Didn’t he ever get tired?
I pumped my arms and pushed myself to increase my speed. I opened myself to the fae magic around me and felt the earth beneath my feet reach up to meet me. My senses sharpened as I concentrated, each step guided by the earth on which I ran. I knew where the stones were; I knew where to place my feet as if the ground itself were telling me where to go. The air around me whispered, and my pace sped up. It was as if the air was assisting me, giving me more power in my lungs, pushing me forward at a speed I had never reached before.
We headed for the forest that led up to the hills. Tristan ran through the trees, sure-footed and nimble, without missing a step. I ran faster than I ever had, jumping over fallen logs and zigzagging through the trees. We were running at an incline, but I pushed myself further, my fae magic giving me extra strength and speed.
“Oww!” I tripped over a fallen log and landed smack on my face.
Tristan was beside me in an instant. “You need to maintain your connection to the elements as you run. If you hesitate or lose concentration, this is what happens.”
It seemed like ever since I’d gotten here I had spent most of my time lying flat on my face. I groaned as my muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed myself up and healed my scraped knees and palms; the pain subsided but didn’t go away completely. I had to admit fae healing was convenient.
“Maybe we should go back,” Tristan said, looking at the sky. The sun had started to set behind the mountains and the valley took on a dusky glow. Birds chirped high in the trees as they settled in for the night, and the crickets seemed to be trying to outdo their chatter. “It will get dark soon, and we don’t want to be outside the city walls at night. I can understand if you are tired; demi-fae do not have the same endurance as the High Fae.”
“Demi-fae sounds better than half-breed,” I said as I followed him back down the hill into the valley.
Tristan nodded. “Demi-fae is the politically correct term,” he said, seemingly slightly embarrassed as we traversed a rough path through the trees. “But some of the nobility believe the fae should not intermarry with other races.”
“Why? Why not be tolerant?” I tried to keep up with his pace.
“Many are,” said Tristan as we neared the city gates, “but as you know, our numbers have been rapidly decreasing over the centuries. The High Fae who are left are only a handful, the last remnants of a long-forgotten world, when the lands of the kingdom of Elfi stretched far beyond the Old Forest and beyond the great Southern Sea.”
“It did?” I had never heard this version of Avalonian history before.
Tristan nodded as the centaurs opened the southern gate for us to enter. “It was in the Age of the Ancients,” he elaborated. “Before the Demon Wars, the mages did not rule Avalonia. It was the High Fae who were absolute lords of this world. This was before Dragath came, before Auraken Firedrake defeated him and trapped him in what many thought was an eternal prison. The Ancient Fae, as they are now called, were more powerful than anything any of us has ever seen—even the Elder Fae.”
“What happened to the rest of the kingdom? I have never seen this mentioned in any of the books the dowager made me read.”
“You won’t find any information on the Ancient Fae in those books. Most of our older texts were destroyed during the Demon Wars,” Tristan said as we passed the fae guards and climbed the big sweeping staircase to the palace. “But there is a story about an ancient queen etched into the walls of the great library.”
“There is? I’ve never seen it.”
“That’s because it is in a much older part of the library than you usually frequent.” He paused as if reluctant to continue, and finally said, “Come. I will show you.”
I followed him to the castle library. As usual, it was mostly empty, except for a few house sprites who wandered around cleaning continuously. Occasionally a member of the High Fae would come down to get a book or read silently at one of the tables positioned between corridors.
Tristan led me past my usual reading shelves into passages I had never been in before. The library was seemingly endless, running deep into the mountain in long, winding corridors that descended farther down into catacombs, which housed some of the older texts.
Tristan stopped in a shadowy corridor and lit up his hand with fae light. I did the same as I followed him deeper into the mountain. This part of the library had no books, only smooth stone walls and endless passages leading into darkness.
He went over to one wall and held up his hand. The fae light shone brightly as striking etchings came into view, ancient frescoes thousands of years old hidden under the Crystal Castle. The original colors had faded as time had passed, but most were still visible.
“They say the Crystal Castle was built on the ruins of an Ancient Fae fortress that was destroyed by Dragath during the Demon Wars,” Tristan said. “These walls are part of the original structure.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “These are beautiful,” I whispered, gazing at the intricately rendered paintings of long-dead fae-warriors fighting a hideous demon. I knew who the demon was; my granduncle had shown me a similar painting in a book at the Summer Palace. But this fresco showed a dark-haired queen in full fae armor fighting Dragath with twin swords of silver fire flashing in her hands.
“Dragath,” I whispered.
Tristan nodded. “During the Demon Wars, the last of the Ancient Fae queens, Illaria of the house
