Rhoswyn

The inner city passes in a blur. There are so many shops and people and I just can’t see all of it no matter how hard I try. But when we start climbing the hill up towards the palace wall—the last of the three great walls—and cross the bridge over a shimmering moat, my nerves return. In the gatehouse, another great portcullis looms over us as the huge doors slam shut behind us, dimming the noise of the crowd beyond it.

Now that the procession is over, Jaro rides up to my side and strokes a piece of hair from my face.

“That was too much,” he says, seeming frustrated with himself. “We should’ve let you settle in properly before parading you past all those people.”

I shake my head. “Honestly, I’m coping.”

Coping is a good term. Subjective enough that my inability to lie doesn’t kick in, and yet positive enough to make it seem like I enjoyed myself—which I did. I’m not lying. I’m fine… except for the headache, the sense of overwhelming dread hanging over me like a cloud, and the tiredness creeping in on me… but Jaro doesn’t need to worry about those.

He raises one eyebrow in a move that screams disbelief, but he refrains from calling me out on my evasive answer.

The gates in front of us swing open, revealing the final district of Elfhame.

“Home.” Titania sounds so wistful when she says it, and I can’t help a glance back at her. Her face is soft with some unnamed emotion as she catches my gaze. With a sad wink, she disappears.

Here the architecture switches from wood to stone, but it’s no less organic or delicate for it.

Florian leads us forward, past regal columns strung with vines of greenery. The gatehouse, the temple, and the palace form three points of a triangle, surrounded by an untamed forest that runs right up to the protective wall. It seems strange to be in a place that’s so open, after how crammed the inner city was, but it’s a welcome relief. The path we’re on runs in a circle around the large pond which forms the centre of this district, and I trace it with my eyes, following the loop until it branches away towards the temple on our left.

The main temple of Elfhame is immense, but still manages to feel welcoming despite its size. It stretches up towards the darkening sky, almost twice as tall as the walls around it but shining with light from within. Crowned with a stained glass roof and strung with vines and moss that seem to embed it into the nature which surrounds it. Maybe I’m imagining it after being in Siabetha’s temple, but I think I can hear the chimes from here. Kitarni stares at the building with a steely expression, before turning to me.

“My lady, I must take my leave to meet with the priests.”

“You’re going?” I hate how small my voice sounds.

The dryad’s bark-covered face warps into a smile. “You have your Guard and your brother. You won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll return in the morning once I’ve sorted the temple out.”

There’s something she’s not saying, but I don’t have the strength to push for answers right now. All I can do is watch as she bows her head in respect, peels away from us, and rides left around the lake.

“If you keep staring after her, you won’t see the palace,” Jaro murmurs.

I half smile at him. “The one made for a Nicnevin who can actually fly?”

Jaro shrugs it off like it’s no big deal. “There are stairs for the rest of us—”

He’s cut off as Bree rides up between us, a wary expression on his face. “I can fly you anywhere you need to go, my lady. If you need me to, that is.”

I don’t know what it is about Bree, but every time our eyes meet, it feels significant. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t seem to meet the gaze of anyone else, or perhaps it's because of how brief each instant is. Hell, maybe it’s just because they’re that beautiful shade of green. Whatever it is, I can’t hold it for long without heat rushing to my cheeks.

The invisible contact distracts me so much that it takes me a second to realise what he’s offering. “Can you teach me?”

Bree hesitates, lips pursing, and my hopes fall. “My wings aren’t the same as yours.” He shrugs the collar of his shirt down and the tattoo of a raven hovering below his left ear gives me a wink before flapping its bird wings in a preening display. They’re gorgeous. Each iridescent black feather has been inked in painstaking detail. “The muscles we use to fly will be different, and I doubt learning to use them will be the same.”

My mouth tilts up as I realise what he’s saying. He can borrow wings from his raven just like he does with the ears of his panther—or cat-sìth, as Kitarni said it was called.

Wait. If it’s not a panther, then is that really a raven? I squint at it and then bite the inside of my cheek as I realise its beak is open wide, displaying rows of tiny black teeth and the plumage around its head is almost like a short mane, which I put down to the art before.

Definitely not quite a raven. My curiosity sparks as I imagine what he’d look like with black wings trailing behind him. How big are they? Because if his not-raven is anything like the beast he’s sitting on, I’m betting they’ll be huge.

“You’d be a dark angel with wings,” I whisper, then slap my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. That was rude.”

The púca just smiles. “I’ll show you sometime,” he promises. “Maybe your brother would be better to teach you.”

Florian’s head snaps around, zeroing in on me so quickly that it’s clear he was listening all along.

“Dawn,” is all he says.