Prologue

The castle was aglow in faery firelight when the page entered. Although the fire cast a happy glow with its golden center and silver flame, there was an unsettling feeling in his young fae heart. It was his first time being inside the royal Castle Sheelin and he carried a rather important message from his home kingdom of Fainox. His heart beat frantically in his chest as he awaited the man servant's invitation into the grand hall where he would address the famed King and Queen of Rosainne. Their honor and justice was said to only be surpassed by their generosity and kindness. Finally, the graying faery returned from the depths of the stone fortress to show the page in.

The grand hall was bathed in silver firelight. King Edmund sat in a large throne which shimmered silver and gold, the top of the throne had been carved into the shape of a great swan with his wings extended. Next to him, in a more modest throne sat his advisor and lifelong friend, Lord Duff. Their wives, Queen Phoebe and Lady Sorcha stood next to the fireplace, which also had the Roald Swan engraved into the mantle.

"Come in boy! Come in!" boomed King Edmund. His face was nearly hidden by the flaxen beard and mustache he wore but his jolly smile shone through. His pink cheeks and green eyes were framed by dark golden locks and his whole demeanor seemed to ease the young faery's tension but Lord Duff's presence kept the tension from leaving completely. Duff's dark eyes seemed suspicious of the young page, and he felt the man's glare on him as he moved further into the room.

"Well?" The King said bringing the page's attention back to him. "Don't just stand there. Tell us, what news do you have for us?" The King said still smiling.

"I have a message from Queen Aoife," The page announced. He noticed from the corner of his eye the queen look up at the mention of her sister's name and he felt relief spread through him as he realized that she would hear his plea. "She has an urgent need for you and your Queen to come to Castle Anála. It seems that she's received some information that the elves plan to attack."

"The elves! She must be mistaken," Lord Duff said quickly rising from his chair.

"I assure you Sir; she has checked her sources multiple times. They plan to wage war in three days time." The page said addressing Duff directly. "Please, your Majesty," he pleaded turning his attention back to the king, "my lady needs your assistance. She's rules over Galadean peacefully; the families that live under her are fae of the plains, we're artists and engineers, not soldiers. We do not know how to defend ourselves. Please sir, on behalf of my Queen, we need you."

King Edmund, his jolly demeanor taken over now by a more somber attitude left his throne and went over to the fireplace where his wife stood holding their daughter, Treasia. "I have to go Phoebe. Aoife needs our help."

"Of course. When do we leave?" Phoebe answered. Her white-gold hair glowed in the firelight and her midnight blue eyes glimmered with love for her husband. She looked up adoringly at him as he softly brushed the cheek of their sleeping daughter.

"Darling, I think it would be best if you stayed behind on this journey. Who will look after Treasia if you come?"

"I will." Sorcha answered boldly. "What's one more infant to a new mother?" She asked. "It wouldn't be any trouble at all and Aoife is going to need all the power she can attain." Her ice blue eyes shone and she smiled at her dearest friend.

"Sorcha has a point your majesty," Duff continued. "Queen Aoife's power will be doubled with her sister by her side. We'll stay behind and watch over things here Edmund. You both need to go and help Aoife, her kingdom borders on ours. If she falls, Sheelin will most likely be next on the elves list. Better to prevent a battle on our own ground." Duff continued; his face still stern.

"Edmund..." Phoebe said, the page could hardly hear her but the high ceilings in the hall allowed for a slight echo of the private conversation between them. "Darling, I have to go with you. Not only would my power be helpful, Aoife is my sister. Though she may be older than me, she needs me and if the roles were reversed, she would be by my side as quickly as she could."

The page watched as the King of Rosainne looked into his wife's eyes. He saw the look of determination there and the eventual soften of Edmund's resolve. Edmund nodded and ordered the manservant to get word to his soldiers to prepare to move out to Fainox. "We leave at daybreak, we don't have much time."

Sorcha paced her bedchamber while she waited for Duff's return. She absentmindedly wrung her hands as she paced in front of the fireplace nervously. Where is he? Why haven't we heard from Phoebe or Edmund? It had been a week with no word. She had sent her husband to the outer wall to see if there was a messenger who had gotten tired on the last leg of his journey.

Elves can be dangerous creatures, she thought. They're cold and cunning but the page had said that they had three days to get there. The journey shouldn't have taken more than a day and a half. But if they had been killed, the elves would have been trying to breach the walls of Sheelin long ago. They have to be alive, Sorcha thought to herself. Then she heard a baby cry from the cradle that both infants shared. She walked over and picked up Treasia. Sorcha held her close to quiet her so that she wouldn't wake her son, Brecht.

"Shh, it's alright Princess. Your mother and father will be back soon… they have got to be." It was then she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, she could tell by the pace on the stone floor that it was her husband. She turned to face the door with the now sleeping daughter of Rosainne in her hands.

Duff came in through the doors and took off his muddy boots. "There's been no word. The fae are becoming worried."

"Of course they are! I don't understand how they can just disappear! They're the rulers of one of the most powerful kingdoms!"

"I'm sure they are unharmed Sorcha." Duff said.

Sorcha suddenly became overwhelmingly angry at her husband. How could he dismiss this? Not only were the rulers of his kingdom missing, but Edmund and Duff were the best of friends! They had been boys together! She turned her back on Duff to put Treasia back in the cradle. Duff came up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Duff, I think it would be best if you sent one of the soldiers to look for them." She said trying to hold onto the edges of her ebbing anger.

"Sorcha, have you not heard that no news is good news?" He asked. He sensed his wife's discontent, but knew it wouldn't last long. "Besides, we need any soldiers we have here, just in case."

"What do you mean, 'just in case'?" Sorcha demanded harshly as she stepped out of her husband's arms. "We either have no need of protection because Edmund and Phoebe made it to Castle Anála unharmed, or we need to send them protection because they are in danger." Sorcha continued, becoming angrier with every word.

"There is nothing that can be done tonight Sorcha, it is late. Come, let us go to bed and we will discuss it more in the morning." Duff said exhaustion clear on his face.

"I'm not tired." Sorcha said rather abruptly from in front of the fireplace. Duff watched her profile as she gazed into the flames from his perch on the edge of the bed. Even when frustration and anger were clear on her face, Sorcha was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her anger flared only when she felt things were deviating from the honorable course. He loved her for that, she always told the truth and that usually compelled him to comply to her wishes.

"Alright Sorcha, I will go down to the soldier's quarters and send our fastest rider off to the boundary to make sure the King and Queen made their journey to Castle Anála in good health. Will that settle your mind?" He said patiently.

Sorcha stared into the fire for a moment before turning to face her husband. Duff's breath caught in his chest. The faery firelight danced on her mocha hair, her blue eyes thanked him before she could speak the words.

"I'm sorry My Love, I should not have snapped at you. You know the affairs in the castle better than I do. I'm merely worried about our friends. There is no need to go just now, wait until morning, you look worn to the bone. I will go down to the healer to see if he can concoct a light sleeping draft for me. With the state that I have worked myself into, I may never sleep of my own accord. I'll be back soon." She said. "You will most likely be fast asleep by the time I return."

"You are probably right Mo Ghrá. I will see you in the morning?"

"Yes," she said as she walked over to him. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him gently. "You will."

"You are my life, you and Brecht. You know that right?" Duff asked, feeling caught up in his wife's eyes. He gently traced her right eyebrow and the scar that ran through it. This imperfection had always been his favorite thing about her. It was the only way he knew that she was real and not a dream that he would wake from at any moment.

"Of course I do. Now go to sleep Darling. I'm sure you had a long day." She said as she held him.

Before she left the room, she leaned into the bassinet, kissed Princess Treasia's cheek and kissed the top of Brecht's dark curls, pausing to breath in his scent. She closed the door behind her quietly, walked down the corridor calmly and once she turned the corner towards the Healer's quarters, Sorcha soared.

Sorcha's mother, Gaire had always put such trust in her instincts. Some fae had considered her clairvoyant and listened when she said that the way a cloud covered the moon meant an unwanted visitor would be coming or the way the wind blew through the shutters meant an illness would overcome the household, others just shrugged it off as a commoner putting too much of a reliance on superstitions. But what Sorcha had seen in the flames was no superstition. She saw a bird in the flames, a swan with a marking in the shape of an maple leaf on its chest, the symbol that Queen Phoebe had adopted after her marriage to Edmund, joining her family symbol with her husbands. After a short flight around an image of Castle Sheelin where it brought a light shower of rain, it died with one last cry. Then a giant elf rose over Castle Sheelin. The elf, with it's sharp features and straight lips, crumbled the walls of Castle Sheelin with one swing of it's blade. Then she saw her husband, her darling Duff, covered in blood raging toward the elf with a sword at the ready, but he never reached the elf. An arrow came soaring from the sky and struck her husband in the heart. "You are the one..." rang a voice in her head as the the look of shock on her husband's face faded. The premonition couldn't have been clearer, Queen Phoebe, her best friend was in danger and Duff was in danger of dying if he tried to rescue her and her husband. She couldn't stand the thought of that and refused to let this premonition come true. She knew that she was her queen's only hope. She went into one of the guest chambers and grabbed one of the cloaks stored in a spare chest. The midnight blue would help her blend into the night sky and hide if she needed to.

She crept through the castle hallways as quietly as she could. She made her way onto the grounds and down to the stables without anyone noticing her and she thanked Queen Mab when she realized the stable attendant was nowhere to be found. She went to the stall where her winged horse, Firrine was kept. He whinnied with affection when he saw Sorcha but confusion crossed his eyes as she began to saddle him.

"I know you're not used to flying at night," Sorcha explained as she stroked Firrine's gray speckled neck, "but I need your help." She climbed onto his back and bowed close to his body between his falcon wings that matched the white and gray freckles of his body, and talked close to his ear. "Firrine, I need you to fly as quickly as you can to the borderline of Rosainne and Fainox." Firrine whinnied in response. "Can you do this for me old friend?"

Firrine turned his head to look into Sorcha's eyes deeply before responding in the affirmative by pawing the ground with his hoof. Before they took flight, Sorcha walked him over to the stall that held his foul and the mare that had given birth to it just a few days before. The foul was a miniature of Firrine only with more white between the gray speckles. The pony was sleeping close to it's mother. Sorcha felt the fear coursing through Firrine's body and understood it all too well. She was terrified that she wouldn't see her son again just as Firrine was. She thought about leading him back to his stall and going back to the castle and falling asleep next to the man she loved and waking up to hold her son safely in her arms. It was a flicker in her mind, and Firrine felt it, but he also knew his mistress' truest desires and without a moment's hesitation he galloped from the stables and soared into the night sky.

Sorcha knew that what she was doing was beyond dangerous. The In-Betweens, which were Troll Territory were potentially deadly in the best of times, but they were most likely on edge after news of the elf threat reached them. There was also the gang of rogue trolls that plagued the area. They were known to be even more menacing than the civilized trolls that Duff and Edmund had dealt with when they were negotiating the peace treaty. The treaty had to be resigned every 10 years or so otherwise the trolls would become savages who answered to no one and would kill a child just for being too close to the border.

As Sorcha and Firrine flew over the outer wall, she thanked Phoebe again for the gift of Firrine. If she had been forced to make the first leg of the journey herself, she would not have been able to resist returning to the safety of her husband's arms. Finally, they reached the border of Rosainne and Fainox.

"Just fly along the border Firrine but fly a bit lower so I can try to see into the trees." Firrine whinnied in protest, the smell of trolls was not pleasant and Firrine's instincts told him to stay away but he obeyed after some urging.

Sorcha searched the trees for signs of trouble but saw nothing. She was about to turn back to go to Rosainne when she felt a rushed breeze go by her face. She looked right, and then she felt it again on her left. Suddenly, Firrine began to panic and then she saw the arrows flying towards her. Trolls had seen her and were attacking.

She directed Firrine to ascend into the now brightening clouds. She ducked close to his neck and pushed him to fly faster than she had ever before, but it was no use. One of the arrows, bathed in poison, pierced the beloved steed's body. He whinnied before falling. Sorcha struggled to keep him steady. Through the strands of hair that had escaped her tie she saw Firrine look back at her, panic and pain clear in his eyes, and it was then that she knew she wouldn't make it home to Duff and Brecht.

They spiraled down to the forest floor, hitting branches on large elms along the way. Sorcha got thrown from Firrine's back and couldn't grab a hold of anything in time to lessen the impact. Finally she hit the ground with a thud.

"Firrine?" Sorcha said as she slowly got up from where she had fallen. She heard him panting and crawled around a large tree to get to him. The arrow was buried deep beneath his left wing. She knew the poison was already coursing through his veins and he didn't have very long to live. She pulled the arrow carefully from the wound, knowing that Firrine couldn't feel anything. Through his long lashes he begged her with his caring eyes to flee; to leave him to die and save herself, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the animal, not that running now would do much good anyway. There was no chance the trolls wouldn't catch her without Firrine to ride. She moved to his head and held it in her lap. She hummed a lullaby that she and Phoebe always sung to their children. An old song about love and family and loyalty. By the time it was over, Firrine had taken his last breath.

Sorcha couldn't move. She sat on the forest floor, surrounded by fallen foliage with her trusted horse dead in her arms. It wasn't long until she heard the trolls stomping their way toward her. They weren't much taller than fae, but they were considerably larger in girth. Sorcha closed her eyes and waited for them to find her.

She didn't open her eyes when they found her, and they didn't speak but she could smell them.

Please Mab, Queen of all fae, look after my husband. This loss will break his heart. Help him to understand why I did what I did. Help him raise our son, Brecht to be a brave and honorable faery. And please Mab, please let my friends, the King and Queen of Rosainne be safe.

"Do you live, faery?" One troll finally said. Sorcha could smell his breath from where she sat. Instead of answering, she opened her eyes. The troll that had spoken was directly in front of her. His eyes were a pale shade of milky blue and his dark red beard and wild hair made them look almost white. "Well," he continued, "we can't have a live faery on our side of the border." And with an evil sneer, the troll with white-blue eyes motioned for his minions to close in. It was then that Sorcha took the arrow that she had pulled from Firrine and raised it above her head.

"You will live to regret this." She said with narrowed eyes. Then she plunged the arrow into her breast.

Duff awoke with a start. Someone was pounding on the bedchamber door. He reached over to Sorcha's side of the bed to comfort her before getting up but found it empty and cold. He started to wonder why she still wasn't back from the healers' quarter's when the knocking persisted.

"I'm coming!" He said in a rough whisper. He quickly pulled his robe from the trunk at the foot of his bed and hurried to the door so the banging would stop and not wake the sleeping infants. "What?" He whispered harshly as he swung the door open.

"Lord Cary! You must come quickly!" hurried a servant faery girl.

"What's happened? Is it the king?" He asked; sleep was finally starting to release its hold.

"No, my lord, it is Lady Sorcha." The servant said timidly.

It was then Duff realized the sun was peeking out over the horizon; its golden rays were reaching his window from over the tree tops of Tiernan Wood. He turned back to the servant and asked fervently where his wife was.

"She's in the grand hall."

He brushed the servant to the side and soared through the corridors toward the great hall. When he arrived, it seemed all the servants were outside the hall, some of them were crying others staring at the floor in what seemed to be shock. Duff's heart raced as he moved passed them and pushed the doors open.

At first all he saw were the healer's hovered over something that was on the table, then he heard the softest whisper "Where's Duff?"

"Sorcha!" he bellowed as he raced toward his wife. When he took her delicate hand in his she smiled. He took in the sight of his wife, lying on a wooden table with a wound deep in her chest. She still smiled when she saw him. "What happened?" He demanded of the healers.

"Don't blame them Darling. I left the castle to search for Edmund and Phoebe."

"What? I told you, I would send someone in the morning! Why would you leave?" He asked quietly. He was never short with his wife, she was the only person in the world who had softened him

"It doesn't matter, the King and Queen are safe. You must listen to me, I don't have much longer..."

"Don't say that! You're going to be fine."

"No Mo Ghrá, the wound is from the arrow of a troll. It's a wonder I've survived this long."

"The trolls did this?"

"Listen to me Duff, please!" She begged gripping his hand a little tighter. Duff brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers gently as he looked into her eyes. "You must raise Brecht by yourself now. I'm so sorry I cannot be there to help you. Make sure you teach him to be a proper gentleman and to practice his powers every day."

"Sorcha please… you can't leave me. I need you." As she saw the weakness forming in her husband's eyes, Sorcha seemed to build up the last bit of strength that she had left to speak to him firmly.

"Last night you told me that your son and I were your life. You're go-going t-to have to make your life just your son now, m-my love."

"I can't do that. Sorcha…"

"I love you Duff. Please, tell Brecht that h-he was our d-dream." Sorcha said. Duff sobbed as he held his wife's hand to his face as she took her last breath.

Finally, he turned on the healers and what they saw was terrifying. Lord Cary's eyes were darker than they'd ever been and all that was left was hatred.

"Who found her like this?" he all but growled to the people in the room.

"I did." Someone said timidly from behind the healers. Duff moved to the back of the room and found the page that had been to Sheelin a week previous. "I was traveling back to Rosainne with the news of the king and queen's safe arrival at Castle Anála -"

"Your hands! My wife's blood is on your hands!" Duff voice echoed as he paced in front of his wife's body.

"My liege, I beg you listen! When I came across Lady Cary she was lying next to a winged horse and she was barely breathing. I lifted her onto my horse and rushed as quickly as I could to the castle. She told me that she had been out searching for the King and Queen because she had seen a sign from Mab to do so."

At the mention of the King and Queen, Duff halted. One could see the thoughts racing in his head as he slowly raised his eyes and turned towards the crowd that had gathered. The darkness in Duff's eyes was bottomless; the light of his life was now gone. As he searched his mind for any other logical reason as to why this was, his heart was closing and turning black as his mind searched every corner for an explanation for his wife's still chest.

"The trolls. The trolls are to blame," he muttered, not paying any more attention to the other fae in the room. He had moved back to his wife's body and was gently stroking her hair.

No, my boy... came a voice in Duff's mind. The trolls are imbeciles. They would have no way of knowing who she is. They merely knew her as a faery, and therefore an enemy. Why would your wife insist on searching for the King and Queen herself?

"The page said she had received a message from Mab," he responded aloud.

The page began to reaffirm this to Duff but one of the healers put a hand on his arm and shook his head. There was something going on they they could not see or hear.

The Queen of the Faery Race has no cause to send a sign to save them. She only bothers with premonitions when the entire race is in danger. Think Duff! Think! It is really quite obvious where the blame falls for this tragedy.

Everyone watched as Duff resumed his pacing; seeming to wrestle with a sudden realization. He finally paused and his eyes closed and he gripped his head in desperation. "Not them... please..." A sense of unease grew in the group of onlookers. They shifted their gaze to one another to try and see if anyone knew what was happening in Lord Cary's mind. And then they got their answer: "This is the King and Queen's fault." Duff whispered defeatedly.

The crowd fell silent. Confused disbelief could be seen on all the faces in the crowd.

"My- my lord?" asked one of the healers, breaking the silence.

"If they had sent word sooner, my wife would still be alive." Duff said with a vacant stare. "They kept us, their dearest friends sick with worry!" He looked back at his wife's body, her face growing more pale with every passing moment. "Soon her skin will be like stone, forever encasing her beauty, but cold and unknowing... She will never know her son, and it's their fault!" This thought sickened him. His wife had always wanted her child, she deserved to have him! And now that chance was gone. "Edmund and Phoebe must pay for this." Duff said, his anger mounting.

"My lord, you speak of treason." Someone said.

Duff finally acknowledged the crowd with a sneer as he sensed the crowd's growing displeasure.

"No!" came a powerful voice from a dark corner. "He speaks the truth."

From the shadows of the far corner emerged a wizened faery with a sinister gleam in her violet eyes. Her dark hair hung loosely around her waist. Throughout the kingdom her name was whispered with fear and wonder. Once, the faery folk had called for her death. She had survived then because her nephew, Duff had made sure of it. Lilith was never especially nurturing to Duff, but he felt that he owed it to his cousin Glennane to ensure her mother's survival. His other cousin, Conlinn, Glennane's sister, was the reason that any suspicion had been cast on Lilith. When Edmund came into the throne, she was confined to one tower of the castle, the only reason she would be able to roam about the castle would be because the Roald's hold on the throne was weakening.

Duff didn't particularly trust his aunt, however he did respect her since she was so extremely powerful and secretly Duff feared her anger. During her younger years Lilith had traveled to different realms and had collected spells from every single one. When she returned, it was said that she was one of the most powerful fae in all the kingdoms combined. To subdue her, the king of Rosainne, Edmund's father, Keely Roald had negotiated a deal with her. She would marry the brother-in-law of his second in command, Duff's father, Orin Kerrigan, and therefore always be welcome in Castle Sheelin in exchange for binding her powers. Knowing that it was that or death, she accepted this agreement, at the cost of her freedom.

"Lilith, how long have you been there?" Duff asked.

"Long enough, dear nephew" she said as she glided over to him. "It is true, Edmund and Phoebe need to pay for this tragedy. What better way than to take what is rightfully yours?" she cooed as she came around to whisper in his ear. "Think of your blood rights, nephew. You too are royalty! Take your rightful place!" She continued in an enticing whisper.

"I cannot simply take the throne Lilith. Edmund will return and reclaim it. He is the most powerful faery in this realm."

"Ah, yes, but even the most powerful fae can be cast out. Think of all the power I have and the power you could have with me by your side, training you, helping you rule. As it happens, during my travels I came across a very powerful banishing spell. All that is needed to complete the spell, is a drop of royal blood."

"You are making no sense, hag!" Duff yelled, starting to lose his patience. "How can we get even a drop of their blood? It would be foolish to let them return while attempting to banish them. You embarrass yourself!" He said dismissively. With that said there was a collective sigh of relief throughout the room. Lillith squared on him with fierce determination in her eyes.

"Do you think I have not been waiting for the Roald's to show their true selves so that you could finally see their apathy? Do you truly think me a fool, Nephew? Do you think I come to you unprepared?" Lilith said with her patience clearly running thin as well. "Think of the child..." she hissed.

As the servants realized what she was suggesting, a murmur of panic swept throughout the hall.

A red gleam crossed Duff's eyes. The idea of power, power enough to banish his wife's murderers from their home appealed to him.

"If I take the throne, they won't be safe anywhere. I won't rest until I find them."

"This is treason!" An older servant shouted with exasperation. "You can not do this!"

"On the contrary," Duff said calmly, raising his eyes to the servant's. "This is the way things will be; the way they should always have been." As he spoke, he looked out over the faces of his new subjects, terror plain on every face. "I am not committing treason, I am taking my rightful place." Silence full of dread filled the chamber. Silent tears were running down the shocked faces of the royal servants, some shaking their heads in horror and disbelief.

"I am taking over this kingdom." Duff stated loudly. "And my wife will be avenged with the blood of her murderers."

As he sat in the throne and the last trace of warmth left his eyes he said:

"Bring me the child."