Veil of Shadows by Jennifer Armintrout Page B

Court by humbling Ayla, but she would be as satisfied with Cerridwen.

    How humbling a beheading would be, he thought, and a chill raced up his back, between his wings.

    The road forked many times as they followed it. Some paths snaked like serpentine tendrils across the dark forest floor, others lay as straight as though mapped by the angular shadows of the trees on the loam. Always, they stuck to the main road, past stretches of dark trees that gave way to an isolated Human dwelling now and again or the larger group configurations that seemed fairly common. Through the trees, a dome of light became visible. The heart of the encampment would be there, Cedric knew, and he held his breath. The moment was fast approaching, and he was not ready for it. He tried to calm his emotions; the Empath still followed them and would no doubt record every intercepted feeling to be used against them at their trial.

    The village bore little resemblance to the Human homes they had passed. These were the Faery dwellings, the kind Cedric had lived in, the kind they had all lived in on the Astral Plane. The structures were little more than canopies of thatched panels anchored between trees, the walls fabrics of all kinds and colors draped from those. The light was different, too. Magical lights, Faery orbs, floated through the air, bathing the scene in gold. Fae hovered close to the ground, feet barely dragging the vegetation on the forest floor, while others flew and flipped through the air. Platforms ringed the trees, with more dwellings constructed on them, some stacked close on top of one another, high up in the leaves.

    In the center of it all, that would be Danae.s Palace. Before Mabb had decided to usurp a ridiculous amount of space in the Underground, before she had thought to imitate the grand and sprawling castles of the Humans above, this was the type of palace she, and her parents before her, had occupied.

    It was a large structure, elevated from the forest floor on a low platform of split logs braced on the stumps of the trees harvested for the building. The platform was octagonal, as was the tent itself—and patched together from gauzy fabrics of numerous hues. The shapes of Faeries could be seen moving against the light within.

    The Empath moved through their ranks, head held high. “Queene Danae! I have brought you prisoners!”

    This was the moment that should have been Bauchan.s. The Empath assumed his roll—and the credit for their presence—easily.

    All motion in the tent ceased in a choreographed display of surprise. Against the light, too intentionally bright inside the tent, a lone figure stood. Her profile was slender and graceful, and the other Faeries in her presence bowed, accentuating her tall, straight posture. She looked down, fingers steepled at her lips as though she composed herself, but the angle was so practiced that each of her fingers was made out against the light. A visible breath raised her chest, and she shook out her hair as she walked toward the door, her servants falling into place behind her.

    Two sentries flanked the door to her Palace. They crossed the crude spears they carried, held them in a high point over the opening. “Her Majesty, Queene Danae,” one of them barked out, his voice resonating to the treetops.

    It was a show, her entrance absurdly theatrical and as rehearsed as anything he had ever seen in Mabb.s Court.

    Then, the Queene herself appeared.

    Cerridwen beheld the spectacle of this new Faery Court through eyes rimmed red by exhaustion, dazzled by sights she could have never imagined and no tapestry could have ever rendered with such truth. She had walked through the forest lost in wonderment, forgetting the rope that bound her wrists and the near-certainty of death that lay ahead of her.

    Until the moment that Queene Danae emerged from her odd structure.

    Cerridwen.s heart sank in despair when she saw her. The Queene looked every bit the part she acted. She stood