Page 14 of The Fae Lord

I lean onto the nearest tree and exhale heavily. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to change who I am.

I walk back to the cabin slowly, my mother’s words echoing in my mind. Dread coils in my stomach at the thought of being forced to leave the forest – my home. The only place I’ve ever known.

But I have no idea how to be who they want me to be.

Over the next few days, I try my best to follow my mother’s advice. I focus on keeping my face impassive, even as I’m bombarded by the emotions of everyone around me. Their fears, their judgements, their mistrust. When I speak, I concentrate on keeping my voice neutral and concealing any hint that I can sense what they’re thinking and feeling.

But it’s draining, this constant effort to hide myself from sight. By the end of each day, I’m utterly exhausted – mentally, emotionally, physically. And deep down, a sinking feeling tells me that even this won’t be enough.

When the vote finally takes place, the outcome is not a surprise.

In the central square, what seems like the entire village gathers to cast their decisions. My mother and father are present, but they are not allowed to vote.

Samuel left three days ago to start the quest that each fae must complete when they turn one hundred and fifty years old.

If he was here, what would he say? What would he do?

I stand alone, trying to hold my head high despite the hostile stares boring into me from all directions. My heart pounds as the elders collect and count the wooden voting tokens.

When they announce the results, I barely hear their words over the roaring in my ears. The verdict is nearly unanimous – I am to be banished from the village and sent to live in Luminael. Exiled.

Forever.

I am given three days to say my goodbyes and pack my belongings.

In that time, I refuse to speak to Kayan or Rosalie. They knock, and beg, and plead. But I remain completely silent.

The only way I can cope with this is if I don’t have a tearful goodbye.

I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye to Kayan if I tried.

At sunset on the third day, there is a knock on the door. My father is sitting in the corner, pretending to focus on a book. He doesn’t even look up.

My mother answers, and steps aside, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The village’s strongest men and women – six of them – file inside the cabin and flank the walls. “It is time to go,” Maura says.

Instantly, rough hands grab my arms on either side, and I’m jostled forward as they start to march me down the path leading out of the village. Craning my neck, I look back frantically, desperate for one final glimpse of my family. But even my mother is not watching.

We’re on the outskirts of the village when I spot them.

Kayan, Rosalie, and . . . Samuel?

He is sprinting toward us, his face etched with anguish and outrage. “Stop!” he yells, drawing his sword. “Release her! You cannot do this, you have no right!”

“Did you tell him?” I call to Kayan, shaking my head. “He wasn’t supposed to know.”

Samuel draws to a stop in front of me. He is bigger than a lot of Leafborne fae, with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. He flexes his wings. “Unhand my sister,” he growls.

For a moment, a fragile twinge of hope blooms in my chest. Perhaps he can make them see sense.

But it is gone almost as quickly as it arrived.

My escorts try to push past him, muttering platitudes like, The vote is cast, it cannot be undone, and, You will still see her. Just not here.

“This is her home,” Samuel growls.

Then his hand moves to his waist. His blade flashes in the sunlight and his eyes narrow. What is he doing?

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