Chapter Text
Rowan was going to kill Sellene. She had only been queen for three months and already she was sending him away on a mission to Terrasen, the one kingdom that Doranelle had the longest ties with. They had invited Sellene to their annual Beltane festival, but due to how recent her ascension to the throne was she had declined, instead sending four of her court, including Rowan in her stead.
This was a standard assignment, one that even the most inexperienced of couriers could do. But she insisted on sending Rowan, along with three of the newer couriers. Rowan held in his sigh at the thought of the next three weeks of being diplomatic to a few haughty royals, combined with babysitting a bunch of newbies centuries younger than him.
Annoyed as he was about being sent to Terrasen, even his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the city. While it wasn’t as beautiful as Doranelle, the shining white castle nestled at the edge of the Staghorns, the massive walls gleaming and brutal, lined with guards that his fae eyesight picked up on easily and the two massive gates thrown open to the city proper took his breath away.
He breathed in the scent of the spices he could just smell on the wind that sang to him here, the lovely river he could hear in the background and the din of the city made him feel oddly welcome, like he was home. As they rode closer to the southern gates, he could feel the wind dancing around, as if it were happy he were here.
Their escort, a squad of about twenty men and women, broke off around them on their horses in what was clearly a practiced move, half of them to either side. The six guards on either side grinned at all of them, their smiles wide and welcoming as the wind.
The sound of laughter, both from humans and fae rang out around them, mixing with the sound of their horses hooves on the cobbled streets. They passed through what looked to be a city square with a tavern on each corner of the intersection. There were ordinary citizens at the tables, sitting so easily with the soldiers at the other tables. Unafraid. It warmed something in him as two children, one fae and one human ran past their fairly large party, laughing as they ran around the square, waving to the mounted soldiers beside him. All of them grinned and waved back.
Their welcoming party at the castle was no less friendly, the dozen or so stable hands taking their horses away before coming back to take the escorts, ten of which peeled away to go into what looked like the barracks room.
The other half gestured them through the castle, leading them straight to their suite. Five bedrooms, all of which Rowan surveyed with the warrior precision that had been drilled into him since childhood. Rowan took the biggest, leaving the others to find their own room and wash up in the attached bathing room all of the rooms had.
As Rowan washed away the grime from their travel, he let his mind wander, his magic not only around his room but the entire suite, no matter how friendly everyone was or how long their alliance with Doranelle was. His thoughts turned towards the royals they were to meet just before having lunch, and then meetings until dinner, where a feast would then be held in their honor. Courtly bullshit is what he had called it when Sellene had told him what he was to do.
Orlon Galathinius had left the throne a few years ago, leaving it for a quiet retirement in a home within the mountains, though he had no doubt that the old king was here now to celebrate Beltane the following week.
Rhoe Galathinius had taken up the throne, making his wife, Evalin Ashryver queen and his daughter, Aelin Ashryver Galathinus his heir. He wondered about what they would be like, how he would have to suffer through dealing with them throughout lunch and the dinner later tonight.