He shrugged. Apparently hewasoblivious to the blue-skinned fae’s adoration. “I imagine so. Everyone is.”
As we got closer to the village, faint music drifted over. I quickly realised the party had been set up on the empty stretch of grass next to the village, not in the village itself. Where the ground sloped up, tents and stalls had been erected. Folk already milled about, and rough, raucous laughter reached us, making my gut clench with nerves.
Impossibly long wooden tables had been set up with benches either side, already laden with food and lit candles. I stared at everything as we got closer. There were whole flowers crystallised in sugar and arranged in vases. Huge, roughly-carved wooden bowls were filled with red and white apples, velvety peaches, blood red cherries, pomegranates and passion fruit ripped into halves. A dish woven from stiff feathers was piled high with tiny roasted birds’ wings, and another made of twigs was filled with caramelised grasshoppers and moths. Whole legs of lamb were smothered in rosemary and mint; duck breast smeared in honey and covered in slices of cooked apple. Blood red lobsters and crabs sat cracked and steaming gently on wide platters.
“We spent all morning collecting the fruits of the sea for the banquet,” bragged a beautiful, willowy woman with long, wet green hair as Caom and I made our way past the table. She was on the other side, walking past with a tall man with wild red hair and several others who looked like her, both male and female. Aside from the red-haired man, they all had seal skins draped over their shoulders, their hair dripping as they walked. Every one of them had strips of colour painted over their eyes, like Caom. Glancing around, I realised almost every creature I could see did.
“Selkies,” Caom muttered to me, and I nodded without saying anything.
We passed more Folk as we headed towards the collection of tents and stalls. Some were impossibly beautiful like the selkies, others ugly or animal-like—like the lumbering creature with leaves growing out of his face and long, twig-like fingers that trailed on the ground. His black eyes protruded from his face like a crab, swivelling as they took everything in.
Crudely-made wooden stalls had been set up, mist swirling round their bases. Folk were still setting out their wares—fresh lemonade, fruit pie and warm bread rolls. Candied flower petals and frozen berries. Chunks of honeyed meat wrapped in vine leaves and shelled king prawns sitting on small strips of bark.
My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t been eating enough, but as amazing as all the food looked, I was still wary of eating it. And I was absolutely not going to touch the wine. I could see Idony and another fae who looked just like her pouring it into goblets. It was thick and deep in colour, with a silvery sheen, like red wine laced with mercury.
Caom stopped in front of their stall, beaming at the two Folk. “Ash is here.”
Idony grunted, not even looking up, while her sister shot us an uninterested glance, a wide band of dark red painted over her green eyes. I flushed, even though I didn’twanttheir attention. I didn’t want anyone’s attention.
“Do you want a drink?” Caom asked me with a nod towards a freshly filled goblet.
I glanced at the two sisters, not wanting to offend them. “Maybe later. I haven’t eaten yet. I don’t want to get drunk.”
Caom laughed easily, picking up a goblet. “It’s not fun if you don’t get drunk.”
I smiled tightly and looked away, my gaze tracking uneasily over the thickening crowd of Folk. The stalls and tents butted right up against the edge of the village, and it looked like the festivities did extend between the buildings. Bunting had been strung up across the street, and the seating outside a little café and the tavern was filled with Folk who were falling-over drunk already, laughing hysterically.
I started to look away, but my eyes caught on a lone figure leaning against the side of the building, away from everyone else and the torches stabbed randomly into the ground. They were long and lean, arms folded over their chest in a casual pose, and as my vision adjusted, my breath caught in my throat.
It was the assassin prince, and he was staring right back at me. His dark eyes were even more shadowed thanks to the black strip of pigment that had been painted over them. He was still dressed all in black, but that deadly curving blade at his hip gleamed in the flickering blue-white firelight.
We stared at each other for a long moment, the sounds around me fading as blood rushed in my ears. He didn’t move an inch. He was as still as a statue. An impossibly, unnervingly beautiful statue. Shadows threw the sharp planes of his face into relief, highlighting high cheekbones and finely arched brows. His insolent mouth, full even when pressed into a flat line.
“Gods, the prince is already here,” Caom muttered with a groan beside me, snapping my gaze away. My face felt hot. “I was hoping we’d get at least a few hours before he started skulking around.”
I licked my dry lips, still feeling his black eyes boring into the side of my face. “Is he… Is he going to watch me the whole time?”
“Probably.” Caom upended his goblet, downing the last of his wine. “He’s the Carlin’s eyes and ears tonight. Ignore him. Let’s go look around.”
I hurried after him as he strode off with a wave to Idony and her sister.
“What about her other sons?” I asked as I fell into step beside him. “Are they coming?”
“No, they don’t mingle with thecommon folk.” Caom sneered the last words. “She’s sent Lonan to spy. He won’t get involved in anything fun. No one wants him here.”
I couldn’t help but glance back at the prince, still standing alone and unmoving against the side of the building. Still watching me.
“But doesn’t… don’t people want to get close to him? Any of them? I thought people always tried to ingratiate themselves with royalty.” I glanced over. “And you told me I had to bepoliteto him.”
Caom snorted. “Polite, yes. If you don’t want him to slit your throat in your sleep. That doesn’t mean welikehim. The Carlin has ensured that all her sons are awful to be around. They have power because they’re feared. Not because they’re liked.”
That sounded unpleasant. And lonely. I glanced back at Lonan again. Was he lonely? He didn’t look much older than me. Did he not do anything fun? Did he just kill for his mother and that was it?
“So he… he has to just stay here and can’t join in with anything?”
“Hecanjoin in if he wants to, but he’d make a fool of himself. He’s fully aware that no one wants him here. Besides, of all of them, Lonan hates everyone the most.”
I swallowed. “Why?”
Caom shrugged. “Maybe because it makes it easier to kill us when the Carlin tells him to. Maybe he’s just a hateful bastard. Who cares? Let him live up in his gilded cage. Killing a few Folk is a small price to pay for such luxury.”
I resisted the urge to peer back at him yet again. “How old is he—all of them? Her sons?”
“Balor is around five hundred. Bres is three hundred and something.” He thought for a minute. “I think Cethlen is about a hundred and fifty. I remember him being born. And Lonan is much younger. Your age.”
“My age? Twenty-one?” He was that young?
Caom nodded, then glanced over at me with a raised brow. “Why so many questions about the Carlin’s sons? Don’t worry, Ash, I won’t leave you tonight. You’re safe from Prince Lonan.”
I smiled weakly. “Great.”