To Carve a Fae Heart (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 1)

by Tessonja Odette

“Exactly. If the council were to shift heavily unseelie, the same would happen. Drastic changes but with an opposite result. However, the unseelie probably hate him more than the seelie do, on principle alone. It was his birth that ended the war. My mother turned seelie just as the council was ready to pass a motion that would rid the isle of humans.”

  I shudder at that. “Why did your mother turn seelie when Aspen was born?”

  “I can’t promise any of this is true,” Cobalt says, “but the stories tell how Aspen was born in his seelie form and how my unseelie mother couldn’t figure out how to care for him. She tried to nurse him with seawater, but he wouldn’t take it. In a matter of hours, he was near death. Mother was so distraught about the possibility of losing the child that she became desperate. In a final attempt at saving her baby’s life, she snuck past the war camps to the nearest human settlement and located a nursing mother, begging her to nurse Aspen. The woman agreed on one condition—that my mother make a bargain. End the war and the woman would nurse Aspen to full health. She’d even teach my mother how to care for the boy herself, if she’d agree to take on a seelie form.”

  “She made the bargain, I’m guessing?”

  He nods. “She donned human clothing for the first time ever and learned to nurse her son. This changed her. Not only was she forced to make good on the bargain, but she found she wanted to rid the isle of war, to make the land safe for her newborn son. As Queen of the Sea Court and Regent of the Autumn Court, her vote on the council was substantial. When she turned seelie during that final council meeting, the war was over. The seelie vote won and they were able to forge the treaty we follow today.”

  “Considering the name of the fae council,” I say, “Faerwyvae must have eleven courts. Aside from Autumn and Sea, what others are there?”

  “There are three other seasonal courts in addition to Autumn,” Cobalt says. “Spring, Summer, Winter. Then there are three elemental courts in addition to Sea; Wind, Fire, Earthen. The final three are celestial courts; Solar, Lunar, and Star. Sea, Winter, and Lunar have remained firmly unseelie the past few hundred years, with a couple others varying from time to time, based on the political climate. But no one has shifted sides as much as my brother.”

  I let his words sink in, awed over all the new information. Growing up, I only ever heard about the human side of the war, not the fae side. We were taught how the fae presented us with a treaty and that both our kind and theirs worked to finalize the terms. There are still a few things I never understood, however. “Do you know why the Hundred Year Reaping exists?”

  “It’s a demonstration of peace,” he says. “When the war ended, the fae agreed to show our goodwill by exiling the King of the Fire Court. He was the first fae to engage the humans in organized violence and was determined to eradicate them. We bound him in iron and shipped him off to what you humans call mainland Bretton. Being so far from the Fair Isle and the magic here is certain death. And since we banished one of our kings to die, humans were required to make a similar sacrifice, especially considering they spilled the first blood that sparked the unrest to begin with.”

  More information I never knew. Was any of it true? Were the humans the ones to spill first blood? I always imagined it was the fae, creeping into human villages in the night, stealing children and slaughtering travelers. More proof this world is upside down from everything I knew. “So, my people chose human girls to be their sacrifice?”

  He nods. “Likely to atone for that first blood they spilled. It’s said the Fire King took a human lover. Back then, human-fae pairings were forbidden. Humans were afraid any children born from such a union would become witches or demons. So when the Fire King’s lover admitted to being pregnant with the child of a fae, they executed her. In retribution, he burned her village to the ground. That’s what sparked the war. The Reaping is meant to repair that which was torn between the humans and fae, to maintain a balance of give and take between them. Two human girls are sent to a different court every hundred years, and at least one marriage alliance takes place. In exchange, the family is blessed with a gift from the court the girls are sent to.”

  “Is that why the two girls are almost always related? So the fae only have to gift one family?”

  He shrugs. “Perhaps. Although I’d like to think it’s so neither girl will be lonely.”

  This last part almost makes me laugh. I can’t imagine the fae caring much about the emotions of their Chosen. I’m pondering everything else Cobalt said, eyes unfocused, when I remember the pear-like fruit in my hand. I’ve still yet to taste it. With a sprinkle of salt, I bite into it, finding the red spikes are soft and oddly flavorful after all, like ripe strawberries. But the flesh inside is even better, crisp, tart, and honey sweet. I take another bite and a wave of euphoric lightness floats to my head.

  I only have a moment to realize something before my thoughts slip away into a chaotic jumble.

  I never salted the second bite.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I stare at the fruit, panic rising inside me. It only lasts a moment, however, before I find myself laughing, giddy over…something. Everything?

  “Oh no.” Cobalt sits upright, expression shifting between amusement and worry. “Did you take a bite of honey pyrus without salting it?”

  The panic returns in a flash. “Yes. Is that bad?” My stomach churns, but not a moment later, my laughter is back. Cobalt is the one making me laugh. He’s so funny. His face is funny. Everything is…wow so pretty. “Honey pyrus,” I say slowly, my tongue feeling thick and heavy.

  Cobalt’s face is spinning as he inches closer to me. He’s laughing now too, and it sounds like a thousand tiny bells. “Hey, I think it’s best you lie down for a bit.”

  “Did you just say your words backwards?”

  “Sure. Here, just lie back. The leaves will feel really nice. In fact, I’ll join you. Honey pyrus no longer makes me feel as euphoric as you feel right now, but it does make me sleepy.” He lays down next to me and pulls me down with him.

  Or perhaps I fall down next to him. Either way, the ground is pulling me down and I’m sinking into an endless sea of vibrant red leaves. I could drown in it and I wouldn’t mind. The sky is a swirling vortex of color overhead, clouds passing in shapes that make me laugh louder than I think I’ve ever laughed before. The panic continues to swell now and then, but I chase it away each time.

  No, I’m not chasing panic.

  I’m chasing a butterfly.

  A ladybug.

  No, a sprite.

  A sprite with glowing yellow wings is leading me to more honey pyrus, which I’m desperate for. It’s all I can think about. I just need more of that delicious fruit. Down the hill we go, and I’m laughing with every step, even when it leads me to tumble over roots and rocks. On and on we go, deeper into the woods. This is the most fun I think I’ve ever had. Why was I afraid earlier?

  Afraid. Was I afraid? Should I be afraid?

  The panic returns, and I come to a halt, looking wildly around me. I’m no longer on the leafy field next to Cobalt. I’m in the middle of a dense forest of oak and maple, and there’s no one else in sight. Wasn’t I chasing a sprite? I remember my craving for more honey pyrus, but it no longer has me in its grip. It’s fear I feel now. And a pounding headache.

  My legs feel suddenly weak beneath me, and I wince, my muscles screaming from exertion. Did I run all the way down the hill from the cliff? How long have I been out here alone? And…where exactly is here?

  I look up at the canopy of orange leaves, finding daylight in the blue sky overhead. That’s something, at least. I turn in a circle, trying to see if the ground hints at the beginning of an incline, but the forest is too dense. In fact, I don’t remember going through a forest like this when Cobalt and I were on our way to the cliff. Our path from the palace took us through endless rows of slim white birches.

  Panic rises further, sending my heart racing. Calm down, I tell myself. Panic won’t get you anywhere. I take a
step and nearly twist my ankle on a rock. In doing so, I catch sight of my tattered hem. It’s torn in numerous places and pierced with twigs. I look at both arms, which are equally battered, tiny red scratches and blossoming bruises covering my flesh. What the blazing iron happened?

  I remember the euphoric flavor of the honey pyrus, but the memory tastes sickly sweet, bringing bile to my throat. Before I know it, I’m doubled over and heaving out the contents of my stomach. Tears spring to my eyes, and I let out a moan of distress. I’ve hardly been more than tipsy from the occasional glass of wine, so this is a far cry from anything I’ve ever experienced before.

  I curse myself for being so stupid as to try fae fruit in the first place, salt or no.

  My hand flies to my side, finding my salt pouch gone. I likely left it at the picnic. Another thought crosses my mind, and I reach for my thigh, sighing with relief when I feel the hilt of my dagger.

  I close my eyes, summoning a sense of calm. Control. With a deep breath, I lift my soiled hem and take one careful step and then another, avoiding ill-meaning rocks this time. I turn my head this way and that, seeking some sign of a worn path to no avail. Then I turn my eyes to the sky, trying to make out where the sun is. The sun set over the horizon behind the palace last night. If I can follow the trajectory of the sun, I might be able to find the palace. Maybe. It’s the only logical step I can think of.

  Here goes nothing.

  * * *

  Hours pass and there’s still no sign of a trail, much less the palace or Cobalt or the cliff we picnicked on. I’ve yet to cross paths with any living being, save for birds and insects and the occasional rodent. This, at first, I was grateful for. Now I’m starting to wish I’d come across a fae. Surely, Cobalt will have sent someone to find me by now, right? Perhaps I should have stayed where I was.

  “Help,” I call out. “Can anyone hear me?”

  Silence.

  My heart feels like it will burst from anxiety and my feet are covered in blisters within the dirt-caked slippers I wear. I can’t go much farther.

  “Please.” I try again, letting my voice carry throughout the quiet forest. “I’m lost and need help. I’m…fiancée of Prince Cobalt of the Autumn Court.”

  More silence.

  This is the day I die after all. Not because of some vile fae, but because I’m an idiot who got tipsy on fae fruit and decided to run alone through the woods after what was probably an imaginary sprite. My throat feels tight and tears prick my eyes. I can’t cry. I can’t fall apart right now.

  Control. Where is my control?

  A sound comes from behind me. I whirl to find a dark shape in the distance. My breath catches, and I realize it’s a black horse, similar to the ones I saw at the head of our carriage yesterday. What had Foxglove called them? Puca? It comes closer, slowly, and I fight the urge to flee.

  “Did you come to help me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “Come with me.” The voice is somehow audible yet ethereal, as if carried not by vocal cords but the wind. The horse comes closer, and I see it’s somewhat larger than the carriage-pulling puca. This one is more muscular too, with a long mane that blows in a wind I don’t feel and eyes that gleam red instead of gold. It’s beautiful.

  I shudder. There’s something sinister in this creature’s beauty, reminding me of King Aspen’s striking glamour. “Will you take me to the Autumn Court palace?”

  “I will,” says the ethereal voice. “I’ll take you to Bircharbor Palace. Climb on my back.”

  I take an automatic step away as it approaches and lowers its head. Everything in me is screaming at me to run, but what other choice do I have? I’m lost with no guarantee I’ll come across another fae before I get eaten alive by something worse. Besides, my mind is still too foggy from the honey pyrus to construct a tighter bargain. This one will have to do.

  I grit my teeth and haul myself onto the creature’s back. As soon as I’m righted upon it, it takes off. I reach for its mane, wrapping the thick strands of black around my hands to keep from falling off.

  As the puca gallops through the forest, deftly avoiding branches and tree trunks as if by magic, I notice the forest begins to thin. It looks familiar as oaks and maples give way to stands of birch, and I’m almost positive it’s the same way Cobalt and I came earlier. There’s no sign of the prince or the cliff, but we can’t be too far from the palace now.

  My breathing begins to slow. Relief crawls over me bit by bit, and before long the ride becomes something close to enjoyable.

  The sun is beginning its descent in the sky by the time the puca slows to a canter. The trees thin to a well-worn path, and a welcome sight comes into view—the palace. I sigh with relief, fully aware of the irony that I could feel so happy to return to what yesterday felt like a prison. Anything beats being alone in that eerie forest again.

  “I brought you to the palace,” says the puca. “Yes?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the puca picks up pace again, charging forward. I feel like he’s going to ram us both straight into the palace walls. I try to release his mane, hoping I can tumble from his back before we crash. To my horror, my hands are somehow stuck in place. It’s not me holding the mane after all, but the mane holding onto me.

  Before we slam into the palace wall, the creature veers sharply to the right. The golds of the palace speed past my vision and are replaced with the reds and pinks of the sunset behind it. The puca gallops ahead with no sign of slowing before we reach the end of the cliff.

  I scream as the ocean comes into view below us, my stomach dropping as he leaps off the edge. We crash not too far down, the puca gaining purchase with little effort on a small outcropping of the cliff wall. It leaps and crashes again, jolting me with every landing. In a matter of seconds, we’ve descended the face of the cliff and are speeding along the narrow sliver of beach. Straight for the ocean.

  I struggle to release the mane again, trying to reach my thigh, my dagger, but the strands of hair pull tighter and tighter. The tide is high, which means we plunge into the water before I can take a breath. There’s no sign of the coral caves, no sign of anything but deep, dark water and the blinding sunset above.

  The puca is equally as agile in the water as he was on land, and it isn’t long before we clear the small inlet and move into the open ocean.

  That’s when the puca plunges beneath the waves.

  I gasp for breath before the water closes over my head, but it isn’t enough. My lungs are already screaming as the creature dives deeper and deeper into the ocean. I struggle, pulling at the puca’s mane, but my hands have lost all feeling.

  This is the end, I realize. I can hold my breath no longer.

  Water floods my mouth as a wave of tiny bubbles crashes into me, obscuring my vision. The last thing I feel is a pair of hands encircling my waist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I wake, everything hurts. My eyes, my lungs, my throat. Every muscle feels like it’s on fire. My eyelids flutter open, and I try to sit but can manage no more than lifting my head before a searing pain behind my eyes has me sinking back into the pillows beneath me.

  “Evie!” The voice belongs to Amelie, though I don’t dare open my eyes to find her. The pain in my head is too great.

  “I’ll help her sit,” says another voice, which takes me a moment to recognize as belonging to Lorelei. An arm moves to my upper back, lifting me, and I feel a mountain of pillows fill the space behind me until I’m propped up slightly. “Drink this.”

  The rim of a cup touches my lips, and I don’t bother to fight the warm liquid. I’d drink fae wine or the juice of a honey pyrus, if it meant quenching my razor-sharp thirst. The liquid tastes like a mild tea, like something Mother would have made me when I was sick. Its soothing effect is immediate, easing the pain in my throat and sending a wave of relaxation over me. Finally, I open my eyes.

  Squinting into the semi-darkness of what appears
to be my bedroom at the palace, I find Lorelei and Amelie hovering before me, concerned expressions on both their faces as they sit next to me on the bed.

  “What happened?” My voice comes out like a croak, renewing the pain in my throat and lungs.

  “Oh, thank the Great Mother above.” Amelie brings a hand to her heart, shoulders drawing down with relief. “You are coherent.”

  My brow furrows at her words. She said it like she expected otherwise. “How long have I been asleep?”

  Amelie and Lorelei exchange a glance. “What has it been? Three days?” Amelie asks.

  Lorelei nods, then faces me. “You’ve been coming in and out of consciousness, but mostly sleeping.”

  “Three days?” I jolt forward, but the motion sends my head reeling again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I lie back until the pain recedes.

  “Drink more,” Lorelei prods.

  I do as told, relishing the sweet, familiar herbs that remind me so much of home. When I open my eyes again, Amelie is grinning.

  “Foxglove was sent to the village for a remedy,” she says. “He brought you something from Mother’s shop. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  I want to argue that he should have returned with antibiotics, but I can’t help but admit how much comfort the tea is bringing me. “He…saw Mother? Did he say how she is?”

  “I sent him with a letter, told her we’re being treated well, aside from your unfortunate incident with the kelpie. She sent one back, expressing her love and wishes for you to return to full health. Would you like me to read it to you?”

  “Yes—wait. The kelpie? Is that what the creature was?”

  Amelie nods. “Cobalt told me all about it. You should have seen him! He looked quite the hero as he carried you in his arms through the castle, dripping water in his wake. His skin was blue too, it was so odd.”

  “He’d shifted into his unseelie form,” Lorelei explains, “when he rescued you. He’s a nix.”