by K. C. Lannon
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Final Words
The Renegade Son
By
M.C. Aquila and K.C. Lannon
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The Renegade Son copyright © 2018 by M.C. Aquila and K.C. Lannon. All rights reserved.
The Changeling’s Fortune is the first installment in a six-book YA Urban Fantasy series, Winter’s Blight.
Who can Deirdre trust when she fears the very magic inside of her?
Though Deirdre and James have escaped Neo-London and survived the monstrous Fachan, dangers both human and Fae close in on them.
General Alan Callaghan, James’s father and the leader of the Iron Guard, hunts Deirdre to harness her magic as a weapon against the faery Courts. And a dark curse is attached to James, connected with the disappearance of his mother.
But their greatest worries are close at hand—James’s brother Iain, a soldier sent to capture Deirdre, is traveling with them.
Discovering his father's role in the king's assassination, Iain’s loyalty to his father and the army is tested. Although he is wary of Deirdre's powerful and unstable magic, he believes in her innocence. But by aiding Deirdre, a fugitive, Iain risks treason.
With the appearance of Alvey, a young half-elf runaway from the Summer Court, new truths about Seelie faeries come to light, making Deirdre doubt both her search for her parents and herself. But as they clash with both the oppressive Iron Guard and bloodthirsty Unseelie faeries, Deirdre will have to decide if she can trust those around her, as well as the magic within her.
Chapter One
The wide, misty meadow was empty until the girl in the wheelchair appeared. With just the faintest twinkling of light, the mist wavered, and she emerged out of thin air, like someone had pulled away a curtain. In her hands was a hunk of uncut diamond. For a moment it shone brighter than it normally would have in the evening light, before a dirty stain blossomed from inside it, growing darker and darker as it enveloped the gem. By the time the girl nonchalantly tossed it into the grass, it had turned into a lump of coal.
The girl’s eyes were shut the whole time; she seemed unable to open them as she pushed back her short blond hair and sniffed the breeze, quite like a dog trying to figure out its bearings.
“Fie, Alvey,” she eventually muttered to herself as she stopped sniffing. “You are quite far from your mark. Curse Mother and Father, never letting me use Light Magic to spirit myself away before.”
Alvey grabbed the wheels of her chair, then suddenly froze, turning her head. On the outskirts of the meadow behind her, where an ancient oak grove stood, something was moving through the grass. It made only the slightest noise, and most would not be able to hear it as far away as she was. But she listened for a moment, biting her lip. The sound stopped.
Getting a better grasp on the wheels, she began to push her chair onward with uncommon ease, away from the trees. The meadow was thick with grass and uneven, but her wooden wheelchair moved forward smoothly, the turf seeming to turn away from the wheels or rise up to meet them as needed.
At first Alvey went straight ahead, but after another sniff of the air, she changed course slightly, heading instead toward the dusty road to her right. She reached the path in less than a minute, pushing herself along breezily with very little effort at all, almost as though the chair was partially self-propelled.
Just as the breeze picked up again, carrying the warm scents from a nearby town with it, she once again sniffed the air, a smile lighting her face.
“It shall not be long at all,” she said happily.
Alvey was not alone on the path; coming up from behind, leading a horse laden with a bale of hay for a tiny barn-shed on the outside of the town, was a farmer from a pasture close by. He was brown-haired, freckled, and middle-aged, walking with his head down, weary from the long day’s work.
But he remembered his wife’s constant admonitions that he ought to stand up straight or he’d be hunchbacked in a few years, so he sucked in his breath and stretched. As he looked ahead, he spotted Alvey.
She was wheeling smoothly but slowly, so he and his horse caught up fast. He intended to begin the conversation by asking what she was doing there, but she spoke over her shoulder to him.
“That is an old horse you have, methinks,” she commented. “’Tis a wonder that hay stays on his weary back.”
He hesitated, then asked, “Now what’s a wee thing like you doing alone? I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts.” His voice was marked with a strong Scottish accent.
“I am clearly going to town.” She frowned, tilting her head. “This is the way to town…?”
“Well, you’d see better if you’d open your eyes now, now wouldn’t you?” he asked, frowning down at her as she resolutely kept her face forward, her eyes shut. He noticed she had a gray woolen tasseled shawl over her legs, entirely hiding them from sight; he couldn’t even see her feet.
“My eyes will never open,” she replied simply.
“Why’s that?” Then his mouth fell open, and he asked in a lower voice, “Faeries did it, did they?”
“Aye. Just as you say.”
His expression changed to one of sympathy as he nodded. “Isn’t that just their way? Not a single person I know who doesn’t have some story to tell about how faeries ruined their lives… or their family’s lives… or their neighbors, or someone. It’s a rough business, having them around so much.”
“They are odd,” she agreed with a nod.
“They do something to your legs then too?” He pointed down at her shawl-covered legs.
“Nay, I believe this was natural.” She drew the shawl up, and the farmer let out a gurgled gasp. Her legs, covered by her blue dress, ended halfway down her thighs.
He coughed into his hand, looking up at an oak tree beside the road as if looking for words. “Well that’s… that’s just some rough luck. But how’re you all balanced in that chair then, like that?”
“’Twas made for me,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand as she placed her shawl back and resumed pushing the wheels.
“Hmm. Say, let me push your chair for you.”
“If you insist,” she said immediately, folding her hands in her lap. “You have my thanks.”
He wrapped his horse’s lead around his wrist, freeing his hands, and began to push her along. She was far lighter than he’d expected, and the chair was easy to maneuver.
“Are the Forest Caves nearby?” Alvey asked.
“Well, they’re closer to the next town over than this one here,” he replied lightly. “You have family there, do you?”
She raised her chin and smiled. “I have come hither to investigate them immediately.”
He let out a short laugh. “Are you now? It’s nearly dark.”
“I do not fear the dark.”
She didn’t hear the farmer’s response; instead, she focused on the faint rustling in the meadow where she had just been. Furrowing her brow, she
clenched her fists, leaning her head to listen. Something was heading toward them. She sniffed the wind, detecting something she didn’t recognize—though it was definitely a faery.
What could that be? It must be following me, but ’tis impossible for Mother and Father to have sent anything after me so soon. Could it be… She shivered. Unseelie? A dark faery?
“…besides,” the farmer continued, looking down at her, “even though we’re not too far north, there’ll be plenty of bad faeries out at night. You won’t want to put them to the test, now will you?”
“I… suppose not.” She sighed, folding her arms and leaning back in the chair. The creature in the meadow was still following, but much more slowly, keeping its distance.
Is it because I am with a human? In that case…
“I daresay I shall have to stay the night in the town. But after that, I must…” She trailed off as her stomach abruptly grumbled loudly.
The farmer’s horse nickered in reply, ears perked, as if it heard one of its kin vocalizing.
“You might want a bite first.” The farmer chuckled, leaning to the side and spotting her cheeks red in embarrassment.
“Perchance is there an inn? Or a… rest-aurant?” She said the last word slowly, as if she was unfamiliar with it.
“Aye, plenty of places for you to quell that monster in your stomach.”
“Very well. I shall go there and spend the night. Then tomorrow I shall find the caves.”
He shook his head but, not wanting to offend this strange girl more than necessary, muttered to himself in Scottish Gaelic. “Girls these days, too independent if you ask me.”
“I do not think anyone was asking you,” Alvey said in the same language fluently.
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re from Scotland?”
“Yes, thereabouts.”
He noted her Gaelic dialect was a bit old-fashioned, but he brushed it aside. “Where is your family from?”
She tilted her head, then replied, “The Borders.”
“Galashiels?”
“Out in the countryside, to the west. Dumfries and Galloway.”
He tut-tutted. “No wonder you got that nasty curse on your eyes, living so near the Summer Court!”
She smiled widely, the knowing smile of someone who had a secret and was a bit smug about it. “It certainly does have its risks.”
Chapter Two
“Once upon a time, there was an ordinary soldier, a clever boy, and a strange faery girl traveling through the English countryside…”
It seemed like a tale to Iain—both unreal and vivid. What had transpired over the past few days almost sounded like the kind of story Mum would’ve told them at bedtime on certain nights when work had not worn her down. Her eyes were always alight with a spark of creativity. As a child, Iain had listened to stories of monsters and faeries and of the resourceful, brave Roms who outsmarted or defeated them every time. He’d craved tales of triumph, tales of heroics. But tales of magic and what magic could do had unnerved him. Magic was not something he could predict or understand.
Iain could almost hear his mother’s theatrical voice intone: “The girl possessed the most powerful magic the soldier had ever seen, and he could not be certain whether she was Seelie or Unseelie or if she was on humanity’s side. She was innocent of the crimes she was accused of, but that did not mean she was not dangerous.”
In his few short months as an Iron Warden in training, and in his entire life of living in Neo-London, Iain had seen plenty of magic. He had witnessed street performers twist and control water, making it dance like a feather in the wind. He had even heard faeries gnarling with mangy city animals in the dark alleys of Ferrier’s Town like they were discussing something of great importance. A few disgruntled faeries had threatened to strike him blind or deaf just for walking by. What he had witnessed Deirdre do, however, was something else entirely.
What she had done was the stuff of legends.
“The sky grew dark, and in moments, the monstrous creature fell slain before the soldier’s eyes, the body already decomposing before it hit the ground with a thundering thud that shook the earth. Although the girl had saved them, a faery and a soldier could never trust each other. Could they?”
But it wasn’t a theatrical tale, and he was not a child anymore who could ignore stories of magic he did not like. It was real. It was powerful magic, and it was curled away, out of sight, in a startlingly human-looking girl.
Deirdre walked along ahead of him in the forest they were traveling through, her vibrant hair whipping around as she turned to soak in the scenery in every direction. Though her pace was not very brisk, James still trailed behind her, holding a map so close to his face that it nearly touched his nose, impeding his steps.
As Iain walked behind the others, he kept a vigilant eye out for anything that suggested faery activity. The woods were quiet and peaceful, hardly anything stirring besides the occasional squirrel leaping past or bird flitting by. But as he shifted his gaze to his little brother, Iain could not shake the feeling of dread as he thought of what else his mother might say when telling their story.
There was another part of the tale besides the faery girl with the powerful magic. There was more to the boy’s tale beyond his cleverness, beyond his connection to the faery girl: “The boy was marked by dark magic, claimed by a creature. Dark magic was impure. None of them knew what that meant yet, but they knew he would not be safe until whatever evil creature held him was defeated.”
Iain suppressed a shudder, deciding to focus on anything else—on taking one step at a time along the path before him.
They had been traveling for a day since their brush with the Fachan in old London, leaving the bus they’d slept overnight in and following a path James had marked on his map to the closest remaining village. Most of the towns near old London had long since been abandoned, left for the natural and unnatural to retake after Unseelie faeries and radiation claimed them.
Deirdre occasionally let out a laugh or a whoop of excitement as she pointed out to James birds she found pretty or any interesting plants she discovered. There was nothing about her that overtly suggested that she was a faery instead of a rather quirky teenaged girl. And as she and James chatted throughout their journey, Iain could almost imagine a scenario where Deirdre was not a faery wrongly accused of treason, where she and James were allowed to be regular schoolmates and good friends. It was a nice thought, but a pointless one.
Here’s what you know for certain: She’s a faery. Faeries generally don’t care for humans as a rule. She could be aligned with the Unseelies. She has enough power to bring down a monster like that Fachan in seconds.
But still…
She saved our lives. She bravely risked her life fighting that monster. An Unseelie faery wouldn’t have bothered… There are some humans who wouldn’t have even bothered either. She must be good. She’s got to be.
Iain ran his hand over his face as if he could push away his thoughts by doing so. How many times had he gone back and forth about her in his head, juggling between what he thought he knew and what he felt was true? It was unproductive and exhausting to try to think clearly while running on empty. So he pushed his thoughts away for the moment, deciding to focus solely on their current journey.
At any rate, he couldn’t afford not to be cautious after the stories he’d heard—true experiences from Dad during his early days as an infantryman, history from school lessons—that told him he could not trust what he did not understand, no matter how much he wanted to believe her.
Deirdre kicked up some dead leaves on the ground, smiling as they floated back down, and then glanced around at the small clearing a few feet ahead of them. “This looks like a good place to stop for the evening.” She turned to James. “Isn’t that what you were saying, James, that we ought to have a rest?”
Although Iain was just as exhausted as James was, he could not resist teasing his brother. It was just too easy sometimes. “Ah,” he said
with a shake of his head, “so that’s what you were whining about earlier.”
James gaped at him, clearly offended. “I haven’t been whining.”
“My mistake. Must’ve been a wounded dog somewhere in the forest. Or several dogs all whining at once.”
James sighed noisily, proving Iain’s point. “It’s getting close to dusk. And anyway, judging from the path I’ve marked, we’ll reach a little village just outside Buckingham by tomorrow evening without overexerting ourselves.”
After checking out the clearing and deeming it a safe place to stay, the group began to set up camp. Each of them focused on a separate task, working against the darkening sky. James volunteered Deirdre to prepare their bedding, claiming she was quite good at it. Iain set up an electric lantern and sorted through their remaining food; it would not be a very filling or healthy meal, thanks to James only thinking to bring snacks, but it would get them through the night.
James trudged back into camp, dragging his feet, and then plopped down on the towel he’d placed on the ground by his pack. “I found water a little ways off,” he said, “but it was standing and probably contaminated. That might indicate there are Unseelies around—but I haven’t read of many reports in this area.”
“Water can become contaminated for a lot of reasons,” Iain assured. He would have to be extra cautious and alert in case James’s reasoning was correct, but there was no point in making everyone anxious.
“I guess.” James shrugged.
“We’ll just have to conserve what water we have left until we reach town tomorrow. Then we can restock.”
A quarter of his water from when he’d grabbed a container at the faery’s cottage two days ago remained. He hadn’t thought to ask for more food or water or if they had an extra container he might use…
He hadn’t been thinking of anything but the faery fruit at that point.