“Can I speak to you?” his mother asked.
He blinked, realizing he’d missed part of the conversation. He sighed in frustration. “If you must.”
By the time he returned to the sitting room, Violet had found her boots and put them on. “So. Mom’s team is off to Italy for a few days.” He flopped into a chair, hoping to hide the tension he felt in every fiber of his being. “The glamorous life of a guardian.”
“Italy?” She began to remove the bedding from the couch. “Don’t they have their own Guild?”
That’s exactly what he’d said. “Apparently the Italians need my mother’s expertise.”
She folded up the blankets, then turned back to him. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his when she said, “Well, thanks for saving my life.”
Ah, hell, she couldn’t leave yet. He jumped up and followed her to the wall where she was obviously planning to let herself out. “Do you remember when we didn’t hate each other?” he asked. He had to stall her while he worked up the courage to ask for help.
She crossed her arms. “My memory doesn’t extend that far back.”
“Really? Your memory’s that bad?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. “Doesn’t seem like you; you’re so good at holding a grudge.”
“Multiple grudges, if we’re going to get technical.” He could see her fingers tightening around her arms, and it gave him a twisted kind of pleasure to know he was aggravating her.
“Have I really done that many awful things to you, Pixie Sticks?”
“You stuck a sign on my back that said ‘Call me Shorty’ on our very first day of training.”
“You have to admit, that one was rather amusing.”
“In third year you told everyone I had some kind of contagious disease.”
“Well, you did have a suspicious mark on your—”
“And in fourth year I was apparently having an affair with a five-hundred-year-old mentor.”
“Should I have picked a younger one for you to—”
“You threw away my mother’s tokehari!” she shouted.
Flip, why did she have to bring that one up? When it came to Violet, there weren’t many things he regretted saying or doing—his intent was usually to hurt her—but throwing away her tokehari . . . Well, even he knew as soon as he’d done it that he’d gone too far.
Stall, stall, stall. “Oh? My memory’s a little fuzzy on that one. You’ll have to remind me of the details.”
“Gold chain. Gold key. You chucked it down the singing well that leads Underground.”
And it was probably in the possession of some Undergrounder now. “A key? Oh dear, have you been locked out of somewhere ever since?”
“No, Ryn, but that’s not the point, dammit! It was never meant to open anything, it was meant to be a reminder of my mother.” He couldn’t be sure, but she looked close to tears. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Well, a key that doesn’t open anything sounds like a useless key, and even if you still had it, I doubt you’d be able to remember your mother. You were only three years old when she—”
“STOP!” Her arms were straight at her sides now, her hands shaking. “I don’t care how much of a jerk you decided to become, you have never had the right to do or say any of these things.”
Ryn pushed away from the wall. “I didn’t decide to become a jerk, okay. Things happened, and—”
“Things happened? Things? He was my friend too, Ryn. But I didn’t see his death as a reason to alienate every person who ever cared for me.”
She didn’t have a clue. She didn’t have a damn clue what it had been like for him. What it was still like. “Well, everyone has different methods of coping.”
“This is a coping method? Clearly it’s not working for you.”
“He was my brother!” Ryn yelled. “How the hell did you expect me to cope with that?”
She stepped closer to him. “You want a coping method? Here’s one you obviously haven’t tried yet: GET. OVER. IT.” Without another word, she opened a doorway on the wall and disappeared into the darkness.
She was gone.
And he still didn’t know where Calla was.
Anger dissolved as panic tightened around his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? His little sister, the sweetest girl in the entire fae realm, could be dead or worse, and here he was fighting over something as pointless as coping methods? He grabbed his stylus from the floor and ran upstairs to fetch Calla’s belongings.
He had to go after Violet.
~*~
Want to know what happens next for Violet, Ryn and Nate? The Creepy Hollow series continues with The Faerie Prince! http://amzn.com/B00CZ9BPHG
Find all Rachel Morgan’s books at AMAZON.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Number one thank you goes to God, for without Him there would be nothing.
Tremendous thanks to Kittie Howard, Lara Stavridis, Cally Jackson, Laura Josephsen, Rachael Harrie, and Nicola Vermaak, who took the time to provide detailed comments, suggestions and editing for all or part of this book. To the early readers of Violet’s story (you know who you are), hugs and thank yous. You boosted my confidence greatly simply by enjoying this story. To the home group of awesomeness, thank you for all the prayers and marbles in the jar. To Judy Tate, for giving me the best possible job (which includes time to write!)—thank you for being my cheerleader. And to all the girls at Inanda Seminary—your enthusiasm inspires me. Keep shining!
I have been bowled over by the incredible support of the online writing community. Thank you a hundred times over, everyone. I couldn’t have done it without you (seriously, I couldn’t).
Kittie, you need another thank you. Thank you for being the first person to help shape The Faerie Guardian into a better story, and the first person to assure me I had a ‘winner’!
To Mum and Dad, Andrew and Ruth, and especially Kyle—thank you for putting up with me for all those hours when I just had. to. keep. writing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Morgan was born in South Africa and spent a large portion of her childhood living in a fantasy land of her own making. After completing a degree in genetics, she decided science wasn’t for her—after all, they didn’t approve of made-up facts. These days she spends much of her time immersed in fantasy land once more, writing fiction for young adults.
Connect with Rachel online:
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Find out more about Creepy Hollow by visiting the Creepy Hollow website.
THE WITHERING PALACE
The Withering Palace
(A Dark Faerie Tale Novella #0.1)
Copyright © April 2014 by Alexia Purdy
All rights reserved
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. If you did not buy this e-book, please purchase your own copy.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.
This book is dedicated to Josh
Thank you for showing me that it’s worth it.
Untold darkness rules the Unseelie realm of the Land of Faerie. Hidden in this vast area, Aveta, the future queen of the Unseelie Army perfects her gifts over lifetimes. Learning that magic isn't the only way to manipulate the world around her, this naive girl grows into a woman of strength and cunning, ultimately becoming one of the most feared leaders in Faerie.
Underneath her hardened exterior lies a woman who h
as known the darkest of hearts, the agony of love, the pull of the consuming power coursing through her veins and what it takes to be ruler of the Unseelie within the walls of The Withering Palace.
Table of Contents
The Withering Palace
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
“You will never be queen, for I will live forever…”
Chapter One
The slugs were moving slow and determined, across the masonry and past the overly treaded path of the Unseelie Sluagh. Aveta kept to the walls to keep such lowly beings company, blending into the darkness the niches offered as she watched the gruesome parade of soldiers step past. The walkway shook under their practiced unified beat and with the massive amounts of bodies floating by. They never noticed her or were told to ignore her anyway. It was how she liked it though. For the Unseelie Princess found it easier to disappear into the tiny cracks than to be reprimanded by the unforgiving ruling Queen, her mother, for interrupting.
Today, the army was preparing to head out to and run down the nearby territories. It was a given that Queen Elisandra had become obsessed with obtaining more ground, more slaves and more of Faerie than the boundaries of the East where The Withering Palace, their home, could be found. Aveta rarely saw anything outside the walls of the palace, kept secluded and out of the reach of the anything beyond this place. It made her curiosity flare up each time she saw them pour out of the exits of the castle, and disappear in legions into the surrounding forest.
Days would pass before they’d return, either beaten or war torn from fierce battles that took heavy losses on both sides. The Unseelie soldiers, Faery and Sluagh alike would drag themselves back into the sanctuary of The Withering Palace, bleeding, dying or already gone, lost to the world or turning to dust as the land withdrew the magic that animated them. She’d watched battalion after battalion trudge back in, collapsing all over the place while hundreds of servants ran amuck to try and heal all the injured, the lost. It would be weeks before another battle could ensue, but it would happen again, and again.
The Queen was never satisfied.
Chapter Two
“Never show them fear.” Her mother’s stern voice drilled into her head like a constant hum, vibrating her eye sockets to the point of unending pain. She’d been standing straight holding out the Queen’s staff and orb of the unseeing, one in each hand. Her arms were wavering, shaking under the strain as her tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. It’d been what felt like hours, maybe just one, but the prickling pain enveloping her arms and shoulders no longer felt real to her. It came, took another little bit of her beaten heart and slammed it to the ground.
These were the punishments for not living up to expectations. This was the payment required to continue on in the day when the Queen was upset and disappointed in all who served her. Elisandra was pure wickedness on these sorts of morns and Aveta usually was well versed in avoiding her at all costs. Not this day though. She’d had the misfortune of becoming the focus of her mother’s wrath after her father, King Seritus, the Queen’s First lieutenant, had argued with Elisandra about something or another. Aveta was never privy to their conversations, only to the torturous downpour of malice formed inside the Queen’s insanity from the confrontation.
“You pathetic runt. You shake like a wilted flower, dripping your britches with foul smelling stench.” The queen shook her head before snatching her jeweled staff and orb out of Aveta’s clutches. She fingered the long, bejeweled symbol of power, her thin, delicate fingers lovingly stroking the rubies and emeralds strewn throughout the flashy staff.
Aveta didn’t dare move, but did let her weak, tingling arms lower to her sides. She could barely feel them, the fiery, screaming pain long gone from them, replaced with a numbness that equaled the one in her heart. No longer crying, her tears had ceased to flow, replaced with nothing but hate and loathing.
“A pity you will never be Queen, for I will rule forever.” Her mother’s hot breath whistled past her ear before the cold woman twirled and swished her long skirts out of the room.
Aveta lets out the sob she she’d been holding, collapsing to the floor in pure exhaustion. It wasn’t even noon and her body begged for release. Her caretaker, Eladril rushed to her side, wiping her face as she pulled her into her warm chest, holding her slack weight with her strong and well used muscles.
“Aveta, wake up. You mustn’t let it overtake you, this darkness. Here.” A cool rim touched Aveta’s lips and sloshed even colder fluid into her mouth. She gave a sputtering cough before she was able to control the liquid, letting it slide down her throat and into her core. The soothing draught works quickly, reviving her into her previously alert self. The tingle in her strained arms dissipated as the blood returned into them, rushing to warm her frigid finger tips.
“Let me die.” She turned away from Eladril, wanting to sink into the stone, silently praying to the walls to take her in and encase her in the infinite, cold stone. At least the stone could not feel pain, could not bleed, and could not have its soul crushed to oblivion.
Take me, please, hide me in your cool embrace… she whispered to the dusty floor.
“Hush, now child. There be none of that.” Eladril stood and dragged the girl to her feet, giving her a good jolting shake. “Get on your feet. You should be all right now, but do stay out of the Queen’s sight for the next few days if you can. I fear it won’t be long before she goes much too far with your fragile life.” She hugged Aveta and turned, grabbing the girl’s clammy hand and tugged gently, coercing her to follow. “Come.”
Aveta said nothing. In fact, she did nothing to acknowledge her surroundings or the murmur of voices hissing all around her. She paid no mind to anyone as they crossed past rows of soldiers, snickering at her and her handmaiden. Eladril kept her grip firm as she continued to drag her on and on, to who knows where. Aveta did not care anymore.
“Almost there,” The handmaiden tugged continually, squeezing Aveta’s fingers enough to bring her out of the fog she’d pulled taut about her. The girl stared ahead, the tears long smeared away but the tiny salt still clung to her skin. It felt dry, caked on and irritated her delicate skin. Only now, with the annoying sensation did she bother to peek about, noticing that they were deeper into the castle dungeons than she’s ever been before.
“Where are we?” Her voice sounded foreign, cold and disconnected.
“A place to hide, whenever you need to.”
She lifted an eyebrow to Eladril, her interest invested in such a mystery presented. What did the woman mean? What sort of hidden place could remain in this vast castle? Her curiosity peaked as they passed the dungeons into slim crevices that lined the walls and made it near impossible for Eladril to slip through. Aveta had no problem squeezing through the fissures, but the darkness creeping over them as the light became more and more suffocated by the darkness gripped her with fear.
“Is it much farther?” Aveta’s lips trembled, the cool breeze shifting through the underground made her wonder if there was an exit nearby.
“No, not much. Here,” Eladril stopped, kneeling down to Aveta’s level, holding out a small stone. It flared to life as the woman whispered over it and she cupped it into the girl’s tiny hands. “This will light the rest of the way for you. I’ll go through this once with you, and only once. I can never enter again after that, it has drained too much of my entity.”
Aveta furrowed her brows, confused. “What do you mean?”
Eladril rubbed her forehead and peered over her shoulder. “The labyrinth. It’s the last part of the dungeon. I heard your mother was going to place you here soon, in hopes that you won’t make it out. I’ve been here before, I know how to get in and out and that was to
save my brother from certain death. The Labyrinth is as alive as the Withering Palace. The castle likes you though, a great advantage for its future queen. Do you hear it speak to you?”
Aveta nodded, thinking about the frequent whispers from the walls which had plagued her since she could remember. They would speak warnings, which at first she’d ignored, but now, she knew better. It was the castle’s warnings of danger and whispering secrets to her. She’d often wondered if her mother heard the palace as she did. To this day, her mother had never given an indication that she had.
“Well, listen to the walls, they’ll whisper to you the way to go if you really listen. It helped me get my brother out. The palace chooses those that are pure of heart, pure of power, regardless if we are Unseelie. Your mother hears no such voices. She is not the true ruler.” She smiled, smoothed Aveta’s raven colored hair back before standing straight again, staring at the leering entrance to the labyrinth.
“What’s in there that drains our essence?” Aveta’s voice echoed across the slippery stone walls, smoothed over by time, water and slick moss. The labyrinth beyond felt like another world.
“Darkness.” Eladril's voice bounced across the cavern walls until the stone absorbed it, leaving only silence and stifling air. “Whatever you see in there, don’t look at it. Remember, only you can make it real. I don’t see what you’ll see, you won’t see what I do. It will turn into your worst nightmares, but only you can make it stop.”
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