Page 5

Severin

Hannah’s pink tongue swirls over her lips in the most fascinating way.

My shadows writhe under my skin, eager to snatch her to me. My magic’s never felt this out of control before. Then again, this is the first time I’ve formed this type of bond with anyone. It must be the ancient betrothal magic affecting me so.

Or perhaps it’s her honest appreciation for my garden.

I created it as soon as I brought my palace to Earth, enthralled with all the potential for life this realm holds.

It’s my very first such creation, but its layout is one I spent years designing within the depths of my mind, in a small space I kept free from the Dark God’s thrall.

Whatever the reason for this unusual sensation, I don’t like feeling out of control.

A shadow tendril slips out and snaps the hair strands holding our hands together, so I can take a step away.

Away from those big brown eyes, away from the alluring candor of Hannah’s unguarded expressions, away from the scent of her skin, sweeter than any flower.

“That’s it? We’re engaged?” she asks. “When will we get married?”

“We’ll have the official ceremony after you win one of the bride trials.”

“Trials? What trials?” She pulls her hand back, a frown pinching her brow. “You didn’t say anything about any trials!”

“It’s an ancient tradition.” I scowl. “One I wish I could do away with, yet I cannot.” Everything about this marriage must be beyond reproach if I’m to win the approval of the other fae rulers and convince them I no longer serve the Dark God.

How better than to have a human wife? The fae kings of old would never take such a queen, considering humans weak.

Keeping one alive for a year will surely prove I’m reformed.

“It’s not a hunger games fight to the death or something?” Her lips pull down in an exaggerated grimace. “’Cause I gotta say, I’m not a fighting type of girl.”

“There will be no deaths, and you will not be starved in any way,” I growl. Goddess. Did humans still do such things for entertainment? And to think people called me a villain. Yes, I waged war and conquered thousands, but those under my rule ate. There was certainly always decent bread.

“So what will the trials be?” she asks.

“Tests of magical ability as befit a ruler of the fae.”

Hannah fiddles with the peony, adjusting it behind her ear in a nervous gesture.

“That won’t be a problem, will it?” I ask. She’s a witch—I can feel her magic.

“Nope!” she says, her voice artificially bright. “Not a problem at all.”

Is she so uncomfortable because she knows nothing of our ways? I attempt to put her at ease. “There will be three trials, and you only need to win one of them to be a finalist. I pick my bride from the winners, and as per our agreement, I will choose you.”

“What will the trials be? Are they dangerous?”

“They won’t be dangerous, but I don’t know what they’ll be. The trials are created by ancient magic, and historically, they’ve been competitions designed to test grace, strength, and discernment.”

“Who will I be competing against?”

“Eligible contestants from the other fae realms.”

Her fingers twirl the flower stem, making the bloom spin as she bites her lower lip. “How many?”

“I don’t yet know.” I’m torn about what to hope for.

If the Faerie realms send no contestants, my marriage to Hannah can begin immediately, which is what I want.

Yet if the other fae send no one, it will indicate that they’re truly ready to cut all ties to the shadow fae, which will be disastrous for me and my people.

I send my shadows racing toward the palace. They return carrying folded pieces of parchment.

One by one, the prepared invitations touch my open palm, and I send a pulse of magic into them, activating the port charm embedded in their wax seals.

They wink out of existence, each one sent to the rulers of the various Faerie realms. When the last piece of parchment falls onto my hand, I hold it out to Hannah. “Your formal invitation.”

She breaks the seal and unfolds the declaration, frowning down at the paper. “I can’t read it.”

I flick my fingers against the parchment, adding a simple translation spell.

“This says the first trial is in two days.” Her eyes widen as she waves the paper at me. “And the other two trials will follow over the coming weeks.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Ferndale Falls can’t wait that long! We need help now.

” Her voice hits a high note, and she pauses to take a deep breath.

She blows a lock of brown hair off her face and starts again, her voice calmer as she quickly collects herself.

“With all the new magical people coming to town”—she waves a hand at me—“and things happening like the tulips running around, we need the protection now .”

“I will ensure your town’s protection throughout the duration of the trials, and as a show of good faith, I will also arrange what new businesses I can.

” After all, even if the humans have a bakery, it’s unlikely it will match the amazing bread a brownie can bake using hearth magic, and I refuse to go two weeks without good bread.

“And the permanent protection?” she asks.

“The spells will go into place as soon as we’re wed.”

“Thank you.” She grips my hand, her big eyes staring up at me, full of admiration.

It’s not a look I’m accustomed to seeing, and I like it far too well. I should correct her, let her know I do all of this to create a place on Earth for me and my people, not to help hers.

Yet I remain quiet.

I’m selfish enough to want her to keep looking at me this way.

Hannah refuses my offer of a flight to town, saying she wants to walk back through the woods to have time to think.

I remain in my garden until I feel the moment she steps off my land, then make my way inside.

Due to the anchoring spell I had my people use, my palace exists both on Earth and in Avalon, my home realm of Faerie. But people can only exist in either one or the other, so I also had them create a door to Avalon.

I push aside one of the heavy tapestries decorating the foyer’s wall to reveal a mirror set in a heavy gilt frame. The surface offers a darkened reflection of the well-lit room behind me and offers no resistance as I step through into another world.

There’s a moment of disorientation that feels like falling, then my foot touches firm marble.

Technically, I stand within an exact copy of the foyer I just left.

In actuality, it’s immediately clear it’s not.

Magic hums in the ground, more powerful than that on Earth but splintered and unfocused.

The air becomes stale without the sweet scent of growing things, and the tapestries lose some of their color.

The chandelier blazes overhead yet can’t quite light everything clearly, a haze of shadows clinging to corners and cracks—the lingering legacy of the Dark God.

My shadows slip outward, calling my closest advisors to me.

Daigan stalks in first, a perpetual scowl on his face and his shadow wings flaring wide.

Even though he has the same light skin and black hair as I do, my warlord carries almost as much muscle as an orc.

He also still wears fighting leathers, having refused to adopt a more human approach to clothing.

There’s a reason I’ve tasked him with remaining here in Avalon to oversee its recovery.

“How go the preparations?” I ask. Since it’s impossible—at least at first—to bring all of the shadow fae to Earth, we’re setting up a rotation. My palace can hold a hundred at a time, and beyond my immediate staff, everyone else will switch out each week.

“They go,” he grunts, as eloquent as ever. But Diagan’s solid as a rock. If he says things are well in hand, then they are.

“He’s being modest.” Varyn strolls into the room, his smile so wide it makes one question whether it’s a show of good humor or a flash of fangs.

Long years as his friend mean I know the answer is of course both.

Silver tattoos coil over his dark-tan skin, matching the color of his metallic silver hair.

Varyn is a very rare being, an ice fae turned shadow fae.

He happily adopted human clothing and wears a dark-blue shirt offset with a silver waistcoat.

“Daigan’s whipped everyone into line like the drill sergeant he was. ”

“Ah, Varyn, just the person I wanted to see,” I say .

“You have something for me?” He spreads his hands wide. “I perish from boredom.”

“I do. The human town we’re joining needs new businesses. I want you to arrange for as many as you can from among the various types of fae.”

“What kinds of businesses?”

“Start with eateries and places our people will want to frequent. Shadow fae will make up a large part of the customer base.” Then I add on a personal request. I have my priorities, of course. “Make sure you find a brownie baker.”

“There’d better be a decent pub,” Diagan growls. “Orcs would be good for that.”

I scowl. He’s right—orcs make the best ales and ciders in all the realms—but there’s a problem. “The orcs of Alarria hate us. They’ve forbidden us from settling in their realm, due to all the warfare in the shadow fae’s past. They don’t care that was done under the orders of the Dark God.”

“But the orcs love their humans,” Varyn says. “They already have strong ties with the people of Ferndale Falls, since their leaders have married women from the town. I can work with that.”

“We’ll need our best conjurers to bespell the buildings as well,” I say. “Many of them are empty and unused. We should assume they’ll need to be fully furnished and equipped.”

“On it,” Daigan says.

“Lastly, the human town also needs an ongoing protection spell. The one I cast will fade in two weeks. I want everything prepared to make it permanent.” Like all shadow fae, my elfin ancestry means I have the ability to work several types of magic, but my main magical power is the only one that will endure, my plant magic.

The revitalized green in Ferndale Falls will last forever with appropriate upkeep.

“What kind of spell?”

“One that protects it from anyone who doesn’t believe in magic. Let the regular humans see nothing but what they expect.”

“Glamours and illusions.” Varyn’s smile shows off his fangs. “Excellent.”

“Does all of this mean that your marriage idea went well?” Daigan asks.

“It did.” I tip my head. “I have betrothed the local human leader and gotten her agreement to let us make a home on Earth.”

“You’re betrothed!” Daigan scowls. “How could you do such a thing before she wins the bride trials?”

“Come now.” Varyn waves a dismissive hand. “You know a betrothal isn’t binding for a royal. If need be, Severin can dissolve it.”

“No.” The word shoots from me before I can stop it. “There will be no dissolution.”

Daigan frowns. “But showing up to the trials with a fiancée will upset the other women.”

“I’m not the first royal to bring a favorite to the trials.

In fact, a few of my ancestors loaded their competitions with nothing but their lovers,” I say.

“I had to betroth the human to anchor the palace on Earth. I had no choice.” One touch of that living world, and I refused to live without it.

I need the magic of my new garden and the vibrancy of the Earth trees.

And I need a pretty pair of brown eyes that look at me with admiration.

“If anyone says anything, we’ll cite precedence.” Varyn gives a casual shrug. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Not a problem?” The warlord’s brow pinches in a deep scowl. “You’ve painted a target on her back. All of the other contestants will know you’ll choose her if she wins even a single trial, so they’ll try to make sure she doesn’t.”

“All of the other contestants will treat her well for fear of my wrath,” I growl.

“Not if they know you don’t actually care about her, they won’t.”

“Hannah and I have already agreed to act as if it’s a love match. The rest of Faerie will never know our marriage is fake. Everything will work out exactly as I want.”

“ If she wins the bride trials.” Daigon’s wings stir restlessly on his back.

“Hannah has powerful magic. I can feel it.” And if things start going poorly, I’ll find a way to ensure she wins. “Fair” and “good sportsmanship” have no place in a shadow fae’s heart if they stand in the way of what I want.

There will be no problems with my plan.