Page 2 of The Fae King's Labyrinth

My heart stuttered against my ribs. “No.” There had been three of us if I counted my unborn niece or nephew. Surely Mindy was halfway home by now.Remember the kit, Calypso,I admonished myself. The longer I kept this fae occupied, themore distance Mindy could cover. Protecting the young was my purpose in the community. If I died, so be it.

The fae scanned the horizon, the golden rays of the fading sunlight glinting off the black metal surface of his helm. “One will have to be enough,” he muttered before sitting back in his saddle. Turning his full attention to me, he extended the hand holding the scroll and uttered a word I didn’t recognize. The air sizzled and the acrid smell of ancient magic burned my sensitive nose. I sneezed, missing whatever other words the fae uttered.

By the time I opened my eyes again, it was to glimpse him thrusting an emphatic finger at me. The scroll was open and glowing, sending another blast of acidic magic in my direction, and I fell helplessly into a violent sneezing attack.

The fae uttered a word that shook the ground beneath my feet. The dirt parted and swallowed me up into darkness.

∞∞∞

Azulin

Magical sparks spat and crackled in the corners of my study. My secretary jumped and eyed the stacks of books on the floor with growing unease.

“The sparks aren’t going to set anything on fire,” I assured Soren.

“Of course, sire.” He bent over his list. “How long will you be unavailable?”

I ran my fingers through my hair before pressing my palms against my aching eyes and groaned. “I don’t know. The periods grow longer.”

My portal magic burned through my veins, demanding I answer its call. With each flare, the sparks climbed higher up the walls. And with each enacting of the curse, my magic grew more chaotic. The fact I resisted the curse’s beckoning probably didn’t help matters, but I refused to submit without a fight.

“Any sign of the curse weakening?” he asked.

“Quite the opposite.” I stood and strode to the far corner of my study where I stored my supplies. The Unseelie king’s curse derailed my magic and bound me to a crazed task during the full moon, and I needed to finish my preparations.

Once a year, at the autumn equinox, the task was the Wild Hunt, a barbaric ritual of the Unseelie fae court—riding in a frenzied mob of horses, magic, and fae. They rode over a set path along the bounds of the fae kingdom. Well, at least it was supposed to cover a specific route. But in the years since the curse bound me, the Unseelie king had driven the hunt deeper and deeper into human lands, binding more and more of them to his domain.

The magicless humans didn’t even know they were being invaded, and I was helpless to warn them. The nature of the curse bound my tongue from speaking of it. I had tried to warn Emrys, the elven king of Eldarlan, by alerting his spymaster to my plight. The spymaster and I communicated regularly by messenger, but I hadn’t yet been able to alert the king directly. Not that he could help openly since my curse was a fae issue, not an elf issue. At least Emrys’ spymaster had helped. He’d taught me a storage spell that let me carry gear with me during each full moon.

I fingered the edge of the spell. Elven spells were so different from fae spells. We both used words and finger movements, but elven spells were far less tactile. Holding the spell open with one hand, I reached for the spell that I had obtained from Greyson, one of the Unseelie court nobles. The cloaking spelldisguised me as a Dullahan was bound up in a pebble, small and innocuous. The fae spell was very different from the invisible bit of nothingness I dropped the pebble into.

Suddenly, my magic flared, blurring my vision and causing the walls of my study to erupt into a shower of sparks. Soren let out a yelp, and I dropped my hold on the elven spell. For a few minutes, it required all my concentration to fight my magic as it raged out of control. When the fit finally passed, I was drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

My white-faced secretary stood in the center of the room, clutching his notes and regarding me warily.

“Is it over?”

I laughed, a bitter note tinging my hysteria. “No, this is only a momentary lull.” Realizing the sparks had probably spooked Soren far more than usual, I grasped for a task that would give him a means of escape from my personal torture. Another episode was probably incoming. “Could you go speak to the kitchen and ask them to pack some provisions?”

Soren scrambled to adjust his pile of paper and wrote a note on the topmost piece. “What kind of provisions, sire?”

“Anything nonperishable, nutritious, and portable. Enough for a couple of days would be good.” The previous month, I had been gone for four days and three nights. “Also, some clean, fresh water.”

“I will see to it, sire. Anything else?”

“No, that is enough.” I waved toward the door. “I will be down to fetch it within the hour.”

As the door closed behind Soren, another wave of chaotic magic hit hard. The floor shook and piles of books toppled, but I managed to keep a portal from opening.

I was running out of time. I yanked open the elven spell and dumped the rest of my supplies inside. Snapping the spell shut, I ran for the door. Racing through the corridors and downmultiple staircases, I hollered for servants to get out of the way. I managed to reach the kitchens just moments before the next attack.

“Supplies?” I gasped as I stumbled to a halt in the center of the festively tiled floor.

“Here, sire.” My head cook waved for a serving boy to hand me the packages on the wooden table to my right.

“Thank you.” I didn’t wait for the lad to move. Instead, I began dumping them into my storage spell.

My hand had grasped the neck of the last bottle of water when the pull hit again. This time, I didn’t resist. My magic opened a portal, and I stumbled through.

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