Lady Of The Courts

Prologue

‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here,’ said the white-haired young man, pacing over and back across the grand room where all of his warriors. He had his hands clasped behind his back and his lips pursed in a tight secretive smile. ‘William Shakespeare. A particularly aware mundane; long-dead, of course. He had the right idea, didn't he?’ The young man laughed bitterly, unclasping his hands and brushing one of them back through his hair.

‘Indeed, ladies and gentlemen, all the devils are here,’ he continued slowly, his sharp green eyes jumping from each of them knowingly. ‘The finest, most ruthless warriors from the Seelie Court.’

‘On the morrow, as the sun rises East of our Queen’s chambers, our forces shall lead the siege on Alicante,’ he said, his constant pacing coming to a sudden halt. He stood there, in the centre of the clearing, not speaking for a few seconds. ‘And our forces will succeed.’

This elicited a chorus of cheering from almost everyone gathered in that clearing. Fists were pumped in the air, the Inquisitor’s name was cursed loudly and almost everyone began to place bets on who would succeed; or who would fall first; or who would wimp out.

Everyone, that is, excluding Aphria Yewslain.

Aphria stood there, staring at the space where Tiernan Yewslain, her older half-brother and "political advocate for faerie rights", as he decided to call himself nowadays, was standing seconds before. She, unlike Tiernan and all of the other faeries chattering away with excitement and anticipation in this clearing, was what she once called "half and half" though she never referred to herself as that again after her father gave her the look.

Her "other half" was Shadowhunter though no-one ever said that to her positively. Her father, the oh-so-great Lord Padraic Yewslain, had had a one night stand with her Shadowhunter mother, whose identity was still not known. He was infamous for his tendency to have numerous one night stands without any accidental pregnancies---until Aphria popped (quite literally) into the picture.

The talk of murdering Shadowhunters made her undeniably uncomfortable. Aphria couldn't fathom why, though: her mother, who was a Shadowhunter, had abandoned her and left her to grow up in the Seelie Court, where she was considered an outcast; a mistake; a bastard child. Sure, it was the faeries who called her such names but her Shadowhunter blood was partially responsible.

Yet there was a lingering sense of guilt that Aphria kept attempting to push down each time she came to one of Tiernan’s meetings. It hung onto the tiny shred of pride she had which was telling her that she was betraying the people who were also related to her by blood: the Shadowhunters.

‘Aphria,’ Tiernan greeted her formally as she approached him. ‘I hope that you are faring well.’

‘Very much so, dear brother,’ answered Aphria politely, inclining her head respectfully. Tiernan was not one to cross or to anger: doing so could result in wars which he would most certainly win. ‘Tomorrow shall be a day of glory and honour for the Seelie Court.’

‘And may we have many more after that,’ he said with an easy grin, full of confidence.
‘Victory shall be ours, dear sister!’ His voice rose in volume. People began to cheer. ‘We shall break free of the unjust rules set upon us to carve our own path!’

More cheers.

‘Those Shadowhunter scum will not know what is to become of them!’ roared Tiernan, thrusting his fist in the air. The only thing louder than his voice was the roar of approval and agreement he elicited from the to her warriors in the clearing. Aphria watched him silently, lips pursed. ‘Sorry, dear sister,’ he said to her before climbing onto his white horse gracefully. ‘I know how you . . . feel when I speak poorly of . . . your people.’ He smirked.