The entire group looked at High King Oberon with shock. Titania would be the one to challenge them?

Dev was the first to speak. “My mother…” He looked directly at Oberon, anger showing in his eyes. “You’re having me go against my dear mother. Who I haven’t seen in ages?”

“Yes. She happened to be here on some business, and decided she wanted to test your resolve,” Oberon said with a wry smile.

Dev’s lips flattened into an unamused line. “That does not sound like her at all. You must be misleading us.” 

“I am not. You will see her in the flesh tomorrow.” Oberon chuckled, a malicious look in his eye. “She will personally strip you of your title.”

“Are we done here? I have places to be,” the prince stated flatly.

Oberon’s expression grew bored at the lack of reaction. He waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, we are done. Goodbye, Devesh.”

Dev nodded and turned, his head held downward. He walked toward the exit, and the rest of the group followed. All they heard was a quiet chuckle from the High King as they left. 

“Dev? Are you okay?” Yara asked, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. 

The prince nodded, not looking at her. After a moment, he spoke. “Yes. I was simply surprised at the news.” He moved his sleeve toward his face, away from view, then turned around to smile at her. “Let’s find somewhere private to discuss our plans.”

Dev led them to a covered terrace atop the palace. Tropical plants of all sorts were placed around the seating area in square clay pots. Floating crystal lights provided some illumination as the group sat on red plush cushions. Silk trailed from the edges of the overhang, providing a nice accent to the warm tones of the wood.

The view of the city was simply immaculate from here, and one could appreciate the marvel of the architecture—which was designed to be viewed from higher angles than other more grounded layouts. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this, Lumi?” Jolan leaned back in his seat, letting out a puff of air. 

“Nothing has changed.” Lumi was hard to hear over the wind that had picked up.

“You’re going against Titania—the first of the Summer Fae, and the strongest of us all? Even all the luck in the world couldn’t help you against her,” Jolan said, staring off incredulously. “I hate to say it, but we are good and truly fucked.” 

“You’re Autumn Court, and I’m Winter Court, Jolan. Titania is not one of us.” Lumi whispered something softly, and the air itself seemed to become heavier, affected by a sudden chill.

The moisture condensed, and formed into a massive sword. A claymore with a blade covered in ice. The hilt was wrapped in a white material, and the pommel was made from a brilliant teal-colored crystal. The woman held the weapon—which looked to be fairly heavy and dwarfed her in size—with just one hand. As Lumi examined her sword, Yara noticed that the center of the crossguard had ice beautifully crafted into the shape of a butterfly.

Lumi continued, “The fae of the Winter Court possess a strength and speed beyond that of Summer fae. I can use that to my advantage.”

“Titania will strike you down with her dual hand-held firearms before you can close the gap.” Jolan scratched his chin in thought. “Strike hard and fast. No one has managed to last even a minute against the queen.” 

“I don’t need a minute—I just need to win,” Lumi said with a determined frown. “I’m representing our lord, and I will not fail him.”

The faerie’s determination never ceased to amaze him. Even though she was an outsider like him, she fought tooth and nail to keep her place in the world. It made him think back to his own experiences. 

Jolan had traveled from the Autumn Court decades ago, but he had been on his own, keeping to the shadows. Trained in the traditional ways of his court, he had perfected the art of crafting bows out of illusory magic. However, this skill would be near useless with his initial position in a foreign territory. Making a living by telling made-up fortunes to those with the coin, he clawed out a meager existence in the side-streets of Lucinia. Oft unnoticed, he lived in the dregs of society, trying to earn enough to make a meal for the month. 

It was a passing faire that caught his attention. It featured all sorts of interesting characters, strange and unique faerie folk from across the lands, each with their own quirks or talents. Jolan was accepted with open arms for his skill with the bow, and he became known as the Man that Does Not Miss. While he was not born a man, he felt the term fit him a lot better. An external reflection of his internal feelings and self-image. What mattered to him was that he could hit a target with his bow at almost any angle, and at any distance, which garnered an audience from far and wide. 

His spectators enjoyed the Trial of Odysseus the most, where he would fire an arrow through twelve axes like the stories of old. His aim was true, and his fine control of glamor to be able to create stable illusionary arrows was of great renown. 

Soon, he caught the eye of a certain queen when she attended his show. Titania was drawn to his skill, and even more to his refined beauty. Even though he was a simple performer, he had a rare grace and charm to him, and his expression always held soft. Titania loved beautiful things, and beautiful things loved her. Within days, Jolan found himself in her court, and he quickly became part of her personal guard. 

He was sent on missions of utmost importance, involved in espionage and other tasks that were more violent in nature. Jolan did not mind, as he finally had a proper position in this new society, and a respected one at that. In return for his service, he was given the finest food, the best accommodations, and the praise of his peers. 

Eventually, the missions became more scarce, and the enemies less dangerous. For the war had turned from a direct one to one fought with diplomacy instead. Rumors guessed the queen had a new star player in her ranks, but Jolan had never caught wind of them.  

It wasn’t long after that he was assigned to be the personal guard of a young prince named Devesh—a strange boy with a tendency to talk to illusions he created with a skilled hand. The queen had left years ago, leaving the prince alone, so this was his method of passing the time, or perhaps a way to ease his sadness. Jolan could tell the boy had an immense talent, cultivated over the years of separation. His illusions could rival even the best of the Summer Court if he wanted to use them in such ways other than entertainment. He related to him in a way—he too was an entertainer, but he had been turned into an assassin for the crown due to his skills. He hoped the prince didn’t suffer a similar fate. 

While Jolan was content on the outside, his experiences gnawed at him slowly, like an insatiable hunger. The faces of the people he had killed—elf and fae alike—haunted his dreams on particularly cold, lonesome nights. An errant shadow on the wall caused him to jump on occasion, or a loud sound would throw him from his routine. After he met the little prince, he started to grow more peaceful, and the storm that buffeted the inner workings of his mind had begun to subside. Devesh helped him see another side of himself, one that could care for someone else. He loved Devesh—like a parent loved their child—and he wanted to protect him from all harm. Jolan nurtured his creativity, and taught him the ways of ranged combat as well…only in the rare times when the prince’s other guard, Lumi, was not present, of course. 

He tried not to come in between the duo, since they were basically connected at the hip. He liked Lumi too. Her soft countenance, and the way she spoke, and, well—everything about her. She was like him, a refugee, an outcast. While the Autumn Court had committed a grave slight against the Winter Court, they had not historically clashed with the Summer Court. But Lumi’s Winter Court had a nefarious reputation in these parts due to the infamous Arsenius. So she faced much more backlash for merely existing than he did. Even still, she showed no regret for being here, and she did her duties diligently. Her stories were always fun to listen to, and she had an anecdote for almost any situation. Hearing her laugh was usually the highlight of his day. 

But that all changed after one incredibly long winter. Lumi had stopped speaking altogether, barely uttering a few words in a week. The once inseparable duo was rarely seen within ten feet of each other. Whatever had happened, he didn’t know, but he decided to be her voice. He could tell by the way she looked at Dev when they would be on lookout that she yearned to say something. If only he could understand her so completely as to know exactly what she was thinking in her head—then he could relay her words to the prince. Unfortunately, that dream would never come to pass, unless there was a way to read minds with glamor.

Jolan eventually became a stand-in for Lumi, trying to give Dev the same experience she had. But he couldn’t replace her, nor did he want to. He just hoped that one day, she could go back to the person she used to be. That wildly imaginative, brightly shining star that brought light to everyone around her. No matter how long it took, he wanted to be there when the real Lumi returned. If he could see her be happy again, to talk as much as she wanted, and to be by the prince’s side, then he would consider his life as having been lived well. 

But for now, he would have to wait. And he didn’t mind that. Not one bit, if it meant he could spend more time with Lumi and Dev.