The first rider trotted into view. Even if Cathy hadn’t been able to see the shimmering green markings spiraling down the warrior’s bare arms, the haughty set of his shoulders and general air of utter disdain marked him as unmistakably high sidhe. He wore gold-studded leather and carried a lance proudly upright, a long banner streaming from the tip. As the rider drew nearer, the sky-blue silk fluttered, revealing an embroidered golden sun crossed by a flaming sword.
Cathy heard Aodhan draw in a sharp breath. She didn’t dare look down at him. She kept her chin up, her pulse thundering in her ears.
The seelie rider had caught sight of her. He reined in his horse, scowling—but then his gaze dropped down to the moonstone-draped mount, and the jewels on her dress. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his handsome features.
“Push your hair back,” Aodhan hissed.
Cathy did so, hoping that the seelie warrior was too far away to notice how her hands were shaking. He started as he took in the rounded curve of her ear, then dipped his chin in a slight, wary nod.
Remembering Aodhan’s instructions, Cathy inclined her head. To her immense relief, the seelie rider spurred his horse back into a trot, the banner snapping above his head.
The ordeal wasn’t over, though. More riders followed the first, in a jingle of armor and harnesses. In contrast to the jostling, ever-shifting chaos of Lady Maeve’s unseelie host, they rode in neat lines, two abreast, their steeds perfectly in step.
As they passed, Cathy realized there was an order to the procession. The first few wore in simple leather, like the banner-carrier, but as more trotted by, she started to see more ornate outfits—glittering chainmail, fur-lined cloaks, jeweled gauntlets. All the warriors did a similar slight double take at the sight of her, but unlike the first, they made no sign of acknowledgement.
That was just fine by Cathy. She did her best to maintain an air of polite boredom, like the whole glittering cavalcade was nothing more than a rather tedious inconvenience. Her palms sweated on her oss’s neck.
The last of the war-band—or whatever they were—trotted past. Just as Cathy was starting to breathe again, she heard one final set of hoofbeats.
Thisrider wore full plate. A sky-blue cloak streamed from his shoulders, embroidered with the same sun-and-sword symbol as the banner. His steed was a good head taller than any of the others had been, resplendent in ornate blue barding and jeweled horse armor.
Not horse armor.
Alicornarmor.
Cathy’s stomach flipped over at the sight of that long, gleaming horn and folded wings. It took all her willpower to keep a blank expression.
The knight’s head didn’t turn, but as the alicorn trotted past, its ears slanted in her direction. It slowed a little, one sapphire eye—so like Aodhan’s—fixing on her curiously. Its nostrils flared, as though testing her scent.
I am an important changeling sorceress. Her palms sweated on her oss’s neck as she silently willed the alicorn to move along. Nothing to see here.
The seelie knight jerked impatiently on his mount’s reins. The alicorn snorted, curving its neck to look back at its rider. The knight paused, frowning, and Cathy had an impression of some silent communication flashing between the two.
“Halt!” the knight called out.
Cathy’s heart leaped into her throat as the war-band wheeled round. Every rider turned their mount, flowing past each other in perfect synchronization. In mere seconds, she found herself surrounded by a ring of steel.
“You there.” The knight rode forward, eyes narrowing. “What is the meaning of this?”
Cathy’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. All she could do was stare at the seelie… but he wasn’t looking at her.
Noneof the seelie were looking at her.
They were all glaring at Aodhan.