“Centuries?” My eyes grew wide. “How old is he?”
“Around three hundred, I would say, give or take a few years.”
“Three hundred years! But he looks in his early twenties.” My eyes narrowed. “How do you know all this?”
“I have studied the fae, as they are our direct neighbors and I need to protect our borders. But even if I hadn’t, all Brandorians have grown up on fae stories. Everyone knows about Tristan Nightshade, Prince of the Night Court.”
“The Prince of the Night Court?” I gasped, and an image of the ruins I saw when I was traveling to Calos flashed before my eyes. He was the one Brandon told me about; the merciless High Fae warrior who burned a mage fortress to ruin, killing everyone inside. He sounded like a monster. I shivered involuntarily. If Tristan hated mages so much, my grandmother must have quite a hold over him to get him to rescue me and take me to Elfi.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, my thoughts reeling. I had read a little about the fae courts in passing at the library at the academy; it had been part of my research for my fae studies class. As far as I knew, there were three grand courts of the High Fae: the Day Court, the Night Court, and the Royal Court. The Day and Night Courts were ruled by a grand duke or duchess; and my grandmother, the queen of the fae, and her Royal Court presided over both the Day Court and the Night Court from the capital city of Elfi, known as Iris.
“I will leave you to change and pack your things.” Santino stood up. “I must go check that the fae are well taken care of.”
I nodded and tried to gather my thoughts before I proceeded on the last leg of my journey. I had no idea what to expect when I reached Elfi. The fae were steeped in tradition and old magic, and they were much more powerful than mages. Brandon had warned me against them, and although he had betrayed me, I knew there was some truth to what he had said about the High Fae. I would have to proceed very carefully from now on. My focus had to be learning to master my fae magic and understanding how to control it without my amulet. But I knew I had more to learn if I was going to be half as good as the fire-fae warriors.
Soon Santino returned to tell me that the fae-warriors were ready and getting impatient to leave. Two maids accompanied him with trays of food.
“I wanted to make sure you ate something before you left,” Santino said. “It will be a long journey to Elfi.”
I went over to the breakfast tray and popped some berries and dried fruits into my mouth while Santino apprised me of his father’s plans. After this attack on the palace, the emir had forbidden him from escorting me to Elfi, as Santino was needed in Brandor. The fae-warriors were more than capable of protecting me on our journey. But I was uncomfortable around them. I wished Erien, Vivienne, or Kalen were here if Rafe couldn’t be. I needed a friend, someone to talk to, and these fae-warriors didn’t look too friendly. After what I’d heard about them, I was not sure what to expect anymore.
I had already changed into my traveling clothes and tucked my hair under the hood of my cloak as I moved about my room, gathering the last of my things and picking at my breakfast tray. I couldn’t resist eating the whole bowl of fresh clotted cream, drizzled in honey and dried fruits, a traditional Brandorian breakfast.
“Give me five minutes.” I couldn’t find the second dagger given to me by Rafe, and I didn’t want to leave without it.
“What did the mastermage mean about the key Brandon stole?” asked Santino as he helped me look for the missing dagger.
Santino had proved he could be trusted, so I told him briefly about Morgana’s search for the Book of Abraxas. He needed to know what was at stake, what Morgana and the Drakaar were truly after, but I did not tell him about the Dawnstar. He didn’t need to know about it yet, not until I knew more about it myself.
I had to begin thinking strategically. If Santino could convince his father and the other emirs to stand against Morgana, we could have a chance to defend Elfi. Brandor was the bordering kingdom, and Morgana would have to go through Brandor to get her army to Elfi, if it ever came to that.
Santino listened carefully, not saying a word until I had finished. He ran a hand over his mouth and short beard. “My spies have heard rumors Morgana’s people have been looking for ancient magical artifacts. But I never suspected this was what she was after.” He started to pace. “But this may be what we need to get my father to stand against Morgana. He would not be so foolish as to let her get her hands on the Book of Abraxas.”
I nodded. “Yes, exactly. If we can get the kingdoms to unite against Morgana, we may have a chance.”
Santino stopped pacing and gripped the windowsill. “I have heard of a rebel group that hides in the Darkwood on the border of Illiador.”
“Yes, Brandon mentioned them; the Silver Swords, I think they call themselves.”
“Precisely,” said Santino. “You are surprisingly well informed.” He turned to face me. “I had some of my spies infiltrate the rebel camps. It seems most of the rebel leaders are comprised of the common people brought together by remnants of noble houses who were loyal to your parents. When Azaren and Elayna were killed, the survivors of your father’s court hid in the Darkwood, biding their time and helping the people of Illiador who were tortured by Morgana’s Shadow Guards.”
“Where are you going with this?” Could the Silver
