Shameless Fae (The Fae Bounties Book 1)

by Cilla Raven

  Quinn pulls me down the center aisle between the rows of stools, up onto the stage, where I get a glimpse of a large round table that sits at the very back of the tent. Around the table are about ten more stools, and sitting in three of them are a human, a light purple winged fae, and a green winged fae, all watching us intently as we near them.

  The green winged fae sits at what I would consider the head of the table, and as she sees us… well, as she sees me, she stands abruptly, her eyes widening in the process.

  “Meet The Ghost, Shara,” Lazlo says way more enthusiastically than I thought the situation called for, but I ignore it as he looks at me and says, “Ghosty, meet Shara Rainfield.”

  “You’re the princess!” she nearly shrieks. I chance a glance behind me to see if my wings have changed color, but I’m shocked to see they are still brown.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Quinn says in almost a growl as his grip tightens on my arm, but I’m not sure if the movement was intentional or not.

  The green winged fae comes around the table to meet me, and I am taken aback by how happy she seems as she looks me over. Shara Rainfield has a few wrinkles and a few gray streaks in her otherwise light brown hair, but somehow her face still looks young, like she’s one of those people who will always seem younger than they are.

  “How’d you know it was me?” I ask when she’s finally standing directly in front of me.

  Her clear green eyes almost get teary as she considers me, but after a second, she sends out a light hand to brush a finger down the side of my cheek. “I’d know that face anywhere,” she says, nerves fluttering through me. “You look so much like your mother.”

  Instantly, I remember where I am, and anger surges through me so powerfully that I’m surprised I’m able to keep my hands at my sides. “How did you know her?” I ask menacingly as I take a step toward the fae, but Quinn jerks me back, and it’s all I can do not to swing on him for it.

  Shara laughs like she knows something I don’t and says, “And you act like her too.”

  All this does is further confuse and anger me, and I know it shows on my face when she throws her hands up in surrender as she says, “Your mother was my friend for a very long time. We grew up together.”

  My mind reels, and for a solid minute, I just stare at the fae, trying to make sense of everything, but it’s no use. Nothing makes sense. So, instead of just believing the words she says, my training kicks in as my hatred for the rebellion takes over all of my senses.

  I quickly pull out of Quinn’s grip and rush forward, my fangs elongating as I grab the woman by her neck, falling with her to the ground with a bang as I speak through gritted teeth. “Then why the fuck did you have her killed, huh?”

  Immediately, there are hands everywhere on me, trying to get me off of the green winged fae who claimed to be my mother’s friend, but nothing in this entire fucked up world would get me to let go of her where my fingers dig into the flesh of her neck.

  She raises her hands, shooing everyone off of me, and even though they protest, a single glare from her is all it takes for them to leave me alone. When her eyes settle back on mine, she squeaks out, “I’ll tell you, but…”

  I realize belatedly that she can’t breathe, much less answer me, so I loosen my grip just enough so that she can talk, but fully ready to kill her in a heartbeat if I don’t like what she says.

  Shara takes a deep breath, and the redness starts to recede from her cheeks as she answers me. “I didn’t kill your mother. I loved her.” She has tears in her eyes as she says this, but I’m not sure if they’re from her claimed love of my mother, or from the chokehold I just had her in. “The rebels didn’t kill her either, I promise you, Z.”

  The nickname I’ve only been called by my mother and my uncle flows through my ears, and tears start to form in my eyes. “Then who did?” I ask, my voice cracking over the words as a couple of tears fall into her face from mine.

  Flooring me with the sincerity I hear in her voice, she says, “This is why we needed The Ghost, Z. To catch who did.”

  Chapter 17

  I let her up, backing up slowly as I process what she just said, but as she stands up, eyeing me with sympathy and maybe a little fear, she says, “Let’s talk about this over dinner. Have you eaten?”

  Food is such an outlandish topic to bring up right now, but as soon as she says that, my stomach growls at me for neglecting it all day, and Shara motions over to the round table behind her. “Come on, everyone. Take a seat.”

  We do as she says, but my eyes never leave her as I make my way to a stool at the table. Shara walks around to the one she vacated as we all walked in, and says to the light purple winged fae that’s sitting next to her, “Riko, will you go tell them we need a few more plates for dinner tonight?”

  Riko gets up as he says, “Yeah, sure thing,” before he makes his way out of the tent, the way we came in.

  I’m sitting directly across from Shara while Quinn takes the seat to my left with Lazlo on his other side, and Priya sits on my right with Roan on her other side. We take up half the seats at the table, and something about being right in the center of the Donconqueh at this impromptu meeting just feels right, but I try to ignore it because I can’t let my mind wander from what’s really important here.

  “So, who do you need The Ghost to catch? Who killed my mother?” I ask, getting right to the point as I ball my fists in my lap, letting my nails sink into me as some form of release for all of my anger.

  Shara’s smile falls some as she says, “I have their names on a list in my tent. You know there are five of them, right?”

  A breath of air leaves my chest in a huff at that. “Yes. I saw them right before they killed her, and I will know each of them when I see them again,” I say resolutely, and I don’t miss the way Quinn cuts his eyes over at me at what I said.

  Shara’s eyes get big with worry as she asks, “Oh, no. You didn’t see it happen, did you?”

  I shake my head as I look down at the table for a second, the memories of that night coming back to me so vividly, it’s hard to think around them. “No. They killed her while I was gone to get help. I just wasn’t fast enough.”

  No one says anything, but I can tell they all feel sorry for me, for that little girl I was back then. Even Quinn seems to have been affected, but just as quickly as I get a sense of remorse from him, the mask he’s been showing me since he discovered who I am, snaps back into place, and I can’t for the life of me understand why.

  “I’m so sorry, Z,” Shara says. “It’s taken a very long time to get that list of names, and I want to see to it that they all get everything they deserve.” There’s a resolve and a hatred in her voice as she says this, and something in me instantly knows she’s telling the truth. She didn’t have anything to do with my mother’s death, and neither did the rebels as far as she knows.

  “Agreed,” I say as the light purple winged fae comes back into the tent and makes his way back to his seat.

  “Dinner will be here shortly,” Riko says as he sits down, and Shara thanks him before she turns her attention back to me.

  “I’m sorry,” she starts with a small happy giggle. “I’m just so surprised you’re The Ghost. As far as we knew, you were being raised to follow in your father’s footsteps, but The Ghost, we knew, was on our side.”

  I’m taken aback again by what she just said, and I have to ask for clarification because I have no idea what would’ve given her that impression. Even the members of the Doconqueh share a confused glance with each other, so I know they don’t know what she’s talking about either.

  “What made you think The Ghost was on your side, exactly?” I ask.

  She looks as if that question surprises her, but she answers steadily anyway. “Well, because until we stopped sending our people into the city walls, every one of our members that had been captured by The Ghost had been sent back to us here, rather than sent to Eruxus in exile.”

  I’m floored again by her
words, and I can feel my eyebrows nearly reach my hairline as I process that information, but something tells me to act naturally as if it's not news to me, so as fast as possible, I fix my face and smile at her like I knew all along.

  Just then, I’m saved from that aspect of the conversation as two teal winged fae walk in carrying trays with a few plates of food laid carefully on them. They set a plate down in front of everyone at the table, and one of the fae even jokes with the human that’s sitting beside Shara for a minute before they leave.

  “So, how were you my mother’s friend?” I ask, and the smile that curves Shara’s lips is contagious.

  She finishes chewing the bite of food in her mouth, so she can answer me. “We met back when we were almost teenagers. Her father, King Repchous, was ill, and all of his healers thought it would do him some good to spend some time in Lotaque, where I’m from. My mother had been considered one of the best healers in the whole nation because of her thorough knowledge of plants, and so we ended up taking King Repchous, his wife Mara, and his daughter Lana in to stay with us.

  It took them some getting used to,” Shara says with a small laugh as she reminisces. “Them being from the Tavatikan castle, having to stay in the tents of the Lotaque.” She laughs even harder, and something about it breaks down some of my walls, eases me out of being so defensive. “Your mother and I became best friends that summer, and sometimes we were even allowed to visit each other during the rest of the year, occasionally for weeks on end. Then when we were teenagers, she got that pegasus of hers, Loxmere, and by that point, she was here or I was there, every weekend.”

  Her voice turned sad as she kept talking. “Life went on like that all the way up until the king got sick, and my mother’s remedies were no longer helping to keep him alive. That’s when your mother was forced to marry so that someone could take the throne when he inevitably passed.

  We weren’t allowed to see each other much during that time, and after she was married, I hardly ever got to see her. When King Repchous died, and King Thornfire took the throne, it was as if I could only ever see your mother on Faedom Day, which was just terrible, but by that time, I was married myself with a little one of my own on the way, so for a few years, we didn’t speak at all.”

  Just then, some fae… I couldn’t see his wing color... put his head through the door to the tent and called out across the space, “Shara, the humans from Wrogmar have arrived.”

  Shara’s face got excited and happy as she turned to me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must go see that these refugees get settled in. But I promise to tell you everything tomorrow. Would that be okay, Z?” she asks, and I just nod at her as she gets up and practically skips through the tent.

  She’s already given me plenty to think about tonight, so I don’t mind waiting until tomorrow that much.

  “Hi, Princess, I’m Domonique,” the human says once the silence becomes a little too silent. “I help Shara manage the rebels here.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Domonique,” I say, admiring the confidence with which she speaks to me even though she’s a human, and I’m a royal fae. It rarely, if ever, happens to me, and I can’t help but instantly like her because of it.

  “Do you think you’ll be needing your own space here, or would you mind sharing with the Doconqueh?” she asks, and then seeing the confusion that’s probably plastered all over my face at her question, she explains. “We have extra tents available, but with the humans that have arrived tonight, seeking shelter and asylum, I’m not sure exactly how much room we actually have.”

  “I can stay with these guys,” I say without hesitation, not wanting to take a spot from someone who needs it more than I do, whether they are human or not. I mean, I’ve been sleeping on the ground for days now, anyway. I’m just grateful there will be a roof, so I don’t have to wake up if it rains again, honestly.

  “Oh, I appreciate that very much, Princess,” Domonique says as we all start to get up at some unspoken cue, having finished our dinners already.

  “We’ll show her the way and make her feel welcomed,” Quinn surprises me by saying, and within the next few minutes, we’re all walking through the torchlit paths between the tents, making our way to wherever these fae call home.

  The last tent at the farthest reaches of the camp is theirs, and Doconqueh is written beautifully on the sign above the front entrance. However, before we can walk inside, Quinn turns to all of us, and says, “I need time with her. I will come get you when we’re through.”

  The look on his face says he isn’t going to take no for an answer since his jaw is set tightly, his back is rigid, and his fists are balled at his sides.

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to hang around? I’m a great buffer,” Lazlo asks, but he’s already moving away with Roan and Priya as if he knows what Quinn’s answer will be before he says it.

  Quinn doesn’t even bother answering as he pulls me inside the tent with him. We barely make it through the door before he’s turning me around to face his angry stare, his hand still on my arm.

  “I will give you one chance, Princess. One,” he starts. “One chance to prove yourself to me, and if you fail, fae help you.”

  Instantly, I’m furious again. “I have done nothing but prove myself since I’ve been with you!” My voice rises with my temper. “What the fae do you mean, one chance?”

  Quinn gets right in my face, his chest bumping up against mine as he says, “I will give you one chance to prove to me that I shouldn’t hate you, and you should be grateful that I’m even willing to give you that much.”

  Oh, that’s it! I’ve fucking had it with this fae! I think before I launch myself at him with everything I have in me, and come what may. I’m done.

  Chapter 18

  I push Quinn so hard he stumbles back a few steps, both of my hands slamming into his chest as I propel myself from the floor with a jump, my wings stretching out to their full length, lifting me into the air so I can be eye level with him. “Grateful? You must be out of your fucking mind!” I yell as I fist his shirt with one hand and grab ahold of his face with the other, cupping his chin as tightly as I can around his short beard, staring into those delectable blue eyes of his, making sure I have every single bit of his attention.

  “You let me think you were going to sell me! How about you prove to me why I shouldn’t hate you, huh?”

  Quinn’s eyes narrow as he reaches out and grabs my wrists so fast, I barely even saw his hands move, the motion sending a small sliver of fear, and a large, unreasonable dose of arousal spiraling through me. His grip is tight and punishing, bruising even, but I don’t release his jaw.

  “Yes, you should be grateful,” he says, his voice low and strong as he rips his chin out of my grasp, using his grip on my wrists to jerk me back down to the floor. “And I couldn’t give two shits about some spoiled royal hating me. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it damn well won’t be the last.”

  Attempting to pull my wrists from his iron-like grip is useless, and the fact that I feel like I’m at his mercy right now is both humiliating and infuriating. “Is all this really just because I’m royal? Does what I’ve done as The Ghost not matter at all to you? How shallow can you possibly be?” I yell up into his scary handsome face, noticing how my words have shocked him.

  “Shallow?” He asks as he lets go of my wrists like I’ve burned him. “You obviously don’t know anything about me.”

  “No, I don’t! How could I? I don’t even know why you hate me in the first place!” I say, fists balled at my sides as rage billows inside me.

  “I hate you because you’re running this nation into the ground, and you’re taking every other part of this country down with you!” he shouts in my face. “I hate you because you represent everything I’ve ever fought against my whole life!”

  Quinn is stepping toward me with every reason he lists, causing me to back up involuntarily under the weight of his anger and the rage he’s directing at me. “I hate you because you liv
e in that castle of yours, never even going out to see what your people have to live through.”

  “But you’re wrong about all of that,” I yell back in his face. “Chancellor Ext...” I can’t even finish what I’m saying because Quinn isn’t listening to me anymore.

  “But most of all, I hate you because I’ll never be able to have you since I’m human!” He rips off his shirt, tearing it to shreds as if it were paper, his big, beautiful, iridescent red wings clamoring to the floor behind him in the process.

  I’m so shocked at what I’m seeing, I can’t do anything but switch my gaze from those wings lying on the floor behind him to his eyes and back again as if my mind just can’t process what’s happening.

  Quinn’s just standing there, breathing hard as he looks down at me with his fists balled beside him, every manly inch of him nearly shaking with how upset he is, but all I can think is how incredible he looks, bared to me like this. Like this is the piece of the puzzle I’ve been unable to see about him, the part that he refused to show me, even as he hated me for hiding who I am.

  However, after a few seconds, my brain starts working again, and at this point, I’m fucking livid.

  “Well, I don’t think I did before, but now, I most certainly do. I fucking hate you, Quinn,” I say, venom dripping from my tongue. “And it’s not because you’re human. It’s because you’re a fucking hypocrite.” But then I remember the first part of what he said, and as his words, ‘I’ll never be able to have you,’ slam into my psyche, I’m nearly overcome by a want and a desire so strong I gasp at the overwhelming feel of it.

  “Have me?” It comes out of my lips in a breathy whisper as I try to analyze what that might mean, and as Quinn hears those words, unmistakable and undeniable lust and hunger enter his eyes as he watches me.

  He grabs me by my biceps and pulls me to him as he puts his lips right up against my ear. “Yes, have you,” he says lowly, making the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand up. “And all that’s probably true about why you hate me, but by the smell of your arousal, I’d say a hate fuck isn’t out of the question.”