Page 4 of The Heir the Fae Forgot
My calves already ached by the time we reached the top of the stairs. A platform stretched between two of the largest trees, forming a sort of long, narrow balcony looking down on the lowest layer of the court. Above us, many more platforms filled the space between the ground and the firefly sky. The trees themselves had woven together to form the ground we walked on, but intricate artwork made of every shade of black and gold glass—or perhaps even gemstones—had been laid out in intricate mosaics for us to walk on. They depicted dark scenes of the Wildness, of great creatures with glowing eyes and of withered vines reaching out like gnarled hands.
The same magic of the Wildness emanated from the mosaics, as if it had been trapped inside the pieces they were made from.
Lights were set along the bannisters of the stairs and the edges of the platforms, glass-paned lanterns that flickered every color from within. More of these light hung in the air, bobbing along untethered overhead as they floated lazily along an unseen breeze. They made the entire court glitter, illuminating shadows that would otherwise have been threatening and turning them into a mesmerizing sort of dance.
Finch stood slack jawed as he took in the unexpected wonder of Icarus’ world. At his size, Zev had finally seemed to forget the hilt of his sword, that hand instead preoccupied with trying to touch one of the floating lanterns that seemed always to flit just out of reach.
Even Shiel couldn’t hide the intrigue from his own expression. Try as he might, I saw the way his gaze wandered from the fae he should have been keeping a close watch on, drawn instead to the countless unexpected sources of beauty in this dark new place.
“There will be an official welcome at noon tomorrow, where I will introduce you to the members of my private council,” Icarus said, at long last breaking the spell that had fallen over each of his new visitors—myself included. He stood now between the four of us, but he wasn’t alone.
Four of the insect-like creatures now stood in a semi-circle behind him, each one carrying a basket nearly the size of the creatures themselves.
“My servants will lead you to a guest room you can share, since I’m sure you’ll wish to remain together. Most of my visitors—few as they may be—often prefer this arrangement.”
“Your consideration is most welcome,” Shiel said, his voice still guarded. “But forgive me for asking—will any of your guard be assigned to us?”
“My guard?”
“It’s customary when a dignitary from another court arrives,” Shiel continued, either ignoring the danger flashing in Icarus’ eyes, or was too preoccupied to see it for himself. “Not all your subjects may be as welcome to our presence as you are.”
Icarus cocked his head as he looked over Shiel, reading him. “You have no need of my guard. You will not be bothered by the fae here. They’ve been instructed not to approach you without my express permission.”
“Surely—”
“Surely,” Icarus cut him off, “that will be sufficient. I don’t know how the other courts conduct themselves, but in mine, anything other than exact obedience is considered sedition. As I promised before, as long as you remain under my protection, you will find no danger here.”
Once again, I wondered if Shiel noticed the threat buried within the dark fae’s promise.
But once again, all he did was offer a stiff nod in thanks.
Still, I saw the way Shiel watched the servants standing behind Icarus closely, his eyes refusing to leave them. I couldn’t blame him. I was fighting a crawling sensation at the back of my own neck at the sight of them, at how they watched us back with an uncanny shrewdness.
They were not fae, after all. I didn’t need to be coached on what exactly they were to knowthat.
“I have my own business I must return to,” Icarus said, his arm sweeping out, a gesture that prompted the four servants behind him to scuttle out and around to stand behind each of us instead of him. They moved far too quickly and too unhuman. The baskets in their arms did nothing to weigh them down despite their size. “Unless there is some other pressing matter you must bring up with me, I’ll leave you to settle in.”
He’d barely turned, those great wings of his shimmering beneath the glow of the lanterns, before my own voice froze him in his tracks.
“Wait!”
He stopped and slowly turned to me, a question in his eyes.
I glanced once at Shiel, and then at Zev and Finch. They stood awkwardly beside the servants trying to prod them in the opposite direction, their hands once again remembering the swords strapped to their sides.
“I wish to have my own quarters.”
The question in Icarus’ eyes deepened—even as Shiel’s own darkened.
“You wish to be housed separately from the Western Court?”
I fought down the guilt that rose up in me when I saw Zev and Finch’s confusion. They were a part of this as much as Shiel, I reminded myself. They were his men, they merely obeyed his orders, sure, but at the end of the day, they were just as responsible for his deceit.
I turned my back to them to face Icarus and nodded once, hoping I looked more sure than I felt.
It was dangerous, I knew, to face this new court on my own. But better to face danger than to have it wheedle up inside me, watching me, waiting for its opportunity to strike when I once again found myself vulnerable.
“Very well,” Icarus said, and with another wave of his arm, the servant closest to me began nudging me towards another path.
