I gave her a brittle smile. “Won’t that be nice?”
Her eyes narrowed again before she released my hands and leaned back in her seat, pursing her painted lips.
We spent the rest of the journey in silence.
The seelie lands were bathed in reds and golds as we emerged from the forest, the sun setting over sprawling hilly fields and meadows already filled with wildflowers. Mountains loomed in the far distance, and a wide, fast-moving river cut through the land to our left as the horses trotted over lush green grass.
I spotted the town. It was much larger than the unseelie village; the buildings were taller and looked slightly more modern, though still archaic. Lanterns hung from the shop fronts, casting warm seelie fire over the streets.
The seelie court came into sight ahead of us. Rather than reaching high into the air like the Carlin’s palace, this was a low, sprawling building across a huge patch of land, with manicured lawns stretching out in front. It reminded me of Hampton Court Palace with its ornate red brick walls and turrets, but in contrast, a set of wide steps covered in lush grass led up to its arching front doors, like they’d been formed from the actual earth.
To the right of the palace, in a big meadow, I could see tents and stalls set up and Folk milling about, just like all the unseelie celebrations I’d been forced to attend. The carriage veered to head towards them, and all the Folk froze before a faint cheer went up.
I glanced over at the Brid to see her grinning widely in triumph as she smoothed down her dress. When the carriage came to a halt, she ignored me entirely and swept out of it. After sitting there for a few moments, I reluctantly followed.
The Brid grabbed my flesh arm in a clawing grip and dragged me to a small mound in the centre of the meadow, a single throne made from the huge stump of an old oak resting on top, part of the earth.
“Seelie,” she called once we were standing on the mound. I resisted the urge to fidget when all eyes turned to us. “The Mild Months are here. And my youngest son has found his way to us.”
They all stared at me. Some in shock, others in curiosity.
“I will chase away the Carlin’s bitter frost. I will usher in warmth and life. The lands will flourish with new growth. You may begin your celebrations, and when night falls, we will carry out our ritual to drive out the last of the cold.”
Ritual? What ritual? Unease tightened my gut. Would it be like the unseelie’s pyre and their tribute to the Brid—her King of Boars? He was slowly making his way through the gathered Folk to reach us, and the Brid stroked his snout when he came to a stop beside her.
She sat back in her throne, then ushered a fae with long brown hair forward.
“Get a chair for Prince Ash.”
I jolted at that, resisting the urge to twist my shirt in my fists.PrinceAsh? What the fuck?
The fae returned promptly, heaving over a wooden chair with a tall back. When I went to help her, she jerked back and stared up at me in horror until I quickly stepped away.
I sat beside the Brid, stomach jittery with unease. Was I supposed to just sit here? With the Brid? I remembered staring up at the Carlin and her three sons on the night of Samhain. Seeing them looming above the rest of us, eyes bright as they reflected the cold blue-white fire of the burning effigy.
I looked around for a pyre, but couldn’t see one. Folk were talking and eating and drinking, but the atmosphere was more muted than any of the festivities on unseelie land had been. And I didn’t think it was because the seelie weren’t as wild. They looked just as wild as the unseelie Folk. There were short, slender female fae with bright orange hair and tanned skin who laughed together. Tall, lanky creatures that looked like they were made of wood lumbered past, roots dangling from their heads and arms.
A group of tall, slim Folk in refined clothes stood apart from everyone else, sipping from goblets and sneering at the Folk who were drinking from huge casks of ale.
I sat in silence beside the Brid as she and the King of Boars conversed quietly, my gut clenching with misery and regret. This was worse than any of the celebrations I’d been forced to attend with the unseelie. At least then I’d been able to have a drink and not just… sit here being gawked at. The Brid was ignoring me. Why was I even here? Why had she made me get in her carriage and come back here with her?
What did she want with me?
I kept looking around, like I expected someone to be watching me from the shadows. Strangely, the thought made my gut tighten with excitement. A totally bewildering reaction, one that made me tense with confusion.
Sometimes, in moments like this, my fae body still didn’t feel like my own. It was like it knew something I didn’t.
When it got dark, six guards marched up to us and bowed in unison to the Brid. She finally pulled her attention away from the boar to raise a brow at them.
“We are ready for the ritual, my queen. We await your choices.”
I straightened at that, watching intently. The Brid’s deep golden face stretched into a slow smile, and she cast her eyes over the gathered Folk. Torches had been lit around the meadow, their warm orange fire flickering.
When the Brid lazily pointed out six of the Folk, I watched with a strong sense of foreboding as the guards spread out to grab each of them. Some froze in shock, others started thrashing and screaming.
They were all bound and dragged to the empty space in front of the Brid’s throne as everyone else fell silent.
“You have been chosen,” the Brid told them, even as most of them screamed and wept. She ignored them, raising her voice to still be heard. “Be grateful for your sacrifice.”