“Are you sure you’re okay with me tagging along tonight?”
Amira’s eyes light up. “Of course! I’d love to take you, and the ride will give you a chance to see some of our lands as well.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Pick a horse, Abriella,” Misha says, lifting both hands, palms up, in the direction of the stalls.
“Our stable hands are on their dinner break, but we can help you with your saddle if you need.”
There are dozens of horses, but a black mare tosses her silky silver-streaked mane as I approach, as if she’s trying to get my attention.
“That’s Two Star,” Amira says, hoisting a saddle onto her shoulder and heading toward me.
“She’s beautiful,” I say, stroking the mare’s nose.
“She’s very special, and she knows it,” Misha says, saddling his own horse, a chestnut stallion I’d need a ladder to mount.
Amira lifts the latch and opens the stall. “She’s named for the silver markings on her hindquarters.
There are very few like her, all from the same line—descendants of Queen’s Mab’s steed.”
That’s the second time tonight I’ve heard mention of the old faerie queen from the legends. “Queen Mab was . . . real?” I ask, helping Amira put on the saddle and bridle. I’m only working from memory of all the times I watched this done in Sebastian’s stables, but Amira quietly leads me through the steps.
“Oh, very real and very beloved by her people,” Misha says. He saddles his own horse with the unconscious movements of someone who’s done this thousands of times. Given how old these two likely are, they probably have. “It was her line that ruled from the Throne of Shadows before Finn’s grandfather stepped in.”
“Did Finn’s family . . . overthrow them?” I ask.
Amira purses her lips and shakes her head. Her brown eyes look sad when she says, “Finn’s grandfather Kairyn was second to Mab’s last living descendant, Queen Reé, and he took the throne after she was assassinated.”
How convenient for him.
“Kairyn was devoted to his queen,” Misha says, leading his horse from its stall. “He was her tethered match and would’ve died for Queen Reé or any of her heirs.”
I bow my head, ashamed for my assumption.
“It’s okay,” Amira says, her hand brushing mine. Her gentle smile puts me at ease even though I get the feeling that her gifts put her in tune with my emotions. “With what you’ve seen of our kind, no one came blame you for assuming the worst, but the loss of Mab’s line was devastating for anyone in this realm who didn’t want to see the Court of the Sun extend their rule beyond their own borders.”
“Is that why the fae began having children with humans?” I ask. “To have more heirs? To keep the lines from dying out so easily?”
“Mab had many children—some with humans, some with fae,” Misha says. “And her children had children, and so on. The line was blessed with fertility.”
I frown. “So what happened to them?”
Amira holds my gaze for a long moment, and I can practically see the heartbreak in her eyes when she says, “The golden fae killed them all. Even the babes.”
We ride miles from the palace down a mountain path that is rocky, wooded, and so steep that my thighs and core ache from the work of keeping me atop my mount. Every time another wave of exhaustion hits me, I wonder why I’m not back at the palace, resting in my bed. I don’t know how to decide who I can trust in this realm, but you can learn a lot from the way someone treats those weaker than they are, those who have nothing to offer them. Tonight will tell me volumes about my hosts.
On the ride down the mountain, the king and queen continually refer to the camps for the shadow fae as a “settlement,” but it’s not until we arrive that I understand why. What they’ve set up for the Unseelie refugees is more like a small village than a temporary camp.
I expected primitive conditions, but the small straw-roofed huts that sit in neat rows on either side of the road look far better than the “adequate” conditions Misha described.
When the road comes to a T, Misha dismounts before helping his wife off her horse and then me off mine. Two smiling boys with tiny horns and long dark hair lead our horses away, leaving us in what seems to be the settlement’s common area. There’s a pavilion lined with tables—a common dining area, I imagine—and, beyond that, a playground where three children toss a ball between them.