Page 1 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Adawnofsilverstreaks and lavender clouds stretched out over the rolling fields, fooling Princess Aislinn, just for a moment, that they were going somewhere else. Somewhere bright and wondrous, exotic and inspiring—
Somewhere other than a cold mortal castle where everyone either feared or hated her.
Aislinn had been to the mortal world a few times before. She remembered it as stony and grey, a blank, dull place,where everything looked exactly the same, like an artist painting with only three colours but an oddly creative imagination when it came to shades of brown. The clothes were terrible. The attitudes to anything fae and interesting? Even worse.
Her stomach rumbled. They’d had a simple breakfast of venison and honeyed figs a few hours earlier, but that felt like a long time ago now, and the food awaiting her in Afelcarreg would likely not settle her hunger much. The mortals had a way of cooking that seemed to suck the flavour from even the finest game.
She stopped her mount—a fine palomino stallion called Snapdragon—and paused over the hills, staring at the castle in the distance that was to be her prison for the next two weeks.
Just two weeks,she reminded herself.You are immortal. In a century, this will be but a sneeze.
But Aislinn was only nineteen years old, and time still moved slowly for her.
Her mother stopped shortly in front of her, glancing over her shoulder. Though there were nearly fifty years between them, Queen Juliana Ardenthorn looked little over twenty-five, the two of them passing more easily for sisters. Their faces were similar, though Aislinn bore flecks of green in her sea-blue eyes, and whilst both bore locks of thick brown hair, Juliana’s was lighter and tawny, Aislinn’s more chestnut red.
Although mortal-born, Juliana’s ageing had slowed when she married Prince Hawthorn, now the King of Faerie, and whilst she still had the rounded ears and never healed as quickly as her subjects, she seemed far more fae than human.
“Nervous, daughter?” Juliana asked.
“I am rarely nervous,” Aislinn replied, glad that for all she couldn’t lie, at least she wasn’t forced into honesty. Shewasnervous, and she hated it. She just wasn’t nervousoften.
A blood-curdling shriek sounded from behind them, followed by a loud thunk and the braying of horses. The two women turned; the royal carriage, whilst not under attack, had come to a sudden halt.
“Oh dear,” Juliana said, “the boys seem to have run into a spot of trouble, should we perhaps return to them?”
Aislinn knew her brother’s screams well enough to know he was not in any real danger. This was a surprise shriek, not anoh-dear-I-appear-to-have-set-myself-on-fire-againshriek, or anoh-dear-mortal-perilshriek. Sure enough, when the carriage door was wrenched back, it revealed nothing but Aislinn’s father and brother pressed at opposite sides of the box, and a small, frost-eared black cat sitting on the floor between them.
“Spirits,” Juliana said, rolling her eyes. “I thought you were being attacked.”
“Racing to my rescue again, wife?” said Hawthorn, blue eyes gleaming. “Some things never change…”
“I was more worried about him,” Juliana said, pointing to their son.
Beau climbed off the seat, brushing down his blue-green doublet. He looked a lot like their father, with a smooth face and sharp cheekbones, and the same deep-sea eyes, though his dark hair didn’t quite reach the raven-feather depths of Hawthorn’s. His appearance was softer too, and he had on more than one occasion—particularly when he was in a more feminine mood—been mistaken for a girl.
“I’m fine,” Beau said. “It’s just Hecate.”
He bent down to pick up the feline and slid back into his seat.
“You brought yourcatwith you?” Aislinn asked, wondering how she’d not noticed her for the past several days of their journey.
“Ofcoursenot!” Beau insisted, stroking behind her ears. “She must have… climbed into our luggage, or something.”
Juliana sighed. “Are we still sure that she’s a cat?”
Everyone paused. They were all quite certain that Hecate was not, in fact, a normal cat. For starters, she’d been around since Beau and Aislinn were children, and had always been old. She had a tendency to disappear for months on end and reappear as if nothing had happened. She also had a way of looking at you as if she were peering into the depths of your soul, but, as Hawthorn had pointed out many times before, a lot of cats did that.
Most likely she was some kind of cat-seelie hybrid, but as she seemed benign, and Beau was particularly fond of her, her presence was tolerated in the castle.
It was not the first time she’d joined them for a road trip. It was, however, the first time she’d remained undetected for so long.
“Is everything all right, Your Majesties?” came the voice of Miriam of Bath, Captain of the Guard, and Hawthorn and Juliana’s most trusted knight. Like Aislinn, she’d clearly learnt to detect the differences in Beau’s screams over the years of loyal service. Her husband, Barney, had been their nanny growing up.
“Quite all right, Miriam,” Hawthorn returned. “It’s just the cat.”
“Again?” Miriam groaned. “Never mind. Shall I restart the procession?”
“One moment.” Hawthorn turned to Aislinn. “Trade places with me.”
