SWNOVELS Prince of Then: Chapter 19
Holly
me,” yells Elden, his shaggy hair standing on end and making comical shapes as we ride down the hillside toward Eerdran Bay and the shores of the Emerald Sea.
The wind whips long, yellow locks around his throat as if it is trying to strangle him. Elden’s element is air, so he fights back playfully, entertaining us as our horses pick their way along the rocky path.
Stone walls rise up on either side of the pathway, tall in parts, so I cannot always see the ocean below or what lies around the corner, adding to the sense of adventure.
We giggle at Elden’s story of how his father nearly choked on laughter this morning after seven magpies stole his breakfast right from under his nose. Fyarn claims to despise this band of mischievous, regular morning visitors, but his son swears they are his greatest source of joy.
Turning a corner, we almost collide with the Prince of Talamh Cúig himself, who is heading toward the castle, Wren setting a leisurely pace up the hill. We pull our horses up sharply.
For a moment, Gade’s eyes flare wide, then he smooths his features into his usual mask of stoic arrogance. “Sister, Elden, Voreas,” he says, nodding at them. “Good morning.” His gaze rakes over me, down and up, then down and up again. “Human, what a surprise to see you outdoors and on horseback.”
“You can call me Holly. And why are you so surprised? Do you believe humans are so dull that we would prefer to stay cloistered in our rooms, moping and sewing instead of investigating a new and intriguing land?”
“No, I—”
“It is day five of my visit, and your family is taking me to meet some members of the Sea Court. Do you object?”
Voreas snickers, and Mern shushes him.
Gade smiles, looking alarmingly pleased with himself. “Not at all. In fact, I believe I will join you.” He swings Wren around and starts off down the hill. Over his shoulder he says, “Coming? Or have you suddenly remembered an urgent sewing project you must return to?”
Mern snorts and nudges Bee into a trot, the rest of us following close behind.
Frankly, I would prefer it if Gade didn’t accompany us. The mere sight of him causes me to relive the drunken kiss we shared on the balcony the other night in painful and explicit detail.
Out of the two of us, I suspect I was the only inebriated participant. I wonder what his excuse was.
I waste no time and maneuver my gray pony, Calypso, alongside Wren. “You’ve just come from the beach,” I tell Gade. “Surely you have more important tasks to attend to now.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Surely.”
“Well… go attend them.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Are you rejecting my company? You hurt my feelings.”
The telltale signs of a lie—a wince or a grimace—don’t cross his face, indicating I have offended him. Fortunately for him, he’s a faery prince and will recover soon enough. Gripping the reins tightly, I break eye contact.
“I’m going to come anyway,” he says. “As you keep reminding me, you’re leaving soon, so before you go, I’d like to spend as much time with you as possible.”
My heart leaps into my throat, beating wildly. “Why? To torment me to death?”
I think of his mouth soft on mine, and his palms, warm and firm, angling my face to his advantage. My limbs, melting like butter. The hot pound of my pulse.
Stop this nonsense at once, I tell myself.
I’m nothing if not my own torturer. It is well known that, for humans, faeries are addictive, and if I don’t take care, I may find myself a slave, beholden to the whims of the Seelie prince, lost until he spits me out like candy that has lost all its juicy flavor. My body and mind forever ruined.
Pulling my horse up, I huff loudly and let Gade and Mern pass, their hair billowing behind them in the breeze like silky capes.
Annoyed, I ride the rest of the way to the cove at the rear of the party, listening to my companions discuss El Sanartha and the prospect of a war with the Merits. Gade’s words are bloodthirsty, seemingly motivated by bitterness and a desperate need to avenge the death of his parents, for which he holds the Unseelie king accountable.
For someone who once believed I was a sorceress sent to destroy his kingdom, Gade is remarkably open with political information today. This can only be for one of three reasons: he has decided to trust me; this is some sort of test; or he’s completely forgotten I’m here.
Before long, we arrive at the beach, which thankfully stops me fretting over Gade and his irrational and changeable personality.
Eerdran Bay is as beautiful as Mern described; a faery tale paradise where seals and merfolk recline on slick, black rocks, basking in the sunshine.
We dismount, then Mern takes a long spiral shell from her doublet and blows into it, a mournful sound floating over the waves. An answering wail comes from the cliffs behind us, and Gade directs us into the mouth of a cave set into the black rock face.
Inside, limestone and crystal walls glitter with condensation, and at the rear, two sea fae recline in a shallow aquamarine pool. At Mern’s direction, we slip our boots off and sit around the pool’s edge, dangling our feet in the water.
Gade introduces me to Selanthia, Queen of the Sea, and her heir, Ezili, sea witches sworn to the Land of Five as allies and protectors.
Both fae have white hair, braided with seaweed and colored glass, that undulates around their scale-covered bodies. Their feet are webbed and lips so blue they’re almost black. Driftwood crowns twist around their brows, bright coral and smooth, luminous shells and pearls embedded in them.
“A human. How interesting,” says the queen, eying Gade with something like suspicion.
Do they think he would bring danger into their sanctuary?
“The girl who saved my life, no less,” he replies.
“Yes, we’ve heard the tales of your mortal healer, haven’t we, Daughter?” says Selanthia. “Very diverting.”
Ezili slides up to me, her webbed, claw-tipped fingers gripping my knees roughly. I try not to gasp, but fear flows through my veins regardless.
Gade smiles fondly at the sea witch, so I suppose I am in no danger. Or perhaps I am, and this is to be my fate—the Seelie prince’s gift to the sea queen of a tasty meal of human.
“You have eyes of a fae creature, girl,” the sea princess says. “As yellow as a selkie’s, hungry as a frost wolf’s, and as sharp and knowing as a sea hawk’s. One day, you may be one of us. What do you think of her, future kingling?”
Gade’s mouth opens then shuts. “I like her at least as well as any of the aforementioned creatures.”
Ezili laughs at his typically cryptic answer.
“What tidings do you bring from the depths today?” asks Gade. “Bright or foul? Light or gloomy?”
Selanthia kneels before him in the shallow water. “Both. Three Merit druids fell from a sea vessel seven nights past; the youngest took some time to drown. Before he died, my merfolk took his dreams of war and of something else, something important to you that is hidden in the Merit lands; the answer to a mage’s riddle. Methinks it is the Black Blood curse.”
“What?” Gade splashes into the water and kneels to meet the queen’s eyes. He grips her shoulders. “Do you recall it? If so, tell it to me now.”
“I do, and it is the verse already known to you. The rest was gibberish and told of a distant future—something about a cure, a Silver King, and his right hand. If you wish to survive the Black Blood and rule, I recommend you don’t waste time waging war, searching for the key to the druid’s dreams, and concentrate instead on finding your bride.”
Gade’s hands crack into tight fists. “No. This is bad and all the more reason to march on the Merits sooner rather than later.”
“And I say, it is good news because it means the future princes of your land may one day be free of the curse. But certainly I agree ’tis bad news for you and your sons, who must live out your lives ensnared in its dark grip. Before you deal with the Merits, you must marry your mate and rebuild your strength. Heed my words, Prince of Five. Mother Sea knows all.”
Gade looks downcast but nods in agreement and steps from the water onto the rocky floor of the cavern. A single wave of his hand dries his leather breeches.
Talk turns to other subjects, and Gade, Mern, Elden, and Voreas express sympathy for the recent death of the sea babe before gossiping about who is courting whom under the waves and inquiring about progress on architectural additions to the ocean palace.
Ezili tells an amusing story about a light whale that chased a comet three kingdoms across the waves before realizing it wasn’t a fish. Then we say our goodbyes and find the horses grazing on a patch of seaweed near a rocky outcrop.
The others mount quickly and begin up the pathway toward the castle, but Gade calls out, “Holly, wait a moment.”
We stand motionless, holding our horses’ reins and staring at each other.
“Here,” he says gruffly, handing me a leather-wrapped parcel. “If you insist on gallivanting about the land without inviting me along, then you at least need something to protect yourself with.”
I bounce the weight of the package on my palm. It feels like a weapon. “How many assassins do you expect will come for me over the next few days?
He laughs. “Oh, a handful at least.”
“Will you be one of them?”
“If I were to attack you with anything, mortal, it would not be a knife.”
“That’s the third time today I’ve heard you call me human or mortal. Yesterday, I corrected you once. According to your own words, I only have to remind you to stop on two more occasions.”
“Are you officially reminding me now?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s only my second reminder today. So to be precise, there are three more times you must tell me.”
“Or strangle you instead.”
He huffs out a laugh, and his hand lifts toward my face, then falls back to rest beside the dagger strapped to his thigh. It makes me wonder what he would use to kill me. A sword? His bare hands?
The indecent smirk dimpling his face tells me that a moment ago, he likely wasn’t talking about attacking me in a murderous sense.
“Open it.” He tips his chin toward the parcel.
I obey.
A small knife with a jeweled, golden hilt glints prettily against the leather, almost too beautiful to be a weapon. “This is mine? I can keep it?”
Gade smiles. “As long as you promise not to stick it between my ribs or harm a member of my household with it, of course. It’s yours for all time.”
I wrap the knife and slip it into my pocket, wondering how long he has carried it around for, waiting to give it to me. “And you don’t want anything in exchange for it?”
“Your trust is payment enough.”
That shocks me.
“You want me to trust you? Why?”
His head ducks close, and he whispers, “Because I like you. And I hope you will think of me as a friend.”
“A friend?” My lips twist in a wry smile. “Oh… well, it would be my pleasure to call you that, Gade. I accept your terms. Thank you.”
Shaking his head, he gives me a strange look, as though I’ve done something unwise. Then I remember Mern’s warning that in Faery, it’s best not to express gratitude because it leaves you indebted to the fae you thanked and vulnerable to exploitation.
Gade holds his arms out as if he’s offering to lift me into the saddle. My cheeks flushing, I shoulder past him. “I don’t need help.”
Mounting Wren, he sighs heavily. “Are all the humans in your village as argumentative as you?”
“If they met you, Prince Gadriel, I believe they would be.”
A long screech slices the sky, and then Lleu soars from the treetops, landing on Gade’s shoulder and remaining there, chirping and squawking the rest of the journey back to the castle as his master holds the reins with one hand and strokes the bird’s golden feathers with the other.
As my horse gallops past them into the castle’s main courtyard, a strange thought pops into my head, making me laugh.
Better Lleu than me.