Chapter 9: Frozen Dawn

Note: Thanks to B0b and WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Kora Falk

The faerie’s magic washed away my exhaustion before we mounted the pegasi to fly to Princess Siona’s home. In an eye blink, I went from feeling like I had just had a long day of walking, fighting, and fucking (which I did) to the feeling that I had the most restful night sleep.

They had such amazing powers.

I flew beside Sven, Princess Siona on his other side, marveling at the beauty of Faerie. It was hard to remember the stakes of our mission when traveling over rivers made of flowing gold or lakes that glittered like diamonds. We flew over forests that held different hues of trees, some with broad, violet leaves, others were great conifers with azure needles looking almost covered in ice. Fields of colorful flowers, of grains that sparkled like the stars. We flew over villages and towns, built of sparkling materials, roads paved of silver, roofs tiled in sapphires or rubies. They flitted around naked, singing, dancing through the air, making love as they drifted on the winds. They had such a zest for life.

And the art...

There were great hills carved into intricate statues, or gardens of flowers planted to make mosaics that could only be appreciated from the air. Others painted with hues on the very winds themselves, channeling them and making swirling patterns of pastels writhe together to make the impression of lovers dancing or kissing or fucking.

I saw hues here that I didn’t know the names of, gradients of color that, perhaps, could only exist in this strange world. My fingers itched to hold the brush. It had been so long since I properly painted anything. A year of being hunted, of freeing slaves, of skulking in taverns had denied me one of my passions. Only when illusions were needed, did I paint at all.

And those were practical images. No imagination. No letting my muse speak to me.

“Wow!” Zanyia gasped behind me.

I threw a look over my shoulder. She and Nathalie flew on either side of Ealaín, the aoi si resplendent in her armor, her ebony face highlighted by the crimson moon shining down on us, her silver pauldrons reflecting glittering stars. Beyond them soared the soldiers, Aingeal in the middle. Her head hung, she looked despondent.

She didn’t believe Sven could seduce and please Queen Sidhe?

“That is where we’re going?” Zanyia asked. “Do you see that Master?”

Her words flowed past me as I studied Aingeal. Why did she think Sven would fail? He knew how to please a woman like he’d trained in the sexual arts at the Temple of Rithi, or learned from the Priests of Pater all their techniques of seducing and pleasing women they knew. He was an auteur at it, a savant at making women quiver and moan. He instinctually knew what others had to be trained upon. My pussy grew juicy just thinking about how he’d loved me.

And Aingeal knew this. She’s experienced his passion.

Worry seized my heart. I thought Sven would impress Queen Sidhe the same way he’d done with her daughter. How could he fail to please her? Was there something ... particular that Queen Sidhe demanded in her lovers.

I had to talk to Aingeal.

“Is that all made of crystal?” Sven asked.

“Yes,” Siona said. “Behold the glory that is Danaan, the capital of the Faerie.”

“Kora,” Sven said, “can you believe this?”

“What?” I asked, my head sweeping around to look... “Rithi’s blessed art!”

My eyes widened at the crystal city on the horizon. It grew larger and larger as we hurtled closer on the pegasi. The wind blew at my blonde braids as I drank in the grandeur before me. Great spires of silvery glass rose into the air, reflect the vagary hues of the moons shining upon it. As we came closer, I spotted smaller growths, jutting spars of faceted beauty thrusting off the greater towers.

It didn’t look so much as built as grown, carefully nurtured by the faerie, guiding the crystal into the shapes to form their buildings and city. I wanted to paint it. I struggled to capture it in my mind so I could recreate it.

And knew I could never come close to capturing its majesty.

It was too immense for a human to reproduce. Too intricate. We reached the outskirts, the smaller residences that glowed from the inside, the lights by which the residence saw inside their homes. The crystals thrust from the ground at different angles, almost looking chaotic, but there was purpose in everything. Buildings complimented each other. The vary randomness of its layout reveled the deliberate design to make every place you looked different and enthralling.

At its heart, burnished yellow glowed like a frozen dawn. Instead of silver, golden glass soared. These crystals were delicate, making slender spires, almost fluted. Faerie darted around them. Music rose around us, a thousand voices singing a complex harmony. Constructs made of twisted veins, like destroyed Cú Mheá, pranced through gardens of lesser crystals growing around the buildings. Some were feyhounds, but there were feyhinds, feybears, feycougars, and more. A menagerie of created beings that played below.

“The Palace of Danaan,” breathed Siona. “My mother’s grand court. Here did Aingeal commit her heinous crime against my mother.”

As we flew through the palace’s spires, the golden facets glimmered like mirrors. Reflections looked back at us, broken into eternities. It made me grow dizzy as our pegasi spiraled downward; she knew just where to go.

I almost swooned with the dizzying beauty around me. My head kept whipping around, drinking in new sights. I heard even my brother gasping in awe, overwhelmed by the immensity of this place. The spires reached hundreds of feet into the air, taller than any structure built in our world.