The Exiled Queen

Chapter 8

(art by @morgana0anagrom used with permission)

I leave the Court of Shadows--our plan in place--and stick to the empty corridors bypassing the great hall. The engagement party is not a big affair, such as the coronation. This appears to be more of a private party. Or perhaps an excuse to indulge and cavort. Which is in my favor, actually, as there are not as many revelers and courtiers. And there does not seem to be any of the other courts in attendance. The only livery I see here are the banners of Greenbriar.

It is well into the night and that is apparent in the disarray of the palace. Wax drips in thick rivulets from the candle sconces that line the walls, unattended by servants. Partygoers have now been long into their celebrations and debauchery. Empty wooden cups, and glass bottles lay abandoned here and there throughout the halls. Mice nibble at clumsily dropped bits of food--a wedge of cheese here. A golden apple there, with but one bite taken--its ruby red flesh glistens in the candlelight. The mice cower and scurry as I pass, disappearing into gaps of the twisting roots of the palace walls. A vine stretches out and curls around my wrist, snagging me as I pass. Startled, I rip out of its grasp and quicken my pace.

Sleeping and unchaste faeries lay immodestly pillowed on one another in mostly tapestry covered alcoves and divans. Not one of them coherent enough to acknowledge me passing by. Although the sound of my footsteps are muffled by the echo of song resonating from what I perceive to be coming from the great hall. The soft plinking sound of a lyre accompanied by melodic tones of a flute.

I keep thinking about how somewhere down one of these winding halls, behind one of these heavy wooden doors are my sons. Perhaps asleep in a cot, bundled together as they prefer. I am so close to them. And it pains me so deeply to just walk out of here. Feels as if I am abandoning them. I have to remind myself that I must stay strong and take these steps, this is the only way I can get them back. Giving in to my emotions and sneaking into wherever their nursery is, and attempting to just walk right out of here with two infant princes of Faerie would be stupid.

Children are rare in Faerie. Which is why they are treasured. And Cardan is a young king, for him to already have produced--not one, but two heirs--in his short reign to secure the Greenbriar line so soon, makes him more favorable. Its shows that despite his preference in drink and revels, his lineage is strong. He will be considered a strong king. And a strong king makes an even stronger kingdom. Typically many consorts are taken for this reason, to better the chance at multiple heirs. And even so it can take many years, decades even.

The birth of Auron and Virion would have been thoroughly celebrated by not only Elfhame but all of the courts of Faerie in alliance. But Cardan has not yet announced them at court. I do not know his reasoning for that. Or what plans he has up his ridiculous ruffled sleeves.

Near the grand entrance to the Palace, I remind myself that I am Taryn and not Jude. To walk with purpose. I have a right to be here. I am a guest. I am the mortal wife of one of the Gentry. I gesture to an awaiting servant, a hunched-over hobgoblin attending the doors. Occupying his time by leisurely plucking tiny translucent spiders from between the thicket of vines that form the archway; and popping them into his mouth greedily. It is not an unusual sight to me--as a child I tried them once, Tatterfell called them a delicacy. I did not see the appeal.

I instruct the servant to have a groom ready Locke's horse and have the carriage brought around. I decide to wait out on the grounds of the palace instead of awkwardly lingering at the entrance. Hoping it is less likely trouble will find me out there as opposed to inside, where it is filled with inebriated faeries who would love to happen upon a vulnerable mortal.