I raised my head from where I knelt before Mab’s throne, finding the queen smiling down at me. “Ash,” Mab purred, gesturing for me to rise, “my favorite boy. Do you know why I called you here?” I stood warily. I’d learned never to trust Mab when she used the word favorite. I’d seen her call someone her favorite right before she froze them alive, “to remember them always like this.” More often, it was a ploy to make my brothers jealous, to drive us to compete with one another. This entertained her greatly but made life difficult for me. Rowan took great offense each time I was the favored son, and punished me for it whenever he could.
I could feel Rowan’s glare as I stood, but I ignored him while facing the queen. “I know not, Queen Mab, but whatever your reasons, I will comply.”
Her eyes glittered. “Always so formal. Would it hurt you to smile for me once in a blue moon? Rowan is not afraid to look me in the eye.” Rowan was at court a lot more than I was, being groomed as her coun-cilor and confidant, and he shared her vicious sense of humor. But there was no way I could tell her that, so I managed a small smile, which seemed to please her. She settled back on her throne and regarded me in an almost affectionate manner, then gestured to something behind me.
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A pair of Winter knights in icy-blue armor stepped forward, dragging something between them, throwing it at Mab’s feet. A wood nymph, brown-skinned and delicate, with a sharp pointed face and brambles in her long green hair. One of her legs was broken, snapped like a dry twig and hanging at an odd angle. She moaned, only barely conscious, dragging herself across the f loor, away from the foot of the throne.
“This creature,” Mab said, gazing down at the broken, pathetic body,
“and several of its friends attacked and killed one of my knights while they were patrolling the border of the wyldwood. The knights were able to subdue this one, but the rest f led into the wyldwood and escaped. Such an attack cannot go unchal enged, but it refuses to dis-close the whereabouts of its home glade. I was hoping that you, with the vast amount of time you spend hunting there, would know where to find them.”
I looked down at the nymph, who had dragged herself across the f loor and was reaching out for me. “M-mercy,” it whispered, clutching at my boots. “Mercy, my lord, we were only trying to save our sister. The knight…the knight was… assaulting her. Please…my friends…my family. The queen will kill them all.”
For just a moment, I hesitated. I did not doubt her words; the knights were cold and violent, taking what they wanted, but to attack the servants of the Winter Court was a crime punishable by death. Mab would kill the nymph’s entire family if she found them, just for protecting their own. I could not lie, of course, but there were other ways to bend the truth. “Prince Ash.” Mab’s voice had changed. No longer in-quiring and friendly, it now held a dangerous undertone of warning. “I believe I asked you a question,” she continued, as the nymph grabbed at my coat hem, pleading for mercy. “Do you know the location of these creatures, or not?”
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What are you doing, Ash? Clenching my fist, I shoved the nymph away with my boot, ignoring her cry of pain. Mercy was for the weak, and I was the son of the Unseelie Queen. There was no mercy in my blood.
“Yes, your majesty,” I said, as the nymph collapsed, sobbing, to the icy ground.
“I’ve seen this tribe before. They have a colony on the edge of the Bramblewood.”
Mab smiled. “excellent,” she rasped. “Then you will lead a force there tonight, and destroy it. Kill them all, cut down their trees, and burn their glade to the ground. I want nothing left standing, not a single blade of grass. Set an example for those who would defy the Winter Court, is that clear?”
I bowed my head as the nymph’s wails and shrieks rose into the air.
“As you say, my queen,” I murmured, backing away. “It will be done.” The forest elf stared at me, clutching his staff, fear written plainly on his wrinkled face. The small elven tribe that lived here, on the outskirts of the wyldwood and Tir Na Nog, were simple hunter-gatherers. They didn’t get many visitors, especially not from the Unseelie Court. Especially not a prince of the Winter Court himself.
“Prince Ash?” He bowed stiff ly, and I nodded once. “This is…a surprise. To what do we owe this honor, your highness?”
“I’m here on behalf of Queen Mab and a warrior named Hawthorn,” I replied formally, and his bushy eyebrows rose. “Is this name familiar to you?”
“Hawthorn?” The elder’s brow furrowed. “Yes. Hawthorn was on a warrior quest, to become the strongest wood elf in the wyldwood. Why do you know him?”