an undercurrent of Tanya flowers, which only grew on this side of the Road. The whole evening I hadn’t given a thought to how truly tired I was, but now I relaxed, the heaviness in my limbs a reminder of how little I had slept the past few days.
“Well?” Davic asked after a bit. “How was the human world this time?”
“I made it to Tairmor before you called me back,” I replied, offering him a smirk. “You’re impatient, Davic.”
He brushed my auburn hair behind my shoulder and kissed my forehead. “How long would you have been gone if I hadn’t called you?”
“I wanted to see Sheness, the port city. A few more weeks.”
His countenance grew wary, lips pursing and eyes slightly widening. He was the worrier of the two of us, and his expression was endearing in its predictability.
“Anya, your father has warned against Fae traveling that far west. He says there’s been a resurgence of piracy over the past year.”
“I’m aware of my father’s warnings.” I gave his hair a playful tug, making it difficult for a scowl to emerge. “But pirates surely don’t lurk around every corner in Sheness, waiting to attack. They have their business, and I would have had mine. I do know what I’m doing out there. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I didn’t go near the port.”
“You’re not invincible, you know.” He was looking at me sideways, not yet pacified. This was a variance we’d had before—he meant well, but he had a hard time trusting anything if it was beyond Chrior’s borders, including me.
I chuckled. “Of course I’m not invincible, but Fae are more powerful than humans, and we have our elements to protect us. Anyone who tried to hurt me would be swept away by a wall of water before they could blink, while I flew away to the rooftops.” My point stood even though that wasn’t exactly how Fae connections worked. We had to rely on physically present matter that we could move and manipulate rather than conjuring our elements, but for me that matter could include blood and mist as easily as rain or river water, leaving me with a lot of power at my disposal. “Try not to be such a killjoy when everything is, at present, perfect.”
He rolled his eyes, but I felt his body relax against mine. I plucked at the fabric of his shirt, nervous about