Page 32 of The Hidden Fae Prince
The promise radiates heat, but Seren shivers. The argument is over, and Seren is trapped.
11
This Timeless Place
Eveningbleedsintonight,into dawn. Nevander shed his armor hours ago, but the weight on his shoulders feels heavier than ever. He’s about to snatch a few hours of sleep when word reaches him. Wildkeeper Valerian has arrived.
“Send for him,” Nevander says.
The messenger is gone before Nevander considers that Valerian might want to rest after his journey.
Nevander exhales, surveying his new quarters. The Irisal Suite is more spacious than he needs, the walls covered in friezes of bards and artisans. His belongings make a meager pile in the vastness. Still, he owns more things than he realized. Living in one place for decades will do that.
The suite’s finest feature is its balcony, draped with lilacs. Just below and to the right of Prince Seren’s balcony. No direct view, but a short flight.
Seren sleeps in a nearby guest chamber. Guards and servants are still preparing the royal suite for its new occupant. They need to pack away Queen Haelwen’s clothing.
The separation feels like a splinter, slowly digging deeper. But Seren’s likely grateful for the distance. He seemed distant, angry, when they parted for the night.
Nevander hadn’t realized how much Seren already trusted him until that trust shattered. He can’t blame Seren. Using Tansy as blackmail is cruel, even if Nevander left generous loopholes in his promise. Seren just needs to stay long enough to learn how important his role is. How much the realm needs him. The duty is heavy, yes, but that should make it harder to shake off.
Time. Nevander needs time. Even as this timeless place changes faster than he’s ever known.
His meeting with Ritekeeper Primrose was both reassuring and troubling. No evidence of intrusion or malice in Haelwen’s death. Which means no enemy to hunt down and eliminate. No apparent solution to an undefined problem.
A knock at the open door interrupts Nevander’s brooding. A white and gray fox trots in, followed by a man with dark green hair. No uniform—wildkeepers don’t have a dress code. The man wears scuffed leathers and a cloak that looks gray, then green, then brown, depending on the angle. His single-lidded eyes are a vivid green, even for a fae.
And Nevander is deeply relieved to see him.
“Lovely place,” Valerian comments, looking around. “I think Spindle approves.”
The fox sniffs the empty fireplace, then settles on a plush red rug.
“Any trouble on the journey?” Nevander asks.
Valerian grimaces. “Besides the obvious? No.”
As they speak, Spindle’s fur changes color in patches, gradually matching the red of the rug. Her nose twitches constantly, taking in the new environment.
“That’s good,” Nevander says. “I need to ask—”
“No,” Valerian says bluntly, and smiles at Nevander’s consternation. “Can whatever you summoned me for wait for twenty minutes?”
Nevander forces back his anger. “I’d rather not.”
“Which means it can.” Valerian clucks his tongue, and Spindle leaps to his side. “You, Lord Guardian, are wound too tight. I’d offer a massage if I thought you would accept. Instead, I insist you spar with me. We can handle business after that.”
Nevander is dangerously close to lashing out at his friend, which means Valerian is right. The stress and lack of sleep are compromising his judgment.
“Perhaps I should be glad you spend all your time in the woods,” Nevander says, heading for the door. “Being so well understood at court is dangerous.”
“Not half as glad as I am,” Valerian says with a laugh.
As they travel, Spindle’s fur turns white again to match the marble. Then green and pink to match the gardens. Then an eye-searing orange, matching nothing at all. Aroom foxes change color according to both camouflage and whim. Spindle’s route appears scattered, but she’s just as watchful as her companion.
Elladar’s wildkeepers exist in balance and contrast to the ritekeepers. They have no formal organization—that would betray their very ethos. Each wildkeeper swears individual allegiance to the First Wildkeeper. They serveSummer’s wilderness according to the First’s wishes when known. Otherwise, they follow their own judgment.
Nevander prefers the certainty of his own service. Except the last few days haven’t felt certain at all.
