Beneath Shadows and Secrets

♔ 𝕿𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 - 𝕿𝔴𝔬 ♔

♔ 𝔑𝔦𝔯𝔞 ♔

My eyes flutter open, body stiffened from being curled up in the carriage asleep for hours. The journey has been tiresome, somehow seeming longer than the three days it has taken to reach Xandara.

Most of it I have spent asleep, though the daylight we spent on the outskirts of Vrodora was a long few hours of palpable discomfort. The treeline had invited me to hunt, and I'd stared out to the trees longingly, wishing I had my dagger or bow. I'd made my desire obvious, it seemed, for Tynan sat beside me and grinned.

"You miss it." He had said, and it was not a question. He handed me a skewer of meat that had been browning over the fire. Tynan had hunted it himself, and I had not been invited to join.

"I do." I admitted. He said nothing else.

I unfurl my body, pushing my loose hair away from my face. Libitina is still sleeping, her hood drawn to cover her face. Calix watches me sit up; his expression drawn firm. We exchange no words, and I busy with pulling back the drawn curtains, peeking outside.

The sight is not inviting. We roll down cobble roads, the buildings that line the streets crumbling with age and lack of care. They lack windows and doors, several people huddled at the door in rags to watch as the expensive carriage moves between their homes. Some see me looking, curious as to who visits the Realm, and I pull my hood further over my head in the hopes I am not recognised.

Xandara is not what I expected. It is filthy, overpopulated and crawling with street beggars and runaway children. Somehow, I had thought that the Fae Realms would fare better, and not live in such cruel circumstances, but I had clearly overestimated how much they cared for their Seelie residents. Sloan had told me much the same – that the poorest of people competed in the Equinox in the hopes of an escape. My heart throbs then, thinking of Tirah and Roman, who likely lived in conditions like this. Much the same as me. How our lives are different now. Tirah dead, Roman still penniless, and me living in the Court of Night, with powers beyond my greatest imagination.

It seems unfair.

"Do they know we are coming?" I mutter, not taking my eyes away.

"No." Calix answers. "The Xandaran King is building legions to go to war with Vrodora. I very much doubt he would be willing to extend invitation."

"So, you thought it better to ambush him?" My voice is but a murmur, for I am less focused on my reply, but more on the slum streets. In one of the alleyways, there is a stack of bodies. As tall as the buildings on either side. The King's people are dying, and he does not care to extend help, or even remove the bodies in a dignified manner. I clench my teeth, anger barrelling through me and building back the pressure in my chest.

"This is not an ambush." Calix says.

I flick my eyes to where he sits. "It could be." Is all I return, before watching the slums move past us. We move further in, away from the outskirts of the Realm, and the buildings change. Still poor, not far from derelict, but better utilised, and busier. Markets stalls and venders. A blacksmith and a cobbler, and even a few taverns. Many bodies crowd the streets, most still dressed in rags, old, stained clothes, but some dressed finer. Attention given to their outfits. A street patrol of guards, all donning the crest of the kingdom at their breast. None of them look pleased to wear it – I think I can understand why. Most of them are human, and they are now plagued with guarding the Realm that stole them from their own.

I wonder then, if any of my own people walk this street. Those from Cracuria. They shouldn't. The Old King's bargain was with Ozias, but he is dead now, and so their bargain is no more. Cracuria, Like Solaris, is now available for invasion.