Page 4 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“Why?” said Beau, wiping blackberry sauce from his chin. “What happened six months ago?”
“My son was taken,” Owen explained. “Right after my wife died.”
The table went quiet.
“Taken?” Juliana asked eventually. “How? And by whom?”
“Dwarves,” Owen hissed, as if the very word was filthy. “They fled to the northern mountains with my boy, Caerwyn. My soldiers gave chase, of course, but it was winter, and those dwarves are tricky devils. They led them on a wild goose chase until the path closed up with snow.”
Aislinn couldn’t imagine a world where a bit of snow prevented passage. Whilst magic was not one of her greatest skills, she could summon enough fire with a click of her fingers to burn through most things given time.
“Path opened up again a few months back,” Owen continued, “but by then, they were long gone. I hoped, at first, that they would want to bargain with us—but we’ve had no word from them. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact he’s probably dead.”
Once more, silence settled over the table.
“You’ll pardon me, Your Majesty,” continued Hawthorn, “but had you done anything to anger the dwarves? I will admit I have not had many dealings with them.”
Owen shook his head. “None that I can think of. We knew there was a band of them living up in the mountains, but they’d never bothered us before.”
It was curious behaviour, Aislinn admitted, but much like her father, she didn’t know much about them. There were only a few dwarves living outside of their fortress—a great kingdom somewhere beneath Winter, one of the regions of Faerie—but no fae had set foot there for a century. There was some tentative alliance between them, but it mostly amounted to mutual neglect, an agreement to completely ignore one another.
Beau probably knew more, but he was currently feeding tiny strips of pheasant to the cat that had managed to crawl under the table.
“Interesting,” Hawthorn said, running a hand under his chin, “I wonder, King Owen… might you permit one of my party to examine the trail? I cannot promise anything will come of it, of course, but they might be able to discoversomething.”
Owen’s frown increased. “One of your party?”
“My daughter,” Hawthorn suggested. “She is our finest tracker, save perhaps her mother, and I prefer having her by my side, unless she’s dying for the hunt.”
“I am not dying for the hunt,” said Juliana, smiling.
Aislinn’s heart thumped. A chance to get out of here? To run wild and free, to track, to use her skills—
Owen blinked. “Are you sure, King Hawthorn? Skilled as you say she is, the mountains are no place for a young lady—”
Aislinn clicked her fingers, and flames burned at the tips. “What about young ladies who can summon fire on command?”
Owen’s eyes widened. “It seems I have underestimated you.”
Aislinn smirked, waving away her flames—which was just as well, she wasn’t sure how long she could keep that up. Beau was the magician in the family. She desperately,desperatelywanted to warn the king not to make a habit of underestimating women, but she also knew that the point of this visit was to try and make allies, not enemies.
Aislinn didn’t have her father’s silver tongue or her mother’s confidence.
But she could find the King’s stupid son, if he was still alive. She could.
“It happens, my liege,” she said, forcing a smile, “but I assure you, I can do this. If your son is alive, I will bring him home.”
Shortlyaftermakingherdeclaration, a young gentleman in a red doublet caught Aislinn’s eye. He was handsome, in a rough, mortal sort of way. She’d had mortal lovers before. She was not immune to their broader, more developed bodies.
“Your Highness,” he said, coming over to the table, “I am Lord Osian of Aberdyfi. Would you care for a dance?”
Aislinn stared at him. “No.”
Hawthorn coughed, leaning towards her and whispering in her. “Our alliance is a tentative one, daughter. It does not do to insult our host’s guests.”
“He asked me to dance. I do not wish to. What am I supposed to say?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of a way.”
