Page 5 of The Forbidden Fae King

Keira

We take the descent through the woods at a leisurely pace, a procession of the Protector Guards and Trackers of the Hunt, led by Caitlin. I follow directly behind her, and Diarmuid walks beside my horse, refusing a mount of his own.

Thin mists hug the edges of the path that cuts through stone bluffs and between hills colonized by pines, birches and twisted oaks. Intermittent drizzles fall in the lightest kiss, stealing the heat from my skin.

An ecstatic high still rolls through me from the freedom of galloping through the forest and the empowerment of using my magic to protect my people.

The hunt is the only time I feel such purpose.

I hum a low song, as my mare’s footfalls clop on the road and slide on the slick moss that coats everything like a natural carpet. The entire valley seems to sing with me, birdsongs, the trickle of tiny waterfalls and the many echoing hooves ringing on stone from our party.

My mind drifts between cozy daydreams. Taking a hot bath. Reading a romance novel while curled up beneath furs. The bright blue eyes of my prince shine at the sight of me, then become hooded, as we reunite after months. His fingers running through myhair, unbuttoning the front of my dress, slipping inside the neckline -

“What will you do with your kill?” Diarmuid absolutely shatters my fantasy.

“Sorry?” My mind returns to the present begrudgingly. “Oh, the Cú Sídhe? I haven’t thought about it. The meat will go to the feast, the blood and organs I will give to the druids for their potions, and the fur I will sell. It is good for a woman to have a little money that doesn’t come from her father or husband.”

Diarmuid’s brows knit. “You don’t have a husband yet. Nor do you have a fiancé. And I know it is as good as promised but—” Diarmuid holds up his hands as I glare at him. “But I wouldn’t count on it until vows are made. Kings act on a whim. They do what is best for their people. And princes - well they do what their king and duty demand of them.”

My entire expression falls. “Have you heard something?”

“I want to protect my little sister. You give your heart away too freely. And not just to him. You were devastated the last time a guard did not come home from a hunt. A guard.”

“I don’t know how to be any other way.” I leave so much unsaid.

How could I not know every one of the guards' names and faces? To listen to their stories about their loved ones? Our Protector Guards devote their lives to defending our family. Caring is the least I could do.

What is the point of having a person in my life, a sibling, a friend, a lover, if I don’t give my all to them? By giving out our heart, piece by piece, we gain so much more from it. Not only vulnerability.

I trust Prince Finan. He has given his promise of love and a future together, and that is all I need.

The road twists around a bend, then opens into a grassy bowl surrounded by walls of slate, where the other hunting party waits for us. The captain of the Protector Guard vaults down from her horse, the intricate layers of braids in her long, jet-black hair flying in the air with the motion.

She starts slow clapping as she nears Caitlin.

“Well, look who finally made it. I hear your party killed three Cú Sídhe. Isn't that cute.” Gwyneth’s voice bounces around the valley.

Caitlin dismounts and meets her. “Had the two packs combined, I could have killed all the beasts with just Keira. You got lucky.”

“Oh, is that right?” Gwyneth puts an arm around Caitlin’s shoulders, pulling her into her side. “That’s something I’d pay to see. The mighty Caitlin, heir to the seat of Lord Protector of Appleshield, destroying a horde of fae beasts with her willpower alone. You know, I think if anyone could do it, it might be you. Of course, if I’m not there with my sword and spear first.”

Caitlin wipes a splattering of mud and blood from Gwyneth’s high cheekbone, and a look of utter devotion flashes across the captain's face. It matches Cailtin’s own expression.

The moment is too intimate, and I turn away.

No one has ever looked at me that way, not even my prince. A stab of pain slices through my chest, but I shove it away. Not everyone shows their heart across their face for all to see.

My horse prances on the spot, picking up on my agitation, and I dismount.

Men and women of the guard lounge on the damp grass or tumbled slabs of stone, sharing a light lunch in groups. Voices high with excitement echo around me.

I pass the corpses of the Cú Sídhe, trussed up on a long pole of pine for transport. Their forms are immense, in varying shades of green.

My feet take me to the ring of stones encircling a grassy meadow large enough to fit a hundred people. The ancient slabs are hacked into rough rectangular shapes, taller and wider than any man, and piled on top of each other to form arches.

I run my fingers across the slick surface of granite that shimmers with a hundred shades of grey, broken up by the rough texture of yellow lichen.

Within the center, The Tower stands as tall as any castle’s turret. The narrow building is completely hollow, with a grand, external staircase wrapping around its outer wall, spiraling up to a flat roof.Great arches follow the curve of the steps. I can see right through The Tower, no matter how I circle around it.

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