Page 25 of The Fae Lord

There have been no consequences except having to face the destruction in my mother’s eyes when they broke the news to her.

My father stands by the moon rock, wings tucked neatly behind him. The ethereal green glow that denotes his connection to the earth is more muted than usual. He does not search for me or try to seek my gaze.

Next to him, my mother is mute and wears the expression of someone so lost in her own sadness she might never return. She doesn’t look for me either, but it is not because she hates me.

It is because she loves me, and she has lost me.

In the morning, I am to leave. Despite what happened, the villagers were unanimous; Samuel’s death only served to prove that I am a danger to the Leafborne. When was the last time one of us died prematurely? When was the last time we held a funeral for a fae of Samuel’s age?

Has there ever been a fae death so young?

With Kayan and Rosalie beside me, I try to ground myself. I try to shut out the tidal waves of pain that barrel towards me, and threaten to overwhelm me.

But it is too difficult.

Their pain merges with mine and grows bigger, stronger, more consuming. Until I can barely breathe, barely see.

I pull out of Kayan’s grasp and turn away from the lake. As the ceremony starts, and my brother’s body is pushed out to the centre of the lake by the elders with water magic, I stumble towards the treeline.

In the darkness of the forest, away from the clearing and the sight of the fire fae lighting torches that will turn Samuel’s body to ash, I sink down to my knees and bury my face in my hands.

Maura is the one who finds me. I know her presence immediately and look up from my palms to see her skinny legs and wizened hands.

She crouches in front of me and tilts her head. “You are to stay,” she mutters.

I can’t speak.

“Did you hear me? You are to stay, Alana.” She stands, not an ounce of sympathy showing in her words or her thoughts.

“Why?” I blink up at her through tear-filled eyes.

“Because your mother is a good woman, and she will not survive losing two children.” Maura extends a hand to help me to my feet. My wings flutter a little as I straighten myself. From the ground nearby, a purple butterfly floats up into the sky, then disappears behind a clutch of bushes.

“Thank you.” I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand.

Maura looks me up and down, purses her lips, then sighs. “I truly wish you had never been brought into this world,” she says. “It was foolish.” She shakes her head, then turns away from me. “Foolish fae,” she mutters as she walks away. “Foolish fae.”

ELEVEN

Finn

Ihave not set foot in Luminael for over a century. The last time was a rare exception. A day pass to accompany the chef to the market because her usual kitchen assistant was unwell.

Until the night we escaped, I spent my entire life in Eldrion’s castle, watching Luminael from the parapets after dark, or early in the morning. Observing the Sunborne aristocracy in their finery.

I had forgotten that there were less well-off Sunborne in the city. Of course, they still consider themselves better than us lowly Shadowkind – and their magic is still stronger – but they are not all as pristine and proper as those who attend Eldrion’s banquets.

The elves do not usually mix with the Sunborne. They are the ones who run the taverns, and the markets. They have their own quarter of the city and associate mainly with other elves. They are the keepers of secrets. They know everything and reveal nothing. Unless they feel it will be to their advantage. And, even then, the advantage must be great.

I met Garratt when he came to the castle to deliver ale for one of Eldrion’s feasts. We ended up sitting on some haybales in the courtyard, drinking some of his own private stash, and discussing all manner of things. Largely, why none of us ever dared to just get up and walk out of the castle.

I remember laughing and twitching my wings at him so my piercings jingled. “We cannot walk out, he’d hear us.”

“So?” Garrat asked me, taking off his cap to reveal a shock of white-blond hair and the traditionally pointed elven ears. “You think he’d kill every single one of you? He’d have no one left. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Easy for you to say. Elves are a free people. You have never been subjected to what the Shadowkind have...”

“True,” Garratt said, scratching his chin and lighting his pipe. “That’s true.”

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