Page 31 of Crowning of the Sword

“Don’t you want to go back to Earth? If you keep this up, you’ll lose yourself, you know. You won’t be anything.”

“I’ll be fae. And I can look at Earth in Cole’s mirror any time I want.”

She couldn’t even think why she would want to. Why see a place that didn’t have Cole in it?

“Cole’s mirror …” he said thoughtfully, and then with a braying snort, “Of course. That’s how he found you. But why you?”

What he said barely registered. She had no idea what he meant, and after a moment, he gave a muttered command, sending his horse into an abrupt about-face, and flew off without another word. She didn’t watch him go, just urged Farla to fly, faster and faster, back toward the distant tent, back towards Cole.

Farla landed gently on the green turf and gave a snort as if to say, “There you go.”

Ember laughed and patted her neck, thanking her, as two servants rushed toward them, one taking Farla’s bridle, the other unfastening Ember from her harness and helping her to the ground. Cole strode toward her, and she smiled, saying, “That was —”

She meant to say “fun” but one look at the dark expression on Cole’s face and the words died on her lips. “What’s happened? What’s the matter?”

“I saw you talking with him. We all did.”

She cast a quick glance around. All the fae nearby were silent, disapproving.

“I …” she didn’t know what to say. “He talked to me,” she finished inadequately. “And I told him he should have told you I was safe that day at the waterfall.”

As soon as she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. Cole’s face closed over and he folded his arms, waiting for her to continue.

“He helped me with the scylla. He burned it.”

She looked at the ground, unable to look him in the eye. It was a few moments before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was deathly quiet.

“Go back to the castle and wait for me there.”

She didn’t apologise. She said nothing at all. Instead, she did as he commanded and walked back to the castle alone, without even a guide to light the way.

Chapter 26

Cole kept her close after the training of the Winged Eagles, hardly able to bear having her out of his sight. When he was called away on business, he set two guards and Lily to accompany Ember wherever she went. He told her it was because a human might prove too much temptation for a mischievous fae who wanted to cause strife, but she suspected he just wanted to keep eyes on her. The constant vigilance chafed on her and she longed to slip away unseen for a few hours, but it was impossible. Training and entertaining filled the days, and every night, there was a dinner or a dance. Afterwards, Cole took her to his room. Some nights she didn’t even feel as though she wanted to have sex, but always, always, he would coax her into exploring new heights of sensation and arousal. Some nights she cried with pleasure, other nights she wept with pain, and in the morning, she was never entirely sure which was which. He drank from her as though she were the finest of wine and used her lust to satisfy his own. He couldn’t get enough of her. And with every night that passed, she lost a little more to him, just as Ashe had warned.

The castle grew busier as guests arrived for the tournament. Fae thronged the halls and gardens, and servants rushed here and there. She learned to recognise the various kingdoms from the attire they wore. The Sands were always inadequately dressed in the briefest of gauzy clothing, with daggers at their hips and gold jewellery glinting on their fingers, ankles, wrists, and throats. Tall and lithe, dark-skinned with flashing black eyes, they were elaborately polite and spoke with a lyrical turn of phrase that always had two or three obscure meanings tucked into the folds of their expansive poetry.

The Skies were aloof and taciturn, bundled up in tunics and pants of fleece and down, bows and arrows tucked into quivers slung over their shoulders. They hastened in packs, ever watchful for danger, although Cole had assured her that there would be no bloodshed in the castle under orders of the Adjudicator. All who caused trouble would suffer his wrath. It did not surprise Ember that the Adjudicator’s wrath didn’t extend to her; Cole had told her bluntly that she roamed the halls at her own risk, hence the guards.

The Seeds were closest to her original idea of fairies. They lived deep in the jungles and Lily explained, with an air of superior disdain, that they didn’t build palaces or even houses. They preferred to live in the open, moving along walkways strung between towering trees high in the forest canopy, and sleeping in mossy hollows and in hammocks under the stars. All wore soft fringed leather with silver tipped spears worn across their backs, and all were playful and light, prone to outbursts of laugher and chatter. The women wore their hair shining and loose; the men were bare-chested and tattooed, and they were uninhibited in all things: emotions, sex, conversation, feasting, dancing, killing. Even for fae, they seemed to wring every inch of pleasure from life, as though they measured their lives in units of enjoyment and the winner was the one who had the most fun.

She had met one ruler of the Stones, Sten, and had disliked him at first because he had immediately asked Cole if he could buy her. Cole had laughed at her outraged expression and told Sten that he couldn’t afford Ember at any price. That didn’t make her feel much better, but she had put on a pleasant smile so as not to offend this important guest, and when Cole was called away on some errand, she politely asked Sten if he wanted to see the gardens.

“Oh no,” said Sten. “There’s only one thing I want to see. The tree.”

She took him to the hall where the flaming tree stood and as they walked, he made her laugh with some harmless gossip about the Skies. She found herself warming to him. He was a kind man, solidly built, with a grey beard and a silver crown set with rubies to honour his partner Ruby, the other ruler of the Stones. His grizzled locks were at odds with his skin, which was as smooth and unlined as any of the fae, and she felt he was very old, much older than Cole.

She hadn’t been back to see the tree since that first time, but it was exactly the same, with branches and leaves that crackled and hissed. The heat from it fell across her like a warm caress and she moved closer to the tree, wanting to see the pendant up close. Sten hovered by the door, squinting against the heat.

“Come back,” he called to her. “You’re too pretty to scorch.”

She turned, surprised to see him a few metres behind her with his entourage, and she retreated to his side, although the heat didn’t bother her much at all.

“The winner of the tournament will be able to brave the fae fire and retrieve the pendant. Tana, the last Blade, is trapped in there still. He won’t die until the new second replaces him.”

Ember squinted at the pendant. She hadn’t realised the Blade was still alive inside. Were the shifting shapes mere shadows cast by a fae trying to get free?

She shivered, despite the heat of the room, and Sten laughed. “I think the inside is quite comfortable. I’m told it’s a palace, a luxurious place, albeit very quiet.”

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