I spin my head back, and my frown must have communicated my utter shock, because he grins and indicates similar displays on nearby homes. “It’s their ancestors. The older the skull is, the more prestige a family has. There’s been feuds about skulls being stolen by rivals and secretly disposed of.”
It’s so morbid, but I can’t help a laugh. “Oh, my God! What? If they’re so precious, why not hide them in a chest or something?”
“They need to be proudly exposed to moonlight. The skulls of all my prominent forebearers are displayed in the Ancestral Sanctuary, the second highest place in the castle. The roof there is glass, like in the orangery, so they are always looking at the stars. We even have the skull of Lord Larkin Nightweed and his Dark Companion. I will show you on our wedding day, when you become a part of my family, and we make our sacrifice,” Kyran says as Crab stands still, keeping us away from the crowd ahead for that bit longer.
I stiffen and laugh nervously. “I hope it’s nothumansacrifice?”
Kyran smiles and brings my hand to his lips. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. We will cut open the cocoon of a matra spider and feed her some of our hair, then release her into the Sanctuary. That way, her children will weave cobwebs with a piece of us all over the castle.”
I stare at him. “That’s messed up.”
“It’s tradition.” He shrugs as we ride through a narrow passage between two houses. A flash of movement draws my attention there, but I look away as I spot two elves so engaged in…relationsthey don’t even notice us. A lush skirt is hitched up to uncover pale thighs, but I don’t let my eyes linger and stare ahead, where the shadowed street opens into a richness of pink light.
Would it be improper for a prince to fuck his promised in a dark alley? Probably, but a boy can dream.
The glow originates from a massive bonfire, and while I have no idea how they tinted the flames such an unnatural shade, the figures dancing around it feel familiar despite their clothes. Like a dark and gothic renfaire night on Valentine’s Day. The mix makes me smile and look around in awe even though we’re being gawked at as soon as Crab emerges from the alleyway.
Sitting so high up gives me a chance to take everything in. The town square a the bonfire in the middle, but tall trees at the edges. Around each thick trunk, elves sit on wooden benches, busy eating, chatting, and laughing. Stands with foods, drinks, and trinkets are to one side of the square, and sellers loudly advertise their products, but I’m still too far away to hear any details. Everyone is bathed in the pink glow that reflects off their clothes and faces despite fashion dictating that most attendees wear black.
I want to feast my eyes and ask so many questions, but a woman approaches us with two elves in simple black tunics. Her gown is long, with lots of draping, and a massive headdress featuring antlers and a veil that seems to be made out of spiderwebs. Tiny jewels are woven into it, reflecting the light like dew drops.
She looks like a witch. Or a goth elder, who’s been in the community since its inception but who has, miraculously, not aged beyond thirty. I freeze when she bows, followed by her two companions.
“Our prince and his promised! It’s a shame you didn’t notify us about your arrival, we could have prepared better.” Her voice has a rasp to it as if she’s smoked one cigarette too many.
“That’s all right, it was a spontaneous trip,” Kyran says, sliding off the kelpie with the kind of grace I can only dream of. But he’s there to hold my hands and catch me when I make my attempt at not falling face first. Miraculously, my boots make it to the cobblestones as if I was made for riding kelpies.
On the other hand, I’m not sure now if I should bow to thewitch lady.
Before I can work out my social standing, Kyran introduces me. “Luke Moor, my promised. Luke, this is Ana d’Luna, the wiser of the village. She oversees the Ardournalia celebrations and provides us all with insight into the tides of shadows even our alchemists can’t provide.”
I’m pretty sure he’s working his flattery magic here, but just knowing this is someone he cares to flatter is worthwhile information. I open my mouth and remain mute, because what should I say to someone who’s this important? Is she the equivalent of a mayor? A religious figure? The next Sailor Moon villain (going by the black crescent moon tattooed on her forehead)?
I cook under my clothes while she gestures to one of her assistants, who produces a shallow basket. The wiser reaches inside and pulls out a wreath made of vines, tiny flowers, and crisp white fishbone. As I lean in to see it in more detail, she places it on my head like a crown.
“Welcome. Your presence brings joy to our unbroken hearts.”
The square resonates with whooping, as if every single elf present has been waiting for this moment, and I seek Kyran’s hand, intimidated by all this attention.
I smile, hoping I’m not some fishbone prince now, marked as an offering to the kraken.
“Thank you,” is all I can muster, but then I remember my customer service experience, and go on. “It’s my pleasure to be here, and a privilege to be part of the Nocturne Court.”
I must have done something right because the wiser’s moon-white lips spread into a smile. “My Prince, may we speak in private?”
Kyran’s gaze darts to mine, but I don’t want to be a burden, so I offer him a smile and nod. He gives me a little kiss on the cheek and steps away, led by Wiser Ana, who touches his back as if they’re friends, not a prince and his subject.
I immediately sense the weight of too many glances, but as I turn to Crab, eager to busy myself stroking his flank with my gloved palms, someone leads him away. It leaves me deserted in the middle of the empty space between the stalls and the bonfire. I’m not usually shy, but here I’m a curiosity everyone wants to ogle, and without Kyran to lead me through situations I don’t understand, I’m a sitting duck. My gaze darts to the dancing couples, and it looks as though the renfaire has organized a bisexual party, because I spot women with men, women with women, men with men, some passing into different arms between sets of figures.
For a moment, I imagine myself and Kyran among them, him lifting me up until I feel weightless in his strong arms, and—
“Is that really him?” comes a hushed voice from under one of the trees. At first, I’m annoyed with myself for assuming that every single thing said would be about me, but then the whisper continues, drilling into my ear despite the music. “The former Lord’s companion was so handsome. I thought Prince Kyranis would have picked someone prettier.”
The fuck? Right in the fucking insecurities, huh? Why not comment on my skincare routine while they’re at it?
Torn between throwing back a snarky comment and inadequacy, I just stand there, taking my time to look everywhere but at the gossiping elves. I wanted to visit the village to find Carol, the Dark Companion, or at least work out where she lives, and I won’t be distracted by—
“The prince can always find himself a lovely spouse later,” one of the hushed voices says, yet I pick it up as if my ears are elven. “He’s so handsome, so pale, and his hair is like shadow itself. Do you think he will invite any elves from the Realm for courtship?”
