Akyran's Folly

In the evenings, around the hearths of home, mothers regale their children with stories of how the world was before the arrival of mankind. Tales of when there was only one Fae Court, when the sky was full of dragons, and when brethren lived free of fear.

Stories of the merfolk walking unafraid on the land, a vast network of Fae and elvish cities on every continent of the world, and sirens in every coastal village.

They speak of when mankind came, weak and lost in our lands, and how the brethren took pity on them, showing them how to live amongst us, welcoming them into our cities and our homes. But mankind was prolific, and although their lives burned through in a fraction of the brethren's, they swiftly grew in quantity, until they outnumbered us.

In a short time, the brethren were pushed out of the majority of lands, and still that was not enough for mankind who feared and envied us. They began to hunt us down, cutting down our vast forests, and driving many species of brethren into near extinction.

A bitter war arose amongst the Fae, between those that believed there remained goodness in mankind, and those that wished to eradicate them, resulting in a division in our people, and the forming of the Court of Light and the Dark Court.

Now the brethren cling to what they have, maintaining strong rules to prevent further trespass against us, for we have learned that giving any ground to mankind, results in misery.

-

We paused in the roots of a mighty tree, crouching low and close together so that Akyran's breath stirred my hair. I could feel his body heat and smell the chypre scent of sandalwood and oakmoss from his soap.

The moonlight cut through the leafy canopy, dappling the ground, and bringing the night flowers to bloom. The air was heavy with their decadent perfume. Night-time creatures moved through the undergrowth with caution, aware of the predator in their midst. The fragile light of the nocturnal fairies merged with the glow-bugs that rose from the disturbed foliage.

I heard the rustle in the undergrowth and met Akyran's eyes, the silvery moonlight stole the blue I knew them to be. He inclined his chin and indicated with his eyebrows that we should edge to the front. We bellied around the base of the roots, the soil moist beneath our hands and the rotting leaf matter clinging to our cloaks.

In the moonlight, the manticore's barbed tail thrashed as it tore into the flesh of the deer it had felled, the sound of bone cracking beneath the mighty teeth loud and the rip of meat wet. I could smell the blood, as well as the heavy musk of the beast itself, dark and fetid.

Through the foliage, I could see the shift of other Fae hunters, closing in on the beast, their movements disguised by the noise of its feast.

Akyran fisted his spear and raised his eyebrows at me. I raised mine back at him in challenge. He grinned, a quick flash of white teeth, before he launched into his attack. I threw my spear, and saw it embed in the manticore's neck, deep enough to stick, as Akyran rammed his, with his body weight behind it, into its chest. I heard the wooden handle crack and was not surprised when he danced back with half of the broken shaft in his hands – he has struck the bony chest plate of the creature.

The beast roared, rearing back onto its powerful hind legs, and striking out with its claws.

Akyran ducked its strike, using the broken shaft to ward it off.

I registered the yells and movements of the other hunters, and saw arrows strike the beast.

"Don't tear the hide! Aim for the chest and neck." Akyran protested.

In the flurry of arrows, the manticore did not know where to strike, and then it focused on Akyran again as he reached for the broken shaft of the spear. I ran in, seizing my spear and pulling it free, distracting the snapping jaws inches from Akyran's head.

The manticore screamed and redirected its attack to me as the spear ripped free of its flesh. Blood sprayed in spurting crimson across the composting leaf matter. My initial throw had hit the jugular, but the spear's lodgement had prevented the blood loss. Akyran saw the spray of blood and he met my eyes again as we danced back out of the reach of the beast.

"Good shot," he yelled to me. "Kill shot."

The manticore shook its mane in confusion. It was feeling its death approaching, but it flailed out as the hunters continued to hound it, fighting to the very end. I drew my needlepoint dagger, and leapt onto its back, driving my blade into the spear wound, widening the spray of blood, and rolled free as it sighed out its final breath and sank onto its kill.

"Well done," Akyran panted as he offered me his hand and lifted me to standing. "The kill goes to Ecaeris," he told the other hunters.

They clasped my shoulder and congratulated me.

Akyran and I sat on a root to catch our breath. He removed a boot to shake free some annoyance.

"I have to go to the Court of Light tomorrow," he told me casually as he pulled his boot back on.

I took the flask from my hip and lifted it to my lips, taking no more than a sip of the alcohol within, to chase the chill of the night from my bones. The burn was strong, and I grimaced, breathing through my teeth.

He took it from me as I lowered it and took a larger swig, hissing against the bite of the spirit. "My parents are actually thinking of intervening in this bloody war, and I need to talk some sense into my father."

"Will you be gone long?"

"As long as it takes," he looked over to where the hunters and servants butchered the manticore, his strong profile lit by the moonlight.

Did he know how beautiful he was? I wondered. He never seemed to notice the attention of the ladies of the court except for the convenience of ready bedfellows, and he never paid much mind to his clothing, choosing simple, dark colours and cuts for function rather than accentuation.

He had stolen my heart with a kiss when we were both still children and had never returned it. However, aside from that one mischievous peck, he had never shown any further interest in me, treating me much as he did my brothers, as if he had forgotten my gender somewhere in the intervening years. We were each other's best friends, and that friendship was entirely platonic, much to my dissatisfaction.

I had dreams where he came to see me as a woman... But I just had to meet his eyes to know that they were just dreams. There was no heat in his gaze when he looked at me. Warmth, and friendship, yes. But lust and desire? No.

"Come with me," he said suddenly.

"What?" I was startled out of my admiration of his profile.

"To the Court of Light," he said with light-hearted exasperation. "Pack a couple of pretty dresses and portal over with me in the morning. Having you there will keep my parents happy."

They aspired for him to marry me. I exactly fit the requirements for Akyran's bride – my family was pure brethren, having never mingled our blood line with mankind, and were well placed and influential in the court. Our parents had been friends for centuries, planning our union since my birth and we had been raised together, with the expectation that our friendship would become a marriage.

"I hate court," I complained. We both knew I would go because he asked it of me. It was how our friendship worked, how it had always worked.

"Yes, but you'll go for me," Akyran grinned at me. He stole my flask off my hip and took another swig before replacing it, handling me with casual familiarity as he did so. His touch sent a heat through me the burnt fiercer than the spirits did. How I could be so affected, and he so indifferent, was a source of endless frustration.

I blew out a breath in mock annoyance – I was not as averse to going as I let on. I had a new dress, one that I was eager to wear. The ball at Court of Light would be the perfect opportunity. "Very well. But you'll owe me."

"Yes, but you never make me pay my debts," he replied lightly, and stood to help with the manticore corpse. Its fur would go somewhere in his quarters. The barbs on its tail and various other parts of its body would be harvested for spell components. I would get my share, as I had felled it.

I watched him move amongst the hunters with easy camaraderie and grace. So beautiful this Fae prince, I through ruefully, tall and broad of shoulder, narrow of waist, long of leg and strong of arm, combined with the dark fall of hair and his blue eyes, and a face many bards had waxed lyrical over, he was many a courtier's fantasy, something he took advantage of with regularity, keeping his bed warm and his heart cold.

When he had supervised the removal of the fur, Akyran returned.

"Let's go," he offered me his hand and pulled me to standing. "We can catch a few hours of sleep before tomorrow," he decided, looking up at the moon speculatively as we made our way through the trees. The pages, squires and servants would deal with the rest of the corpse and bring it to the castle.

The Court of Light was crafted of white stone harvested from the mountains upon which it perched, and its beauty was lauded by poets and bards alike although I always found the polished veined stone and the gossamer fine curtains that drifted in the ocean breeze that drifted through the landscaped and paved terraces to be unapproachable and fussy.

I could never understand why a person would want to see themselves reflected in the floor, and the etiquette of undergarments beneath the flowing gowns of the courtiers was complicated and coquettish.

I much preferred the Dark Court. Named for the deep grey stone that it had been crafted from, the castle of the Dark Court did not amble along the mountainside, but stood rigid and firm on its clifftop perch, its curtain wall looking out across the land it guarded.

The castle was not a labyrinth of weaving corridors navigated by the art that decorated its walls, but a square formation, each level laid out exactly as the one below. Except for the ground floor, which was not given to accommodation like the levels above it, but to the business of the Court, with large audience rooms, and smaller meeting rooms, the kitchens, scullery, and other spaces where the servants laboured.

The way to the castle took us out of the forest, and up a well-maintained road, through the village walls, and the village itself. At the castle gates, we were waved in by the guards – we were well known to them, our comings and goings making us frequent passers-by and Akyran was, after all, the heir-apparent. We travelled through the second wall, into the gardens. An ancestor of Akyran's had a penchant for roses, and the gardens overflowed with them, their perfume rich in the air.

We crossed through the gardens, our cloaks caught by the thorns, towards the side entrance. Akyran paused and plucked a night-blooming white Fae-rose, a bloom rare and highly sought after for its perfume and as spell components and protected in this garden by the king. Only Akyran would dare to pluck one of these blooms so casually. He pinched off the thorns and handed it to me.

"Part payment," he said with a grin.

I laughed and lifted it to my nose, breathing in its aroma. He held open the turret door and we began the tight curve of stairs towards the top floor. Only the archers who watched over the keep from the upper turret chamber, the occasional page or servant running errands, and Akyran and I frequented these stairs.

With the King in attendance at the Court of Light, those courtiers who had not accompanied him had returned to their own estates, and the castle echoed hollowly as many of the chambers were empty, the servants taking advantage of the reduced demand on their time and sticking close to the comforts of the kitchens with their chores. Only Akyran's and my squires and pages, manservants and maids attended the fourth floor.

If we were so inclined, Akyran and I could conduct a sordid affair with no one the wiser of it. But, of course, the closest we got was the occasional late evening drinking and gambling before the fire in one of our apartments and crawling into bed next to each other to sleep off the drink, still fully dressed. I had spent many such night imagining what would happen if only he reached out for me, or me for him, but the separation between us of less than an arm might as well have been that of the continent.

At my door, he paused, and tucked a lock of my hair back from my face. "Get a few hours of sleep. We won't go until after the midday meal."

"Fiena will need that long to pack anyway," I said with a grin. "Good night," I watched him continue down the hallway to the next chamber door.

His apartment and mine shared a wall between the bedchambers. He had me moved to these chambers when we had both reached adult hood. It was easier that way, he had said, to abscond with me on adventures in the middle of the night, rather than search me out in the lower levels. My parents had held hopes that the move meant he intended to take me as his wife soon after, but centuries had passed between with no sign of any inclination from him to do so.

I tiptoed into the chamber so as not to wake my maids who slept in the recessed bed in the dressing room. I stripped out of my hunting gear, leaving my clothing over the back of a chair, and crept into bed naked. Akyran would wake his manservant and make him pour him a bath and attend him whilst he took it, before he went to bed for the night - but I would let my maids sleep, and bathe in the morning.

Doing so also allowed me the luxury of privacy, and I closed my eyes as I slid my hand between my legs, imagining Akyran naked and bathing, the water running across his skin, sticking his dark hair to his neck and shoulders, his muscles moving as he... I found release and curled onto my side with a sigh.

I woke late in the morning. Fiena sat beneath the window, the heavy curtains open just enough to bathe her in the overly bright morning light whilst she altered one of my dresses and her impossibly neat braids shone red where the sunlight touched them.

"I'm getting fat," I observed from the bed.

"Nonsense," she replied looking up with a smile. "You've just been around the castle a bit more recently than normal."

"At the tavern, don't you mean?"

"Well, yes," she was amused. "More nights than not."

"Akyran's in a mood," I told her. "He likes to ease it with hunting and ale."

"And you, my lady?" She teased. "Are you in a mood?"

I laughed. "Well, I can't let him drink alone, can I? There's no harm to a bit of ale."

"Except to my fingers from altering your dresses," she replied. "But the prince likes a bit of a curve on a woman."

I sighed. "Akyran doesn't see me that way," I told her.

"Mmm," she set the sewing to the side. "Shall I run your bath?"

"Yes please."

Perhaps if I looked more like the courtesans he favoured, Akyran might finally see me as more than Ecaeris his friend. My lifestyle, however, saw me missing more meals than I ate. If we were not hunting, or fighting, we were riding... Perhaps if I spent more time in courtly pursuits, I thought, as I sat up. But spending hours listening to bards and eating sweet meats, sewing embroidery, or playing cards with dignified reserve held no appeal.

I was a war mage, after all, it was my nature to battle, I preferred to be on the move, rather than sitting still, the harder and more daring the adventure, the better.

I bathed and stood in the dressing room with Fiena and Tillie, scrutinizing my clothing. They regarded it as a serious occupation, whereas I found it more a frustration. Court fashions came and went like the seasons. It was a never-ending task to keep up with which type of sleeve and what manner of embellishment was current in vogue, and which were not.

I, on the other hand, liked what I liked, and knew what I did not like, and my wardrobe choices reflected that regardless of the vagaries of court fashion. The current fashion at the Court of Light was featherlight and sheer fabrics in tiered pale colours, floating from fragile shoulder clasps, or woven into bodices, whereas my personal choices were more dark jewel tones, in order to hide the blood stains that accompanied most of my activities, in heavier fabrics for better wear, and minimal embellishment and undergarments. And usual tunics and trousers rather than dresses.

Presenting well in court, however, was a requirement, and that meant finding a middle ground between personal preference and fashion on occasions such as this.

"You should wear a dress," Fiena said hopefully. "It is court, after all."

"I'll wear a dress tonight," I wanted to wear that dress. From the moment I had seen the fabric, I had wanted that dress. I wondered what Akyran would make of it. Even he would have to notice me in that dress.

"Yes, but that's that dress and tonight," Fiena replied. "You should wear the dark blue today," she drew it out, flaring it over her arm.

"Very well," I did not mind the blue. It was cut severely, high necked, and buttoned up the front which allowed me to leave a few buttons undone at the throat. It was the feminine version of how Akyran dressed and from his tailor, one of the random gifts he gave to me when the mood struck him, or something caught his eye. Normally a gift from Akyran was a weapon, or armour, but he had been expanding to clothing and trinkets recently. "The blue it is."

They knew better than to try an elaborate hairstyle, quickly winding the hair back from my face and binding it behind so it would not fall forwards into my eyes.

Dressed to all our satisfaction, I left them to pack.

The hall would normally be overflowing with feasters attending the king, but in his absence, Akyran sat at the head table, and oversaw a room empty but for a handful of minor Lords currying his favour, and the servants that attended them. I sat to Akyran's left, in the seat he normally occupied when his father was present.

"You're wearing a dress," he commented, serving me a cut of the pastry that sat before him. "One I bought you."

"I like this one and my maids tell me a dress is appropriate."

"Hmm," he slid a look at me under his eyelashes. "The colour is good."

"Thank you," I was pleased he noticed. It was not the first time I had worn the dress around him, however, and I wondered why, today, it was something he found worth of commenting on.

"It's not what you're wearing tonight, are you?" he added.

"No," I cut a bite of the pastry. "I have an evening dress for tonight."

"Jewels," he chewed his mouthful.

I frowned at him, wondering at his sudden interest. "I guess," I agreed. "The dress doesn't need them, however."

He raised his eyebrows. "You sound like a girl," he observed.

"I am a girl," I reminded him, pointedly.

"Yes," he replied, a flush touching his cheeks. "But you sound like a girl, girl."

"What do girls sound like?" I wondered.

"Dresses that don't need jewels. Like they're sentient."

I frowned at him. "Why are we discussing dresses and jewels, Akyran?" I asked him.

"I don't know," he replied with exasperation. "I guess because... if you look the part, Ecaeris, they'll leave me be."

I stared at him. What part, I wanted to ask, but I feared shattering the delicate hope that had blossomed at his words. "I'll get Fiena to pack some jewels if you think it necessary, Akyran."

"Thank you," he was relieved I wasn't asking any awkward questions. "Can you ride in that dress?" he added. "I had thought we'd play a round of chovgan this afternoon."

"I'll make sure Fiena packs something appropriate," I replied, reaching across him to spear some baked fish onto my plate. "I'd hate for you to blame me wearing a dress for your loss."

"Our loss," he corrected.

"I won't lose," I replied archly. "I might be on the losing team, but my personal performance won't be at fault..."

"Haha," he sneered with enjoyment. "Only because you cheat, mage."

"I am completely honourable with my magic," I retorted and tugged some strands of his hair free as I stood.

"Ow," he complained, his hand coming to his head, scowling. "What was that for?"

"Royal harlot's hair is a very useful spell component," I replied.

"I am not a harlot," he grumbled, following me from the table.

"I'm on the other side of the wall from your bedchamber," I reminded him. "Oh, Akyran, oh, oh. Oh."

He flushed. "There is no way you can hear through the stone, Ecaeris."

"Oh, Akyran," I replied, my voice rising hitching, breathy. "Do that thing... What thing exactly?"

"Ecaeris," the colour patched on his cheeks. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe close your windows," I suggested. "Lady Beria in particular..."

"Ecaeris," his voice held a warning. "That is..."

"Mmhmm." I waited a breath. "Akyran, like a stallion...!"

"F-k Ecaeris," he groaned, the flush on his cheeks brilliant. I giggled. For a moment we walked in companionable silence and then: "You aren't really going to use my hair..." he added.

I held up my hand, showing that I still clutched the dark strands.

"Ecaeris," he protested, "give me that."

I snatched up my skirts and ran through the hallways, with him in pursuit, sending pages and servants scattering in our wake as we careened around corners and dashed up staircases. I managed to keep just beyond his grasp as we began the sprint along the long hallway to our bedchambers, but he caught me along the wall between our chambers, about where his bed was positioned, and we wrestled until he pinned my wrists against the wall above my head as he retrieved the stolen strands from my grip.

"These are going into the fire," he said, severely, breathless from the pursuit. His eyes darkened as he looked down at me, and for a moment, I thought there was a flash of heat... and then he pulled back, and it was gone, leaving me wondering if it were ever there in the first place or just wishful thinking on my behalf.

"An hour," he said to me over his shoulder.

"That should give me long enough to find some jewellery," I replied.

Fiena and Tillie had converted my chambers into chaos, with chests overflowing with clothing and the bed strewn with undergarments and accessories, the floor lined with shoes. I had not even known I owned so many.

"It's just a night or two," I protested, knowing I argued fruitlessly. "Not those shoes," I nudged a pair with my toes. "They were agony to wear. One of you can have them, if they fit. Or sell them, donate them, whatever you do with such things."

If I had said I was going hunting with Akyran for a week, there would be less fuss. I would throw a couple of changes of trousers and shirts into a bag and be done, but two or so nights at the Court of Light, and, apparently, I needed to take every item I owned with me.

I slid back out the door and went to Akyran's room. Things were less chaotic there – neat piles of shirts, tunics and trousers folded already in a chest, formal wear laid out across the bed, and no shoes or accessories in sight. Akyran raised his eyebrows at me as Ithyles buttoned his shirt sleeves.

I sat on his bed. "Fiena has turned my chambers upside down," I complained. "You would think I were leaving them forever from what she's packing. I should get Ithyles to pack for me in future."

Akyran and Ithyles exchanged a long-suffering look.

"Hopefully, she'll pack some jewels," Akyran muttered.

"What is your sudden obsession with my adornments?" I complained.

"Rivyn has a pregnant wife," he replied, irritably. "It means my parents look for me to do the same. If I can distract them with you covered in baubles, Ecaeris, I will do so, gladly, even if I have to put the baubles on you, myself."

I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" he asked as Ithyles held his jacket up for him to shrug into.

"Nothing," I replied, sulkily. I had said that I would much rather he showed me what a stallion did that made Lady Beria shriek in such a way, than hang a king's ransom of jewels around my neck, but it wasn't something I could repeat audibly.

As he finished dressing, there was a knock at the door, and Ithyles opened it to admit a rather flustered looking Fiena.

"We are ready, my lady," she told me, unsurprised to find me lounging on Akyran's bed waiting. "Your chests have been transferred."

"Oh, good," Akyran said drolly. "Let's go."

In the main hall, near the front door, the overlarge, elaborately framed mirror-portal allowed perpetual transition from one court to the other. It had been a wedding gift from King Treyvin to Queen Leamoira, a symbolic linking of the two courts as their marriage had done in reality for the first time in thousands of years. I could cast Akyran and I a portal, but it would be a waste of spell components when the way lay so readily available.

He offered me his arm, and I placed my hand upon it before we stepped through together.

The Court of Light's silver veined white stone floors glossy surface reminded me that I had probably ignored too many undergarments when I had dressed that morning. Thank goodness Fiena had insisted on the basics, and any adventurous gazes would find nothing too remarkable to comment upon.

"I hate these floors," I muttered to Akyran.

He leaned over my shoulder and then met my gaze with a grin. "I'm rather partial to them," he commented mildly, unembarrassed by his lechery. "You missed a couple of layers dressing today, Ecaeris."

"Akyran," I muttered. "Stupid petticoats."

"Hmmm," he arched his brows. "I doubt the men of the court will complain."

As we moved through the halls into the audience chamber, he was polite enough to stay on the side where the reflection most exposed me. It was not a full moon, when audiences were held, so the chamber was organised informally, with clusters of seating, and fools and bards playing. Laughter rang out from a card game played festively by a group of younger courtiers.

Everything was too white and pastel for my tastes, the gossamer curtains that billowed in the doorways and the courtier's layers of sheer seemed to combine into a room of white and spun sugar, cloying, sweet, and entirely too fabricated. How could anyone stay clean enough an entire day to not mar the paleness of their clothing, or not manage to tear those delicate layers? I wondered.

The Queen Leamoira reclined amongst her courtiers, listening to an epic poem recital by two young lovers who gazed at each other as if breath began on the other's lips. She spotted us as we entered and exclaimed, rising to her feet in a whisper of the finest fabrics.

"Akyran and Ecaeris," she flowed forth. I curtseyed and then breathed in her perfume of Fae rose harvested by moonlight as she embraced him and then me. "How lovely to see you both."

"Mother," Akyran replied stiffly. He was angry with her I knew from his many complaints when we were alone. Since Rivyn's successful return from his quest with a wife and a child on the way, she had been encouraging Akyran's twin to take on more responsibility for the Court of Light, tempering Akyran's judgements publicly, which he found frustrating and humiliating. He felt he had lost his brother, his ally and friend, to Siorin, who had become Rivyn's obsession. "We thought we might organise a round of chovgan on the lawn."

"Oh, the poor grass," Leamoira smiled. "But it will be a fine entertainment. I'll organise for tables to be moved onto the terrace nearby."

"Wonderful," he was short with it, indifferent as to whether there was an audience or not. He did not play for the applause, but for the competition. "Where is father hiding?"

"Oh, probably in some small room filled with large men, leaning over maps and drinking spirits," she waved a hand airily. "He likes to talk of war, but not to commit to it."

"Mmm," Akyran's eyes were distant with thought. As long as King Treyvin did not commit to war, I could almost hear him thinking. His next question confirmed my suspicion. "And Rivyn?" Akyran's brother was pushing for Fae intervention in the war and had already begun the process by creating Intuin Desparen for Diandreliera – a sword no one was entirely sure the abilities of.

I suspected that Rivyn had, in fact, done no more than glamour a random blade, to make it seem magical. I had never heard of a truly magical blade being made overnight, nor a mage not keen to boast of the wonderful thing he had created. All Rivyn would say on the matter was that it would only work for Diandreliera's line, and it's purpose would be revealed in time.

"He's easier found," she replied with a mischievous smile. "Just keep an ear out for your sister-in-law and watch for amore in the hallways."

"Mother," Akyran muttered, flushing, and shooting me a look under his lashes. I met his gaze and raised my eyebrows. What, did he expect me to feign innocence or fluster like a lady of the court? "It's hardly decorous to speak of."

"He married a half-siren," she dismissed his reprimand. "It's hardly a secret around this court what the side effects are. An impossible to keep secret, the way it works."

"But still."

"Oh, Akyran," she sighed and cupped his chin in her hands. "So prudish for someone who has bedded half the ladies of both courts."

"Mother!" He shot me another look as the colour rose hectic in his cheeks.

She laughed and released him. "Oh, Ecaeris is hardly unaware of your proclivities, my son," she scolded lightly. "It's a bit late to think to protect her from them."

He glowered and muttered something under his breath. "Come on, Ecaeris," he decided. "We'll see if we can gather a couple of decent rounds of chovgan out of the court."

By the time Akyran managed to track down his preferred players and I changed out of the blue dress, the horses were ready, and the pretty wrought iron tables, arranged on the terrace overlooking the lawns, set with lace cloths, crystal glasses, chilled wine and finger foods. The King Treyvin and Queen Leamoira sat in pride of place. We bowed to them as we claimed our sticks and mounts from our squires and pages.

"Remember, Ecaeris," Akyran threw me up onto my mount. "Watch the backswings. Some of them are careless."

"I'll remember," I replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Only novices got caught in the backswings of other players. I had been playing almost as long as he. I accepted my stick as he mounted, and he laughed, tossing his long dark hair back and tying it in place with a leather strap before accepting his stick.

We rode to our positions, our horses dancing beneath us, reacting to the excitement of riders and those that watched. The leatherbound ball was thrown and we surged into motion, the ball flying beneath the strike of a stick. Akyran and I rode neck to neck, but he reached the ball, his angle was better, and flung it out towards the score posts.

He laughed over his shoulder at me.

The ball came back towards us, and with it, the flurry of riders from the opposing team. I tussled with another rider. Daryith rode his mount in such a way that we were pressed against each other. He leered at me.

"C'mon, Ecaeris," he said, his voice heavy with breath as he strained for the ball, trying to distract me. "We all know Akyran's got a mistress. Isn't it time you - "

Whatever he had been going to say was broken off as I struck the ball and we watched it fly straight to Akyran, who stood up in the saddle and met its flight with his stick, sending it soaring back into the goals.

"Two!" He yelled at me triumphantly.

We all know Akyran's got a mistress, Daryith had said. He had been teasing. He always teased me about getting Akyran into bed when we played, trying to distract me from the game. But Akyran having a mistress was an entirely other matter to taking a courtier to bed. One implied some permanence, whilst the other was fleeting, and without any emotional attachment.

I slammed into Eltarin, winding us both and causing our mounts to snap at each other irritably, the horses as caught up in the play as their riders.

"Little sister," he acknowledged. "You took your time coming. Quick!" he added, and I saw the ball moving towards us on his bad side. He took my mount's reins and I leant over onto his horse behind him, striking the ball back towards the goals, whilst halfway between the two horses.

I had returned to my mount when Rivyn rode by. "Not sure if that's totally a legal move," he grinned at me. "Fun to watch, but a shot taken between two horses?"

"It scored," I shrugged, but my attention went to where the king and queen watched. The queen waved a handkerchief, passing the move.

"Ha," Eltarin clasped my hand in celebration. "Our parents are here," he added as he released me.

"Why?" I was surprised. I had thought them thoroughly entrenched in the family estate for the season, with our elder brother and his wife, whose first child was newly arrived. I had been to see the babe for the day only a week before, and there had been no indication of any intention by them to attend the Court of Light.

"Oh, come on," Eltarin laughed. "They wouldn't miss this..."

I was distracted as oncoming riders collided with my horse. For a moment, Akyran and I rode side to side again. He bared his teeth in a ferocious grin showing the sharpened canine and premolars of the Fae.

"I'm hedged in, Ecaeris," he told me. The riders pulled back suddenly, parting before an oncoming party. "Ecaeris!" He grabbed me from my horse, putting me before him and I saw his purpose, his grasp on my hips holding me aloft as I leaned out to my utter limits, striking the ball into the goal.

He settled me back before him as the crowds in the terrace celebrated the win. "F-k," he complained into my hair. "Either I have been too idle, or you have put on weight."

"That's not polite," I retorted, sharply. "Fiena tells me I'm getting womanly curves, which is a much nicer way of putting it."

"Yes," he agreed. "The weight is distributed appropriately."

I shot him a glare over my shoulder, and he flushed again, avoiding meeting my eyes. "I don't comment on your winter physique, Akyran," I pouted, annoyed.

"Yes, but you don't hold my winter physique aloft," he replied, lightly. "Don't be sour, Ecaeris. It looks good on you."

"Was that a compliment?" I retorted, the sharpness in my tone put on, because the question was genuine. Akyran was behaving decidedly... odd. Everyone was behaving oddly. I felt as if I had missed a court secret and needed to catch up on the gossip to understand its foreshadowing in my coterie.

"Are you seeking them, Ecaeris?" he replied laughing.

"I don't know," I replied as he guided our horses towards the terrace. "One moment you're telling me I'm heavy, and the next that it's not a bad thing. I'm confused." He slid off the horse and reached up, lifting me down.

"You look good, Ecaeris," he said, quietly, his words hidden beneath the voices that rose and fell around us. He stroked a lock of hair off my face in a gesture that was on the edge of tender. "Very good." He turned abruptly and called out Rivyn's name, moving to greet his brother and leaving me confused and flustered behind him.