Thea Harrison: Storm's Heart

Such, however, was not the case for Aubrey. With three bodies wrapped in herbs and carried in one wagon at the rear, it was a somber group, and Niniane set an easy pace. After they had ridden for most of the day, she caught Tiago’s eye and gestured with her chin toward the Dark Fae male. Tiago turned to look. Aubrey rode by himself. His cloak was wrapped tightly around him, his chiseled features bleak and withdrawn.

Tiago set his jaw and lowered his brows in a scowl, but after a moment he nodded. Niniane nudged her sweet-natured little mare forward. As she came up on Aubrey from one side, Tiago came up on the other.

The Dark Fae male’s head lifted. He looked from Niniane to Tiago and drew further in on himself. “Your highness,” he murmured. His voice was toneless.

“You must know this won’t do, Aubrey,” Niniane said. “I refuse your resignation. I need you too much.”

Aubrey stared sightlessly ahead. “After Geril and Naida, I no longer have the confidence that I can meet your need.”

“The last time I heard, it was not a crime to think well of people you know, especially those you care about,” remarked Tiago to no one in particular as he surveyed the surrounding landscape.

Aubrey gave him a quick glance but said nothing. They rode in silence for a time.

Niniane sighed. “I don’t know that I can afford to give you the choice. I know you need time to heal and mourn your wife, and I promise you will have that. But you must return to your position as Chancellor. If you won’t do it for me, do it for the Dark Fae.”

More silence. Then Aubrey said quietly, “I would do anything for you that I could—”

She interrupted him to stave off another rejection. “Good,” she said strongly. “I need you to get together with Kellen right away. The two of you have to come up with a short list of people you would recommend for appointment as Dark Fae Commander. And I don’t know how precisely you’re going to do this, but I want you to research the history of Urien’s finances since he took the crown.”

A spark of curiosity enlivened Aubrey’s dull gaze. “What do you need to know?”

She was too canny to let herself smile yet. She told him, “I want to know how much my family fortune was when Urien became King. It doesn’t have to be exact if the records aren’t precise. I’m just looking for a realistic estimate. You see, I was disturbed by the inequities in the numbers we reviewed. I think Urien benefited too much from isolating the Dark Fae all these years. I intend on taking only what was rightfully ours before my father died. Then I want to put the rest of Urien’s fortune to work in developing opportunities for our people. You want to help me spend that money wisely, don’t you?”

She glanced sidelong at him. Life had come back into Aubrey’s expression in the form of startled interest and intellectual speculation. Riding relaxed in his saddle on Aubrey’s other side, Tiago quirked an eyebrow at her.

Now it was time to smile. Maybe just a bit.

The road and the river meandered, moving apart and coming together again like quarreling lovers. On their third day the travelers started to come upon individual homes and villages. Wide-eyed Dark Fae came to stare in wonder at the group. They were a handsome people and rich in creativity, but while their homes and properties were well kept and sparked with flashes of Power, their relative poverty was also painfully apparent.

Tiago had a quiet but intense conniption when Niniane dismounted to walk and talk among them. Thunder rumbled in the distance, which concerned certain individuals in the group very much. Niniane turned to glare at him. He fought a private battle and the thunder subsided.

Word spread, and people began to appear on the road. They brought fresh-baked bread and cheese, water and wine for the group, and they gave Niniane presents of flowers, handembroidered linen, quilts, gorgeously worked silver jewelry, and incense and spices. They began to follow until they trailed for a quarter of a mile behind the group. On their last night at camp, snatches of singing and laughter came from bright campfires that dotted the countryside.

“I have never seen anything like it,” Kellen told Niniane over an excellent supper of hunter’s stew.

She shook her head as she met Tiago’s dark gaze over their own flickering yellow fire. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing,” Kellen told her with a smile. “Just rule well.”

Then their last day of travel came. She recognized landmarks. There up ahead, she knew that twist in the road. Further up still, they passed underneath a bluff that one could scale and look out over the river that lay winking silver blue in the pale autumn sunlight. The road climbed in a low-grade incline for a time, and she knew exactly where they would crest the hill. Her heart began to pound. Her mouth dried and her hands shook.

“Faerie,” murmured Tiago as he rode beside her.

“Just wait,” she whispered. “Watch.”

They reached the hill’s crest and looked over a valley.

The land scrolled down, carpeted in green and gold. Clusters of pale buildings with spare, gracious lines showed through copses of trees dressed in brilliant fall foliage. The deep blue river bordered the valley. It came from an immense waterfall in the distance that was shrouded in a perpetual mist that sparkled in the bright chill afternoon.

The jewel in the scene was the palace by the river that gleamed pearl and pale gold. A double colonnade of immense sycamore trees lined the road that led up to the palace. The ancient trees towered several stories high, the curve of their white branches flowing upward in gracious outspreading fans. They were tipped with gold leaves that had not yet fallen, their trunks wreathed in lush skirts of scarlet-leaved vines.

Aryal nudged her horse up beside Niniane’s. The harpy’s eyes were wide with wonder. “So that’s Adriyel. No wonder it’s famous in poems and shit. We’re finally reaching journey’s end.”

Niniane and Tiago looked at each other.

“No,” he said. “Now we begin.”

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Early in the morning, one week later, Niniane sat at a table on her terrace and looked over her private walled garden. The day had dawned crystal cold and clear. She wore a fur robe, and braziers dotted the area around her. The garden was a jewel of a place, perhaps a third of an acre in size, with a luxurious carpet of thick well-tended grass, fruit trees, flowers and shrubs. She watched as the man worked in her garden. He had removed his shirt and rivulets of sweat glistened on his long, muscled torso.

Her coronation had occurred the day before. For his coronation, Urien had worn an outfit encrusted with jewels and gold. For hers, Niniane chose a simple, tailored gown made of deep midnight blue silk. She must have said the right things and given the right responses at the appropriate times. She couldn’t remember. She had gone through the ceremony, her mind blurred with terror, trembling as the weight of her father’s crown was placed on her head.

Afterward, she had held her first court. The throne was a ridiculously uncomfortable piece of furniture. She made a mental note to get a cushion. Tiago, dressed in severe, unrelieved black with two crossed swords at his back, had taken for the first time his position standing just behind her. Representatives from the American and Canadian governments and other Elder demesnes had presented her with gifts and statements of congratulations and promises of friendship. Well. Time would tell about that.

Then came the time for the Dark Fae nobles to pay homage to her. She noted both confirmed and potential allies, and she gave a cold smile to old enemies with friendly faces who bowed low before her. Tiago had put in a fruitful week of work already. He had five nobles targeted for arrest and prosecution for their involvement in the coup that killed her family. She affirmed Kellen as Chief Justice, and Aubrey as Chancellor, and appointed their strongest recommendation for Commander, whom Tiago also liked, a clever, accomplished and genial male named Fafnir Orin.