Fey's Curse


Years later, according to the mortal world and its time, Faery celebrated the rare occasion of a fey wedding. Safe passage was granted through the Iron Kingdom for only a day. The courts of Summer and Winter would not have stayed longer than that, besides.

An Indian prince dressed in white and gold smiled at his own new wife where she stood beside the dark-clad Iron Consort. The Iron Queen herself appeared at the archway marking the beginning of the aisle. Fey of all kinds stood at her presence. She had come into her life greatly –– they all had. The former Unseelie Prince radiated the same happiness as the three ex-royals in the front row.

Only three of those invited had not shown up to attend. The youngest Indian prince and a queen far beyond all of them were nowhere to be seen. As a cait sith finished the ceremony, a shadow passed over the blazing sun, there one moment and gone the next.

The black-dressed knight lifted his head in time to watch the silhouette of a raven disappear from view. His mercurial eyes slipped closed, and he felt his best friends’ happiness in spite of the distance between them. They would meet again. The jester and the queen were his tricksters, after all.

A raven’s caw echoed in his head, and he whispered, “Thank you.”

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