A Sacrifice of Names

Chapter 19

"Lord Firas-"

"Enough!" The man's hands clenched in anger, ceasing the restless tapping of his fingers against the wooden armrest of his chair. A letter laid unopened on the table in front of him. "Old friend," he spat. "Who does Garran think he is?"

"Muriel has arrived in Daleagh with the remaining group from Aves."

Something softened on the prince's features, but anger was only briefly replaced by sadness dwelling in his grey eyes.

"Make sure none of them leaves the city. Garran will do everything to get them back and have them confess it was all our doing." One of the guards offered him a timid nod. "And give their dead a worthy burial. Show... show the survivors to their new accommodation. Treat them with kindness, respect. They have seen enough terror." Unclenching his fists one of his hands lifted to support his chin. His eyes flickered towards the regent's letter once more. An old friend, his old general, now accusing him and his entire court of treason for a crime he nor any of his people had committed.

It was a war he knew would arrive on his doorstep sooner or later.

The guard gave him another small nod of his head, but before he could turn around Firas lifted his hand to stop him.

"Oh, and Ròidh, find me Brenhin if he hasn't already disappeared."

✒

Daleagh was a lot different than she had expected. In a good way, but the look on Earie's face betrayed her perplexity the very moment they reached the city. A city, a real city. She didn't have a better way to describe it. Aves was a real city, but the place had reminded her more of a renaissance fair with its picturesque houses and old castle ruins. Daleagh reminded her of home. Granted, most cities back in Scotland or the UK couldn't exactly be called modern and there was still no sign of cars or phones here either, which was probably for the best, but the sight of the multiple story buildings, the dim lights flickering in the street lamps gave her a feeling of familiarity she hadn't felt in weeks.

For a moment her gaze rested on a pub located on one of the street corners, half expecting Yosefine to step out of it, leaning on Harper's shoulder after a drink too many. Instead, it were two men who emerged from the decorated door, both with the same pale complexion as Muriel and the other Night Court guards, laughing boisterous.

No dark, damp caves. No tall, intimidating castles where the chains would rattle against the dungeon walls. Part of her felt ashamed to have expected such a monstrous setting and by the looks of it, she wasn't the only one.

Innogen gently squeezed Keely's hand to which the green-skinned fae offered her a loving smile. Earie hadn't told them what she had seen the night before. Upon returning to camp the two had already been asleep. She had tried joining them but to no avail. Glamour or not, the puffiness under her eyes had not gone unnoticed. Muriel had kept an eye on them, and thus Earie's lips had remained sealed. And Brenhin- well, Brenhin had given her that same, cheeky smile when she emerged from her tent that morning. She had only given him a curt nod of her head, unable to even mutter a 'good morning' in return.

Fear, discomfort, betrayal. There was a whole list of words with which she could describe her feelings after eavesdropping on his conversation with the shadows the night previous.

The guards' orders had been clear. Remain in the city, but make yourself at home. Maybe not a dungeon, but a prison without bars nonetheless according to some of the other Light Court fae. Some of them had offered to help with the burial of the dead, others had jerked the keys to their new accommodations out of the hands of one of the guards and stormed off, leaving those who had come to welcome them with a sense of disappointment and hurt. Earie nodded her head softly towards a woman who conveyed her gratitude for having made the long journey here before asking if they needed a guide to show them to their new accommodation in a hopeful tone of voice.