Page 1 of This Midsummer Heart
Chapter one
The Last Runeships
Titaine
Summerarriveswithatrio of scorpions scuttling across my private study’s burgundy rug, their glossy black bodies barely visible outside the twin squares of sunlight on the floor. I frown at them from where I perch atop my desk. Such creatures should not have been permitted to enter the House of Fetes.
“Vervaine!” I call, nervously running my fingers through a swath of straight brown hair that puddles in my lap. “It’s happened again.”
Vervaine, who at least has kept her sharp hearing, buzzes into the room, dustpan already in hand. I have the distinct impression this trio aren’t the only intruders in the central building today. Sweat slicks Vervaine’s brow instead of glittery dew, and her wings sag at her back.
One by one, each of my servants is fading.
I sigh from a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “Vervaine, this won’t do.”
“I’ll get them quickly, my lady,” the diminutive fete replies, “never fear. If we work at it, I’m sure we can pool enough magic to get the wards back up in no time.”
“I don’t mean that—though you should get them—yes, over there!” I hug myself a little tighter. “We can’t keep living like this.”
Brushing the last scorpion into the dustpan, Vervaine doesn’t look up. “I don’t believe that symposium for a second, my lady. For one thing, they were all humans! What do they know about magic vanishing?”
“To not believe them would be ignoring the obvious,” I reply, twisting my hair around one fist. “We know the gods have vanished—only the small ones remain. We know what’s happening to us. Magic is becoming ungovernable—and that means unusable. What is a fete without magic? What will become of the House of Fetes?”
“I’ll be right back, my lady, hold your worrying.”
I hiss at her quick dismissal. Even my subordinates, who used to look at me as if I was the sun itself instead of just its lady, think I am overreacting. Yet their wings droop, their magic slips away, and the House of Fetes is surely becoming little more than a cluster of buildings for the governance of increasingly ordinary fae. Even our grounds, an oasis in the bustling city of Avalonne, are losing their magic.
This is not at all like the House I built. I rose to the fore of all fetes through my studies and command of magic, rulingforbeings of magic. Like their House, fetes are fearsome, beautiful, and full of an undeniable allure.
While it is clear to me that I lost all of my appeal for a certain someone years ago, I would never expect it to happen to those I rule over.
No one looks at me as if I’m the sun anymore, even as its power continues to suffuse me with a golden glow. I light up no one’s nights. I’m beginning to feel it in my bones—alongside what I fear to be mortal-like aches in my joints—that I am losing my beauty and vitality along with some of my magic.
Vervaine returns alarmingly fast. Narrowing my eyes at my secretary, I wonder whether she deposited the scorpions far enough from the House.
“We should plant lavender,” Vervaine suggests. “It’s a human trick to keep the scorpions at bay.”
“Is that what we must resort to now, Vervaine? Human tricks?” I cannot help but say the words with distaste.
“If it works, then why not, my lady? What is there to lose?”
What is thereleftto lose,she means.
“Puk says they’ve been hanging it inside the House of Elves, too,” Vervaine adds, unhelpfully.
My lip curls. “You still speak to”—I swallow the urge to saythat traitor—“the goodfellow?”
Vervaine nods, her cheeks coloring slightly. Of course she has a fondness for Puk. Because having my secretary fall in with the enemy over some silly romance is just what I need.
Everything is falling apart. And here I am, cowering on a desk, not doing anything to stop the further diminishment of the House of Fetes.
Get up, Titaine. The scorpions are gone!
After scanning the floor for other arachnid intruders—just to be safe—I slip off the desk, onto my bare feet. As one foot slides into a pool of light, I am suddenly certain that my skin, the golden, light olive brown of the fetes in the Isles, is losing its luster. There is little glow of magic left to compete with this bright natural light, only sallowness.
Ah, but when did I get so vain?
As if I need to ask. The moment I learned he’d taken up withher,I began to doubt everything about myself. Even five years later, I still can’t quite shake these worries about my appearance, as if, deep down, I am convinced that being more beautiful or more powerful would’ve changed the course of my mate-bond with Auberon.
