(Set during the Fae Wars, Late 15th Century)
had come home to the Fortunate Island to a palace in ruins, its walls and those of our sacred temples stained with the blood of my ladies and servants. The battle to regain my homeland had been grim and all had not gone for those of us who were aligned with Nuada and the Seelie Host. Prince Itet had escaped with his guard of about three hundred troops as well as various contingents and allies escaped from the main port city of the Island to the Eastern side where the terrain was rougher, wilder.
“You are certain?” I asked, my voice was hollow, numb.
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aelyn staggered home. She had indulged in the most brutal and wanton pleasures of the flesh with Marius. Every muscle ached as she got out of the car and all but limped toward the Chateau de Rochefort. Her body was a mass of cuts, bruises and contusions that she would most likely need to take at least a little time to heal. Inside the house, probably waiting somewhere near a fire with a glass of brandy, and filled with barely-masqued concern would be her husband. With as much control and quiet as she could muster with her aching finges, she closed the door silently behind her. Inwardly she hoped that no servant was still up and awake in order to make a fuss. Right now she knew that she and Sebastien would most likely have words. Surely she was certain that she would not welcome all that there was to discuss between them.