Yara felt like her life had been a blur ever since the shocking revelation of her marriage alliance. Before she knew it, she was shipped off in a fancy carriage, straight into enemy territory. The three elks that pulled them along huffed on occasion, trotting happily. They rolled through lush hills freckled with vibrant flowers as they skirted the borders of the elven foothills toward the fae capital of Lucinia. 

She picked up the object in her lap that had arrived about a week ago—a special ceremonial gift from her soon-to-be husband. The gift was an etched stone tablet of his face, of course. The quality was impressive, painted with care with hand-picked dyes overlaid across the design. A nice gesture, if a little pretentious. 

It had been so long since she had left home, let alone travel halfway across the breadth of the Elder Wyrd tree. She had made sure to read about fae culture, but she couldn’t exactly bring herself to appreciate it, with all the debauchery and all. Perhaps she could get used to it. She didn’t know. 

Her assistant, Priscilla, sat quietly in the carriage as it hit slight bumps along the un-paved path. She was concentrating on a passage in her book, looking like she was about to speak at any moment. 

“Interesting,” Priscilla said, nodding slightly. “The first fae to arrive on this planet was known as the Otherworld Traveler. They created the first fairy ring, eventually building a network of them that connects this world to the Otherworlds.”

“Otherworlds?”

“Planets, realms, dimensions, even. Matter-based or ether-based, the only requirement to link the world to the rest of the fae network is the creation of a fairy ring.”

“Ah, I see.”

“The king of the realm is Oberon, and the queen is Titania. They have been in power for centuries, I believe.” 

“I’ve heard of them. Titania, mostly.” Yara looked out the window to the outside world, the trees passing by. “Fae are weak to iron right?” 

“Yes ma’am. Iron can neutralize their powers temporarily and is almost corrosive to them.” 

“Any other weaknesses?” 

“Words hold meaning, and the tongue holds power. As such, lies cannot be told by a fae. Once a fae makes a promise, they are obliged to keep it until the end of time.” 

“Perfect. That could come in useful at some point.”

“What are you planning, princess?” Priscilla gave her a side-eye. “I pray you are not contemplating murder…”

“No! Me? Of course not.” Yara chuckled slightly. “I was thinking of ways to gain leverage if needed.” 

“If you say so.” Priscilla began to read off more excerpts from the book, but Yara had already gotten distracted by the city of Lucinia coming into view. Stunning spires of twisting white reached for the skies, the verticality accounting for the fae folk’s peculiar love of flight. 

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Priscilla finally looked up. “Oh, we’re here! Wonderful.” 

The doors to the carriage opened as the magical seals recognized they were at their intended destination. 

Yara sighed as she exited and placed her feet on the ground. She scratched the two elks under the chin, and they grunted softly. “Thank you for bringing me all this way.” 

As she walked through the city, which was immaculately kept, she couldn’t find even a single speck of stray dust. The citizens hovered about, only some paying mind to her arrival, most crowding about floating stalls that held everything from souvenirs to fresh food. 

Priscilla’s shrill voice came out from beside her—Yara had almost forgotten she was serving as her guide for this trip. 

“On your right, you’ll see some fae serving drinks called—uh,” Priscilla said, digging into her shirt pocket to produce a tiny book. “Salwater. A simple drink made from Aegean Sea salt and water procured from the hot springs of Tarsus.”

“Saltwater?” Yara asked, glancing at the drinks that were served in small, clear cups. They seemed to hold a blue glow to them.

“No, Salwater,” Priscilla responded, squinting at her book. “That’s what it says here.”

“Okay.” Yara nodded. Then she thought of something. “Don’t the fair folk dislike salt?”

“I mean, liquor is toxic to humans, especially high amounts, but they sure do enjoy it to the fullest. I believe salt dampens fae powers of glamor or illusion, but not many adverse effects besides that.” 

“Sound logic, Priscilla. You really did your research,” she said. “I must be rubbing off on you.”

“Yes, m’lady. I’ve been keen on studying as much as I can to prepare for your departure.” 

“Thank you,” Yara said, smiling. 

The pair arrived at the entrance of a domed building that spanned the width of two elven palaces. There were only smooth ramps that led inside, but wooden supports were built around them to form a set of makeshift stairs. 

She took her first step, the wood creaking beneath her foot. 

“Well, this is where I leave, m’lady,” Priscilla said from behind her. 

“What?” Yara turned, looking over her shoulder at her assistant. 

“Yes’m.” Priscilla glanced at the tiny book in her hand, then held it out as an offering to Yara. “For your travels.”

“Heh.” Yara took the book, and Priscilla stepped away, making a small curtsy afterward.

“It has been a pleasure serving you, m’lady,” Priscilla said, her eyes twinkling with tears, and her lip quivering. 

Yara stepped down and ran up to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I won’t forget you, Priscilla. Please take care of yourself for me, will you?” 

“Y-yes.” Priscilla nuzzled herself into Yara’s chest. “I’ll send letters when I can.”

“Good. I’ll be looking forward to them,” Yara said, petting her softly. “Is House Ellewyn truly leaving me to fend for myself?”

Priscilla pulled away, staring at the ground as she wiped away a tear. “It seems so. No further communication is expected from them.” 

“I should have guessed,” she said. “Blood was never more important than politics, I suppose.” 

“Indeed,” Priscilla said solemnly. “I wish you only the best of luck, m’lady. I know you’ll find a way to survive. There’s no one else better suited for this task than you.”

“Thank you for the kind words, Priscilla.” Yara let out a short breath, then turned to walk up the steps. “Please be safe on your return journey.” 

Priscilla only nodded, watching as Yara walked away. 

~~~

There was not much of a welcoming ceremony when she entered the hall. The pillars that held up the building were crafted from some type of crystal-like material, and the floors were polished to a smooth, reflective finish. 

Fae of all kinds floated about the room, carrying drinks poured into carved wooden cups. The guests wore finely woven clothes made from a sort of plant fiber, with fresh flowers sprouting out from their lapels that acted as corsages. Their style of clothing was a lot more similar to humans than she would have guessed, with form-fitting clothes and a flair similar to those in the Eastern regions. 

She had to admit, they were all pretty. Quite contrary to the claims that they were unsightly child-snatchers. Though, she hadn’t seen evidence against the latter just yet. Deciding to open her mind a bit, she tried approaching the situation with a fresh face and a fresh outlook. 

A second later, she couldn’t help but shed doubt on the proceedings. What if this was a trap? What if they did make people dance until they died? No one had asked her to dance yet, but would she be allowed to refuse if they did? Probably not.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the crowd freezing in place as the door to the pulpit opened, letting in a chill breeze that caught her by surprise. It was as if a frost-bitten wave had struck her.

Clack clack. 

The sound of a boot’s heel striking the spotless floor echoed throughout the halls. 

In came a man dressed in a red-and-black outfit, gilded with speckled, sparkling dust. His attire was less earthy than the others, only a single blue lotus crowning his dark curls.

He stopped as he reached the banister, flashing a brilliant smile to his audience, which resulted in the crowd erupting in cheers. 

Such fanfare. Was that the king? 

The fae scanned the crowd, his eyes the color of clay in a brilliant canyon, and his expression filled with a sort of stoic energy. The man’s keen eyes landed upon her, and she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as he smiled graciously.  

“Princess Yarasovelia Ellewyn,” he said, bowing his head. The lotus that adorned his hair spun slowly, glowing a deep, otherworldly blue. “Prince Devesh, sixth fae prince.” 

The crowd grew silent again, all their eyes focused on Yara. The fae prince strode down the stairwell, a grace to his step that she hadn’t yet witnessed from the fair folk that chose to float rather than walk. 

She gulped as he approached her. In her mind, she’d steeled herself against a possible ambush, but on the outside, she seemed nothing more than a scared schoolgirl. A perfect show of appearances that should satisfy those around her. 

“Care for a dance, princess?” Devesh asked, his eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t discern. 

She hadn’t prepared for that.