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

by Tessonja Odette

  She scoffs at that, eyes never leaving mine. “Nearly my equal. Ha! I see no crown on her head, nor have I gotten an invitation to her coronation. I’ve hardly heard more than whispers about this supposed upcoming wedding.”

  “There have yet to be any plans made for her coronation,” Foxglove says, “all things considered. When Aspen recovers, I’m sure he’ll—”

  “Yes, I’m curious what he’ll do with her.” She slithers even closer, and I’m certain she sniffs at the air around me. “What are you to him?”

  I swallow hard, hoping she can’t hear my racing heart. “I’m his mate.”

  A corner of her lips pulls into a smile. “Are you though?”

  “We performed the ceremony last week.”

  “Nothing more than a pretty show,” she hisses. “Something tells me you have yet to become his true mate. You don’t have the right…smell about you.”

  I want to argue that Foxglove and Lorelei had me bathed and cleansed until my skin was pink before I came to meet her, but I stop myself. First of all, my bathing habits are none of her business. And second, I have the feeling she isn’t talking about that kind of smell. She’s referring to something I don’t understand. Something fae.

  I realize another thing. Foxglove and Lorelei didn’t have me dressed in silk and painted with rouge just to look pretty for the queen. They did it to give me an advantage. To place me as her equal. They wanted her to see me as someone to respect. And here I am cowering before her like a wounded dog.

  I square my shoulders and stand at my full height. My voice takes on the same bored quality I’ve heard Aspen use so many times. Every word I’m about to say is a gamble, but I take it. “Well, this has been pleasant, hasn’t it? Now, if we’re done parsing words and smelling each other, I think I’ll go check on my mate.” I turn away from her, keeping my chin held high, then pause before I reach the hall. “I’ll have someone fetch you when he wakes. If he wants to see you.”

  I enter the hall, and Foxglove and Lorelei follow. Only when I’m out of earshot, do I let out the breath I was holding. I don’t dare look behind me, terrified I’ll see a raging sea serpent charging after me, but we continue on, and my head remains attached to my shoulders.

  Lorelei finally breaks the silence with a laugh. “Learning how to play the game, are we?”

  “I’m playing it,” I say. “Let’s just hope I don’t lose.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I’m still seething over my encounter with Melusine as I pace my room. Who does she think she is, coming here to look me over and try to make me feel inferior? How does she benefit from such actions, aside from potentially scaring me away? From what Cobalt told me, Melusine is politically unseelie, meaning she can’t be too pleased her son’s marriage is keeping the peace. Or perhaps she thinks I’m not good enough for her son, feeble human that I am.

  “I’ll show her who’s feeble,” I mutter as I pull the bronze earrings from my ears and toss them on the bedside table. I catch sight of Aspen and turn to face him, amazed at the color that has returned to his cheeks. With a sigh, I sit on the bed next to him to check his vitals. “No wonder you’re so awful. I know where you get it now.”

  He says nothing, of course, sleeping peacefully while I touch his forehead. His temperature has gone down, and even the sheen of sweat has disappeared. I move my hand to his chest, intending to change the dressing over the wound.

  Aspen’s eyes fly open, and his hand circles my wrist. I lose my balance, toppling toward him. He catches my other wrist, then shifts his weight. Before I know it, I’m pinned to the bed, Aspen straddled over me. His lips peel back from his teeth, chest heaving as his eyes bore into me.

  “You’re clearly feeling better,” I say with a sneer as I try to twist from his grasp.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think I’m doing? Tending your wounds, like I’ve done every nauseating hour since you were injured.”

  “Injured.” He says the word as if it’s foreign to him.

  I freeze. “You don’t remember?”

  He searches my eyes, brows knitting together. “I was wounded.”

  “Yes. In your idiotic attempt to satiate Mr. Holstrom’s bloodlust, you nearly got yourself killed.”

  “You…did something to me.”

  “It’s called saving your pathetic life, and you’re welcome.”

  He seems to relax and releases my wrists but doesn’t move from over me. My body is still pinned between his legs and thighs.

  I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “Will you get off me?”

  His eyes widen as he looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. He takes in the sheer plum dress, eyes roving over the lowcut neckline. His lips twist into a mischievous smirk, making him look more like himself than he has in days. “Why, are you scared?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m scared you’ll pull your stitches and all my hard work will be for nothing.”

  “No, you are scared of me,” he says, voice low. “I can feel it.”

  I push at his chest again, tempted to punch him in his wound. It’s then I realize the trails of black have all but disappeared from his torso. “I’m not scared. This is just highly inappropriate.” But now that he mentions it, perhaps I should be afraid. He clearly isn’t in his right mind, considering he woke up without memory of what happened. And even if he were in his right mind…my eyes involuntarily flash toward his antlers. If he wanted to, he could gut me here and now. I wouldn’t have time to scream.

  “You’re thinking about what I did on the farm.”

  I shoot him a scowl. “So, you do remember.”

  A pained look crosses his face. “I won’t hurt you, Evie.”

  I can’t help but stare at his antlers again, imagining them covered in blood and gore.

  Aspen seems amused. “Curious? You keep looking.”

  “Yes, I keep looking. There’s a pair of razor-sharp antlers just inches from my face. I’m trying not to get stabbed in the eye.” My words come out more breathless than I intend.

  “I’m more than capable of handling my antlers. And how do you know they are razor sharp if you’ve never felt their cut?”

  Part of me wants to push him away, make him stop his teasing, but another part of me is morbidly fascinated with his antlers, now that I know what they are capable of. There’s something enticing about facing the danger of them. I want to touch them, admire them, the same way I want to admire a well-crafted blade or scalpel. Do they feel like bone? Rock?

  He rolls his eyes as if he can hear my thoughts. “You can touch them. You’re probably the first human in my presence who hasn’t tried.”

  The first human who hasn’t tried. This makes me think of my sister. Did she try to touch them? Were they ever close enough for her to do so? Or did she simply ask in her charmingly naive way? Without realizing it, my hand moves toward them, pulled by an invisible force.

  Aspen leans closer, bracing himself on his forearms.

  My fingers find the tip of one of the tines. It’s sharp, but not enough to pierce skin without pressure. I’m surprised to find how smooth the surface is, covered in soft velvet. I run my fingertips down the length of the main beam, then trace one of the lower tines that branch off it. I’m mesmerized. Thrilled to be touching such a delicate yet powerful weapon.

  Aspen shudders.

  I pause, my sense of self-awareness returning. “What was that for?”

  “My antlers are very sensitive,” he says. His voice is quiet, breathy. “Every touch is both pleasure and pain.”

  I pull my hand away, heat flooding my cheeks. I had no idea antlers held sensation. “Why in the bloody name of iron didn’t you tell me you could feel that?” I say through my teeth.

  “Because I didn’t want you to stop.”

  His words pull the breath from my lungs, and the intensity of his gaze holds me in place. This close, I can see his eyes like I never have before. They aren’t brown like I originally
thought, but every color of autumn. Golds, bronze, emerald, and ruby swirl in his irises. I can’t stop myself from thinking it—he’s beautiful. The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. And he’s looking at me like I’m beautiful too. A luxurious feast for a starving man. His full lips are so close to mine, I can feel his breath, smell the rosemary on his skin. I can’t help but remember our kiss during the mate ceremony, and that same strange fire roars in my chest.

  As if he can feel it too, he closes the distance between us, lips crushing into mine. I don’t think to stop him, to fight him. I give in to the kiss, let it deepen. My body hums with a hungry desire, eager to consume more of him.

  With his knees, he pushes one of my legs aside, then the other. As a reflex, I wrap them around his waist, drawing him closer. My lips part for his tongue, and a soft moan escapes his mouth. I bring one hand to his lower back, and the other explores the firm muscles of his chest, careful not to skate too close to his wound.

  One of his hands leaves the bed to do some exploring of its own. I feel his fingers caress my neck, then turn my head to the side so his lips can trail over the skin where his fingers just were. His kisses move down my neck and across my collar bone, then trace lower along the neckline of my dress.

  When his lips return to mine, I claim them eagerly. His hand slides from my neck and over the curve of my breast. I gasp, feeling the trail of his fingers through the spider silk, sensations multiplied as if his fingers were flames. His thumb makes lazy circles over the crest of my breast, and a shock of pleasure runs through me, so intense I arch my back to meet it. A fire ignites at the apex of my thighs, and I think I will die if it isn’t quelled.

  His other hand finds my knee, traces up my thigh. I know where it’s going and I don’t care. I want it to go higher. Want him everywhere all at once. I have no control, no awareness but him. His fingers reach my dagger belt. He winces, then jolts upright. It’s enough to shatter the moment, bringing clarity to my mind.

  My breaths come out heavy as I recover from the spell of passion. The spell that had me powerless. Vulnerable. Completely unlike myself. I pull away from him, straightening my dress. “What in the name of iron was that?”

  Aspen puts the tip of his thumb to his mouth, as if soothing a burn. He winces again, shaking out his hand. “Why are you wearing that damn thing?”

  I ignore the question, scooting farther away from him. “You did it again, didn’t you? You glamoured yourself to make me want you.”

  His expression darkens. “Is that the only way you can imagine kissing me? Under the pretense of a glamour? Am I really so disgusting to you?”

  “Yes, you’re disgusting.” I slide from the bed and to my feet, eyes locked on him, ready for any sign that he’ll pounce. “Only a disgusting creature would use a glamour to seduce a woman.”

  He shakes his head. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

  “Speaking of sleeping at night,” I say, moving to the wardrobe. I grab a nightdress, a robe, and a heavy blue gown. “The bedroom is yours again. I’ll sleep in my parlor.”

  “You liked your parlor, then?” He grins, eyes alight with mischief.

  I don’t rise to the bait. With my head held high, I stride to the doors, ignoring the attention of the guards waiting outside. “Oh, and by the way,” I call out behind me, “your mother’s here.”

  The last thing I see before I slam the doors is Aspen’s look of utter horror.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The couch in my parlor isn’t nearly as comfortable as Aspen’s bed, nor the couch in his room that I’d been sleeping on while he’d been recovering. I don’t know how much of that is due to a discrepancy in quality or from the weight of my humiliation.

  Every time I close my eyes, I see Aspen’s face, feel Aspen’s lips, hear his breath in my ear. I see myself pulling him closer, hips writhing against his. The fire ignites all over again, and I hate it. I cover my eyes with my hands, as if that could banish the visions in my mind. As if it could make me forget the taste of his lips.

  My humiliation turns to fury when I wake the next morning. I go over my list of reasons why I hate Aspen, King of the Autumn Court.

  I hate that he glamoured himself.

  I hate that he tried to seduce me.

  I hate that he made me feel out of control.

  I hate his lack of apology.

  Hate the way he looked at me.

  Hate the way he kissed.

  The way he breathed.

  The way his hands felt on my—

  A knock sounds on the parlor door.

  Snap out of it, Evie. I steady my ragged breathing just in time to greet Lorelei.

  “You’re requested on the balcony,” she says, looking both flustered and pleased. “The king has fully recovered and will be holding audience with Queen Melusine.”

  I furrow my brow. “The balcony?”

  “That’s where you had the mate ceremony.”

  “Yes, but why are we going there?”

  “Aspen holds court there. It’s his throne room of sorts.”

  “I see.” I twist my fingers together, anxiety building in my chest. “Must I go?”

  “I think it’s wise. You’ll be sitting at the king’s side where his queen would be. It’s a bit of a power move, hosting his mother before his throne as opposed to over breakfast.”

  “I suppose that does sound important.” My heart sinks. I think of all the pruning and prodding Foxglove did yesterday to make me a suitable match for the Sea Queen. Am I ready to face her so soon? Better yet, am I ready to face Aspen so soon?

  Lorelei’s mouth quirks at the corner. “You’ve clearly got a lot on your mind. Care to share?”

  “No,” I say in a rush. There’s no way I’m telling her or anyone about what happened last night. Not that most in the palace don’t already assume such behavior exists between me and the king. Does Lorelei know the truth? That we aren’t true mates?

  “Fine then. Let’s get you dressed.”

  “On one condition.” I hold up a finger. “Put me in a more modest dress today. No exceptions.”

  * * *

  By the time we reach the balcony, the two brothers are already there. Aspen sits on one of the ornate thrones on the raised dais, the one to his right remaining empty. I hadn’t paid much attention to the thrones during our mate ceremony, but now that I’m less distracted, I notice their beauty. Both are identical, constructed of twining roots and branches, gold leaves sprouting from the sides. Cobalt stands at Aspen’s left, a step down from the dais. Several guards wait on each side of the balcony.

  Cobalt offers me a kind smile, while Aspen lounges in his throne, barely looking at me. The king reminds me of a jungle cat, lazing in his tree. Beautiful and dangerous, even at rest.

  I keep my gaze on the empty throne as I make my way forward. Today I’m dressed in a pale blue gown. The cut of the neckline is still low, but the top is a heavy silk brocade, the skirt layers of frothy blue chiffon. An elegant necklace of bronze and sapphire circles my neck.

  I take my seat in the empty throne, trying to ignore the tension rising between me and Aspen. Or am I imagining it? I glance at the king from the corner of my eye, but he’s paying me no heed. His chin rests on his fist, elbow propped on the arm of the throne. His other hand sprawls across the armrest. Too close to mine. He taps his fingers in a bored way, and all I can think about is how they felt on my skin.

  “Sleep well?” Aspen’s voice is a cold whisper, and he doesn’t face me to say it.

  My eyes dart away from his fingers, straight ahead. “Yes,” I say through my teeth. It’s a lie, of course.

  “You didn’t check my bandages this morning.” This time he turns his head toward me. “Do you neglect all your patients like that?”

  “You were obviously feeling well enough to manage on your own.”

  “Oh, but I much prefer to be managed by you.”

  Heat flushes my cheeks, and I refuse to meet the smirk I know is
waiting for me.

  I’m saved from coming up with a clever reply when I catch sight of movement on the stairs leading to the balcony. Indigo hair. Dazzling blue eyes. Queen Melusine seems somehow more beautiful than she was yesterday as she slithers up the remaining steps to the balcony floor. She smiles indulgently as she approaches. “Aspen, my dear son. So wonderful it is to see you well. How is it you recovered so quickly?”

  He covers my hand with his, and I resist the urge to flinch. “I had a good healer. Evelyn has many talents.”

  She looks down her nose at me, then returns her attention to Aspen. “Many talents, indeed. Although I heard quite the rumor yesterday. Though you recovered, you and your mate spent the night apart. Trouble in the bedroom?”

  Aspen gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “No trouble, Mother, though I do appreciate your concern. Dear Evie was keeping me awake and thought it best to leave me in peace. She moans in her sleep, you see.”

  The way he says moans makes my breath catch. There was a hint of jest in his tone, and I know it was meant for me. Teasing. Tempting. I keep my breathing steady, trying not to over-think it.

  Melusine’s eyes dart toward me, as if she caught the jest as well. For a moment, her expression turns from haughty to worry. In the blink of an eye, her composure returns. “What a generous mate you have. In fact, I’d like to get to know her a little better. Evelyn, will you walk the shore with me tonight? See me off before I return home?”

  I open my mouth, not sure what to say. I almost wish Aspen would answer for me, but he doesn’t. What does she want with me? Is it safe to speak with her in private? And by the coral caves, no less. Then another thought comes to mind. The coral caves. Melusine is the Sea Queen. If Amelie really did run to the caves the night she disappeared, Melusine might know something. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I have.

  “I’d be honored, Your Majesty,” I say.

  “You’ll be leaving tonight, then?” Cobalt asks, speaking for the first time.