Page 65 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

Despite the tattered homespun clothes, there was no mistaking a fae woman of the royal bloodline.

The silvery white hair, the wings the color of a starry night sky, and her dark eyes—she was just as Maxim had described the royal family.

The only difference was, her cheeks held a glow of warmth.

Her blood was obviously a healthy red, not the inky black of a fae subsisting only on magic.

Behind them, the white unicorn screamed again. She fought ferociously to make a break for her rider, but Oberon and his stallions handled her masterfully. Blocking and rebuffing her with their necks, they got her turned around before she could make it far.

“Don’t hurt her,” the fae demanded.

“They won’t. Just tell her to stop fighting.”

The fae woman turned an icy glare on Ravenna. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m queen of these lands.”

The woman snorted in derision. “That’s impossible. These are orcish lands.”

Oh, she had quite the story to tell her. But first, “And which are you? A niece or a daughter?”

The fae lost what little color she had left in her face, those indigo eyes fixing on Ravenna with a terror so potent, Ravenna herself felt it skitter down her back.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No need to be coy. I know you’re of royal blood.

” Her father had told her of Amaranthe’s most wicked deed—almost five-hundred years ago, refusing to give up power, she slaughtered her sisters, daughters, and nieces.

The fae needed a hub for their magic, a queen to rule the hive, but such power corroded.

It was the fate of every queen, when her time came, to sail to the Twins and take the eternal sleep, returning her soul and her magic to the earth and the goddesses.

Without a successor, the fae had no choice but to suffer Amaranthe. The cycle didn’t renew, and the corrosive magic seeped across the faelands.

Except, Ravenna was looking at a successor. A possible new queen.

From her white lashes and brows to the indigo iridescence of her wings, this fae was exactly as her father and all her books described the royal line.

The stories told of how the palace at Fallorian had once been full of white-haired sisters, daughters, and nieces, all more beautiful than the last. They helped channel the magic, strengthening the borders and the bond with the land.

Fates, it just couldn’t be so simple. Suspicion raised her hackles; this smacked too much of destiny or divinity. There were forces at work far more powerful than her, Vallek, or a royal fae.

“How did you escape?” Ravenna asked. She must have been quite young at the time of the slaughter, for she still carried a youthful look to her that most fae maintained in their first millennium.

Her question was met with a fiercely suspicious glare.

“There’s no use denying it. I know who you are, even if not your name. The fates set our paths to collide this day.” Quickly, she explained her visions and how she’d been led to this time and place. Unfortunately, the longer she spoke, the more horrified the fae woman seemed to be.

“But why…” The woman shook her head. “It’s impossible.”

“I’ve learned it’s better to let the fates guide you than rail against them. That way leads to madness.”

The fae woman shot her a look that said she clearly thought Ravenna was already far down that path.

She shrugged. “My name is Ravenna Broch-Illyinia. And you are?”

The woman frowned. “You’re only half fae?”

“Yes, my father was Maxim Illyinia.” Grinning wryly, she teased, “Have you not seen a fae in so long you couldn’t tell the difference?” Although Ravenna might seem utterly fae-like to the orcs, full fae would notice her dissimilarity immediately—shorter ears, small wings, and unruly magic.

The woman’s lips went tight.

Ravenna’s stomach dropped. Fates, had she truly been on her own for that long? To be sure, she would’ve had to flee the faelands to avoid the slaughter of her kin. Had she been in the wilderness all this time? Alone?

Her stomach did another uncomfortable flip. Fates, she knew what it was to flee and hide, but she’d never truly been alone.

Lost in her contemplation, Ravenna didn’t notice until Vallek’s footsteps were quite near that he approached.

Standing on the other side of the stream, he loomed over them, his arms crossed over his expansive chest. He raised one brow when Ravenna met his gaze, obviously expecting a thorough explanation.

The fae barked a humorless laugh. “So you’ll what—sell me to this brute?” She jutted her chin at Vallek.

“Of course not. He’s my azai .” She scowled at the fae woman. “So don’t look too long at him.”

“ He also speaks faethling,” Vallek grumbled. “And outlawed the selling of people long ago.” He turned a thunderous, annoyed frown on Ravenna. “What in all the hells is going on?”

Finally retaking her feet, Ravenna brushed off the worst of the dirt from her cloak. “This is—well, she won’t tell me her name. But she’s the next Fae Queen.”

“ What? ” the fae sputtered.

Vallek, too, looked alarmed. Gaze bouncing between the two women, his face finally sank into his hand. Rubbing the bridge of his nose as if a headache gathered there, he muttered in orcish, “Just how many fucking fae fugitives are there in my land that I don’t know about?”

“That you don’t know about? I can’t say. But we are likely the most important—and the most wanted by Amaranthe.”

Vallek’s scowl clearly communicated how unimpressed he was with her answer.

“You’re mated to an orc, you have visions…” The fae woman slumped back into the grass. “Fates, just take me.”

“Not yet. I need you.” Kneeling down beside the woman, Ravenna said, “I mean to kill Amaranthe. It’s where we’re headed now, to meet her. Come with me, and I’ll help make you Queen. You can renew the cycle.”

“No, thank you.”

“You can help me kill her.”

“Still no.”

“Don’t you hate her?”

“ Of course I hate her. The bitch killed my mother.”

Ah, a niece then.

Ravenna’s smile was all teeth. “She killed my mother, too.”

The fae woman met Ravenna’s gaze, her expression losing some of its annoyance.

She searched Ravenna’s face for a long while.

Even with the manacles suppressing her magic, Ravenna could feel its immense power writhing just beneath the woman’s skin.

They might hold her for a time, but Ravenna suspected no manacles, spelled or otherwise, could contain her forever.

A royal fae’s magic was vast, too much to suppress, even with spelled irons.

Which meant she needed to get the fae onside before those manacles wore out.

Reaching down, she took the woman’s elbow to help her to stand.

—red wings blocked out the sun—flames danced along her legs—liquid gold dripped down a gaping maw—

When she returned to herself, it was to find the woman, still in the motion of standing, staring up at her as if she’d just said something outlandish.

“What was…I felt…?”

“Strange,” Ravenna breathed. “Your future is set in flames.”

The woman nearly tumbled back over. “And that’s not worrying to you?”

“No. Why would it be?”

“It isn’t exactly a rousing vision for my future, is it?”

“It could be metaphoric,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, I don’t plan to stay in the faelands. What care is it of mine what you do on its throne?”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m motivated .” With the woman standing, Ravenna unpinned her cloak from her shoulders and threw it over the fae’s. Lifting the hood, she made sure the woman’s white hair and face were well hidden. “I’ll explain everything, but—” she looked to Vallek for confirmation “—we need to get moving.”

He nodded. “We do.” Looking between them again, he offered his hand to help them jump across the stream. “Please forgive my mate, she is…unique. I promise you will come to no harm from either of us or anyone in my command.”

The woman frowned at the hand Vallek offered. “And why should I believe any of that?”

“It’s the promise of a king,” he said.

The defiance faltered in her eyes. “The land whispers…you’re Vallek Far-Sight?”

“I am. And she is Ravenna, my queen. So, strange as her word is, it’s that of a queen.”

The fae looked like she might faint from shock as her gaze bounced between Vallek and Ravenna. “This is madness,” she muttered, head shaking beneath the hood.

“This is politics,” Ravenna corrected. She gently laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

The woman chewed her cheek for a long moment, and Ravenna was almost convinced she’d refuse to give her name again.

But finally, she whispered, “Leita.”

The name meant nothing to Ravenna—if her father had known of Leita, he hadn’t named her.

Patting Leita’s shoulder, Ravenna said, “And your mount?”

Leita turned to look behind her, where the unicorns were in something of a standoff. The mare’s chest heaved for breath as she took a moment to think, but the fury hadn’t left her eyes. She would continue fighting until she got to Leita or she was dead.

“Thalia.”

Turning to the unicorns, Ravenna called, “Thalia!” The mare’s ears swiveled at the sound of her name. “I mean neither you nor your rider any harm. But she must come with us. You’re welcome to follow us and join the herd.”

The last thing the camp needed was an irate mare stampeding through it.

She’s very angry, Crow, Oberon warned. She’s got some very rude things to say about you.

She expected nothing less from an incensed unicorn mare. There was a reason mares were considered too wild and ill-tempered to be taken as dread-mounts.

We’ll walk back to camp. Bring her with you and work some of your charms.

Even I may not have enough charm to bring her round.

That wasn’t heartening, but they’d just have to make do.

Taking Leita’s elbow again, Ravenna accepted Vallek’s hand. Together, they hopped over to the other side of the stream.

After a few steps, though, Leita came to a halt.

“I don’t want to be queen,” she told Ravenna solemnly.

“I’m sorry, Leita, but I don’t care. Amaranthe must be destroyed.” Gripping the fae’s elbow tight, she leaned in close to say, “Help me kill her, and I’ll free you.”

Leita shook her head sadly. “To be consumed by the faelands. There are worse imprisonments than these irons.”

Ravenna’s blasted heart ached suspiciously, but she wouldn’t allow herself to have sympathy. The truth of the matter was, “Something more powerful than either of us has ensured our paths crossed. It’s too late now to turn back.”

The cycle must renew. And Amaranthe must fall.