Page 23 of The Hidden Fae Prince
The mirror is round, the size of a dinner plate. Four carved creatures prance around the frame: a bear, a unicorn, a wolf, and a griffon. Seren tips the mirror up, then nearly drops it.
The reflection is himself, but sharper. The blue hair is less shocking than the iridescent quality of his skin. The slight tilting of his features. His ears are long, and he’s afraid to touch them.
He never looked enough like Edith and Alard, but the disguise is clear in its shattering. Give him the mother’s hair and eyes. Blunt and soften his ears, his jaw. The skin is close enough without the shine. Leave him in the cradle.
Now, his eyes are the same bright gold as Folly’s fae-touched eye. Endless, inhuman gold.
Yet the face is unmistakably Seren’s own. There’s the pale lower lip. The glassy expression. Seren has delved through enough emotions to recognize the calm before breaking.
He returns the mirror in exchange for Folly’s prickling worry. He means to thank Folly, but the words stick in his throat.
“What’s the plan?” Yarrow asks with forced confidence. “I should reassure my frightened denizens.”
Nevander sinks slowly, gracefully to one knee. “You are the heir of Elladar,” he says to Seren alone. “We must return to your court.”
The sudden weight of his expectation is terrifying.
Seren looks from Nevander to Yarrow to Folly, and back again. Each is nervous—because of Seren. They don’t need magical empathy to see his fragility, and they fear the consequences of his breakdown.
Seren should flee. But even if he knew how to escape Elsewhere, he’s always hated disappointing people. Heneeds more information. “How does inheritance work for the fae?”
“A fae lord chooses their heir.” Nevander’s explanation is gentle, but his gaze is demanding. “Haelwen chose you after your brothers were taken.”
“Summer needs a ruler,” Yarrow says. “Otherwise, the realm’s magic will fall to chaos.”
Nevander remains kneeling. “You won’t be king until the coronation. But we must secure the palace before anyone else grows too bold.”
Gods’ whims. They expect Seren to be a king.
All he wanted was to meet his mother, and to bring Edith and Alard’s real son back. To fix what was broken. Seren isn’t supposed to be important. Even if some starved part of him is wistful for the thought.
Yet in this between-realm without a sun, surrounded by fae, without even the comfort of a familiar reflection, Seren cannot refuse. His life in Wymond is broken. He can only move forward until he finds another path.
“Do you have my things?” Seren asks.
“In my carryhold,” Nevander says.
Seren takes a deep breath. “Then lead me to Elladar.”
Yarrow and Folly are palpably relieved. Only Nevander remains unreadable. Perhaps he can tell that Seren still wants to flee, or that Seren will never be worthy of a crown.
If so, Nevander gives no sign. “At once, Your Highness.” He rises fluidly. “Lords of Elsewhere, may we have passage?”
Folly wrings his hands. “Should I go with you? Seren, I mean? Would it help to have someone familiar? I feel somewhat responsible for you. Elladar can be frightening. Atleast, I was very frightened when I first arrived. Then again, I’m frightened of a good many things. Except I should probably stay here, because I don’t know what realm-travel will be like with all of—”
“Remember to breathe,” Yarrow says fondly.
Seren exhales, grateful for the interruption. Folly’s offer is sweet, but his heightened emotions are overwhelming. “You should stay to care for your realm.” Seren forces a smile. “You told me to trust Nevander, right?”
“Gods and spirits.” Leaning into Yarrow, Folly sketches a sign in the air. “This will take you close to the palace. Good luck.”
A doorway unfurls, veiled in shifting gray fog.
Yarrow steps out of the way, pulling Folly with him. “Tell Valerian to visit soon. He keeps putting it off.”
“Thank you,” Nevander says, taking Seren’s arm.
Before Seren’s doubts can break free, they step through the door. The fog brushes feather-light across Seren’s face.
