Page 23 of Courting the Fae Captain
The aisle on herbology and potion making was a big one, with tomes dating back centuries, detailing the earliest practices of Fae magic and healing. As necromancy and darker magics were our way of life in Mithria, healing had been a slow learning curve. It was a rare gift indeed to be granted healing powers at all, and even then, we had adapted from learnings made across the seas in other continents.
Our power awoke after our ascension—a ceremony in which Fae youth died, only to be reborn with our newfound gifts, should the Goddess Ryvia grant them. Anyone who failed to pass her judgement was destined for an eternity of torment, even in death. I shivered. It was a cruel ceremony, but one every acolyte faced.To avoid this ceremony meant a long life spent being shunned by society … or killed for cowardice.
I remembered the utter cold of the escix. The waters of that sacred pool felt like death itself, but they merely held our bodies afloat while we passed briefly into a realm in between until Ryvia passed judgement.Once the goddess deemed us worthy, she would decide the court best suited to our power. Then, according to our aspirations, we would join the court we aligned with. Unluckily for me, she had decided The Shadow Court best suitedmy talents … which meant I had remained stuck with my father and had still not discovered what my power even was.
I shook my head. Now was not the time to wallow in my frustrations. I glanced along the rows of books until I saw a series of stocktakes and other apothecary records with Onyx Age ? imprinted on the spine, along with the subsequent years. I continued scanning until I came across Onyx Age ?, then picked up a book. It struck me that I didn’t actually know how old my mother was. I’d been too young to think to ask, and then she’d disappeared, and I’d never had the chance.
My eyes narrowed. She’d left me all alone with that monster I’d called Father. Who ensured I had known no love or kindness. Had never had anyone to share my deepest thoughts with or share a hug. There had been males, yes, but those quick trysts had never filled the ache or the emptiness of truly being alone. Not when you’re a female. Not when you were the only child of one of the more powerful lords in the court. And yet, despite my anger towards my mother, a part of me still wanted to find her. To know any part of her soul that might be jotted down in ink and buried in the lines of a book.
I flipped through the pages of the records I’d selected, scanning the dates and signatures of the persons on duty in the apothecary. Nothing. I searched another, and another, until I’d scanned so many with nothing to show for it that I was about to give up. Then, in a well-worn book, a feminine scrawl caught my eye, the letters looping daintily. Signed, Marion Chambers. My mother’s maiden name.
My heart skipped a beat. I knew she’d been a participant in the Rite, but seeing her name and knowing she’d been in my position made my stomach roll. Had she feared for her life? Did she try to escape the castle, or had she entered into the Rite willingly?Dust plumed out of the pages as I turned them, looking for a note or a hint of personalisation. Nothing. I triedthe next book, just in case, but her name wasn’t listed. Bitter disappointment filled my chest. Why would it have been? The Rite couldn’t have lasted more than a few months. The Pentad wouldn’t drag out their sick games too slowly, or else they’d grow bored with the entertainment.
I opened the original book up again and stroked a finger over her name. She was here. And she’d worked in the apothecary.Just like me.Which meant she likely stayed in one of the rooms on my level of the castle. If I could find out which one and have a look inside, I might find a hidden journal somewhere. Maybe we even shared the same room. My eyes watered, and I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat. I wouldnotcry over this right now. With a grunt, I kicked the shelf, annoyed that I was still so affected by the past.
A small, tattered book plopped to the ground, its pages landing open on the floor. I leaned forward curiously. No title, no name. Just a plain leatherbound book with yellowed pages. And as I turned it over in my hand, my heart leapt, because every page contained that same looping handwriting, full of numerous entries journaled by my mother.This was it.
“Thank you, Brindere,” I whispered to the God of Elements and Good Fortune, with a quick kiss to the book’s cover. I got up and ran back to the entryway, where I found Raithe waiting.
“I found something!” I said with a beaming grin.
His gaze lingered a beat too long, but he smiled too as he waved a few books in the air. “I’m not sure yet, but I might have, too.” He nodded at the journal I held. “Your mother’s?”
I nodded. “They must thoroughly search every room; otherwise my mother wouldn’t have hidden it down here. There must be at least a couple of months’ worth of entries in here. There has to be something useful here. I can feel it.”
“Let’s hope we both find some answers. For now, we should get you back to your room. Here, take this.”
My brows lifted as he unsheathed a handsome dagger. The edges of the hilt curved like a rolling wave; a single sapphire was embedded into the centre. “It’s beautiful,” I sighed.
“It will keep you safe in case Portia or Liv decide to pay you a visit. I’d be sorely disappointed if someone else took your life. Keep your wits. Bar your door at night and do not trust anyone.”
“Including you?”
His eyes danced with amusement. “Especially me.”
I took the dagger and squeezed my mother’s journal tightly in my other hand. “Thank you.” I slid the weapon into my boot, turned, then headed for the door.
“And Aeris,” Raithe said softly. I looked over my shoulder and saw a small smile on his face, even as sadness glimmered in his eyes as he followed behind. “I’m glad you found something about your mother.”
Well, that was new. My stomach did a little flip at the kindness in those words, which, for some reason, stayed in my mind long after he’d seen me safe and sound back to my room.
By the time I got to bed, my eyes were too bleary to read, so I made a makeshift hiding spot in my armoire and slid the journal away for safekeeping.As I fell asleep, I thought once more of Raithe and his quest for his mother. I dreamed of the sadness in those eyes when he’d looked at me. Worse, I dreamed of how those eyes might smile when he found his mother.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘If you’re reading this journal, you’re either very nosy or very desperate for help. The good news is this: I serve my tea hot and my advice with a side of cold-hard truth.’
Journal excerpt, author unknown
Irose with the sun, basking in the golden rays as they beamed down through the frosted glass windows. Outside, the ocean tides were calm, unlike the violent swirling of my stomach. It was excitement, yes, but also trepidation. What would I find on the pages of my mother’s journal? What horrors might she have inked that I was yet to face?
I sucked in a lungful of air, blowing it out on a sigh as I grabbed the journal and settled down beside the window on the parquet floor. I flipped through the book, procrastinating, when a torn page caught my eye. I slid my finger over it to mark the spot, and my heart jolted with excitement. A foldednote had been squashed between the pages; the parchment aged with time and stained with blotted fingerprints. It gave the impression of being hurriedly scrawled. With another deep breath, I opened the note and read:
Dear reader,
If this journal is in your possession, then I am likely dead, and you are no doubt next. I have done everything they asked of me. I have killed under duress. I have survived countless attempts on my life. I pray that it will be enough, but there is a feeling in my gut… an instinct that my life will not be long-lived, even if I survive what comes next.
The Wedding Rite is barbaric and not what we have been led to believe. I hope if you have found my journal that it can aid or comfort you should you also face the Rite and soon look upon your death … or worse.
