Page 55 of The Sword & the Stone

I looked around at the Hunt gathered around us. They were both terrifying and breathtakingly beautiful. One fae had hair that moved as if caught in an invisible breeze, each strand a different hue of the rainbow, but his limbs were made of whatcould only be described as tree branches. Another had intricate patterns etched into their stone-like skin. A female had wings like a dragonfly, iridescent and delicate, fluttering gently behind her.

Their armor was equally mesmerizing, seeming to be crafted from the elements themselves. One wore a breastplate that appeared to be made of intricately woven leaves, while another had gauntlets that shimmered like ice. A helm adorned with twisting vines and delicate flowers rested on the head of a particularly fierce-looking male with eyes so black they were depthless.

Idly, I wondered how a breastplate made of leaves could be beneficial in a fight.

Even their weapons were works of art, each one unique. I saw swords with blades that seemed to be forged from starlight, bows that looked as if they had been carved from the bones of ancient beasts, and spears tipped with crystals that pulsed with energy.

The commander stepped forward, his piercing gaze sweeping over us. "We must move out," he declared, his voice deep and resonant, carrying an undercurrent of power that seemed to make the very air tremble. "Queen Tatiana is expecting you, and we’ve wasted time here long enough."

He turned to Lancelot, Galahad, and Gawain, tilting his head in a gesture of respect. "It’s only due to my regard for you as former knights of the Seelie Court that your companions remain unbound. Do not make me regret this decision."

Lancelot bowed his head in acknowledgment, his grip on my waist tightening almost imperceptibly. "You have my gratitude, Commander."

The commander's gaze lingered on us for a moment longer before he turned, mounting his Elhorn in one fluid motion. Therest of the Hunt followed suit, their ethereal mounts pawing at the ground, eager to be off.

The Wild Hunt moved around us like a silent, dangerous royal escort, their massive mounts leaving no hoofprints on the mossy ground. As we rounded a bend in the path, the trees parted like a curtain, revealing a sight that stole the breath from my lungs.

Before us was a sprawling palace in the trees. The walls were crafted from what looked like living wood, as if the trees themselves had grown around the fae, creating archways, corridors, grand rooms and balconies. Windows of stained glass cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the ground, painting the earth in hues of amethyst, sapphire, and emerald.

The path led directly to a grand arched doorway, flanked by two towering statues. They were Elhorns, rearing up on their hind legs, their spiraling horns stretching towards the heavens.

Fae were everywhere. The hustle and bustle of a city full of vibrant life was familiar, reminding me of Camelot, only…cleaner and more alien.

Eyes followed our procession as we were led through the heart of the inner city, past shops, markets, and homes. I suddenly felt incredibly aware that I was dressed in dirty, smelly riding clothes that had seen far better days.

The Wild Hunt dismounted once we reached a massive archway crafted from stone. Lancelot helped me down from my Elhorn, his hand lingering on my waist for a moment longer than necessary. I felt the warmth of his touch even through the layers of my clothing, and it had me looking up into his eyes in surprise.

“Remember, stay close to me,” he whispered, his lips close to mine.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one in charge here? I’m a queen, remember?”

Lancelot's lips quirked into a smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?"

I couldn't stop my answering grin, even as nerves fluttered in my stomach. "Unfortunately, it’s permanent."

He laughed, but before he could respond, the commander of the Wild Hunt stepped forward, his antlered helm glinting in the soft light. "Queen Tatiana is ready for you," he said, leaving no room for discussion. "Follow me."

He led us through the archway and into a vast hall, its ceiling so high it seemed to disappear into the shadows. The tree bark walls were lined with tapestries in every color imaginable.

As we walked, our footsteps echoed on the polished mosaic floor, inlaid with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change with each step. Fae of all kinds moved through the halls, their beauty and grace leaving me awestruck. Some had wings like butterflies, others had horns, and still others had skin that shimmered like precious gems.

At the end of the hall was a massive set of double doors, crafted from wood so dark it was almost black. The doors creaked open, revealing not the grand throne room I expected, but a stunning library that seemed to go on forever.

Towering shelves lined the walls, reaching up to a ceiling wrapped in a warm, golden glow. Scrolls and books filled the shelves by the hundreds. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and ink, mixed with a sweet aroma that reminded me of honey and spices, with hints of wildflowers and autumn leaves. It enveloped me, leaving me a little dizzy.

In the center stood a massive tree, its trunk so wide that a dozen people could hold hands around it. Its deep brown barkshimmered with gold veins, and its branches spread out like welcoming arms, draped in leaves of vibrant greens, rich reds, and burnished golds.

I spotted a figure beneath its sprawling branches. She wore a gown woven from nature itself—deep green leaves, vibrant petals, and shimmering threads that caught the light like dew on a spider’s web. Her hair flowed like spun gold, crowned with delicate blooms. Behind her was a pair of ivory wings that reminded me of a butterfly.

Surrounding her were hooded figures in rich purple robes, each wielding slender staffs topped with glowing crystals.

As we approached, she turned, and I was met by eyes the color of the summer sky—piercing blue. Her features were regal; high cheekbones, a slender nose, and a gentle smile, her skin a warm clay hue that contrasted beautifully with her bright hair.

"Welcome, Knights of Camelot," she said. "Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, Percival, Tristan—it's good to see you all again."

My knights stepped up around me, and as one single unit, they brought their closed fists up to their chest in a sign of respect. Not a bow, but an acknowledgement, I noticed.

Queen Tatiana's eyes widened as they locked onto mine, her breath hitching in surprise. She took a swift step forward. The cloaked figures parted without a sound to let her pass. It was almost as if the Seelie Queen embodied the essence of her own kingdom. As if she were the beating heart of it all.

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