For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) by A.L. Davroe Read Free Book Online

to please Roxel, not because I carry the light that mesmerizes and commands loyalty from the fae.  Why I was not born with it like every other Aos Si , is a mystery.  Roxel tells me that my parents were both truly gifted Aos Si –that’s why they were sacrificed.  That’s how she ended up taking me as her ward.
         Turning away from Alaphos and his ugly little troll face, I make my way out of the gate chamber and into the main hall.  Roxel’s castle is in the heart of Tír na nÓg , a tall crystalline palace set on a lake so still, it’s like glass.  It is diamond on sapphire, set against emerald, serine and quiet.  But inside, it’s a different story. 
         Most hours, one can expect high revelry in the main hall.  But now, at noon, the banquet tables have been picked over, dry crumb and greasy bone scattered over delicate gossamer cloth, goblets tipped and dripping blood-hue liquid on the white marble, Aos Si lounging about – made immobile and sluggish by wine, revelry, and the heat of the day.  I prefer coming home during this time because I’m less likely to get roped into orgiastic affairs by a tipsy bean-sidhe .
         As I step over snoring, half clothed bodies, brownies scurry back and forth – their small hands cleaning up the mess, resetting tables, and refilling pitchers with summer ale so that, upon waking, the courtiers can start over again.  Such is the immortal life.  What else would eternally youthful beings who don’t work do? 
         It disgusts me. 
         I’m glad that Roxel has given me something useful to do with my time, even if it’s something as simple as guarding a rose garden in a human forest – at least I get out of this pit on a daily basis.
         After crossing the hall, I slide down one of the main corridors.  The hall leading to Roxel’s chambers is brightly lit.  On both sides, the tall glass doors have been thrown wide, letting the hot summer air stir the pixie woven curtains and push rose petals in from the balconies.  Everywhere there are roses – which makes the hot humid air of Tír na nÓg smell like a perpetual drug-addled dream.  There is faint music ahead – a strange tangle of fae percussion and string, but it’s not unpleasant to the ear.
         I knock on the closed door at the end of the hall and wait for one of the attending Aos Si to let me into the inner chamber.  When the door opens, I recognize the brown haired, brown eyed, willowy Aos Si standing on the other side.
         Pleased to see her, I flash a cocky grin.  “Hello, Twyla, visited any good puddles lately?”
         Twyla scowls like she always does.  She doesn’t like me teasing her about her magical affinity for water, but in the many decades I have known her, there has never been bad blood between us.  In fact, my earliest memory is of Twyla.  She’s holding me as she would a baby, which means I must have been very small.  I makes me believe she was once friends with my parents. 
         She moves to one side and motions me into the Summer Queen's chambers.       “Where have you been?”
         “Aw, did you miss me?”
         She wrinkles her nose.  “Roxel's been worried sick about you.”
         I glance around the room.  Roxel is sitting with one leg slung over her throne.  She's got her chin propped on her fist and her dark eyes, glazed with boredom, are following a pair of wood elves chasing each other across the windowsill.  She doesn’t look worried sick.
         I clear my throat.
         Roxel starts and looks up.  Upon seeing me, her face brightens and her golden ambient light glitters through her dark olive skin.  “Tamrin!”  In an instant she's bounding down the dais and wrapping her arms around me.  She fervently kisses my chin while her eyes ask me why I won't bend down so she can get to the rest of me.
         Her hands wander along my torso until she's tugging my shirt out of my