Akyran's Folly

I woke late in the morning. Fiena sat beneath the window, the heavy curtains open just enough to bathe her in the overly bright morning light whilst she altered one of my dresses and her impossibly neat braids shone red where the sunlight touched them. “I’m getting fat,” I observed from the bed. “Nonsense,” she replied looking up with a smile. “You’ve just been around the castle a bit more recently than normal.” “At the tavern, don’t you mean?” “Well, yes,” she was amused. “More nights than not.” “Akyran’s in a mood,” I told her. “He likes to ease it with hunting and ale.” “And you, my lady?” She teased. “Are you in a mood?” I laughed. “Well, I can’t let him drink alone, can I? There’s no harm to a bit of ale.” “Except to my fingers from altering your dresses,” she replied. “But the prince likes a bit of a curve on a woman.” I sighed. “Akyran doesn’t see me that way,” I told her. “Mmm,” she set the sewin

Siorin leaned over the balustrade, her fairy man fluttering around her head animatedly, and Rivyn stepped up onto the ledge to kiss her. She whispered something to him, and he laughed, lifting himself up and climbing over the balustrade before drawing her into his arms and dipping her back in a picturesque kiss. “Ah, young love,” Leamoira greeted me, smiling at the couple indulgently. A servant handed me a crystal glass of sparkling wine. I would have preferred a tankard of ale, I thought, as I sipped it. “It’s lovely to see. Well,” she refocused on me. “That was rather exciting,” she said. “You and Akyran ride as if you have no fear. I suppose that comes of your being a war mage.” “I guess,” I saw Akyran look up at us, and an expression of alarm crossed his face. What was it that he feared Leamoira might say to me, or I to her? I wondered immediately upon seeing that expression. “Something is afoot,” I complained. “Eltarin and my parents are here, Akyran is watching

I looked at him in alarm, but I could not ask the questions of him that I wanted to; he would not tolerate the informality. “As you wish, my King,” I bowed my head, and stood instead, fidgeting through their conversation, effectively forbidden from pursuing Akyran and ensuring his welfare. They exchanged gossip about the courtiers and nobles in attendance, and the dances progressed into estampies and other couple dances. Eltarin joined us. “Your majesties,” he bowed to the King and Queen. “May I steal my sister for this dance?” I looked to King Treyvin, and he inclined his head. I accepted Eltarin’s hand and stepped onto the polished dancefloor with him. “Thank you,” I said fervently to my brother. He laughed. “You looked like a griffin in a cage.” “Akyran had an argument with King Treyvin and stormed off, and I was not permitted to pursue,” I said under my breath. “I thought I was destined to spend the rest of the evening listening to

“What was going on tonight?” I asked him. “Ah,” he blew out a breath and rolled onto his back again. “Rivyn’s been in my father’s ear, and my father is on the verge of sending an army to aid Aurien’s princess. I’ve been trying to get him to see sense.” I grimaced. He was avoiding answering by offering partial truths. He knew I meant about the manner of him invoking the rule of three, but he did not want to answer. “He knew I was planning on invoking the rule of three,” he said suddenly, rolling onto his side to face me and taking a lock of my hair between his fingers, letting it run free and fall. “Because we argued, he demanded I do it in a way that was unfair to you, and I am sorry for that, Ecaeris.” Then he laughed. “- I’m probably lucky that I did do it that way, or you might have made it impossible to get through the rites. That had to be one of the hardest proposals in Fae history.” I lifted my mouth to his and tasted his laughter as I slid my

We moved to the section of the camp where the camp followers were situated. Women held babes on their hips whilst they stirred pots over the fire, and small, grubby children wove in between the basic A frame tents. Prostitutes and wives of the poorer soldiers intermingled with servants and the various trades that supported all armies. A blacksmith worked a sword over an anvil, his sweat running black down his face and his muscles standing out impressively against skin scarred with the burn marks of his trade. “Let me guess,” Daerton said. “Mummy and daddy found out about the half-Fae bit on the side, and demanded the little princeling marry the pure-blood as per plan, but no one thought to let you know in advance of the invocation. So now the War Mage is mad and gone stomping off to the camp where the half-Fae bit is to have her revenge, but Aurien put a stop to it?” “Mostly,” I gathered some ash from a fire into a pouch. “I mean Ashara no harm. Akyran has always bee