Page 27 of Crownless Heirs

Sorcha, Maelan, and Kyron stood beneath the sacred tree, greeting those who offered their final blessings and well wishes. It was an endless stream of gratitude. Cait Sidhe of all ranks approaching with gifts, quiet words of encouragement, or merely a nod of acknowledgment. Some pressed small trinkets into Sorcha’s hands; others clasped Maelan’s forearm in an old warrior’s gesture of respect.

Then, amid the flow of well-wishers, a familiar presence emerged. Korat. She strode toward them with her usual confidence, arms full of something carefully wrapped in dark velvet. The early sunlight caught in her silver tipped blue gray hair, her eyes gleaming with quiet excitement.

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without parting gifts, did you?” She teased, setting the bundle down on the stone bench beside them.

Maelan smirked. “Should I be worried?”

Korat squinted her eyes. “Only if you’ve suddenly developed a distaste for craftsmanship.”

With a flourish, she unwrapped the fabric, revealing gleaming sets of armor. Each piece woven from a material unlike anything Sorcha had ever seen. It shimmered faintly; the color shifting between silver and gold under the light, yet it looked softer than any metal, more like finely woven silk. Sorcha stepped closer, brushing her fingers over the material. It was impossibly light beneath her touch, cool yet warm, and somehow… alive.

Korat grinned at her reaction. She lifted a sleeve, showing the fine embroidery woven into the underlayer. “I worked threads of silver blossoms into the lining, extracted the bark, stripped it into the finest threads possible, and wove it with silver and gold filaments. It’s strong enough to repel most weapons, but light enough that you can move freely.”

Sorcha looked at her in awe. “Korat, this is” She shook her head, lost for words.

Korat smirked. “I know.”

Maelan picked up a piece of his own armor, running his fingers over the intricate embroidery along the edges. “Near impenetrable,” he mused.

Korat’s face scrunched up in amusement. “You’re welcome.”

Kyron, who had been quiet until now, finally stepped forward. He lifted his own set, inspecting the craftsmanship, then nodded. “This is remarkable work.”

Korat’s lips curled in satisfaction. “I had to make sure none of you had an excuse to die on me.”

“You’ve outdone yourself.” Maelan’s voice was thick with gratitude.

Korat tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “I tend to do that.” Then, with a final pat on Sorcha’s shoulder, she stepped back. “Try not to get stabbed, would you?”

The morning sun bathed the courtyard in gold, its light catching in the woven red thread of Sorcha’s braid, making it look like fire winding through the golden and red hues of her hair.

The Cait Sidhe army gathered, warriors and elders alike, awaiting their king’s orders. Maelan stood at the center, eyes sweeping across the faces before him. He had spent years turning this kingdom into a strong and unshakable court. Now, he was leaving it in their hands.

“We have much to do before we leave,” he said, his voice steady. “And much to prepare.”

Callan, stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was grim. “And what of us when you’re gone? What sign will we wait for?”

Maelan met his gaze without hesitation. “When the time comes, there will be no mistaking it.” He glanced at Sorcha before looking back at his warriors. “Until then, you continue as planned. Train all who are willing, every man or woman who steps forward. Strengthen our defenses, fortify our borders. When we call, you will be ready.”

Callan gave a short nod, but his expression remained tense. “And if the enemy comes to us first?”

“Then make them understand the consequences of their actions.” Maelan stated plainly before addressing the elders. “We’ll need the lake’s waters blessed and stored,” he instructed. “Fill every canteen we have.”

One of the elder Cait Sidhe, a man with graying hair and eyes, confusion on his face. “Holy water?”

Maelan smirked. “A useful tool, wouldn’t you agree?”

Another warrior stepped forward, one of his alchemists. “And what of the bombs you mentioned last night?”

“I want them crafted from the blessed water,” Maelan ordered. “We can use it against whatever unnatural forces we’ll be facing. Make it happen.”

The warrior inclined his head. “I’ll see to it personally.”

Satisfied, Maelan turned back to Callan. “Keep our people safe. Keep our kingdom hidden for as long as possible. If anything happens to me or the queen, you know what to do.”

Callan’s gaze narrowed. “If you die before we even reach war, then this was all for nothing.”

Maelan chuckled. “I’m impossible to kill.”