To Wear a Fae Crown (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  “Thank you.” With my attention fixed on the building ahead, I hurry through the rain, forcing myself not to look around the plaza. I don’t want to see any familiar faces or curious stares. By now, I’m sure half the town knows everything that occurred last night.

  Sheriff Bronson meets us by the back door to the jail, expression hard. He’s a rugged-looking man in his sixties with graying hair, long sideburns, and a frizzy mustache. His sheriff’s jacket looks a bit the worse for wear, his dress not nearly as refined as the mayor, Mr. Duveau, or even Mr. Meeks. I suppose such a gruff appearance comes with the job.

  “Your mother is inside,” he says, opening the door. His gaze finds Lorelei for only a moment, but he doesn’t seem surprised. Good. Lorelei donned a glamour before we left, disguising herself as a human to prevent as much undue attention as possible. I can’t see the glamour myself, but at least it seems others can despite her fears that her magic wouldn’t be strong enough here to hold it. In addition to the glamour, she wears one of my most modest fae dresses I’d brought, one of pink chiffon with several layers to the skirt.

  We follow Sheriff Bronson through the doorway. Inside, I find a small, dimly lit room with a bench near the door and cells lining the walls. There appear to be four cells total, each smaller than an average bedroom. Only one is occupied.

  I run to the bars, finding my mother huddled on a narrow cot, a thick wool blanket over her shoulders. “Ma!”

  Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she rises to her feet. She’s dressed in rough, gray homespun, skin pale, hair a tangle of copper waves. Gone are her colorful scarves, her whimsical shawls and jewelry. Gone is the brightness in her eyes and the color in her cheeks. “Evelyn, what are you doing here?”

  Bronson clears his throat. “I’ll give you some privacy and wait right outside the door.” He exits the jail but doesn’t close the door behind him.

  Lorelei squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll give you some space as well.”

  “Thank you,” I say. Lorelei takes a seat on the bench at the other side of the room, and I return my attention to my mother. I want to hug her through the bars, to make sure she’s hale and whole, but my words are already tumbling from my lips. “What in the name of iron is going on? Why does the human council think I’m fae?”

  She presses her lips tight, and I hold my breath for the answer. “Because it’s true,” she finally says.

  There it is. Her confession. My blood feels like it’s rushing from my head, and I think I might be sick. “How is this possible?” I say with a gasp. “Who is my father?”

  Her brow furrows. “Your father? I told you who he was. His name was Howard, he was a good man—”

  “You never told me he was fae.”

  She shakes her head. “He wasn’t.”

  “Then how the bloody...” My words dry in my throat as logic pieces itself together in my mind.

  “I’m the one who’s fae, Evelyn.”

  This time, the blood really does leave my head, and I slide to my knees at the base of the cell. “I don’t understand.”

  Mother joins me, kneeling down and reaching her hands through the bars to grasp mine. “I’m half-fae. My mother was human but my father was originally from Faerwyvae.”

  “So, Amelie and I...we’re a quarter fae.” My heart races to admit it out loud. Mother confirms my understanding with a nod. “Who was your father then? You told us you were born on the mainland. How did a fae male from Faerwyvae sire you?”

  “I was conceived on the Fair Isle, but my mother gave birth to me on the mainland.”

  “She left your father?”

  “I suppose you can say that, although it wasn’t her choice.”

  “But...I remember you mentioning your father. You loved him, he was kind and strong. If your mother left him, who is the father you spoke to me and Amelie about?”

  “My father didn’t stay on the isle. He was exiled to the mainland.”

  “Foxglove said no fae has been exiled this century.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “Evie, I’m over a thousand years old.”

  Her words send me reeling, blood turning to ice. “A thousand years old,” I echo.

  “My father was King Caleos.” She says it like it should mean something to me, but the name doesn’t spark recognition. A sigh escapes her lips. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have heard of him. They consider his name taboo in Faerwyvae. You’ll know him as—”

  “The exiled Fire King.”

  She nods. “Before King Ustrin, my father ruled the Fire Court.”

  I close my eyes, trying to recall everything I’ve learned about the war, about Faerwyvae. Most of what I know, I learned from either Foxglove or Cobalt. “The Fire King had an affair with a human woman. The humans executed her when they found she was pregnant with the child of a fae.”

  “And he burned down her village in retribution, killing everyone who didn’t flee in time.”

  “That sparked the war,” I say.

  “Yes. The war went on for decades, and my father was exiled at the end of it. That’s when he was reunited with me and my mother.”

  “Reunited...are you saying...but his lover was killed. You just said so yourself.”

  “My mother was executed, burned at the stake, but she didn’t die. Can you imagine why?”

  “No, it’s impossible.”

  “She didn’t die because she was pregnant with me. As daughter of the Fire King, I am strengthened by fire. It was my life inside her that kept her heart beating when her flesh was scorched. It was my life that helped her slowly heal from her wounds.”

  My breath hitches as I look at my mother under a new light. All this time...she’s been the Fire King’s daughter. She’s been fae.

  She continues. “My maternal grandmother prayed over my mother’s corpse late into the night, long after all the spectators left. It was she who discovered the healing begin to take place. That’s when she sought the first fae she could find—a lunar fae—and bargained her life for a promise that my mother and I would be taken to safety. The lunar fae took my grandmother’s life and burned her body, leaving it in my mother’s place for the humans to find the next day.”

  I’ve seen a lot of blood and gore during surgery, but the images in my head are somehow far more grim. The willing sacrifice of a life to save one’s child is more than I can imagine. “The lunar fae kept their end of the bargain, I assume.”

  “Yes. The fae took my mother to the Lunar Court, where Queen Nessina offered her sanctuary until she healed. Not even my father knew she lived, which was why he sought to avenge her death. Once Mother recovered, the queen secured safe passage for her to the mainland. I was born shortly after.”

  “Queen Nessina...” The name isn’t familiar to me. The current ruler of the Lunar Court is Queen Nyxia, a vampire fae. “Is she Queen Nyxia’s mother?”

  “Yes, and she was the one who convinced the council to exile my father as his punishment at the end of the war. Very few fae know the truth, that his penance was a mercy far more than it was a death sentence. Because it reunited him with us, let him live and die at my mother’s side after a human lifespan. But before the end of his life, my father took a promise from me.”

  “What promise?”

  “That I would refuse the punishment he’d been given. That I would return to the Fair Isle and live the immortal lifespan that was my blood right.”

  “That’s how you’ve been alive so long?”

  She nods. “Being near Faerwyvae’s magic slows my aging, but it’s never been safe for me to stay in any one place for an extended period, not when my agelessness could arouse suspicion. Sometimes I returned to the mainland, living there for years or decades, which is how I met your father. There were many times I thought I would stay away from the isle for good. When I met your father, I thought I was ready to do just that, to grow old with him. But then you and Amelie were born.”

  Tears glaze her eyes, and I feel mine swimming in response.
/>   She continues. “There was a light missing from the two of you, apparent from birth, and I felt it reflected inside me as well. Being on the mainland meant I was in a constant state of mental fog, of unease and illness. I had no connection to magic or healing. My existence was a flicker of life compared to the vitality I felt on the isle, and I could see my daughters were suffering the same. Amelie was a quiet, sallow, unhappy child. You were sickly and hardly did anything but cry. I realized then why my father had taken that promise from me, and why my grandmother had sacrificed her life for my mother and me; it’s one thing to suffer yourself, but it’s another to watch a child languish. That’s when I left your father to live in Eisleigh.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

  “I knew I’d have to tell you eventually, and perhaps I was wrong to keep the truth from you so long. You’d stop aging once you reached adulthood and we would need to move elsewhere. But the truth was dangerous. I wanted to keep the burden from you and Amelie as long as I could. By the time you were Chosen, it was too late. I couldn’t bring myself to further overwhelm the two of you.”

  I feel a flash of anger over her excuse for not explaining things before we were taken to Faerwyvae. If we’d known the truth, at least we would have been better prepared for complications such as this. But my attention is fixated on what she said before that.

  “Why was the truth so dangerous?” I ask. “I know the fae aren’t allowed to live on this side of the wall, and I understand our heritage compromised the treaty, but after how lenient the mayor has been with previous mishaps with the fae, why is this considered such a serious offense?”

  “It isn’t just that we have fae blood,” Mother says, expression grave. “It’s whose fae blood we have. My father wasn’t the only one included in his exile. Any possible descendants were sentenced to the same fate. My return to the Fair Isle went directly against that. And it isn’t just the humans you have to fear. There are fae who feel threatened by your very existence. It’s why I tried to keep you and Amelie safe from the Reaping. It’s always been a precarious balance, trying to stay close enough to the wall to benefit from Faerwyvae’s magic while maintaining a low profile.”

  “Why are the fae threatened by us?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know the answer. The mayor mentioned King Ustrin last night but never explained why. I recall what the Fire King said to me when I met him, that I felt like an old enemy. “King Ustrin is responsible for this, isn’t he?”

  She nods. “It was he I hoped you’d never meet, as he has benefited the most from my father’s exile. I wouldn’t be surprised if he orchestrated his demise in the first place. Someone caught my father with a human lover and convinced the humans to execute my mother. Now that I’ve seen firsthand what lengths he’ll go to, I’m certain he’s been against my father from the start.”

  “How did he turn the human council so firmly against us?”

  “He came to the apothecary three days ago and attacked me. I should have known his attack was a ruse. I should have known to stand down. But instinct had me returning the attack, and he saw my fire powers unleashed. As soon as he realized what I could do, he set the kitchen ablaze and disappeared.” She brings her hand to her heart, rubbing her palm over her chest as if the memory pains her.

  “Is the apothecary...”

  “It’s gone, Evie.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper. “I was still trying to smother the flames when the sheriff came. And the mayor. They took me into custody before the firefighters arrived. I’ve been told it is nothing but a charred husk.”

  My stomach churns at the impossibility of what she’s saying. The apothecary, her life’s passion, our home...it’s gone. “Why did you come with them? Why didn’t you fight them with these fire powers you have?”

  “I didn’t dare make any move against them, not when there was a chance I could convince them they were wrong. I knew King Ustrin would have given my identity away, but I underestimated how far he would go. He threatened the council, saying he would tell the fae that the humans broke the treaty by giving them a fae girl for the Reaping instead of a human like the treaty demands. That’s why the human council is so adamant about punishing me.”

  “That’s the real reason they’re giving Aspen a final chance with a new set of Chosen.” I nearly choke on the name of my mate. “They’re trying to shift the responsibility back to him.”

  Mother nods. “Still, I’d hoped I’d be able to sway them in the end, but I now know that was folly.”

  The defeat in her tone slashes at my heart, and I’m torn between guilt and sorrow. Guilt because the mayor was right. We are fae and Mother has been hiding our heritage. We’ve broken the law. But I feel sorrow too because I know what this is costing her. What this is costing all of us. It feels like that sorrow will open a chasm in the ground beneath me and swallow me whole. There’s only one thing I can do to keep from losing my mind. Seek logic. Truth. “They say they have proof. What does that mean?”

  Her face pales. “Yesterday, Henry Duveau paid me a visit.”

  “What is the significance of Mr. Duveau?”

  “He’s the descendant of the original councilman who exiled my father. I take it by now you know about the fae Bonding ritual?”

  “I have some firsthand experience.” I ignore the crushing pain in my chest at the confession.

  “The councilman who exiled my father did so with the power of the Bond, but it wasn’t just a regular Bond between them. It was a Legacy Bond, meaning it’s passed on by bloodline instead of ending with the death of the bargainers. My father’s Bond was extended to me, and I have passed it on to you and Amelie. Likewise, the original councilman passed it down through his family. Ever since the end of the war, Eisleigh’s council always reserves a seat for a man of the councilman’s blood. That’s their guarantee against any of my father’s descendants breaking the treaty with their return. All Mr. Duveau has to do is use my name—all our names—and we will be forced to obey our exile.”

  “So that’s who Mr. Duveau is.”

  “Yes. He has the power of my name and can use it against me. He did just that when the mayor brought him to my cell yesterday. With the power of my name, he commanded me to take his knife and cut myself. I did. They watched me bleed. Then they witnessed my skin heal right before their eyes.”

  My shoulders slump, and I feel that chasm of sorrow widen, feel myself slipping into it. It’s over. All of it. The council has irrefutable proof. Her trial will be nothing more than a farce. A mercy.

  “There’s no hope,” I whisper.

  Mother gives me a sad smile. “Not for me, no. But there may be hope for you.”

  10

  “What do you mean, there’s hope for me?” I search my mother’s face for understanding. “There’s nothing we can say to aid our case. We’re going to be exiled.”

  She leans closer to the bars, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Not if you run.”

  My stomach takes a dive. “I’m not going to do that, Mother. If Amelie and I don’t present ourselves at your trial, they are going to execute you.”

  “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  Her eyes well with tears, but they crinkle at the edges as she forces a smile. “Everything I’ve done since you girls were born was to give you the best possible life. I’ll gladly give mine if it means you get to live.”

  “Don’t say that.” My voice is a furious whisper. “You aren’t giving your life for us, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. Sure, it may be unfair that we’re being punished for the crimes of our ancestor, but the law is the law. At least this way all three of us keep our lives. We’ll be exiled, but we’ll be together. We can live out the remainder of our days in peace. No compromising the treaty. No hiding from fae who feel threatened by us.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re giving up by leaving the isle. Life on the mainland is but a half-life for those with fae b
lood.”

  “But it’s worth living. You said so yourself; you were willing to stay before we were born. And your father was given a merciful punishment by being allowed to live a mortal life with his loved ones. I’m willing to do the same.” Despite my optimistic words, my throat constricts at the bitter taste of them. Deep down, a spark of rage threatens to ignite.

  “You deserve so much more. You deserve to live a long life, to thrive on your own magic—”

  “What magic, Mother?” I say with a glare. My anger burns brighter. Even though I know it’s misdirected, it feels better than sorrow. My hands ball into fists. “Magic is nothing but trouble. Up until now, I lived without magic just fine. I was happy before I went to Faerwyvae. Amelie was happy. You were happy. I was going to go to medical school, and I would have if not for the idiotic Reaping. If not for a chance encounter while making a pointless offering at the wall.”

  Angry tears spring to my eyes as memories of that first time I met Aspen swim through my mind. I have yet to confess to Mother or Amelie that meeting him is what prompted all of this. My rage grows and grows, boiling inside me like a kettle ready to howl. I rise to my feet, gripping the bars of her cell.

  “Evelyn—”

  “It’s my fault.” The words burst from between my teeth and through my lips, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “It’s my fault for speaking to Aspen at the wall the night before the Reaping. And it’s his fault for choosing me after he killed the Holstrom girls. It’s your fault for endangering the treaty by bringing us here. And it’s your father’s fault for burning a village, and the villagers’ fault for executing his lover. It’s Queen Nessina’s fault for spiriting your mother away and telling no one. It’s everyone’s fault including my own and it makes me so furious I feel like I’m going to explode.”