C.E. Murphy - Truthseeker

“The citadel of the Seelie,” Dafydd murmured. “Welcome to my court.”

“Your court.” Aerin made a sound remarkably like the horse’s regular snorts. “Watch your tongue, Dafydd. You don’t want your father to hear you say that.”

“Our court, then,” Dafydd said affably. “I meant nothing by it. It’s my home, after all.”

“As it is all of ours.” Emyr’s cool voice broke over their conversation, warning that he’d overheard Dafydd’s claim. “You are not appropriately dressed for court, Dafydd.”

Dafydd managed to sweep a bow around Lara, whose eyes were all for the citadel. It glowed in the moonlight, pouring so much brilliance from its white walls she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t seen it as they approached. A fanciful answer, magic , leaped to mind, then remained there, its honesty ringing true. Certainly its lavender-hued light was unlike any earth light Lara had ever seen, and even from the ground she could see the delicacy of tall towers winding their way toward the sky. The path beneath their feet had turned to flagstones, though the horses’ hooves made no sound on them, like they still walked on grass.

“I will remedy that, Father, never fear. And as for you, Lara, I think Aerin can help you.” Dafydd swung down from the horse with more grace than Lara could imagine having, then helped her down and made her graceful, too.

She was unexpectedly stiff as she hit the ground, as though they’d been on horseback far longer than it had seemed. Startled, Lara cast a glance toward the moon, trying to gauge its travel through the sky. It had crossed more distance than she’d realized, pushing the hour very late. Still gazing at the moon, she rubbed her back and asked, “How long was that ride?”

Dafydd hesitated, not so much reluctance, she thought, as struggling for words. “It’s the horses,” he finally said. “They choose the easiest path, and only some of it is … noticeable. We’ve ridden for perhaps two and a half hours.”

Lara turned to him, gaping, and his smile turned apologetic. “The Barrow-lands are not much like your world, Lara. I’m sorry, but I swear the lost time won’t count against us when we bring you home. Are you all right?”

“I’m …” Lara wobbled her head, knowing she looked silly but unable to express herself more coherently. “Yeah, I guess so. I just thought we’d been riding about twenty minutes. Is everything here like that?”

“Rather a lot of it, I’m afraid.” Dafydd gave her another crooked smile, then gestured to Aerin. “She has a sister not much taller than you. Would you like to borrow an outfit to meet the court in?”

Lara held her breath a moment, searching for her equilibrium, then let out an explosive sigh. Clothes that weren’t wet and grass-stained would help her regain her balance, if nothing else. “Please. That would be great. Thank you.”

Aerin dismounted with the same dismaying grace Dafydd had shown. She was taller than he was, and brisk as she said, “We have only a little time before the court is gathered. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” Lara shot Dafydd an uncertain glance; then, at his nod, hurried after Aerin.

The Seelie woman made no allowance for Lara’s shorter legs, striding through phosphorus halls whose permeating glow had no apparent reliance on torches or other obvious light sources. Lara caught glimpses of open spaces within the citadel, stretches where forest seemed to break through china-white walls and become part of the building, but she had no time to linger and wonder: it was clear Aerin would leave her far behind if she didn’t focus on keeping up.

It was clear, too, that she would be hopelessly lost without the taller woman’s guidance. By the time Aerin gestured her through doors to what proved to be her private rooms, Lara’s stomach was tight with nerves bordering on panic. She had crossed into a world that wasn’t her own, a world where time and space bent to a horse’s will, and she had just left the only person she knew here. Kelly may have teased her about not taking risks, but this one now seemed like idiocy. No one in her right mind would have taken the chance Lara had just taken.

An untuned violin’s sour notes screeched through her mind, objecting to her last thought—Lara did, at least, believe herself to be in her right mind. “Most of the time,” she breathed aloud, and cast a glance upward, taking in the room Aerin had led her to.

It soared, distant ceiling edged with delicate cornices that made earthly gingerbreads look gross and squat in comparison. Globes of light, emitting the same soft glow the halls did, swung around each other near the ceiling, shifting the room’s shadows. Tapestries hung down the walls, picked with silver and gold and blue, as though someone had threaded moonlight and sunshine and water to weave them. Subtle patterns teased Lara’s eye and faded again when she looked directly at them, the tapestries becoming nothing more than shimmering imageless cloth.

This room was clearly a sitting room, a public area. There were recognizable chairs and couches, though, staring at them, Lara became convinced their wooden frames were grown, not carved or fastened. The padding was of pale soft cloth, cool colors everywhere.

Which made the emerald-clad girl in the middle of the room all the more remarkable. She was vivid, the first Seelie besides Dafydd whom Lara’d seen wearing anything but moonlight shades. Her hands were gathered in her skirts and her green eyes were wide with excitement, making her look rather like Cynthia Taylor when her attention was caught by a new project at the bespoke shop. Lara offered a swift, surprised smile to the girl, whose own smile lit up with youthful delight. “I’m Myfanwy, Aerin’s sister. She said you wanted to borrow one of my dresses?”

Lara gave Aerin a startled look, and the other woman shrugged. “We aren’t, with close friends and relations, relegated to mere vocal speech. Impulses, ideas, emotions can be shared, if not words. I sent ahead to let Myfanwy know we were on our way.”

“I think I have the perfect dress,” Myfanwy said breathlessly, and within minutes Lara found herself in the unusual position of playing dressmaker’s dummy. She had spent so many hours as the tailor that she was surprised to discover she was self-conscious, and kept stiffening as the sisters adjusted a gown meant for a taller woman. It wasn’t, she told herself with some despair, that she was short . The Seelie were just unnaturally tall. Aerin, kneeling to stitch a hem, was still more than half Lara’s height.

“How long have you known him?” Aerin glanced up at Lara with studied nonchalance. Pretending to try to put Lara at ease but in reality testing the waters; it was very much the same indifference Lara had affected when Dafydd had offered Aerin his hand. Faintly amused at their awkward camaraderie, Lara smiled.

“In hours? About eleven, over the course of five days.”

“Oh,” Aerin said with an odd note. “Our stories tell us we find your kind easy to glamour and pull into our world at a cost to your own lives. If that’s what Dafydd’s done, I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t.”

Aerin’s eyebrows shot up. They were nearly white, like her hair: the blue tones had faded once moonlight was left behind, and her yellow eyes had proved spring green. “Would you know?”

The question hung between them, marking out the silence between heartbeats. Lara felt heat crawl into her cheeks, an admission of uncertainty broken by a light tug on her hair and a shy, fascinated trill of laughter as her ears were uncovered.

Aerin reached around Lara and smacked her sister on the thigh without losing hold of the work she did. “Behave. The Truthseeker is a guest here.”