Chapter 1

1

Three Years Later

The wedding of Lady Aislinn Darrow to her beloved half-orc was a triumph for all the otherly folk who had come to call the Darrowlands their home, Allarion included. As the happy couple made their wedding vows and sealed them with a kiss, he clapped along with the others, his soul a little lighter to see the obvious joy in their faces.

Maxim and Aine had looked at each other in such a way.

The memory didn’t pain him as it once had, though it did stir a familiar ache.

Amongst the humans these past years, Allarion had begun to feel time’s passage more acutely than ever before. Time couldn’t heal, but it could dull.

Each changing season severed his ties to the faelands. Every fortnight away strengthened his own magic and resolve. Every day longer he took was another day Ravenna slept alone in her bower.

That last thought was a constant prickle beneath his skin.

In the years since leaving Ravenna, Allarion had crossed forests and rivers, fighting the pull of the faelands as he searched for a suitable place. It was mere chance that he heard of a region welcoming otherly folk, and he was one of the first to arrive in the Darrowlands almost a year ago to try establishing himself his own little demesne.

After years with just Bellarand to share the burden of his magic, finding the abandoned estate of Scarborough had been an utter relief. He’d found the dilapidated manor house and wild lands charming and begun imbuing them with his magic even before securing the deed to the property.

Months now he’d been there, reclaiming the land from the forest, tending the neglected house, and warding the borders. Every day a little more of his magic seeped into the land, and the estate was coming to life.

It was all good progress. He should be content.

It took time to bond with the new lands. With just him and Bellarand, the magic quickly grew acidic inside him. He gave it to Scarborough, where it was consumed by the trees and the moss and the stream just west of the house. The circuit gave him a day or two of relief before the magic again turned sour. Two years of pent magic had nearly felled him, and he was still recovering from the schism with the faelands.

In short, he was progressing, but not quickly enough.

Every day it took him to shore up his land and defenses was another Ravenna lay vulnerable.

He still wasn’t strong enough to protect her. He wasn’t even strong enough to leave his new land for long.

There was a possible solution to this. Something so obvious, it was elegant in its simplicity.

A mate.

In communing with the otherly folk who too wished to make the Darrowlands their home, Allarion had learned that most came with the hope of finding a human mate. More than one half-orc had claimed a human woman, and the manticore pride was growing notorious for sniffing around the skirts of every human woman they saw.

He’d long ago let go of any dream of having an azai, a heartmate. No fae stirred his soul and magic as an azai was supposed to, and Allarion had lived long enough to search for her throughout the faelands. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might exist as a human woman, not even after he met Aine.

Allarion had doubted he could find a true azai, the one meant for him, the one who could harmonize with his magic, the one who could match his mind and fill his soul with light. But that was all right. He had learned over his years in the human realms that sometimes life was merely good enough.

A wife didn’t have to be his heartmate. He wasn’t foolish to hope for perfection, just a good woman to help anchor him to this human realm. Such a connection would surely hasten his bonding to Scarborough and enable him to fetch Ravenna that much sooner.

That was, until just this spring, during a previous visit to Dundúran. His path had been one he’d taken before through the city. There’d been nothing special or different about that day—except for when he heard her .

A laugh, the sound so pure it lit him from within, as potent as a burst of magic fresh from the earth. Turning Bellarand, he’d ventured closer to a simple well, unremarkable and similar to all the other wells dotting the dozen other city squares. Yet, it was there that he saw her .

And when he saw her, heard her, Allarion knew . Finally, the Twins were sending him a little luck.

As the ceremony concluded and the new couple stood to thank their guests, he waited patiently to put his new plan into action.

Some months ago, he’d gotten a favor out of the groom, to be decided later and of his choosing, for helping oppose Lady Aislinn’s treacherous brother from seizing the city with an army of sellswords. Allarion planned on doing so anyway, had pledged his loyalty and sword to Lady Aislinn some days before, but he wasn’t foolish enough to pass over an opportunity.

Like information, promises were worth far more than metal and gems.

He’d had some inkling of what he was likely to ask of Hakon, but now, his mind was made.

It took over an hour for the crowd to thin around the new couple.

Of course, Allarion could have forced the matter. Curiously, despite having made his home in the region for almost a year, the others, humans especially, gave him a wide berth. He didn’t mind, per se, but it was curious.

Still, he minded his manners, those taught to him an age ago by his aristocratic mother. As members of one of the most senior noble fae families, much expectation had been placed upon him and his siblings to succeed. Under his mother’s tutelage and kindness, they all flourished—his eldest sister became an accomplished musician, and the younger one of the most famed smiths of Fallorian; his brothers had distinguished themselves in botany and husbandry, and ran one of the most successful farms in the southern regions, harvesting the finest wool and growing the prettiest flowers.

For himself, Allarion had excelled at his warrior’s training, alongside Maxim and their other brothers-in-arms. They had earned their armor in the late days of the last Fae Queen and distinguished themselves with honor. They guarded the border and fought a handful of skirmishes against raiding orcs in the early days of the new Queen’s rule.

But when Amaranthe began waging war on her own people, Allarion and Maxim both had put down their swords. He’d wandered the faelands without true purpose, pestering his siblings and trying to learn their crafts. Nothing suited him.

It was when he went looking for his old friend Maxim that he’d stumbled across the man’s great secret. A human azai . A half-fae, half-human child on the way.

He could hardly have believed, finding that seaside cottage on the border of the faelands, how his life and fate were about to change. Now, he had far more purpose than he’d ever dreamed.

As Allarion approached Lady Aislinn and Hakon, he noted a human girl chatting with them. He’d seen her before but not been introduced, though it took little to deduce who she was. The golden circlet round her brow would be tell enough, but her presence at the wedding had been widely announced and applauded before the ceremony began.

Princess Isolde, fourteen-year-old heir to the Eirean throne, had graced today on behalf of the royal family, bringing good tidings and congratulations.

She was a willowy girl, obviously amidst one of her human growth phases, her form slightly out of proportion as some parts grew while others hurried to catch up. Still, she seemed a bouncy girl, her smile wide as she talked with the couple.

Allarion didn’t have long to wait for his opening.

“I’ve heard tell of a unicorn living in the Darrowlands,” the princess said. “Is this true?”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” answered Lady Aislinn. “His name is Bellarand and he’s—”

Allarion stepped forward. “Gossiping in the stables and making a general nuisance of himself.”

The humans all looked at him owlishly, the princess’s guards twitching at his sudden appearance. Honestly, he was light on his feet, but they should have seen him coming. He wasn’t as tall as the orcs milling about the castle courtyard, but he was certainly tall enough to catch attention.

He grinned, trying to put the humans at ease, but this only seemed to make them blink more.

So strange. His grinning often elicited such reactions. Perhaps he ought to give it up.

Composing herself, Lady Aislinn swiftly made introductions. Allarion bit back his amusement watching the princess struggle to keep her mouth from falling open at meeting a fae.

“Grant me a moment with the happy couple, and I will personally introduce you to Bellarand,” Allarion promised. “And he’ll be on his best behavior.”

He didn’t miss how Lady Aislinn and Hakon exchanged worried looks, but the princess only giggled and agreed, bobbing her head to Lady Aislinn before heading off in the direction of the stables.

When he had them alone, Allarion bowed, his dark cloak sweeping over the cobblestones. Straightening, he tossed one side over his shoulder, revealing the deep blue velvet of his tunic, a sign of his new allegiance to the Darrows.

“My congratulations,” said Allarion. “Weddings are always happy days. I hope you may join the revelry soon.”

“I’ve been promised a few dances,” Lady Aislinn quipped, peering up at Hakon with arched brows.

The halfling’s ears went ruddy in a blush. How fascinating. Truly, humans and orcs were so expressive, changing colors with their moods. Their brows too were always moving, always revealing their innermost thoughts.

And even if they were good at controlling their colors and brows, their scents always gave them away. The acidity of anger, the tang of jealousy, the sweetness of affection, it all touched Allarion’s sensitive nose with truth.

He scented nothing but happiness from Lady Aislinn and her groom, though he could tell they were a tad wary of his presence still. It would take time for them to acclimate to him, just as he had much to learn of their kinds.

He hoped a human azai would speed his education along.

“I won’t keep you long. I only wanted to inform you that I have chosen my promise.”

Hakon’s expression hardened, and curiously, he pulled his new bride tighter to his side.

Allarion watched dispassionately, unsure what the half-orc found disagreeable. He was the one who made the promise, after all. “Don’t worry yourself. It’s nothing for you to do. Not yet, at least.”

“I hope you mean to stay within the bounds of the law,” Lady Aislinn warned him.

“I’ll do my utmost,” Allarion said, laying his hand over his heart. His own promise. Or at least, as close to one as he was willing to make without actually handing over a precious promise. Fae were governed by their promises, bound to their word by magic. Unable to break them, or to lie, the fae had learned to be guarded with not only their promises but their words.

“What is it you want me to do?” asked Hakon, apparently not assured by Allarion’s assurance.

“That remains to be seen. For now, nothing.” He smiled again, finding the sudden tension quite amusing. “I have chosen a mate for myself. I have had my eye on her a while now, and weddings have a way of invigorating sentiment. I intend to pursue and claim her.”

He turned his gaze to find the object of his new affections, and Hakon and Lady Aislinn followed. At the far side of the courtyard, a handful of barmaids milled about, helping the castle staff serve beer and cider.

There.

He spotted her easily amongst the crowd.

Molly.

A peculiar name.

Everything about her was so totally anathema to a fae, from her brown curls cut short to her shoulders, her warm tanned skin and brown freckles patterning her nose and cheeks, and most especially her buxom figure testing the integrity of her embroidered bodice. Her smiles were often, her colors were warm and intoxicating, and her scent…

Allarion first spied her drawing water from a well in one of the city squares. Inexplicably drawn to the way her plush mouth moved as she spoke with other women, he’d discreetly followed her back to a tavern. Nothing distinguished it from other establishments like it throughout the city—but the others didn’t have her .

Allarion didn’t imbibe—he’d no need to. Still, he’d taken to coming at least once a fortnight to sit near the back, an untouched tankard before him, just to see her .

He wasn’t the only one who came to see her. The tavern crowded full most nights, and Molly kept them laughing and drinking with her wit and liveliness. There was a particular way she tossed her hair…and how she twisted her body around chairs and tables so gracefully…and how she bent over when delivering the drinks…

It stirred something in Allarion he hadn’t felt in…centuries, probably. He’d partaken in his share of pleasures—one partner, multiple, orgies, as well as years of celibacy. A fae lived so long, they had ample time to explore what pleased them most. Yet, as the magic soured with the lengthening of Amaranthe’s reign, desire for anything shriveled inside him.

Molly reignited what had once been dead with a lopsided smile and jaunty sway of her ample backside.

Fae could be known for their avariciousness; he’d never desired wealth nor acclaim, but since seeing her, what he desired above all was Molly.

It was the perfect solution. A human azai who awoke his instincts and interest would surely hasten a bond to the land and therefore his ultimate goal. That she incited his black blood to burning only made it sweeter.

The couple didn’t seem overly pleased to see that his plan now had a purpose.

Watching them carefully, Allarion said, “Your promise shall be to smooth my way if an opportunity arises—and if not, then to at least not interfere.”

A tendon kicked in the half-orc’s neck.

“Very well,” said Hakon. “I wish you luck in your courting.”

That was all he needed.

“Thank you, my friend.” Allarion clapped Hakon’s shoulder before taking Lady Aislinn’s hand and kissing the back. “I look forward to seeing you at the next council meeting, heiress. Hopefully as a mated man.”

Lady Aislinn blinked in bemusement but finally nodded.

With a final farewell, Allarion left the couple, satisfied that he had gotten all he wanted.

As he made for the stables to introduce the precocious princess to Bellarand, he couldn’t help chuckling to himself, though. For as strange as he found humans and orcs and the others, they seemed to find him infinitely stranger.

How fascinating.