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22. Veyka

We all watched in awe as the hawk soared down, circled the castle once, and landed with a graceful shift just as the iron doors of the keep swung open.

As we picked our way down the steep hill, the delegation filled out behind her. I counted as I walked, half an eye on my companions as they fell into place behind me. Lyrena at my left, Percival at hers. Cyara at my right, one hand guiding Diana forward. Both Diana and Percival were still bound.

Ten, fifteen, eighteen… the party that started across the bridge was nineteen terrestrials strong. I had two fire-wielders and two human prisoners. If this turned into a fight, my bravado would not be enough to save us.

I am the High Queen of Annwyn.

I am powerful.

More convincing than either of those statements was the feeling of rightness as I stepped onto the stone bridge. Come, the bricks seemed to say. Relax, the moss whispered. Home.

Arran loved this place. I loved him more than life itself. Did that somehow account for the force pulling me forward, causing me to throw caution to the wind?

I checked the amorite studs in my ears, questioning whether this was the same disorienting magic we'd experienced in the cursed clearing on the edge of Avalon. But everything was in place. Cyara walked at my side rather than raging as a harpy overhead. Lyrena's hand was oh-so-casually on her sword while idle flames danced at her fingertips. Totally in control.

I swallowed hard and led them to face the female leading the group. The fauna-gifted terrestrial could be none other than the mistress of Eilean Gayl—Arran's mother.

She was the most beautiful female I had ever seen. Given that my mate was the most brutally beautiful male in Annwyn, it should not have surprised me. Yet nothing about her fit with the image I'd constructed in my mind.

Even with the diffused light of overcast skies, the world seemed to brighten around her. The gold headband that stretched across her forehead contrasted sharply with her dark hair, braided back and coiled up at the back of her head so that not a single strand swayed as she approached.

Her gown was just as perfect, the heavy burgundy falling in flawless, unwrinkled panels despite the fact that she'd been in her hawk form minutes before. Every step was assured, and she lifted her dark eyes to meet mine long before she reached me.

From Arran's descriptions of her kidnapping, the brutality that had followed and the quiet life she'd sought away from the terrestrial court at Wolf Bay, I'd expected someone demure and retiring. Neither of those words sprung to mind as I used the brief seconds to study the female approaching me across the narrow stone bridge.

Ihad been tortured for years. And I doubted demure or retiring had passed a single set of lips—fae, human, or faerie—in reference to me.

A foolish mistake, to assume anything at all.

I had to be better at this. Arran wasn't here to be the strategic one.

My fault.

I am made of ice. I am impenetrable. I am immovable.

I repeated the chant. Thrice more, hoping it would give me the strength to face the formidable female approaching me. The mother of the male I loved—the mother of the male I'd nearly slaughtered.

Ice. Ice. Ice.

I was so busy willing shards of ice into my veins, around my heart, that I almost did not notice the terrestrial male who walked at her side. It was the blooming roses that alerted me. Bright, shining white roses on thick emerald vines, crawling along the stone ledges on either side of the bridge in perfect time with the approaching steps of the delegation.

Where her face was elegant and composed, his smile was easy and wide. His golden-brown hair, long enough to be boyish, caught the same light as the metallic band on his wife's forehead. He seemed like an accessory himself.

We stopped. So did they. Mere steps separating us. My heartbeat sped up, pounding against that wall of ice, trying to get out. Trying to get home.

We were dirty, tired, worn out from months of traveling and weeks of frustration. Our ranks were depleted, and we looked little better than the prisoners we brought with us.

But none of that mattered as the Lady of Eilean Gayl sank to her knees, followed by every single one of the eighteen terrestrials who had followed her out to greet us.

I exhaled.

I counted my heartbeats. One, two, three, four, five… The silence stretched out. A wing brushed against my shoulder, the gentlest of reminders.

They were waiting for me.

I choked back the hysterical laugh that bubbled up in my throat. Be the queen you were meant to be.

Oh, Arran.

"Rise, Lady Elayne and Lord Pant." I knew their names now. Arran had whispered their history to me while he held me in our bedroll, sketching out the broad lines of life in Eilean Gayl and his childhood. He'd been happy here—the happiest he'd ever been… until he met me?

Until I threw Excalibur and nearly killed him.

"We are honored and pleased to welcome you to Eilean Gayl, Your Majesty," Elayne said, rising gracefully without reaching for a hand for assistance. At nearly seven hundred years old, she ought to be showing the first signs of aging. But there was no gray in her dark hair, no wrinkles around her eyes. She appeared only a few years older than me. Except for the eyes—those dark, fathomless eyes spoke of centuries.

I affected an easy half-smile that was not easy at all. An imperious lift of my chin. Hand on my jeweled scabbard—the only sign of opulence on me. How ironic, that my first diplomatic foray into the terrestrial kingdom and I was robed in grime rather than jewels.

"As you can see, we have come to you after a long journey." It was the only acknowledgment I would give to the sorry state of our appearance. I was a queen. And despite the careful attention I'd always paid to my appearance, I did not need clothing to show it.

"Then you must be famished," Pant said, his grin wide and genuine. At least, in my initial estimation. I did not know him well enough to truly judge.

But terrestrials were not known for their ability dissemble.

I inclined my head, though my eyes stayed on the female at his side. "Indeed."

"Arran is not with you." Elayne did not disguise the surprise in her voice.

My throat closed. Panic, hot and fierce, that would melt my icy exterior in a second.

"The High King was detained," Lyrena said, her bright smile nowhere in evidence. Even without polish, she shone with the light and confidence of pure gold. She was every inch the courtier her parents had hoped she would be, the Goldstone Guard she'd trained to become, one hand on her mighty sword. My Golden Knight.

"It seems unlikely that he would allow his mate from his side, so soon after your Joining," Elayne said sharply, eyes cutting to me rather than Lyrena.

They'd heard about us being mates, even here in Eilean Gayl, almost as far as one could travel on the continent of Annwyn. Then they had also heard about my power, that explosion of light and my disappearance. They knew we had left Baylaur, might even have been waiting for us to arrive here, at Arran's ancestral home.

But they had not expected us to arrive without Arran.

The Battle of Avalon was still unknown.

I could use this to my advantage. I shoved the panic down. Anchored myself to the friends standing on either side—one gold, one white, both eternally steady and unflinching.

"Duty has always been paramount to Arran. I look forward to telling you of our travels," I lied. If Elayne and Pant realized the falsehood on my tongue, neither of them showed any hint of it. "My Knights and I will need adjoining chambers, if you have them. We will keep our prisoners in our custody."

"Knights?" Pant asked, nonplussed by the mention of prisoners. This was the terrestrial kingdom, I reminded myself. Pant's vines had paused their advance down the bridge, though one now moved to his hand.

"Knights of the Round Table," Cyara answered this time. A declaration that she would not be ignored. I felt a surge of pride in my chest—and gratitude. I may be made of ice, but I was not entirely unfeeling. Not when it came to the two females who stood unflinchingly at my sides.

Hushed whispers swept through the small crowd behind Arran's parents. Not courtiers, exactly. This wasn't the official terrestrial court. It was a family home—though still a castle. My education on the terrestrial kingdom had been superficial at best. Arthur had been the one trained on their customs, the structure of their noble houses.

They did have noble houses, I knew. Arran had been born into one of them, as had Gwen. But in the end, those historical lineages meant little to the terrestrial fae. All that mattered in this kingdom was strength and power.

At least now I had both.

All eyes deferred to Elayne, even her husband's. Which told me enough. She was the power here.

But Pant played his part well. He stepped forward, one white bloom in each hand, and offered them to the Knights at my sides. "Welcome to Eilean Gayl, Knights of the Round Table."

Moving on impulse and instinct, only the barest strategy sketching itself out in my head, I stepped forward and offered my hands to Elayne. A gesture of goodwill, of welcome. Of family. What I hoped we might be… what I'd never had before.

"You shall have everything you request, Your Majesty," Elayne said, taking my hands. "Eilean Gayl and all of its resources are at your disposal."

She stilled, lifting my hands slightly higher between us. The pad of her thumb stroked once and then again. The ring. Her ring—given to me by Arran. Slipped on my finger in the quiet, stolen hours before we went to the Tower of Myda. That night in Baylaur seemed thirty years ago, rather than a mere three months.

I sucked in a breath, ignoring the thaw that threatened in my chest. I could not give it to her. No matter what diplomacy demanded. It was the only part of Arran I still had, the only connection, this narrow band of gold.

But Elayne said nothing. Only squeezed my hands a little tighter and then released them. As she turned to address the surrounded groups, elemental and terrestrial, I reached inside myself. Found the golden thread of the mating bond and clung to it.

"Tonight, we shall feast in honor of our royal guest. Let it be known across our territory—the High Queen of Annwyn has come to Eilean Gayl."

The group assembled behind Elayne recognized it for the command it was. A blink, and half the terrestrials had shifted into their animal forms. Birds took to the sky. A fox and several hounds bounded past us. What might have been a seal disappeared over the side of the bridge into the water before I could get a good look.

How the flora-gifted terrestrials would send their messages, spread the word of our arrival, I did not know. But Elayne had made this move without asking for my approval.

As I followed her into the castle, more vines slithered out along the stones. Some moving so fast, curling like they meant to close around my ankle, to trip me up.

Maybe my instincts about Eilean Gayl were wrong.

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