Page 2 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“What?”
“I require your horse.”
“Butwhy?”
“I wish to ride beside your mother in the starry-eyed manner of our youth. Perhaps she’ll even scowl at me for old times’ sake. Ah, there it is. Delightful.”
Aislinn groaned, but did as she was bid, dismounting and casting the reins in her father’s direction. It did no good to argue, especially on small matters, and she’d had the horse most of the morning.
She still grumbled under her breath as she climbed in the carriage, and the journey resumed.
Beau looked up at her, Hecate purring contentedly in his lap. “You seem cross. Do you want to stroke the cat?”
“I don’t want to stroke the cat, Beau!”
“What do you want, then?”
Aislinn sighed, slumping back in her seat.Not to be going to the mortal world. Not to be preparing for endless parades and people either mocking me or walking on eggshells around me.
Beau didn’t get it, partly because he was a boy and a lot of the expectations of the mortal world didn’t affect him, but also partly because he just didn’t notice that sort of thing and liked people in general an awful lot more than anyone else in the family. People were never frightened ofhim—or if they were, it was never for long.
She sighed, leaning back in her seat, and staring wistfully out of the window. She wished she could transform into a bird and fly away from it all, but transforming was incredibly hard, difficult magic, and even though Aislinn was the future queen of Faerie, magic wasn’t really her forte.
There was nothing to do but wait and wish.
Two hours later, the party arrived at the gates of Afelcarreg Castle, home of King Owen. It was, much like everywhere else, a place of stone and iron, leeched of colour, more prison than palace. No wonder the mortals decorated themselves with flashy jewels and gaudy patterns; the clothing of the courtiers was the one drop of colour waiting to greet them in the courtyard.
King Owen met them on the steps, as did the entirety of his staff. He was a portly gentleman with silver hair and a red face, wearing crimson robes and a gold crown, both heavily embellished yet poorly crafted.
“King Hawthorn, Queen Juliana!” he said, greeting them as if they were old friends rather than tentative acquaintances. “You had a pleasant journey, I hope?”
“The weather was fair,” Hawthorn agreed. “Until recently.”
A thin drizzle had washed over the flagstones, turning them silver. Further introductions were delayed under the rush to get inside. Servants twittered nervously around the party, giving them a wide berth as they were led into the castle and escorted straight into the main hall, a room strung with banners. Despite the colour—and Aislinn’s half-fae eyes—it seemed impossibly gloomy.
They were seated at the head table, pewter plates hastily laid out in front of them. Aislinn wondered how long food would take. For all that mortals had so few years in which to live, everything seemed to takesolonghere.
“My children,” Hawthorn said, turning to introduce them properly. “My daughter Aislinn, and my son Beau.”
“Ah, the crown prince, I take it?” Owen said, ignoring Aislinn.
Hawthorn’s brow furrowed before Aislinn’s could. “Actually, Aislinn is our firstborn. She shall inherit the throne one day, so long as she wishes it.”
Owen raised an eyebrow. “Crown princess, eh? How peculiar. You’ll not hear me say a woman can’t rule, though. My late wife managed it for many years.” He gestured to a tapestry nearby, where a dark-haired woman was rendered in thread. “My Gwyn,” he said. “Gone these six months past. Castle hasn’t been the same without her.”
“My condolences,” said Hawthorn.
Owen looked down, but only briefly. He finally looked Aislinn in the eyes. “You’ll be looking for a husband to rule alongside you, I expect?”
“I am in no rush,” Aislinn returned, hoping she didn’t sound too annoyed. Why were the mortal world so obsessed with marriage? She’d yet to visit a mortal castle and not be asked a similar question, or worse—have someone try to make her a highly unflattering offer. “I have centuries to play with, after all.”
The food arrived, but Aislinn found she had no stomach for it. She speared a piece of roast pork with her fork and held it there.
“And what will you fill those centuries with?” Owen smiled, as if he found the idea of a woman doing anything with her time a novelty.
“I fail to see how my time would be better filled by ahusband.”
Owen laughed. “Sorry, Princess, I am merely unused to conversing with young, unmarried women—youareyoung, I take it? Hard to tell with the fae.”
