C.C. Peñaranda

A Clash of Three Courts

Bia || Alpi 

The Prince of High Farrow lay beside her. Propped up on one elbow, he pretended to be lost inside a book. They'd been silent for some time, but she knew he wasn't reading because of how fast he turned the pages. Tauria bit her lip to suppress her chuckle, wondering if he was simply enjoying the images instead. Something she'd quickly comne to learn about the prince was that texts and knowledge weren't his idea of fun, but he was incredibly smart all the same. The way Nik could analyze visuals was admirable. It were as if he created his own stories and outlook without being influenced by a single written word.

"I can't possibly concentrate with you staring at me all the time." Nik's emerald eyes twinkled with mischief as he flashed themn up to her.

Tauria's gaze snapped down to his, and his side smile, a partial smirk, momentarily stole her response. The fire that danced across his irises was enrapturing. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. 

“You're perfectly capable of reading your own. Perhaps you should choose something with more pictures."

Nik rumbled with laughter, the vibrations creatinga shiver over her skin at such close proximity. "I’m trying not to be insulted."

"It wasn't intended as an insult. Simply an observation that you might prefer more visuals."

As Nik's smile stretched to a grin and his eyes twinkled with delight, Tauria had to avert her gaze in a flush of embarrassment. Some things hadn't changed since the day they met in her home kingdom of Fenstead. Nik's insufferable deviance was one of them.

Nik's presence wasn't forgotten for even a second, but she was so fully immersed by the world she took them to that she didn't balk under the featherlight impression of his eyes on her. She couldn't be sure how much time passed, but Nik slowly inched closer under the guise of restlessness, and soon only a slither of space remained between them. His breaths blew over her chest, which was bare in the low cut of the gown that felt suddenly scandalous. Then, when his fingers carefully grazed her waist, Tauria's next words stumbled for the first time. She didn't look at him, attempting to continue reading as though it were a mistake. But his hand moved, flattening and curving over her abdomen, torturously slow, leaving a tingling trail that shot to her mnost desirous parts. Her breathing fluctuated too much to trust her voice wouldn't waver, but her eyes remained fixed on the text.

"Don't stop," he said huskily, sending any response or focus scattering. “Unless you want me to."

Tauria swallowed hard, her heartbeat fast and longing. And then she continued. Her tale took a slower pace while her mind scrambled, reading but not absorbing a single word, because all she could track was his every hint of movemernt.

"Your Majesty, there has been a new arrival who requests an audience."

Again, the guard spared Tauria a flash of attention. Her muscles locked in anticipation, wondering who it could be to make him feel the need for such caution around her. Nik wouldn't be so foolish as to come after her so soon. He wouldn't—

"He claims his name is Lycus Warner, a General of Fenstead."

Tauria's gasp couldn't be stifled. Her disappointment that it wasn't who she first thought was quickly dissi- pated by her world-shifting shock.

His name rang on repeat, her mind refusing to believe she'd heard it right. Because she'd mourned that name long ago, believed he'd died defending his court when Fenstead fell.

Tauria shot to her feet, uncaring of etiquette in her spike of adrenaline.

"We are not done here," Varlas said coolly to his guard while his eyes locked on her in silent command.

Tauria frowned in defiance. "If I may —"

"Sit, Tauria." His smooth order cut off her words and flared her temper like a dismissed child. But her compliance would not be so easily gained now she knew what he intended to keep her from.

"I did not know General Lycus Warner was alive. I will go to him — unless you are detaining me here, King Varlas."

His expression twitched with wrath at her standoff. She couldn't understand why he was so determined to keep her here for the petty feast she had no appetite for. Perhaps it wasn't wise to counter his request. She was trying to play smart after all — had to bide her time and gain his trust. But in that moment, she didn't care. Not when she was in reach of being reunited with her childhood friend. Against her desire, she extended the respect of waiting until Varlas granted her leave, but she stared into his hardened eyes with equal challenge, watching as he battled between asserting his authority and abiding by her request.

Nik blinked, stumped at the swerve of topic. "Why would you ask?"

"To understand. Because as your friends...we can't sit by and watch you make the mistake of a lifetime. And for your kind, that is a long, torturous existence."

Jakon couldn't hear it with his human senses, but Nik's pulse picked up, his guard ready to close him off entirely at the probing inquisition. I don't know what one has to do with the other," he said. An edge of warning had slipped into his tone as a natural defense. It might have reflected on his face as Jakon balked. Just for a second, until he casually reached out a hand for the bow. Nik's jaw ground at the distraction, but he obliged.

Jakon swiped up the quiver of arrows, casually strolling toward the archery range at the far end. Nik followed him, not forgetting for a second he awaited an explanation for Jakon's odd question.

"What if your mate could still cross your path in this lifetime?" Jakon didn't wait for instruction — didn't seem to need it. Nik observed him with crossed arms as he nocked and aimed with a decent enough poise to be more than a novice.

"A mate is a match of the power we have within. It's not always felt in the heart." When he let the shot go, Nik followed it, and he didn't hide the lift of his brow that it hit one of the middle targets close to the center

"That you're not making a mistake because your soul calls to her by some bond of magick, but because you love her. Loved her even before you knew about the bond."

They'd traveled far enough now that Tauria was confident in her ability to speak with caution on the topic that had been causing chaos in her thoughts, but she was in no hurry as she approached another large pond. She crouched and decided to sit on its broad rim with the urge to feel the cool water.

"They're magnificent," she muttered, admiring the tango of colorful fish.

Lennox stayed standing. "I believe they call them Coyrico fish. They're considered spiritual. Many come by the ponds to pray or offer their wishes."

Stunned into silence, neither male had the words to counter Marlowe's passionate speech. She was right, and Nik fully admired her dedication to the cause. She saw the grand scale this could reach: a bigger war beyond the possible clash of three courts when High Farrow, Olmstone, and Fenstead negotiated a treaty.

AI MANOOOOO ctz que é o Mordecai MEU CU AAAAAAA

Tauria didn't recognize the voice, but its dark caress slithered down her spine.

"She needs time to adjust, for us to gain her trust."

"I said we could try it your way, but the clock is ticking."

"I have the utmost confidence they will. We have tested royal blood before. But with the marriage, we only need one of them to survive. If neither does, then they were both too weak to ever be fit for purpose."

"Maybe not yours, but it has always been mine."

Tauria's pulse jumped rapid, and she blessed the wind for howling loud enough to disguise it and carry her scent away from them without her intervention. She had to get a look to know who he spoke to. Her every hair stood on end.

She had been a fool, content to excuse Varlas's absence as preoccupation with other matters when it was what she should have noticed first. Varlas wasn't ignoring her presence in Olmstone; he was making his own plans for it. The stab of betrayal came as hot as it did icy with a rage to demand why, and in sadness, Tauria wondered what she'd done to deserve it.

"I don't care what it takes. That son of yours doesn't seem to be playing his role too convincingly. By the second full moon I will be here, and I expect to have them both. The ceremony will be spectacular indeed."

Tauria's gloved fingers curled around the peak of the slanted rooftop, halfway to hoisting herself up for a glimpse…

A hand clamped over her mouth and nose, followed by an arm hooked around her waist, and before she knew it, she was twisted and pinned with her back against a strong force. Her cry of surprise halted with the scent that wrapped around her. It wasn't relief but ice-cold dread she felt at knowing her captor's identity.

"Stay silent," Tarly warned, no more than a wisp of the wind.

"You did it perfectly," Tauria said, her somberness echoing in her quiet voice. "What would you like to plant?"

Opal's face turned contemplative until her gaze fell to Tauria's hands. "Those." Her eyes lit up as she pointed to the spindlelilly. "Ive never seen them before. I've never seen a lot of the flowers you grow. They're all so pretty."

Tauria wanted to match her happiness, but she couldn't bloom a whole bed of spindlelillies in Olmstone. It was Fenstead's mourning flower.

Tauria's attention fell to the princess at her alarm, quickly scanning her over for injury. But the princess was unharmed except for a saddened expression, her blue gaze fixed on Tauria's lap. Following her line of sight, her eyebrows rose.

 can make them die too… Opal trailed off sadly. It was heartbreaking to see the young fae so upset by the wilted flower. It didn't happen often, but if Tauria's emotions ran too reckless while her ability hummed at the surface, it had the opposite effect on the nature around her. Luckily, her melancholy mood hadn't been dispersed enough to affect anything but the single spindlelilly.

"I don't think they were meant for here," Tauria said. But to lighten the mood for Opal's sake. her magick heated her fingertips, encasing the dying bud. They both watched in fascination as it reformed intoa white rose instead. "These look similar though."

Opal took the flower with a toothy grin, retrieving her spade to plant the new bloom. Tauria could have grown it directly and saved her the bother, but watching the young fae lose herself in the act of gardening was a nourishing sight she would never tire of. Looking at her now, she started to see echoes of her childself and wondered if these feelings had swirled in her mother's chest as she watched her.

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