The courtiers were unmoved, indifferent, and aloof.
The brethren gathered in their finery, from witches and warlocks through to fauns and pixies, imps and goblins, and others that I knew not the names of. Their horned heads, tussled locks threaded with leaves and flowers, sloe-eyed, winged, and hooved feet more at home in enchanted forests or pretty gardens than this shimmering white, unapproachable space.
I took Aurien’s hand, seeking comfort from his touch. He looked down at me, his violet eyes gentle.
“You do not need to fear, Liera,” he murmured. “You are under a dragon’s protection. In the hierarchy of brethren, dragons are equal to the royal Fae.”
At the far end of the chamber was an arrangement of thrones, all beautifully carved from white crystal and padded with white
