Page 24 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
CHAPTER 17
On the far side of Elphame, high atop a rocky cliff, a door opened.
From a distance, the swirling flutter in the sky might have been taken for a flock of starlings, their undulating swarm mesmerizing. On closer inspection, one might think the pointed wings belonged to bats.
The monster watched them swirl, intoxicated with the power of bringing them forth, the riders on their backs stirred into a frenzy at the shout of their liberator’s voice.
Power surged though the monster, invincibility thrumming in her veins, hot and heady.
But a memory still lingered, persistent, tugging, trying to break through the rising crescendo of flapping wings, to remind the monster.
A promise.
The monster paused.
The swirling flutter paused.
The promise, delicate and quiet, tried to rise.
The monster turned her head to the side, curious. Longing pulled at her breastbone—but then the dark flutter in the sky screamed, the riders raising fists, their howls surging, and the monster breathed deeply and smiled, the tug of the promise buried beneath the luscious rush of power.
CHAPTER 18
Arosy hue bled over the palace grounds as the sun descended and the landscape glowed with soft pink light, a luminescence that centuries of artists had sought to capture on canvas. The sculpted balustrade of animals lining either side of the grand staircase appeared to come to life in the shifting light—the lion ready to leap onto Sun Court, the dragon ready to soar above it.
Twilight and evening were the favored times of day for most fae, but Tyghan was only focused on the business of finding his sister. He spotted her at Sky Pavilion, leaning on the banister, framed by a panoramic view of the city, but he noted her focus was fixed elsewhere—on a circle of her knights congregating on the plaza below them. He was sure it was only one who held her attention. The knights were oblivious to her gaze. Their attention was fixed on the next plaza just below them where a dozen fae were beginning to pluck harps while others danced to their music.
“I heard they’re finally back,” Melizan said, without turning her head. “But you didn’t bring her back yourself, I see. Bad form, Tygh.”
“Almost back. They’re still in the city. But they’ll be here soon,” Tyghan replied, ignoring her jab. “They made it through the Wilds without incident, but I’m told the girl fainted when they passed through the portal.”
Melizan laughed, her long silver tresses shimmering in the twilight. “Well, isn’t she a precious flower? Not very flashy, though. And those clothes.” Melizan wrinkled her nose. “Practically rags. Her trousers were shredded. But she’s pleasant enough on the eyes—like her mother.”
“The girl doesn’t look anything like Maire.”
“I didn’t say she did.” She turned to face him. “And you do know she’s not a girl. Every inch of her is fully a woman. Surely you noticed. Everyone else standing on the porch as she scampered off certainly noticed.”
He noticed, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “Semantics,” he answered.
Melizan snorted. “Semantics with curves. Either way, you’ll have to start calling her by her name eventually.”
Tyghan shook his head. “What kind of name is Bristol? I’ve never heard of it. Her sisters have equally strange names.”
“So Kierus and Maire fully embraced the absurdities of the other side. Somehow, I’m not surprised. The other sisters weren’t useful?”
“According to Eris, no. Outliers concurred. Some Tuathan traits, a musician and a scholar, but they couldn’t find a treasure on their own bed without a map.”
His sister pursed her lips at this bit of news. “The steward of Elphame grows increasingly nervous and annoying,” she said, like it was Tyghan’s job to soothe the steward.
He was fed up with the frequent missives, too. He didn’t need any more reminders that the Choosing Ceremony was only three months away. And now there was a barrage of desperate missives from him reminding them about Beltane Eve too—as if Tyghan wasn’t aware. The annual gathering of kingdoms was his last chance to garner kingdom support before the Choosing Ceremony. The timeframe pressed Tyghan on all sides every day. It meant every decision he made had to be the right one. The steward’s nervous ramblings had arrived with regularity ever since the queen of Elphame died one year short of fulfilling her hundred-year reign. Her steward had been forced to take over her duties until the next Choosing Ceremony, and he wasn’t handling it well. As the ceremony drew closer, it was one duty in particular that was causing him distress—passing the Cauldron of Plenty on to the successor. Everyone feared it would be King Kormick. With his newly acquired army, he was unbeatable—and Fomorians weren’t known for their benevolent governance.
“He shouldn’t have taken on the position of steward,” Tyghan answered.
“But he did. Let’s hope your newest recruit can end his whining. The novices we have so far are tragically weak, and the days are quickly passing.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to take Keats on with your recruits. The throne room is full of petitioners, and I’m busy with—”
Melizan belted out another laugh, drawing the attention of the knights below. Cosette’s eyes swept upward, landing on both of them. She ran her fingers through her emerald hair in a seductive gesture and began making her way up the winding stairs.
