Shameless Fae (The Fae Bounties Book 1)

by Cilla Raven

  Uncle stood after a few minutes and covered her nakedness with a sheet before he turned to me, the look in his eyes so sad I could feel his pain in the depths of my soul. Carefully, he picked me up, and I remember clinging to him as a flood of pained emotions finally broke free from me as if a dam were bursting.

  It’d been hard to breathe with how hard I was crying, snot and tears seeping into Uncle’s shirt as he drew slow circles on my back with one hand and carried me to wherever he was going, stepping lightly over the dead guards in the hallway. When he finally put me down, I barely even noticed we were back in his chambers, but as he kneeled before me, something about the way he was staring at me made my tears slow as I regarded him.

  “Tell me everything, Z, we haven’t got much time,” he said, and as I spilled everything I knew and saw, his eyes never once left mine, his hands never lost their sure and steady grip on mine. My tears had come in angry and spastic bursts as I recounted everything, my guilt for not being able to do anything about what happened dripping into every word I said, but as he spoke next, his words pulled me up short.

  “Z, I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say,” he said, effectively drying my tears as I strained my pointed ears to hear every word that came from his mouth. “Today, you witnessed something just… awful. Today, you saw just how evil this world can be,” he said before he sighed. “Today, you were just a princess, just a small fae girl who couldn’t do anything to help your mom, but starting tomorrow, you will learn to be more. You will become everything you need to be to face this evil world - a fae that strikes fear into the hearts of those that would do you and yours harm.”

  My voice had been stuck inside my throat, so I couldn’t speak while the weight of his words fell on my chest like an anchor being dropped into raging seas, one that I gratefully took hold of and clung to as my only way forward.

  “You will never be caught unprepared like your mother was tonight,” he paused for a breath before he continued, “You will become what she needed to be.”

  The few days after my mother’s death passed by in a blur and I don’t remember much beyond two very vivid memories from that time: the first, when Uncle started training me whenever we both got a chance to be free from prying eyes, and the second, when my father had arrived home and stepped into the castle for the first time since she’d passed.

  I’d been training with Uncle for a little over a week, and already, my vulnerable and weak exterior had begun to show the fruits of our labor. My muscles had been sore, but overall, I’d felt stronger, more agile, and more present in the moment. That training is probably why I remember the expression on my father’s face so clearly.

  That moment when our eyes had met, I’d thought for a second that maybe, just maybe, we would actually start to have some kind of a relationship. In that moment, I let myself believe my mother’s death could actually bring us closer together as father and daughter. But, as I started to run toward him with the intention of throwing myself into his arms, hoping he’d hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, the look on his face said he had no intention of living up to my expectations whatsoever.

  Cold.

  His face had been so cold I’d stopped running across the grand entryway, skidding to a stop not five feet in front of him as he’d stared down his nose at me.

  “What do you want?”

  Those were the first words my father said to me when he saw me for the first time after my mother, his wife, was murdered in our own home.

  I stammered a little as I always had in his intimidating presence, but eventually got the words out, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt as I’d asked, “Have you heard about Mama?”

  He scoffed at me and said, “Of course, child. I’m not stupid,” before he turned and started walking through the castle.

  I followed him, and to this day, I still don’t know why I did it, but I stomped my foot and asked him loud enough that it echoed through the cavernous space, “Then what are you going to do about it?”

  He turned around as quick as lightning and slapped me with an open palm hard enough to send me tumbling to the marble floor.

  “Do not question me, Zinnia. Mind your place, do you hear me?”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d hit me, nor was it his last, but it was that specific instance that made something shift inside me permanently. Kind of like how my mother’s death changed me and the way I think things through, that blow to my cheek altered the way I’ve looked at my father from that moment on.

  He wasn’t the father I wanted and craved attention from. He wasn’t even the king the people of Tavatika needed either. He was a mountain I needed to conquer, a stepping stone on my path that I needed to get past, and since then, I’ve never had an ounce of respect left for the fae man that sired me.

  In the weeks following Mama’s death, a few things had become painfully apparent: the fae men that’d killed her were probably working for the rebellion, and my father wasn’t going to do anything at all about her death.

  He didn’t hunt down members of the rebellion or send his army off to find their camps and strongholds or interrogate known associates. It didn’t even seem like he mourned her at all since not even two weeks later, he was headed off with another one of his concubines. He was gone for a few months after that, leaving the running of this kingdom to his right hand, Chancellor Extol, a habit he still did regularly, despite the obvious issues his absences have led to over the years.

  Shaking my head to dislodge all of my painful memories, I watch as the carriages out front get stripped of everything the fae royalty will need for their three day stay in my home, and I can’t help but feel a certain level of disgust for the materialistic mindset that seems to have gripped almost everyone I’ve ever met.

  Why do the monarchs of the Dual Dominion need so many trunks and crates anyway? I mean, I understand that they needed to survive the long journey to Tavatika, but did they really need everything they’ve brought with them? I really don’t see a need for, how many is that? Fifteen human servants? What purpose could that possibly serve?

  That’s one thing I can admire about the high chieftains and the Eruxus ambassador - they travel light, bringing with them only what they can pack on their beasts for the journey - no extra fae or human servants to pamper them while they travel, just themselves, a few bags, and their flying steeds.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Mika says, entering my bed-chamber without even knocking as usual. If she tried that kind of thing with any other person in the castle, she’d be in some real trouble, but she and I have that kind of relationship, one where we tend to ignore the rules when we’re alone with each other.

  We grew up together, and even though she’s my servant, she’s also my friend.

  I smile softly at her, knowing it won’t reach my eyes as I try to get my depressive thoughts out of my head and focus on what Mika has come to tell me, though I can guess it probably has something to do with getting me ready in time for tonight’s events.

  Seeming to know right away the troubles that plague me, she comes over to sit with me, resting a hand lightly on the top of one of my bare feet. “I know this time of year is hard for you, Princess. I’d take all the pain away from you if I could,” she offers, bringing a real and genuine smile to my lips at her thoughtfulness.

  Mika has the best heart of anyone I’ve ever known besides my mother. She’s thoughtful, extremely innocent, unjaded, and happy, unlike most other humans like her.

  As selfish as it might sound, I want her to keep that optimistic view of the world for as long as possible, if for no other reason than so I can bask in the joy she brings to my life because of it, so I don’t tell her about the sorrowful thoughts I’ve been having.

  “I know you would, Mika,” I say as I place one of my hands over hers.

  Smiling back at me, she takes a deep breath before she stands up, pulling me along with her, an innate enthusiasm escaping her in a w
ay that is purely her own, making her smile light up the room.

  She places her hands on her hips as she says, “Alright, Princess. It’s time to get you ready for the festivities. Your father wants to see you before the big dinner, so we don’t have a whole lot of time. Come on.”

  Only groaning on the inside, I follow her over to my wardrobe where she pulls out an outfit she knows will piss my father off because she knows me so well, and probably because she wants to give me something to smile about during the dinner with all the other royals.

  The actual day of Faedom Day doesn’t fall on the calendar for another two days. Still, the events leading up to it all start tonight with ‘The Meeting of Arorial’s Royals,’ a big to-do, black-tie dinner where the who’s who of all the nations show up to rub their previous year’s accomplishments in the faces of all the other fae in attendance.

  Okay, maybe I’m a little bitter, but still, it's true.

  In quick succession, Mika lays a pair of tight-fitting, brown leather pants, my black, knee-high boots that have a small heel built-in, and a light blue halter top made from flowing silk onto my bed as she says, “You may not be excited for Faedom Day, and I completely understand why, but I can’t wait.”

  “I know. You always have such a good time, and I get why, too. It’s the only day of the year where you’re not cooped up in this castle, working all day. It’s when you’re actually allowed to be yourself and do what you want to do,” I say as I reach for the straps of my top where they hang down between my wings. “I wish I could make every day like that for you.”

  Mika blushes at my words but doesn’t say anything more as she leaves me to stoke the fire while she waits for me to get dressed.

  Letting me dress myself was a hard-fought-for compromise we’d had to hash out when she first started working for me, without her mother’s guidance, about ten years ago.

  She’s been by my side every day since she learned how to sweep a floor and tend a fire, but always with her mother’s watchful eye and sharp tongue as her constant companion, up until she was old enough to look after my needs on her own. Our birthdays fell on the same week, and the year we both turned thirteen was the year she became basically independent from her mother. That week had been one of the worst weeks our friendship had ever had to endure.

  I’d been three years into leading my double life, which only two people in the entire world knew about, and I was getting sick and tired of being waited on, watched constantly, and fussed over by everyone, when all I wanted to do was blend in and become invisible.

  That independent streak I got from my mother had cemented itself in my psyche, and I’d been looking for any way I could find to change how I was being treated by those around me.

  I’d just assumed that when Mika took the reins from her mother, I’d be able to reason with her, persuade her into letting me do some things on my own. But instead, after quite a few screaming matches and even more tears, I’d realized that she’d been told her whole life that the only value she could bring to this world was measured by how well and how much she waited on me hand and foot.

  I’d never believed that, not for one second. Not with how good of a friend she’d been to me for all those years. Not with how my mother taught me to treat those that tend to us. Mama always treated her servants like they were her closest friends, and I had no intention of doing anything different to mine.

  It had taken a while to convince Mika otherwise, but eventually, we did reach a kind of compromise that made us both happy.

  She could still call me ‘Princess,’ for example, but she would stop bowing to me every time she saw me. She could pick out my clothes, but I would dress myself. She could gather logs for the fire, but I would tend it throughout the night if it needed it. This means she actually gets more sleep than any other servant in the castle because she doesn’t have to wake up during the night to walk all the way up to my chamber from the servants’ quarters just to throw another log on the fire.

  “Oh, I just can’t wait!” Mika says, a distant look in her eyes as if she’s reminiscing on previous Faedom Day celebrations. Her brown locks are disheveled from a long day of hard work but flow freely about her shoulders as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Swiping some of it out of her face, she says, “Every year is better than the last,” as I finish pulling on my boots. “You know, I even heard a rumor from some of the other servants that Umbra will be making an appearance! Do you think she’ll perform for us, Princess?”

  I giggle at her and say, “That was supposed to be kept a secret, but yes, I think she might.”

  “Oh, that’s just fantastic! I’m so excited! But don’t worry, Princess, I won’t tell anyone.” Her happy and enthusiastic face settles quickly into one of serious determination, the whiplash of her emotions, making me giggle even more.

  She’s always told me every thought that flows through her mind freely and uncensored, yet I can barely tell her half of the thoughts that float through mine.

  I can’t.

  “I know you won’t, Mika.”

  Loyal to a fault, that girl will do anything I ask, will keep any secret I entrust to her care, and she’ll take all of it to her grave if I ask her to.

  It’s why I can’t lay my burdens on her shoulders, why I keep my double life a secret from her: so she will never have to face exile or the guillotine because of the decisions I make.

  I don’t think she’ll be able to understand why I do the things I do every night, my need to see justice prevail, or my desire to escape the trappings of my life, even though she saw the aftermath of my mother’s murder.

  If she found out what I do, I doubt she’d leave my side. Still, she’d definitely look at me differently; the realization changing both her, and her opinion of me, and I could never jeopardize her future, even if it means lying to her every day and living with the mounting burden of guilt I feel for doing so.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to your father,” Mika says, knowing I hate being herded around by the guards, and that if she stays with me, the guards won’t pay me any attention, the requirement for my safety only being that I can never go anywhere alone. The whole concept of being watched continually is ridiculous to me, but such is the life of a princess.

  The walk to my father’s quarters is filled with silence as tension builds up inside my chest. Mika knows what happened the last time I saw my father, around this same time last year, and I can feel her nervous energy worsening by the second, her hands twisting together in front of her as we walk.

  Standing outside the doors to my father’s chancellery, the guards begin opening them for me without hesitation, and Mika offers me a worried smile before she says, “I’ll be right here waiting for you, Princess,” in a tone that means so much more than the actual words she said.

  Reading between the lines, I know she meant, “I’m sorry you have to do this again, and I’m sorry your father is such a crappy king and an even crappier father.”

  I offer her a gentle smile, lift my face in the air like I know he expects me to, and step through the doors silently.

  Chapter 2

  King Amenoday Thornfire is sitting regally on his leather bench by the fire as I enter, and the chancellor, Delrin Extol, announces my presence as if I were a guest in my own house, “Princess Zinnia Thornfire, your majesty,” before he steps out of the room.

  My father doesn’t even bother turning his head to see me, much less make an attempt at actually getting up to welcome me. The lack of action on his part isn’t unusual though, so I brush the slight off like I always do.

  Nerves creep under my skin as I sit down on the stool opposite him, making sure to keep my back straight, my wings taut in the perfect position, and my hands placed gingerly on my thighs.

  “Daughter,” Father says, almost angrily.

  “Father,” I reply like a smartass, mimicking his tone perfectly as I narrow my eyes in his direction.

  “I’ve heard you’ve been making quite a fuss ov
er my whereabouts.” He says this, not like a question, but more like an accusation, and I have to fight really hard not to roll my eyes at him.

  He’s talking about how the other day, I’d asked Chancellor Extol if he’d heard whether my father was ever coming back home again, and that slimy bastard had replied with something along the lines of, “Don’t you worry your pretty little face about that, child. Uncle Extol has everything under control.”

  That fae is not my uncle in any way, and just thinking about him makes my skin crawl.

  “I simply wondered if you would be making it back for Faedom Day,” I say in as cool a tone as I can manage before my anger and tongue get the better of me, and my words continue, “This has been the longest you’ve ever stayed away before. It’s been an entire year, for fae’s sake. I was beginning to wonder if I needed to step up as queen since you obviously don’t want to be here to run our kingdom anymore.”

  “There will be no need for that,” he says dismissively of both my words and my hostility, but I know I’m starting to get on his nerves by the way his jaw tightens. “You will become queen if you are married when I die, not before, and I don’t intend on dying any time soon.”

  I take a deep breath of air as I attempt to calm myself down before I speak again. “Be that as it may, Father, how am I supposed to know what needs to happen if you aren’t here and you don’t send word to me about where you are or what you’re doing? Am I just supposed to trust that you haven’t abandoned us or died when you’ve been gone for so long?”

  Looking pointedly at me for the first time in a year, his brown eyes meeting my blue ones, he says, “I did send word, just not to the likes of you.”

  His words are meant to cut right through me, a jab meant to blow me backward and throw me off. His intent is to shatter me, so I’ll quit being defiant. However, I am far from being that same little defenseless fae girl he used to slap around when I was younger, and he damn well knows it.