To Wear a Fae Crown (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 2)

by Tessonja Odette

  “But you would live. I’m sure she’d want that, wouldn’t she?”

  I open my mouth to argue but snap it shut. There’s no way I’ll admit Nyxia is right, but I can’t deny the truth in her words either. Finally, I say, “Just because I’m here, and just because I’m part-fae, doesn’t mean I’ve turned my back on the humans.”

  We’ve reached the other end of the loop where the staircase opens beneath the balcony. Nyxia faces me, looking down her nose. “When you’re ready to take a side, let me know. A crown awaits.”

  “I don’t want a crown forged from blood.”

  “All crowns are forged from blood.”

  “Then I never want one.”

  She lets out a trilling laugh. “What about the one the All of All gave you?”

  The gold crown of swaying leaves. If it’s where I left it, it remains on the table in my parlor. “It was never mine. Aspen’s new wife can have it for all I care.”

  “She’d look awfully silly wearing a crown of flame, don’t you think?”

  A crown of...flame? My breath hitches as the swaying leaves emerge in my mind’s eye. What if they weren’t leaves after all? What if they were flames?

  I shake the questions from my mind. What does it matter now?

  Nyxia takes a step closer. “I think Aspen knew exactly what he was doing when he placed that crown on your head.”

  The following days pass with far less excitement, but my circadian rhythm is totally thrown off. Nightmares plague my sleep, and I find myself most often awake at night. When this happens, I visit the observatory, watch the moon, the stars, and the unseelie fae that play about the landscape. Few fae pay me much heed, aside from the occasional attentions from Franco, which I must admit I’m beginning to grow more and more comfortable with. His lighthearted persona has its charm, and even his irritating moments tend to rouse a secret smile from me. Nyxia, however, seems preoccupied most of the time, which I’m grateful for. I have no desire to continue our conversation from before.

  During the day, I spend idle time with Lorelei. She, however, seems perfectly capable of sleeping at night, so there are times when I’m left without her company. Whether alone or with my friend, I try my best to keep busy, forcing myself not to consider the upcoming event...

  Aspen’s wedding.

  Every time I think about it, nausea churns inside me. I wish I could burn the thought of him and his soon-to-be wife from my mind. I wish I could feel anger at him instead, fury that he’s really going through with this. But I can’t even drum up the ghost of my rage. Not when I was the one who made him promise to marry her. Not when I know it’s for the best. Not when it’s the only way to stop a war.

  It’s the eve before the dreaded occasion when I wake from a string of unpleasant nightmares involving none other than Aspen and Maddie. My only relief is that tonight’s dreams were not the visceral kind like the one in Bircharbor’s dining room; those are far more difficult to decipher between dream and reality.

  Sweat soaks the sheets as I finally give up on sleep and force myself out of bed. I dress in a cream gown and pace my room. There’s only one matter I can count on to distract me. A matter of life and death...and a certain unseelie prince.

  I retrieve the prepared sealed envelope from my dressing table and stuff it beneath the sash around my waist. I’ve been working on the letter for two days now and only settled on my final draft earlier this evening.

  When I enter the hall, I’m greeted by the bustle of nocturnal activity. With slow steps, I make my way down the corridor, eyes flashing to the ceiling, seeking black feathers hidden in the shadows of the beams overhead. However, all I find are wraiths and owls. If only I knew where the prince’s bedroom was.

  The thought stops me in my tracks, a barrage of unanticipated images flooding my mind as I picture myself showing up at his private quarters unannounced. He would only be too pleased. And I…how would I feel about that? I shake my head to clear it.

  As I continue down the corridor, a black shape catches my eye from a beam just ahead. With careful steps, I approach it, craning my neck to see if it might be—

  “What are you looking at?”

  I startle, finding Franco at my side, matching my posture as he stares up at the ceiling. A blush heats my cheeks as I’m forced to recall the discomforting visions I had of him just moments ago. I square my shoulders and steel my expression. “Do you take pleasure in scaring me each time?”

  “I take any pleasure you’ll give me. But why were you so fascinated with the soot sprite?”

  “A soot sprite?” I return my attention to the black shape, part from curiosity, part to obscure the fire that I’m sure still shows in my cheeks.

  Franco lets out a whistle. In response, the sprite moves, opening a pair of glowing red eyes that lock on mine. Now I can clearly see it is not a raven at all but an orb of soot, motes of black swirling as it hisses in irritation before scurrying across the beam and out of sight.

  Franco turns to me, brow lifted, mouth open in mock surprise. “Wait, did you...were you looking for me?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “A favor? I can only imagine—”

  “Can you get a message to another court without drawing attention?”

  The grin slides from his lips. “I think you have me confused with a messenger fae.”

  “Not you personally, but someone in your employ.”

  “I suppose,” he says. “What court are you trying to infiltrate? If you’re intending to reach your beloved mate, I’m sure Nyxia could deliver the message herself. She’ll be leaving for Bircharbor at dawn.”

  I ignore the pressure in my chest, the wave of sorrow that threatens to drown me on the spot. Crossing my arms over my chest, I dig my nails into my arm, the sharp sensation a welcome point of focus. “It’s not King Aspen I’m trying to reach. It’s an unseelie court I need to get a message to, and I need it to reach someone specific.”

  He looks surprised by this. “Which court would that be?”

  “Sea.”

  His expression darkens. “Queen Melusine is a keen-eyed ruler. Not much gets past her.”

  “Yes, well, she won’t be at court during the wedding, will she?”

  “Ah, so you would like this message delivered while Queen Melusine is distracted.”

  I nod. “And if the recipient isn’t at the Sea Court, I need her found as soon as possible. This message must get to her at once.”

  “It sounds like you need a spy more than a messenger.”

  I uncross my arms to put my hands on my hips. “Do you have someone in mind or not?”

  He leans lazily against the wall, a smirk playing over his lips. “I may have someone who will perform this duty, but it won’t come free.”

  “How much will it cost?”

  He eyes me from under his lashes. “Your company. Tomorrow night. At the full moon revel.”

  “My company?” My pulse quickens, but I manage to keep a straight face. “I’m not going on a date with you.”

  “You can call me a chaperone if that makes you feel better. The Lunar Court can get quite...rambunctious on the full moon. With my sister away at Bircharbor Palace for the wedding, you’d do well to keep close to me.”

  “Or perhaps I should stay in my room and avoid such rambunctiousness altogether.”

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself. However, that is my price.”

  “Fine,” I growl. I pull the letter out from under my sash. “But this isn’t a date.”

  “I dare not dream of it.” He accepts the letter, then turns away and stalks down the hall, but not before whirling back around and shouting, “Wear something scandalous.”

  I purse my lips and shoot him a glare, but as soon as I face ahead, it turns into a half-hearted smile. I’m left with the smallest comfort—that if I must endure the night of Aspen’s wedding, at least I won’t have to do it alone.

  18

  Lorel
ei isn’t too pleased when she learns of the promise I made to Prince Franco. “You agreed to do what? To go to the full moon revel? Do you have any idea how these celebrations tend to end?”

  Her raised brow tells me it isn’t fear I should feel, but a heated blush. “Well, no,” I confess.

  “Every moon revel in Lunar might as well be Beltane.”

  I lift my chin to hide my trepidation and make my way to my wardrobe. “Then you better come with me and make sure the prince keeps his hands to himself.”

  “Or we could skip it altogether,” she says.

  “I sort of...owe him,” I say as I begin rifling through the dozen or so dresses in the wardrobe. The first is black, which I immediately deem too dour before flipping to the next. Pink? No, reminds me too much of Amelie. Blue chiffon? No. Reminds me too much of Aspen. My heart plummets, and I’m forced to consider what’s happening at this very moment. Queen Nyxia departed for Bircharbor at dawn, and now it’s nearly evening. Surely the treaty has been sealed with a wedding at this point. I swallow the lump in my throat and blink the tears from my eyes as I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. Only then can I breathe again and return to examining the dresses.

  Lorelei puts her hands on her waist, oblivious to my moment of pain, and bumps her hip to the side. “Are you telling me you made a bargain with Prince Franco?”

  I pause my search to meet Lorelei’s eyes. When Franco offered me his terms to deliver my letter, I knew it was a bargain of sorts. But the weight of that fact didn’t strike me until now. I’m suddenly aware of how careless I’ve become ever since Mother told me I’m part-fae. Somehow, the knowledge has made me grow less wary around the fae, less guarded.

  Having fae blood doesn’t make me invulnerable, though. In fact, I still have nearly all the human weaknesses and very little fae power. I can still be glamoured or tricked into a bargain. The incident long ago with Amelie and the goblin is proof that a part-fae can be glamoured. Although, whether her relationship with Cobalt is additional proof is impossible to know. Is the Bond the only reason he controls her, or did he glamour her into the Bond to begin with?

  I return to sorting through the dresses. Gold? No, it’s too scandalous. Prince Franco would be all too happy about it. Purple silk? Another heart-sinking reaction. Definitely not.

  “Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea,” I admit, keeping my voice level, “but I needed him to do something for me. I needed him to find Amelie. He agreed to send a spy to deliver my message to her discreetly while Queen Melusine is at Bircharbor. I must know if she’s coming to Mother’s trial.”

  “Why would you ask Franco? I could have handled it for you. I could have gone and done it myself.”

  “I needed it to be done in secret. Your presence at the Sea Court would certainly arouse suspicion. Besides, can you even visit the Sea Court? Is it not underwater?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I would have sent someone. I have my own contacts, you know.”

  I sigh. “I know. I’m sure you would have done it, but I didn’t want to wake you. Also, I don’t think Franco is so bad. His flirtations irritate me to no end, but I can’t say I despise his company.” My eyes flash to Lorelei. “You know him better than I do, though. Should I despise his company?”

  Her posture relaxes. “No, he’s not despicable. I hate him, of course, but it’s more like the disdain for a little brother. He was basically that to me when Nyxia and I were together. We were at each other’s throats with teasing more often than not. Still, I wish you would have let me help you instead.” She places a hand on my arm. “I feel just as useless as you do, you know. I want all of this to work out, and I hate that nothing is going the way I wish it would.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek again as my lungs constrict. I hardly trust myself to speak. “How do you wish it would go?”

  She gives me a sad smile. “I wish you would decide to stay. I wish you would storm over to Bircharbor right now and stop Aspen from sealing the treaty with his new Chosen.”

  A wave of shock runs through me. “That would mean—”

  “I know what it would mean. Sometimes I agree with King Aspen about the treaty. Sometimes I question whether it’s worth saving.”

  I clench my jaw. “It is, Lorelei. That’s one thing I know. If it saves lives, it’s worth it.”

  “Is it truly saving lives? Or controlling them?”

  Heat floods my veins with the effort it takes not to argue. My anger is a welcome alternative to the sorrow that threatens to crush me, but I’m in no mood to affirm my stance yet again. Instead, I let my rage burn away my pain and change the subject. “Come with us tonight. The prince may not be the worst fae in the world, but I don’t want to be alone with him.”

  “I suppose I could go. If it’s a moon revel, there will be wine. But there better be Midnight Blush or I’m out.”

  “What’s Midnight Blush?”

  “It’s a wine made from night blooming jasmine and obsidian pyrus—a cousin of honey pyrus. Don’t worry, there are no dreadful hallucinations to go with it. And it’s the only thing that’s going to allow me to endure hours of Franco’s company.”

  I force an emotionless laugh and return my efforts to sorting through the dresses. My fingers fall on the one I first dismissed as being too dour—a black dress with silver moons stitched at the hem of the skirt. The sleeves are a sheer spider silk draped with strands of pearls. The neckline is lowcut and lined with white feathers. Best of all, it doesn’t remind me of autumn, Bircharbor, Amelie, or Aspen.

  I hold the dress against my figure. “Does this look scandalous to you?”

  She quirks a brow. “No. Definitely stunning, but not scandalous.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “Scandalous was not the bargain I agreed to.”

  At midnight, Prince Franco arrives at my room to claim his bargain.

  He stands in my doorway, looking like a storybook vampire indeed, with his black leather trousers and a white linen shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. His silver hair is slicked away from his face, revealing the hard planes and angles of his jaw and cheekbones. A long strand of hematite beads hangs around his neck, drawing my eyes to his chest. For the first time, I notice dark ink tattooed on his skin, crescent moons and other geometric symbols peeking from beneath the open collar.

  “Lovely females.” He extends both arms, not seeming at all surprised by the presence of my companion. I place my hand in the crook of his elbow, while Lorelei takes his arm with a grimace.

  Franco’s eyes drink me in. “Nice dress.”

  I ignore his compliment even though it sends a flutter of pleasure through me. “Where is this revel taking place? The observatory?”

  “Not a chance. Moon revels are far too crowded for the observatory to accommodate.”

  He guides us through the dark halls lit by the warm glow of the moonlight orbs to the lawn outside the palace. The moon is full and bright overhead, enormous and near-blinding with its glow. In the distance, the sound of laughter and voices and animal noises mingle with the beat of a drum. The latter reverberates in the ground beneath my feet. As we near the source, an enormous tree comes into view with hundreds of glowing lights surrounding it. The lights are from wisps, wraiths, sprites, and dozens of other kinds of fae I have no name for.

  Franco points at the tree. “Do you recognize it?”

  It takes me a moment to realize it’s the same tree we saw from the observatory, the Wishing Tree. At its base stands a fae with pearlescent skin, silver hair, and a flowing gown of white gossamer. She speaks a language I don’t recognize, lifting her arms to the moon, then lowering them over a silver cauldron of water. The water reflects the moon as if the fae holds the celestial entity before her.

  “Priestess Dionna,” Franco says. “She performs the moon rituals at every revel.”

  I’m entranced by the flowing motions of the priestess’ arms as she lifts and lowers, bends and sways. Her movements seem sacred and ancient. I’m surprised to fi
nd not everyone is watching her. A crowd of reverent onlookers surrounds the priestess, but most of the fae are elsewhere, dancing, drinking, running, flying. The freedom I see is both terrifying and exhilarating.

  “Where’s the wine?” Lorelei asks in a bored tone.

  Franco guides us away from the ritual to a long table made of white quartz edged with gold. I certainly never noticed this enormous piece of furniture in all my views through the telescopes over the last few days, so it must have been transported for the revel. I don’t bother wondering how. Surely some impossible feat of magic is responsible.

  Upon the table are trays of fruit and flowers and hundreds of bottles of different colored liquids. Lorelei paces the length, eyeing the bottles with heavy scrutiny before she finds the one she’s after. It’s a pale blue that shimmers in the moonlight. Franco finds three glasses and Lorelei fills each nearly to the rim. Once we each have a glass in hand, she raises hers. “Midnight Blush. Drink up.”

  “In honor of the full moon.” Franco gives me a wink and knocks back his glass, swallowing the liquid in a single gulp.

  I stare at the contents of my glass, knowing I shouldn’t risk even a sip of the fae wine. But there’s a void inside me, one that wants nothing more than to forget, even for a time. I raise my glass in a silent toast. To forgetting what I’m missing and enjoying what I have while it lasts. I take a deep breath and down a hearty sip.

  Franco takes my hand in his and pulls me away from the table. “Let’s dance.”

  19

  The night wears on and the wine continues to flow. I find my sorrows are swept away, leaving me with the most luxurious ecstasy. Lorelei was right; the effects of Midnight Blush are far less troublesome than honey pyrus. There are no psychoactive properties, only intoxicating relaxation and a calm euphoria.

  My two companions and I sway to the beat of the drums while the priestess continues to chant. All kinds of fae surround us; wisps bounce and undulate with every pound of the drum, bats swoop overhead, humanoid fae dance with graceful motions, cats pounce and claw their way up the Wishing Tree, dark shadows writhe as they expand and contract with the tempo. Even banshees, harpies, and dragons soar through the night sky, joining in the revel, but I can’t find it in me to be bothered by their presence. Instead, I let my body loosen, let my arms swing as if they’re made of air. This dance is unlike any I’ve ever witnessed.