Many eyes turned to her, and Larrenelia fought the urge to stick her tongue out at all the lords and ladies. Glancing to the dais, the faerie espied her father and mother.

King Rivanlorr stood tall and regal. He had the bearing of a true king and was well-respected by many of his subjects. Larrenelia had inherited her unruly red mane from her father; though, naturally, he kept his in tidier order than did the headstrong princess. Rivanlorr was fierce in his love for his people, and a force to be reckoned with in many a debate.

Oremendelia did not have the same presence as did her husband. While she held herself with poise, the queen lacked a comportment which exuded power. Her lengthy, golden curls were always in neat order, and she never behaved in a manner unbefitting one of royal birth. She was a flawless example of a lady; something which Larrenelia knew she would never live up to.

The princess wound through the crowds of high-ranking faeries, trying to ignore the stares. She knew most of the fae folk that had gathered, and they knew her. They were not at all accustomed to Larrenelia’s tamed appearance. As the young faerie started up the steps to the dais, a blare of trumpets announced the arrival of her father’s honoured visitants.

“You have arrived with impeccable timing, daughter.” Rivanlorr stood from his elaborate seat. “Let us greet our guests.”

“Control your expression, Larrenelia. We do not need you causing offense with your sour looks.”

“Yes, mother.”

Larrenelia did her best to mask the annoyance she felt within. She turned to face the main entrance to the ballroom, where their guests would soon make an entrance. All the fae folk gathered in the hall did likewise. The music paused, a great hush fell over the grand room, and the air was thick with tension. It was the first time in over a century that the royal family of Maedhrin had stepped into the grand halls of Fae F’erren.

Many Maedhrin faeries paraded through the entrance. The colours of their attire were somewhat subdued, but no less elaborate than those of the Fae F’erren court. Deep reds and oranges, blacks and browns, as well as the occasional slate-blue or crystalline white were on display. These were the fae folk of her father’s enemy, faeries of the winter and autumn kingdom.

A shiver of aversion coursed within her. Most of the faeries of the Maedhrin kingdom were pale, possessing ghastly complexions. These faeries seemed quite tall in comparison with those of Fae F’erren; their gaunt frames did much to accentuate the look. Larrenelia grew more apprehensive.

Her attention was quickly captured by King Fentr, as well as three young males who walked beside him. She knew King Fentr only by his bearing, and by the black circlet which adorned his white locks. The contrast between the lightness of his hair and face and the darkness of his charcoal-coloured clothing was unnerving.

Larrenelia assumed the other three faeries were the sons of King Fentr. She remembered hearing small bits of information on the princes, Fenronn, Brachen, and Mord’rall. The little she had heard had been unpleasant.

Fenronn was the eldest and was said to be terribly cruel. Rumors told that he had once wed a changeling but had her killed when she refused to take on his favoured form. Brachen was little better, according to whispers. He was power-hungry, and often plotted against his father and brothers; though how he had escaped punishment for such rumored acts, Larrenelia did not know. Little was known of the youngest son, Mord’rall, but it was generally accepted that, since he was so secretive, he was likely the worst of the three Maedhrin princes.

While much of his party dispersed throughout the grand hall – much to the dismay of the Fae F’erren faeries – King Fentr and his three sons made their way to the dais. As he reached the bottom step, the Maedhrin king gave an exaggerated bow, and addressed King Rivanlorr.

“It is with humble appreciation that I greet you, King Rivanlorr. I would also extend my most gratuitous greetings to your fair queen, and your daughter. My sons and I were overjoyed at your invitation. You have most assuredly prepared greatly to provide us so grand a welcome.”

“Nay think nothing of it. It was of small consequence; welcoming you into our humble palace was well worth the effort.” Rivanlorr gave a small bow in response.

“Indeed,” Oremendelia replied, “you are our most esteemed guests. How could we not shower you with warm welcome?”

Before Larrenelia quite realized it, she rolled her eyes at the outlandish lies, snickering under her breath. Upon realizing her mistake, the princess hastily feigned a tickle in her throat. King Fentr glanced in her direction, for all the world seeming genuinely concerned with her well-being.

“Princess, are you quite well? Do you require some refreshment?”

“No, your majesty, I do not require drink. My throat seemed suddenly full of ash, but I am quite recovered.”

Larrenelia felt the warning gaze of her mother but did her best to ignore it. The princess looked away from the enemy king and was startled to find one of his sons studying her with an amused expression in his eyes. The smallest of smirks played at the corner of his lips.

His hair, like his father’s, was a silvered white. While he was fair of complexion, it was not quite to the point of pallor as that of his father and his two brothers. This prince also wore garments of a charcoal colour, though it did not have the same haunting effect that the king’s raiment did. Instead, it seemed to give him an air of strength, but also of mystery.

Disquieted by the other faerie’s crystalline gaze, the princess turned to watch the crowds. It was evident that the spring and summer faeries were as unsettled by the Maedhrin faeries’ presence as Larrenelia was. She could tell they tried to be cordial, yet even at the distance from which she stood, the princess could see the distrust.

King Rivanlorr gestured, offering his guests to join his family at the table that had been set on the dais. The four Maedhrin faeries moved up the steps and drew near the table. Larrenelia quivered in unease. The green-clad faerie was especially troubled when Queen Oremendelia instructed the white-haired prince to sit beside her.

“Of course, you will want to get acquainted.”

Larrenelia did not like the way her mother had said these words, and a greater dislike for the stranger brewed within the princess. As each of the noble faeries took their seats, Larrenelia’s new “acquaintance” turned to look her square in the face.

“We have not yet been formally introduced. I should like to take a moment to remedy this.”

He seemed to expect a response. Larrenelia glanced down at his proffered hand. Bristling inside, the princess tried to restrain her agitation as she returned her gaze to the face of the male beside her. She was only too aware of her mother’s presence to her right; she must be careful in her words and actions.

With trepidation, the princess lifted a hand and rested it just above that of the white-haired faerie. She was more than a little unnerved when he took hold of her hand and leaned closer to her. His hand was quite cool to the touch.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, princess. I am the third son of King Fentr, Prince Mord’rall of the mighty Maedhrin kingdom. I look forward to seeing you more frequently than our kingdoms have hitherto allowed. Indeed, I quite enjoy the thought of further acquainting myself with you.”

Shock filled Larrenelia, and then embarrassment as she realized that he was jesting at her expense. It was all she could do not to snatch her hand from his. Instead, with as much poise as she could muster, the princess slowly lifted her hand and placed it in her lap.

“No, indeed, the pleasure is all mine. I have often heard how mysterious and secretive the third son of King Fentr could be. Yet now I see he’s but a child who enjoys demeaning quips and buffoonery.”

Queen Oremendelia pinched Larrenelia’s leg in warning. Frustrated, the princess turned to look at her mother. The queen, however, seemed to be fully engaged in conversation with Prince Brachen. A pleasant smile spread across her features and Larrenelia could almost believe her mother was speaking to a long-time friend.

The princess turned back to Mord’rall. He smirked.

“No reinforcements on the battlefront, it would seem.”

“No, indeed.”

Hours passed and, when she could make no further excuses, Larrenelia was compelled to dance with each of her “esteemed guests.” King Fentr was pleasant enough, for an enemy king. He engaged the princess in small talk and quaint pleasantries. Fenronn held a cold countenance about him, saying very little throughout his short dance with Larrenelia, for which she was grateful. After a time, Brachen requested a dance with the Fae F’erren princess. The second son of King Fentr was quite disagreeable. He seemed to have a great distaste for Larrenelia; a feeling she was content to return in kind. More than once, the raven-haired faerie stepped directly on her toes; she was certain this was an intentional act.

Precisely when Larrenelia felt she could handle no more dancing with churlish partners, Prince Mord’rall swept across the room, and bowed before her.