Oh, no. It’s a sentimental object, but in a bad way.
He then picks up a rock and frowns at me. “What are these?”
“If you mark out the perimeter of your holdings with the smaller stones, the big one will glow if anything hostile crosses their boundary. It works with the mirror,” I explain.
Torsten waggles the mirror at me. “How does it work?”
“It’s simple enough,” I explain. “When that central stone glows, prick your finger, touch the glass on the mirror with a drop of blood, and it will show what’s come knocking with hostile intentions.”
“Or who,” Kenric adds softly.
I smile at Kenric and nod. “Who as well. The central stone will glow from barely yellow to dark red, depending on the level of hostility. The darker it is, the more hostile they are. Don’t be surprised if you find people you know triggering it.”
“Are they ever wrong?” Ulrick asks.
I shake my head. “No, the stones don’t lie. Do what you will with the knowledge they give you, but they’re never wrong. They react to intent. Just don’t think that because someone doesn’t trip them, they’re safe—somehow. People’s intent can change. They can be fine when they cross the boundary, but if you make them angry while they’re here, it can change. Make someone angry enough, and they might be angry enough to kill you.”
Torsten nods. “Noted.”
Torsten scoops up the boundary stones and hands them to Tobias. “When you go out with the hunters, go place these around the perimeter of our lands. Make sure you know where to find them again.” I don’t tell Torsten that I can find them because they’re made from my magic.
“What did she get you?” Ulrick asks Kenric. Kenric pulls out the sword I got him and lays it on the table. It shimmers with greens and purples as the colors shift in the flickering candlelight.
“I had that made in Imelenora,” I say.
“What’s it made of? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it,” Torsten says.
“We call it Fey Steel. It’s sharp, and in Kenric’s hands, fast and light,” I reply.
“May I?” Ulrick asks.
Kenric smirks for a moment and shrugs, “Go ahead.”
Ulrick picks up the blade and tests it for a few moments. I notice him starting to frown. “It’s not fast or light, and the balance is a bit off.” I smirk as Kenric takes it from him and starts on a practice pattern.
That sword is practically whining. It moves so fast in Kenric’s hands, it’s almost a blur, and so is Kenric. He’s calling the tiny bit of my speed I sacrificed for that blade.
“You’ll have to slow down or no one’s going to want to cross swords with you,” I say. Kenric slows immediately to a more normal human speed.
“There’s another thing that blade does that I didn’t want to talk about in the palace,” I remind him, “Do you remember what I said when I gave it to you?”
Kenric stops and thinks, “Something about being sharp enough to cut truth from lies.”
I nod, “Someone tell Kenric a lie.”
Ulrick laughs, “We hate you.”
The blade flashes to solid purple.
Kenric looks at me and grins, “That’s why you said not to carry it inside the palace.”
Laughing, I nod, “It would likely end up purple constantly, but I’d rather not let anyone else in on the secret. It’s a potent advantage when it’s used correctly. You really will be able to cut truth from lies with it.”
“Did you have anything for me?” Kenric asks.
I smirk and reach into the sleeve of my dress. “As if I would ever forget you.”
Of course, I have a present for him. All of the courtiers in Centis wear daggers. Most are nothing more than heavily ornamented sticks. I wouldn’t trust them in a fight. There are strict rules about the ornamentation, and I’ve made sure that this one observes all of them. They’re signals of rank, and Kenric’s is a bit plain, even for a viscount.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
I know it would never occur to him to upgrade it just for appearances, but we need all the leverage we can get. I’ve taken it upon myself to get him an upgrade. I have a new one for him, and it’s the mate to his sword. The scabbard is covered in Fey silk in his colors, with parts of the design highlighted in gold, silver, and copper embroidery. The parts of the dagger that are visible when it’s sheathed—the crossbar, the hilt, and the pommel—are made of Red Bronze.
Red Bronze is a Fey alloy that derives most of its color from copper and cinnabar. The crossbar features two pixies dancing with their wings spread out. Their wings are crafted with gemstones, making them as vibrant as their living counterparts. Their skin is covered in mother-of-pearl. Their dresses are decorated with tiny gems in various shades to add depth to the folds and flares. Even their eyes contain tiny gems. They seem as if they might fly away. The design is both artistic and fully functional.
It’s quite a work of art, and I’m very proud of my creation. The way the fairies and their wings arch makes it perfect for parrying or trapping a blade to disarm an opponent. The hilt is wrapped in black leather and then wrapped again in twisted gold, silver, and copper wire. Copper is the most prominent, but silver and gold offer some protection against particular Fey creatures. The pommel is a wild rose I turned into a ruby. It’s very reminiscent of our wedding and the headpiece I wore when we arrived here.
The blade is Fey Steel, just as beautiful as his sword. Like all things Fey, it’s more intricate than it seems. It will enable him to summon his sword if he needs to defend himself. It also blocks compulsions and glamours. He’ll be able to see my ears, even though no one else can.
Smirking, I hand him the dagger. “You are long overdue for an upgrade to your court dagger. This one is much nicer and more practical. See what you think of it.”
He reaches out, takes it, and looks up at me. His double-take at being able to see my ears again is amusing. I grin at him, and he looks down at the dagger.
“It’s this, isn’t it?” Kenric asks. I nod, still smirking.
He releases it and eyes me. Then he nods to himself and takes it from my hands. “It’s gorgeous. Where did you get the design for it?” he asks.
“Do you remember me telling you about dancing with the pixies?” I ask.
Kenric nods, “These look so… so real.”
I chuckle, “I persuaded a couple of pixies I know well to be the models.”
“It’s clearly a gift from your wife,” Torsten says. “Let’s see the blade.”
Kenric unsheathes it, letting out a low whistle of appreciation. Instead of the purples and greens of his sword, the blade of the dagger shifts between yellows and oranges. It’s the maximum length allowed for his rank, and rather than a typical flat blade, it’s diamond-shaped. Anyone getting stabbed with this will bleed heavily. It has four sharp edges. Since it's Fey Steel, it’s sturdy enough to punch through most armor.
“It looks like another one of the fancy, gem-encrusted sticks that most of the nobles carry, but this one is quite functional. You can fight with it,” I explain.
I give a significant look to his sword and tell him to say sword in Fey. Kenric nods and says, “Yeleca.” His sword appears in his other hand. Kenric is startled for a moment and then laughs. “Now I see why you said I could fight with it.”
I frown at him and tap the Fey Steel blade of the dagger with a fingernail. It rings like a bell. “That dagger is a fine blade in its own right. It’s not as big as your sword, so it’s not as powerful, but it’s nothing to sneeze at. If you put some force behind the blow, that blade will go through most armor. It’s sharp enough to shave with, and shaped to do maximum damage if you stab someone,”
Torsten takes it from him and looks it over. “It’s very fancy. Right at the edge of what’s allowed at court for his rank.”
I nod, knowingly. “I might have checked the regulations.”
Torsten chuckles, “Of course you did. I’d expect nothing less. I’d still be surprised if one of the dukes doesn’t try to take it from him.”
I shrug, “They can try all they want. It’s his. I didn’t have it made for them. They probably couldn’t afford it. Even if they were to lock it in a strong box or a vault, he’d have it back by the next moonrise.” Eyebrows go up all around the table.
Inga leans over and whispers to me, “Is everything you brought like that? So expensive the dukes couldn’t afford it?”
“It’s not that so much as that. No one would be allowed to sell it to them. None of the dukes is Fey. They’d have to go to Ellisar, our king, and get permission. Ellisar would name a figure so high for granting the permission that the dukes couldn’t afford what Ellisar would demand of them to give that permission. I didn’t ask for permission before buying these things. I didn’t tell anyone I was bringing them with me to Centis. I just did it, and if Ellisar is upset about when I get back…” I shrug.
Inga looks startled, and Kenric laughs. “Still poking the bear?”
I shrug again, “After that stunt in court, I think he owes me a bit. There’s one more thing about those cloaks. If you ever encounter another Fey, show them the cloak. I’m well-known enough among Ellisar’s kingdom and most of the other Fey kingdoms that it should provide you with some protection.”
“You seem nice enough. Why would we need protection from them?” Klara asks. I laugh. Oh, the innocence.
“All Fey are apex predators.” I see Klara’s confused look, so I explain it more clearly. “That means we’re at the top of the food chain. Literally everything else qualifies as prey. The only question is whether we feel like hunting it or not. In your case, you’re kin. I’m never going to hunt you as long as you don’t turn on Kenric. I don’t want any other Fey hunting you, either.”
"Like the bear?" Klara asks and I nod.
She looks uncomfortable but Ulrick leaps into the discussion.
“We skinned the bear. We’ll have to spend some time stitching the hide back together,” Ulrick says.
“Do you think I could have it?” I ask. Ulrick chuckles, “It’s not much use like it is, but you can probably trim a dress or two with it. Take it.”
I smile and nod, “I have a plan for that bearskin.”
Kenric gives me a look, but I shrug. “We’ll be expected to give Oskar a gift at midwinter. I think he needs a cloak of his own,” I reply.
Kenric chuckles, “It was your kill. Did you want the hides from the stonehorns, too?”
“Just one,” I reply, “I’m sure we’ll have to have presents for the dukes as well.”
Your turn:
- Who do you think will betray the queen next—and why?
- If you had to pick one character to survive this chaos, who would it be?
Let me know your answer in the comments.

