Post by Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed on Aug 2, 2021 22:10:34 GMT
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The Queen of Ken and Cunning would be hard pressed to find any unicorn or pegasus or a winged unicorn who looked more salty than Astra did when Merla spotted the bedazzling coat of her beautiful companion. Heret moved ahead of her to catch the reins Astra had already spit from her mouth and thank her for watching over his mount, though it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Merla had to bring her hand up to cover her mouth, the laughter already trying to escape.
“Do not make me babysit a horse ever again,” Astra harrumphed as she clip-clopped to Merla’s side in the goblin market. The perpetual twilight of the sky over the city of Equinox seemed to make Astra’s eyes shine.
Or perhaps that was her piqued attitude.
“At least the Great Hound can talk. This one-” she tosses her head, silvery mane catching the light from the stars above, making Astra glow brighter in a way that is preternatural, “-cannot carry any kind of conversation whatsoever. I had to resort to the most basic of animal communications – tapping with my hoof!”
Merla is doing her best to keep the laughter in. It’s not working.
“I had at least three fey try to buy her from me. One even called her exotic! A horse, exotic?!” Astra scoffs out loud. “No accounting for taste, that fey. I do wonder at the folk in the other courts sometimes, Merla. It is concerning that they think a horse exotic.”
“Heret seems to appreciate how well you took care of Zozo,” Merla indicates.
“Never. Again,” Astra emphasises.
“If it’s any consolation, Veridian’s homunculus crumbled into clay the moment it flew through the door. If you had been able to fit in, you probably would have been banished back to the Summer Lands.”
Astra stops short, turning her gaze to the human wizard.
“Perhaps babysitting wasn’t so bad after all?” Merla offers.
“Hmmph,” is all Astra responds with.
The fae-bard lets out a soft giggle.
“Come, let’s return to Daring with the others.”
Merla spends another heartwarming evening with her family, enjoying their company along with a whole spread of food that the staff of the Four Fair Winds brings into the shared rooms the Copperkettles are staying in. Marto tries to ask about what she did or where she went, but Berton keeps changing the subject anytime she mentions Feywild this or Feywild that.
Taking the hint, Merla and Marto share a look, an already familiar acknowledgement between the two. When their parents and older brother have decided to retire for the evening, Marto will come to her suite and the two will spend a few hours talking about anything and everything related to the Feywild.
They started doing this after the third day. That was where the rising waxing moon saw the two that night. Enjoying her favourite night cap, sitting on the cushions in front of the fire, Astra at her back and her brother by her side, Merla recounted her sojourn to the Twilight Court.
“The Umbral Earl had been under suspicion for a time but Queen Miandra had been unable to act against him openly. That is why, more often than not, the Dawnlanders will be called upon to help. Of course, there are times when we can make things worse. But, on the whole, we get the job done.” Merla takes a small slip of her feywine cocktail. “I had met the Earl on another mission before. It was clear to me from that first meeting he has been beset with more guilt than any person, mortal or fey, should have to deal with.”
“What did he do that would make him feel guilty? Is he one of those Unseelie Fey you mentioned before?” Marto asks.
“No,” Merla says, looking into her glass. She recalls the way the Earl’s mouth pinched whenever he looked at the statue of Sarastra (may-her-beauty-shine-on-in-the-heavens), like a knife twisting in his heart.
Her fingers tighten on her glass as the bubbles swirl around the pink strawberries floating inside the drink.
“He lost the love of his life,” she says quietly. “Everyone deals with grief differently. The Earl did not have anyone to help him through his grief. So he did the best that he could in the way he thought would best honour her memory.”
“That sounds… like he made things more complicated than they needed to be,” Marto opined.
“I agree. I’m not sure if he surrendered to the Queen or if he ran. He seemed relieved when he saw us in his rooms though.”
“Relieved?”
Merla nods. “His guilt had been eating away at him almost as much as his grief.”
The Earl walks over to the bookcase where Veridian stands. He reaches down, touching a tome beside the empty place where Veridian had found the male’s own attempts at poetry, and pulls it back. There is a click. A false bottom drops and in the hole is a stack of letters.
All from Sarastra.
“Has anyone been able to find out who killed her, the previous queen?” Marto asks her.
“Not yet. I have my suspicions though. I told the Queen of Ken and Cunning that she has an ally in me, should she need it,” Merla says, raising her glass in a toast.
Merla had also tried to find out about her own loose end…
Miandra looks at her for a long moment before replying.
“You are a formidable young woman, and the Queen of Summer is lucky to call you daughter. I do know of Mother Maeve. And as I’m sure you understand it would be foolish to both confirm or deny the existence of Unseelie within my court – your own mother would no doubt agree with me on that matter.
“Rest assured, Merla, the time to unearth and uproot both of these two issues you’ve laid before me is approaching, and approaching fast. I may call upon you when the time comes. If not, I’ll at least send word to have you partake in the information you seek.”
She holds a spell scroll out to Merla.
“Be ready.”
Marto’s eyebrows shoot up as he gives a low whistle. “Well best of luck to you sister-mine. Though, I guess you have the luck of the fey on your side already, perhaps you don’t need any more.”
“I could always do with a little more luck, brother-dearest,” she says with a wink.
They clink their glasses against each other and drink deeply from their cups.
“Now, I know it’s late, but let’s see if we can practice just a little bit of magic together,” Merla says with a mischievous grin.