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

by Tessonja Odette

  “Brother, how good of you to return,” Cobalt says. “You’re late.”

  Aspen’s eyes blaze with fury. “And you are on my throne.”

  Cobalt gives him an apologetic smile. “This isn’t your throne anymore. The council has accepted me as king in your stead. You have proven unfit to rule time and time again. Now you have forfeited your crown.”

  “For what reason?”

  “How much time do you have?” Cobalt says with a laugh. “First of all, how about you explain where you’ve been?”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “But you owe them one.” Cobalt extends his hand toward the council. A large, stout fae with curling horns, brown skin, and thick, yellow hooves nods in agreement. “You were supposed to be here, doing your duty. Instead, you were…where, exactly?”

  “Yes, King Aspen,” Melusine says, her tone full of musical sweetness. “I too want an explanation for why you thought it appropriate to neglect your duties.”

  Aspen’s jaw shifts back and forth, but he says nothing. What could he possibly say to satisfy them, when all he can do is tell the truth? If there was ever a time for clever deception, it would be now. “I was misled,” he finally says. “My actions were the result of—”

  “Your actions were the result of instability and a volatile temper,” Cobalt says. “Several witnesses saw you react to the news that your human mate had fled the palace to return to her people. Instead of handling the situation with the grace of a king, you shifted into a stag to destroy her village in retribution.”

  An androgynous-looking fae wearing a slim black suit lets out a low chuckle. “Tasty.” The voice is smooth and feminine. Her skin is pale, hair slick, blonde, and cropped at the base of her neck. When she smiles, I see elongated canines. I’ve never seen her kind of fae before, but I’ve heard of them. Vampire.

  “I didn’t destroy her village, nor did I make it past the wall,” Aspen says.

  Cobalt shrugs. “But that’s where you were headed. My guards reported that they saw you near the wall. If it weren’t for Miss Fairfield, you’d have drawn human blood.”

  I can feel Aspen’s rage as if it were my own. It burns every part of me, so hot I can keep it inside no longer. “He went there because of you. You captured me. You sent my sister—disguised as me—to run away and make Aspen think I left. You kept me in a cage and left me to drown.”

  The prince rolls his eyes. “The human has clearly had second thoughts about running away. Don’t listen to her lies.”

  “You’re the one who’s lying.” The council erupts with laughter at my words. “It’s true. He can lie. He’s been able to lie since the Holstrom girls arrived, took the ability from them in exchange for feigned protection. He orchestrated their attack on Aspen.” More laughter at this, making my cheeks burn crimson.

  “We all know humans weave fantastical tales,” Cobalt says. “But let’s not get off topic. Aspen left the palace at a critical time. He failed his duties as a royal on the Council of Eleven Courts. Not only that, but he failed to secure the pact by neglecting to perform the Bonding ritual with his Chosen.”

  “We performed it,” Aspen says. “You know we did. Each of you can sense it.”

  Cobalt seems unconcerned. “It’s past midnight, Brother.”

  “It was well before midnight when we performed it.”

  “Then you should have been here to prove it. Regardless, let us go back. Before your reckless actions tonight, you managed to lose one of the Chosen. Amelie disappeared from Bircharbor, and witnesses say she fled from you.”

  “You have her!” I shout.

  He continues as if I said nothing. “Before that, you executed the previous Chosen without trial. Only your word is testimony to their supposed crimes. Before that, you have constantly wavered your political stance, for no other reason than to make trouble.”

  Some of the other fae are nodding, eyes glistening with malice as they stare at Aspen with open hostility. A fae with bright orange skin covered in delicate scales flicks his forked tongue at him, then snaps his teeth.

  “You don’t care about your duties as king,” Cobalt says. “You are erratic, unreliable, and a danger to human and fae alike.”

  Aspen begins to shudder, hands clenched into fists. “Get off my throne.”

  “I, on the other hand, have done everything you could not. I am firm in my political standing. I am constant in my motivations. I went so far as to secure the second step in the treaty before you even made Evelyn your mate.”

  Melusine shoots Cobalt a surprised look.

  “Come greet the council, Amelie.” Cobalt waves, and a figure emerges from the staircase behind us.

  Amelie is outfitted in a resplendent gown of copper and red, bringing out the fire in her hair. She still wears the sealskin like a cloak over her shoulders, yet gone are the tears I last saw on her face. Her expression is stoic, posture regal and serene as she brushes past us and makes her way to the other side of the balcony. “Greetings,” she says, taking a seat in the empty throne at Cobalt’s side.

  My body goes cold. I’d forgotten to expect her here. The sight of her done up like a queen, all smiles and sweet grace, sends bile rising to my throat. How much of her demeanor is controlled by Cobalt’s glamour over her? I refuse to believe she would stand by any of this, refuse to believe she could look at me, covered in blood and bruises and hold an unwavering smile. How much has she given away for love?

  “You see,” says Cobalt, “Amelie ran away from my brother, terrified of his temper, but I found her. Protected her. Kept her from my brother’s rage. I made her my mate weeks ago and performed the Bonding ritual.”

  “Cobalt,” Melusine sings, a dangerous lilt to her melody. “You told me she gave you her name, but I wasn’t aware that you gave her yours in return.”

  Cobalt holds his mother’s eyes without a hint of regret. “Ah, well, now you know.”

  She leans toward her son, teeth bared. “But you saved the treaty.”

  He smiles at her. “And you helped make me king.”

  A storm darkens her blue eyes as her tail swishes angrily on the floor, but Cobalt pays her no heed.

  “You are no king,” Aspen says. His gaze falls on each council fae in turn, burning them with his glare. “He is not my heir. You cannot give him my throne.”

  “They can if the king is indisposed without naming an heir,” Cobalt argues. “I, as your brother, can take your place.”

  “You have no Autumn blood.”

  “Yet, this is my home. I have lived here my entire life. And when it mattered most, I stepped in where you could not.”

  Aspen shudders head to toe, and I think I know what happens next. “You have five seconds to get out of my seat before I rip you to shreds.”

  “Take one step, and you’ll be committing treason,” Cobalt says. “The council has already agreed. I am King of Autumn.”

  With a roar, Aspen’s body is torn apart in a mass of fur and hooves. A flash of shock crosses Cobalt’s face as the enormous stag charges him. The council fae leap from their seats, backing out of the fray. Some of the fae watch with terror, while others—like the wolf and vampire—look delighted at the spectacle. Cobalt tosses himself to the ground, and Aspen’s hooves crush the arm of his throne to splinters.

  Cobalt rises to his feet just as Aspen charges again. The force knocks Cobalt backward and sends him skidding into the rail at the edge of the balcony. Cobalt shudders, his princely demeanor gone. In the blink of an eye, his unseelie form takes over. His fingers come to dangerous points, webs between them like serrated knives. He stands his ground as Aspen charges again, lips peeled back to reveal his fangs.

  Aspen doesn’t falter, just tears across the floor at great speed.

  The two collide in a tangle of scales and teeth and antlers.

  “Guards!” Cobalt’s shout echoes across the balcony. I whirl, wondering where the guards are, but the fae in bronze armor are nowhere to be seen. Come t
o think of it, I haven’t seen any other guards since we arrived, aside from the two at the front of the palace. When I look back at the two royals, my breath catches in my throat.

  Over the rail climb slithering bodies, dripping seawater. Most resemble Cobalt with slim physiques, webbed fingers, and gills. They wear armor of pink coral, their weapons similar to the one Amelie attacked me with. Several of them leap upon Aspen, then several more.

  Footsteps sound on the floor behind me, and I feel a rush of hope. Aspen’s guards—dozens of them—surge forward from the stairwell, followed by Foxglove and Lorelei. “Found them in the dungeon,” Foxglove mutters to me when he reaches my side.

  Aspen’s guards charge the sea fae, but more of Cobalt’s guards leap over the rail to face them, baring teeth, shattering armor with their coral swords and knives.

  Aspen still struggles against his assailants, trying to throw them off, but all it does is allow Cobalt to dart away from his brother’s reach. The sea fae pull at Aspen’s ears, wrench his antlers, slick the ground beneath his hooves until he’s scrambling to maintain purchase.

  Finally, Aspen stops struggling. The sea fae tug him down, down, until he’s sprawled on the floor.

  I’m frozen in horror as I watch Aspen shift back into his seelie form, chest heaving as Cobalt’s guards pull his arms behind his back. He keeps his eyes trained on his brother, fury emblazoned on his features.

  “Cobalt,” Aspen says through his teeth, “I challenge your claim to the throne.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Silence falls over the balcony.

  Cobalt’s lips pull into a devious grin. “Are you sure that’s wise, brother?”

  “The throne doesn’t belong to you,” Aspen growls.

  “That’s your opinion, and if you’re offering me a challenge, that choice won’t be yours to make.”

  “The challenge has been made,” Aspen says. “Do you accept?”

  Cobalt shudders and shifts back to his seelie form. “I do.”

  I hear a sharp intake of breath from Foxglove. “This isn’t good,” he mutters.

  “What’s going on?”

  He wrings his hands. “If the council has already agreed to accept Cobalt as king, a challenge for the throne was King Aspen’s last hope. But, oh, I can already see this going badly.”

  The sea fae release Aspen and allow him to rise to his feet, yet they maintain a tight circle around him. The council erupts in chatter.

  “What does a challenge for the throne entail?” I whisper to Foxglove.

  “They will have three options,” he explains. “Either a battle of strength, a presentation of factual debate, or a decision of fate.”

  I look from Aspen to Cobalt, a spark of hope igniting within me. “Aspen will win a battle of strength.”

  He nods, but his expression is grave. “There’s no doubt about that. But as the challenged, it’s Cobalt’s right to select which option they take. He’ll know better than to select a battle of strength, even if he were to name a champion to fight in his stead.”

  “He can do that?”

  “Yes. Either royal can name another to fight for them. Their champion can secure the win in their patron’s name.”

  Cobalt walks to the other side of the balcony, then leans against the rail. He watches Aspen, a pleased smile on his lips.

  My blood goes cold. “Why does he look so confident?”

  “Because he’s going to choose the option he knows he can win,” whispers Foxglove. “A presentation of factual debate. He clearly believes his motives were just, and he already received the support of the council once. There’s no doubt he can do it again.”

  “The council decides the winner of the debate?”

  He nods.

  “Then Aspen will have to stand up for himself. He’ll tell them the truth.” My words come out weak, and I can feel their folly before they leave my mouth. It was hard enough for Aspen to get past his pride and tell me the truth. How will he fare when facing a council that is already set against him, not to mention a brother who can lie? I feel the blood drain from my face. “Oh no. This isn’t good.”

  “You understand now.”

  Aspen’s eyes continue to burn into his brother as Cobalt grins back at him. “We must select the mediator,” Aspen says.

  “Queen Melusine,” Cobalt proposes.

  Aspen lets out a cold laugh. “I think not, brother. I agree the mediator should be unseelie, since we are both seelie, but our mother is not a neutral party.”

  Cobalt’s expression falters for only a moment. “Queen Nyxia.”

  The vampire in the black suit steps forward with a feigned gasp as she brings her slim white fingers to her lips. “Me? I’d be honored. I’ll need ink and paper, of course.”

  Aspen’s eyes lock on one of his guards. “Go.” The guard leaves, and the council fae return to their seats.

  I can’t help but shudder as I watch the vampire stroll to the middle of the balcony, stopping in front of the two thrones. Leaning toward Foxglove, I ask, “Should I be worried?”

  He ponders before answering. “I think the Queen of the Lunar Court will serve well as a neutral party. She’s never had love for either of the siblings.”

  “Yet she must have agreed to Cobalt taking Aspen’s throne.”

  Foxglove adjusts his spectacles, grimacing. “That she did.”

  The guard returns moments later with ink, quill, and two pieces of parchment. He marches between the seats of the council and hands his materials to Nyxia. The vampire then makes her way to Cobalt’s side of the balcony, where he and Amelie stand. My sister dabs at a cut above Cobalt’s brow, a worried frown tugging her lips.

  “She has some nerve,” Lorelei says with a glower, coming up next to Foxglove and me. Hurt and rage mingle in her eyes as she watches my sister.

  “Come,” I say, swallowing my own hurt, “let’s go to Aspen.” We make our way to his side of the balcony, and I try to ignore the stares of the council watching every step I take. The guards sneer and hiss as I draw near but don’t stop me as I approach Aspen. His expression softens when he meets my eyes. I want to reach for his hand, but the sharp looks the sea fae give me make me hesitate.

  The council erupts in whispers, and I turn to see Cobalt taking one of the papers from Nyxia, then writing something with ink and quill. Once finished, she waves the parchment in the air to dry the ink and then folds it into a neat square. Then she turns on her heel and comes our way.

  “The battle has been set in ink,” Nyxia whispers as she approaches, holding Cobalt’s folded sheet of parchment. She then hands Aspen a blank sheet of paper. “Write the name of your champion, if you are to use one, then sign your name.”

  “Think hard, brother,” Cobalt calls from the other side of the balcony, tone mocking. “Are you strong enough to fight your own battles? Or will you need a champion?”

  Aspen grumbles and turns toward the balcony rail. He spreads the parchment over the top of the rail, then extends his hand toward Nyxia for the ink and quill. I look from Aspen to Cobalt and back again. Cobalt looks so certain, so confident. There isn’t a doubt in his mind that he’s going to win. He knows Aspen would never name a champion. He knows he’ll easily win over the council with a presentation of factual debate.

  Ignoring the hisses of the sea fae guards, I race to Aspen’s side before he can press the quill to the paper. “Choose me,” I say. “Choose me as your champion.”

  He pauses and meets my eyes. His expression shifts from worry to resolution. “No. I won’t have you involved in this. This is between me and my brother.”

  “But you know he’s going to choose debate.” My voice is a furious whisper. “The council has already accepted his word. What can you say to change their minds?”

  “I have no need to change their minds,” he mutters. “If they fail to see reason after I’ve said my piece, then the council can be damned, with all of Faerwyvae with it.”

  My hands ball into fists. “
I can help you. You know I’m good with words. Name me your champion and we can wipe that grin off Cobalt’s face.”

  He reaches a hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “No, Evie. This is my mess. I’m going to clean it up on my own.”

  “But you’re not alone anymore. You have me. I can do this.”

  He leans forward and brushes his lips to mine. “No.”

  I tense, and my lips don’t respond to his. Anger flushes my cheeks as I glare at him. He can’t just kiss me and tell me no. He can’t just make this choice as if it has only to do with him. This isn’t just his throne to lose. It’s mine now too, and we will both suffer if this goes badly.

  If Cobalt wins, Aspen dies.

  I won’t lose him. Not after we’ve come this far, fought this hard. Not when we were finally becoming something more.

  “Aspen.” The word escapes my lips, cold and powerful. Energy hums around us, as if the air between me and the king is sizzling, charged with lightning. It startles me, reminding me of the way I felt after we exchanged names. Again, I imagine a bridge, and we are the two cliffs it connects. In my mind, I cross that bridge, aware of the jagged rocks waiting hundreds of yards below. I don’t know how I know to do this, but I do. “By the power of your true name, I order you to name me your champion.”

  His eyes widen, and it feels like an eternity that we stand locked beneath each other’s gaze. Then he blinks. It’s clear when he discovers what I’ve done, when the power of his name being used against him dawns on his realization. His face flashes with hurt, something close to fear dancing in his eyes. The expression remains for only a moment before he steels it behind a mask of indignation. “Is this what your vow is worth?” he says through his teeth. “When you promised you wouldn’t use my name against me?”

  “I had to,” I say, trying to hide the tremors that seize me beneath his angry stare. My breath feels like it’s been pulled from my lungs. I’m doing this for both of us. Please understand.

  “Then you leave me no choice,” he says with a snarl. He returns to the parchment and scrawls my name on it. He presses so hard, he pierces the paper in places. Then, below it, he signs his name. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he gives the parchment to Nyxia, who folds it with her slender fingers.