Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
“Is that why the fae began having children with humans?” I ask. “To have more heirs? To keep the lines from dying out so easily?”
“Mab had many children—some with humans, some with fae,” Misha says. “And her children had children, and so on. The line was blessed with fertility.”
I frown. “So what happened to them?”
Amira holds my gaze for a long moment, and I can practically see the heartbreak in her eyes when she says, “The golden fae killed them all. Even the babes.”
We ride miles from the palace down a mountain path that is rocky, wooded, and so steep that my thighs and core ache from the work of keeping me atop my mount. Every time another wave of exhaustion hits me, I wonder why I’m not back at the palace, resting in my bed. I don’t know how to decide who I can trust in this realm, but you can learn a lot from the way someone treats those weaker than they are, those who have nothing to offer them. Tonight will tell me volumes about my hosts.
On the ride down the mountain, the king and queen continually refer to the camps for the shadow fae as a “settlement,” but it’s not until we arrive that I understand why. What they’ve set up for the Unseelie refugees is more like a small village than a temporary camp.
I expected primitive conditions, but the small straw-roofed huts that sit in neat rows on either side of the road look far better than the “adequate” conditions Misha described.
When the road comes to a T, Misha dismounts before helping his wife off her horse and then me off mine. Two smiling boys with tiny horns and long dark hair lead our horses away, leaving us in what seems to be the settlement’s common area. There’s a pavilion lined with tables—a common dining area, I imagine—and, beyond that, a playground where three children toss a ball between them.
“Our school is here,” Misha says, leading me through the pavilion to a line of buildings on the other side of the square. They’re made of stone and look very old. “And the infirmary is there. That’s also where we do intake for the new residents, since so many of them need to see the healer.”
“Is that where the children are reunited with their parents?” I ask.
Something like sadness flashes across Misha’s face. “Only when we’re very lucky.”
“This settlement is one of many throughout our lands,” Amira explains behind me. Turning, I see that a line of children has formed in front of her, and she’s crouched down and hugging them one by one. The sight reminds me of my first schoolteacher in Elora, back before the fire, when our family was still whole. Mrs. Bennett was warm and kind, and anytime my friends and I spotted her outside of school, we raced to be the first to receive one of her hugs.
I wanted to use this visit to judge how much I could trust this couple, and if Amira had known that and planned accordingly, she couldn’t have set a better scene. But this wasn’t planned. These children aren’t pretending. I can see that the Wild Fae queen spends a lot of time here, and the children are truly happy to see her. She doesn’t rush them, but gives each one the moment they were waiting for.
Misha steps to my side. “When we open the portals to bring the refugees here, our goal is to remove them from the Seelie lands,” he says. “Only once they’re safe do we begin the task of reuniting families. It takes time, though, and often the children are too sick to travel right away.”
“Why not keep the refugees in one settlement?”
Misha shakes his head. “Foolish.”
Amira hugs the last child, then gives me a smile, as if she’s trying to soften her husband’s harsh response. “It would be easier in many ways,” she says, standing and joining us, “but it would make it too easy for the golden queen to attack. We have members of our guard assigned to organize communications between the settlements and keep logs of the residents within them. Reunion is always the goal, but it’s not always possible.”
A little boy whom I’d seen getting a hug from Amira moments ago paces back and forth between us and the pavilion, a scowl twisting his face.
“Some of their parents didn’t make it,” Misha explains softly. “And many of the adults give us fake names. Their years under Mordeus’s rule have made it too hard for them to trust anyone. The challenges are endless.”
I swallow hard, imagining all the orphans wondering if their parents are alive. I know what that’s like.
“There’s a market over there,” Misha says, pointing to a row of stalls in the distance. “It opens every morning and closes at high sun. The trade is healthy, and the stall rent helps us pay a portion of the costs to keep the settlement running smoothly.”