Page 15 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

“Shall we?” Rodney was holding his arm out to Aisling. She linked hers through it and rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. She felt steadier with him by her side, but she wished that she had Briar flanking her other hip as well.

As the two entered the mine, Aisling felt compelled to hold her breath, like some sort of dated superstition. They treaded carefully over the rubble, weaving to avoid the stagnant puddles that collected below rivulets of water dripping from the ceiling. To Aisling’s great relief, the Thin Place wasn’t very deep inside at all. It appeared outwardly as a caved-in tunnel, the stacked boulders blending seamlessly into the rest of the mine. She’d have passed right by if Rodney hadn’t stopped and turned her to face it. His mischievous grin was obvious even in the dark as he pulled her forward.

The Veil dragged across Aisling’s skin like a sticky cobweb as she passed through, invisible yet palpable enough for her to rub her hands across her face and down her arms as though to wipe it off. She was so preoccupied by the sensation that it took her a few seconds to register that they were standing in a forest of ancient,twisted pines. When she looked back, there was nothing but darkness. Two small creatures darted out of the tree line nearby, and Rodney urged her to follow them up the stone path ahead.

“Keep your eyes forward,” he said in her ear. “You need to look like you’ve been here before.”

She nodded, but it was difficult. She longed to stop and take everything in: the smell of the clean air, the woods, the mountains that she could just barely make out in the distance.

The path led to a structure that was even blacker than the night sky. The moon reflected off its shining surface, and as they entered, Aisling reached out and ran a hand across the wall. It was smooth and cool to the touch. The structure was built from slabs of obsidian, she realized. But inside, the space was small and empty save for a plain throne at the far end.

“Is this it?” she whispered. Rodney nodded towards the faeries, who’d disappeared into a hole in the ground from which a faint warm glow emanated. It was a spiral staircase, wide and worn and lit all the way down by flickering candles. Aisling understood then that the Undercastle was carved into the earth itself, at once both a structure of stone and a labyrinthine cave system. It was disorienting to imagine. The air grew heavier as they descended, laden with the scent of damp stone and soil. Rodney led confidently, but Aisling was quietly glad to have the tinkling laughter of the faeries ahead of them as their guide.

Finally, they grew close enough to hear the sounds of the revelry drifting towards them from a chamber at the end of the hall. Aisling gripped Rodney’s elbow a bit tighter; this dreamlike world she’dfound herself in was becoming more real by the second and she was unsure of whether she was entirely prepared for the night to come.

The throne room that opened up before them was decorated with boughs of silver pine and great swaths of shimmering black fabric. This time, Aisling couldn’t stop herself from gazing around in awe. The cavern was so vast she couldn’t even see the ceiling, the sounds of the celebration all echoing up into blackness. Twisted veins of quartz streaked the walls and glittered like stars.

“Welcome to the Unseelie Court, Ash,” Rodney said with a wide grin.

The spectacle left her breathless. The revelers, all adorned in strange and opulent attire, moved with an enchanting grace that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Their faces were an array of unearthly beauty, sharp cheekbones and glimmering eyes not dissimilar from those Aisling wore now. Their skin, ranging in shades from alabaster to amethyst to deep midnight blue, shone in the warm candlelight. The air was thick with a heady blend of fragrances—smoky incense, the earthy scent of damp moss, and the sweetness of forbidden fruits. Thin strains of a haunting tune woven by a trio of winged musicians swirled through the cavern, coaxing even the most reserved of guests to join in the dance. Fae of every size and race twirled and spun around each other in giddy circles.

Rodney led her through the crush, aiming for the far side where smaller groups clustered around a banquet table laden with a whole garden’s worth of plump, shining fruits. Aisling was keenly aware of the intensity in Rodney’s eyes. Even he, the ever-confident Veilwalker, knew to treadlightly here.

“Be careful where you step and to whom you speak,” Rodney instructed, his voice barely audible over the clamor of the festivities. “Do not agree to anything and do not ask for names.”

He filled them each a heavy goblet with an amber liquid and swept Aisling out of the way of a large being that more closely resembled the trunk of a tree than a living creature. Before she could ask, he passed her the goblet and said, “A spriggan.”

“This is safe to drink?” She peered into the goblet. The liquid inside shimmered slightly, a thick, molten gold.

He nodded and took a sip of his own. “Honey wine. You’ll like it.”

Aisling touched it to her lips, barely. It was sweet, cloyingly so, but by the time she’d licked the taste of it off of her lips she was already craving more. When Rodney’s elbow dug into her ribs, she looked towards where he was gesturing subtly with his chalice.

At the head of the cavern on a rough, rocky dais, she could just see the ornate crest of the Unseelie King’s throne, carved from black obsidian similar to the structure they’d entered above. The musicians’ lilting song was drawing to an end, and the revelers slowed their steps. Despite how hard they’d been dancing, not a single one was out of breath. The male who had been seated on the throne stood and moved to the front of the dais.

The Unseelie King cut an imposing figure, standing tall and broad-shouldered with chiseled features and piercing eyes that swept over the room. Silence rippled outward from the path of his gaze. His silver-white hair fell well past his shoulders and framed a sharp, angular face and heavy brows. His skin, though not colorful likesome, was pale, almost translucent. Even from a distance, it seemed to Aisling to radiate a cold aura.

“Tonight, as the dark embrace of winter looms, we gather this Nocturne in the name of the Low One. We stand united before Him as denizens of the night, and we find our strength in its depths. I come to you not as your king, but as His vessel and loyal servant of the shadows.” The king’s voice, deep and velvet-smooth, rang out clearly as he delivered his speech to a rapt audience. “But tonight, let us pay homage to the power of the shadows that resides within each one of us, a force both violent and beautiful. Let this revelry be a celebration of our resilience, for we have weathered the trials and tribulations of the past.

“The battles ahead loom large and fraught with peril. The Seelie Court seeks to encroach upon our dominions, their insipid light a threat to the delicate balance of our existence. But fear not, for we are the children of darkness, and the shadows are our sanctuary.” He paused to let his words sink in. Aisling, too, was gripped by his address. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his brooding stare, the cool countenance with which he held himself.

“This winter comes as a harbinger of change—a time to hone our prowess, to sharpen our blades, and to nurture the seeds of cunning and strategy within us all. Our actions will echo through the ages, and our legacy will endure. Let His reign be eternal.”

“Let His reign be eternal,” echoed the revelers solemnly.

Then the music began again, and the crowd resumed their dance. The Unseelie King sank back into his throne,out of view.

“Bit dramatic, isn’t he?” Rodney was looking sideways at Aisling with a smirk that reminded her why they were there in the first place.

She scoffed into her goblet. “You think?”

She had her plan, and she’d seen her target. All she needed to do now was execute.

“We need to get you in front of him.” Rodney refreshed their goblets. After only one, Aisling could feel heat flooding her veins and warming her cheeks. She wondered idly what color she’d blush under her verdant skin.

Rodney was born for this: the sport, the maneuvering. He was the master in this bout of chess, and he could hardly wait to get the game started. The only way he could have been more excited was if he were on the board himself, rather than instructing Aisling’s movements.

“I don’t know, this whole thing just feels so…manipulative.” Now having seen the king in the flesh, Aisling was losing her nerve. He looked every bit as cruel as he’d been described. Strikingly beautiful, she’d admit, but frightening.

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