Shameless Fae (The Fae Bounties Book 1)

by Cilla Raven

  Tonight, the ballroom has been outfitted with six tables donning white tablecloths, glassware and silverware made by the finest artisan fae in all of Arorial, and strings of lit candles have been draped across the space from one wall to another in a grandiose display meant to set the perfect mood for conversation and to make each nation feel welcomed.

  From the six different flags hanging down from the candle strings to the centerpieces of each table displaying the native flowers from each nation, it’s clear that Tavatika wants everyone to be equally represented, even if, in reality, my father couldn’t care less about them.

  As I make my way into the ballroom, I can see that I’m already late.

  My father’s classic side-eye of disappointment reaches me almost instantly from where he’s talking to the high chieftain of Igamoxar on the other side of the room. A few other heads turn my way, and it’s evident by the offended glances I keep getting that the clothes I’m wearing and how sweaty I am are just not being appreciated by anyone.

  Ignoring the stares, I walk through the ballroom as if nothing at all is amiss and start about my duties as the princess, which basically means shaking hands with every other royal and smiling politely. It grates on my nerves that I can’t speak my mind or bring up the issues our nations are facing, but as a princess, I have to abide by the old saying, “Until a fae girl is married, her words will have no bearing.”

  As if my mind doesn’t work until I’ve had a cuff placed on my left wrist and a pretentious royal fae dick inside me, I think sarcastically as I find my first target - the Eruxus ambassador, hoping I can just stand with him until dinner is served and avoid conversing with anyone else.

  He’s my favorite of all the royals, mainly because he’s easy to talk to, and he’s one of only a few that can talk about much more than just his nation’s accomplishments over the last year. He can seem very imposing at first glance, but once you get to talking with him, his rough edges seem to ease. The bones he wears and his muscular frame are supposed to be frightening or intimidating, and probably are to some, but the softness in his eyes has never ceased to amaze me.

  He’s a fae that was once exactly like those I hunt every night, a criminal a long time ago.

  At some point, he went too far, and his wings were chopped off, his ears cropped, and he was banished to Eruxus- where all the nations of Arorial send the unlawful they no longer wish to deal with anymore. Somehow, a long time after that, he’d risen through the ranks of the forgotten heathens and became their ambassador- a job he’s taken very seriously for as long as I can remember.

  When our eyes meet, his smile is big and genuine, and he turns away from whoever he was talking to in order to greet me in a big hug.

  “Princess Zinnia,” he says as I hug him back. “It’s so good to see you again, my darling.”

  “Ambassador Falconwood, it’s good to see you, too.”

  Releasing me from his hold, he places two giant hands on my shoulders so he can look me in the eyes. “I see you are still dancing to your own rhythm just like your mother,” he says, eyeing my clothes with a mischievous grin.

  “Every chance I get.”

  His laughter is just as loud and jovial as I remember it being, and the sound brings a smile to my face as he lets go of my shoulders and hides his hands behind his back.

  The sound of glass shattering pulls my attention to the scene behind me and makes Nyx Falconwood’s laughter die off quickly. I step next to him so we can watch the room together.

  One of the human servants has dropped a tray of glass flutes right at the feet of Amarya’s monarchs, and deep red wine has spilled all over their invalid king, causing their queen to fuss over him in an attempt to clean him up. At the same time, she slings a slew of insults at the offensive human in outrage.

  “Well, there’s no need for all that,” Nyx says under his breath next to me as his face goes stern.

  I don’t think he meant for me to hear him, but I agree with him anyway as I motion toward Amarya’s queen. “Right. Her theatrics are causing more of a disruption than the spilled wine and broken glass.”

  Ambassador Falconwood glances at me with a sly smile before turning back to the scene unfolding before us and crosses his arms over his chest.

  Amarya’s monarchs, King Novus Winterray and Queen Cintrine Winterray are something of an anomaly. They come from a nation that no outsider has ever seen, and is shrouded in mystery. We don’t know what their natural resources are, what their population size is, or anything about them, really. They’re isolated from the outside world because of the high mountain ranges they hide behind, and because the alliance they have with the rulers of Wrogmar protects them and their secrets.

  From what I understand, there is only one path that leads into Amarya from Wrogmar, just like there’s only one path that leads from Wrogmar into Tavatika. However, where our path to Wrogmar is heavily traveled by fae and humans alike, the way from Wrogmar to Amarya is guarded and protected at a level unseen anywhere else in Arorial. Not even the gates to Eruxus are as heavily protected as that one path to the north.

  The two nations of Amarya and Wrogmar rule what we call The Dual Dominion, which is basically where they rule two separate nations so closely together that their partnership has long since crossed the line of close allies into something far more serious and complex.

  I assume goods from our southern nations still somehow make their way to Amarya, seeing as how King Winterray has an Igamoxar talisman to protect against sickness draped around his neck. Yet, from everything I’ve ever been taught, the only things that ever come out of Amarya are their monarchs for the Faedom Day celebrations.

  “Everyone, please take your seats so dinner may be served,” my father shouts out above the ruckus, and everyone starts moving to their assigned seats. Of course, that means I have to take the seat next to my father, but since he’s doing an excellent job of ignoring me, I return the favor and focus my attention on the food that, in short order, is placed in front of me.

  Looking around the room while I eat, I try to tune out my father’s whispered advances to his favorite concubine of the day who’s sitting on his other side. There will be a different one in that seat tomorrow if he hasn’t left again by then, and to think literally about the things he’s whispering in her ear, loud enough for me to hear, is enough to make my stomach turn upside down.

  The flowers in the vase in the center of our table start to wilt, and I have to force myself to think of happier things, so no one notices.

  Some fae are born with a little more power than others, and there never seems to be any rhyme or reason to the why’s or how’s of it. Sometimes it’s something really awesome, like the ability to move things with their minds. Other times, it’s something completely stupid and useless, like how I was born with the ability to have every plant in my vicinity express the emotions I’m feeling.

  I can’t make them grow with thought, but if I’m happy, the plants around me perk up and seem brighter. However, if I’m sad or upset in any way, they will wilt like crazy, sometimes dying and shriveling up right before my eyes.

  Quickly, I think about the bounty sheets burning a hole in my pocket with how much I want to read them, and almost instantly, the centerpiece’s flowers start to perk up again, and I smile to myself as I lift another bite of my croissant to my mouth.

  The tables are arranged in a hexagon formation where we can all stare at each other while we eat, but are far enough apart that we aren’t expected to speak to one another, which to me, doesn’t make much sense. I mean, if you’re going to have dinner with someone, shouldn’t you be near enough to have an actual conversation? But honestly, that’s how badly thought out a lot of things in Arorial tend to be.

  Directly across from Tavatika’s table is that of Amarya’s where Queen Winterray is quietly feeding a bite of food to her husband before she takes a bite for herself in a caring, but sad display of what I assume is a glimpse into their daily life together. It makes
me feel bad for them, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel like her outrage at the human earlier was still a bit uncalled for. However, now that I consider it, what she said and how she said it probably stemmed more from her being overwhelmed by taking care of her husband than it did from an outright hatred for humans, so I brush off my thoughts condemning her actions and look to the next table.

  At Wrogmar’s table, King Firo Winterfield and Queen Bedra Winterfield eat silently as they cast snobby stares at everyone in attendance as if we’re all beneath them in some way. To be honest, I like them the least. They’re always stuck up and arrogant, and parade their wealth around like a suit of pricey armor. They’re the ones I saw with so many trunks and servants earlier, and as I make eye contact with the queen, I know the disgust on my face probably matches hers as we regard one another.

  Sighing, I look over to where the high chieftain of Lotaque sits alone, lazily resting his elbows on the table as he eats slowly, a happy expression on his tanned face as he looks around the room finding everything and nothing of interest since his gaze just keeps wandering. He’s a weird one, that High Chieftain Ginko Meadowlight. He’s always smiling, never gets riled up over anything, and has the most laid-back demeanor of anyone I think I’ve ever met.

  Last year on Faedom Day, we had an almost hour-long conversation about stars of all things. He’s from the grasslands, where he said the stars shine the brightest and clearest in all of Arorial, and the passion with which he described it to me still makes me smile when I think about it. Really, I think you could give that fae man any topic, and he’d sit there and tell you almost everything he knows about it with barely taking a breath before he said even more.

  The other chieftain in attendance is High Chieftain Calique Leafripple of Igamoxar, and he couldn’t be more different from Chieftain Meadowlight if he tried. He’s reticent, only speaking when absolutely necessary, which is hardly ever, and everything about him just radiates an explosion waiting to happen. He’s a warrior through and through. His entire nation is made of warriors. They’re separated into tribes that protect the rest of Arorial by guarding the wall they have that borders Eruxus. The only way to become high chieftain in their land is to fight for it, not like how Chieftain Meadowlight was voted in by the tribes of his populace.

  Our three nations, Tavatika, Lotaque, and Igamoxar, make up what we call The Lush Lands, the greenest parts of Arorial, with our temperate forests, Lotaque’s grasslands, and Igamoxar’s rainforests. The Dual Dominion (Amarya and Wrogmar) is made up of snowy tundra and ice from what I’ve heard, but again, no one’s seen Amarya, so I can’t be too sure about that. The outlier is Eruxus. We call that land The Bone Reach because nothing but bones survives its harsh heat and lack of natural food resources.

  The deal we all have with Eruxus is that we will supply them with food, water, medicinal plants, and the like, sparing their lives when they’ve committed so many crimes, as long as they mine and give us the gems from that region and take in our criminals without question.

  It was a deal made nearly a century ago and has been upheld since without many problems to speak of. To be the land of the lawless, Eruxus seems relatively quiet in comparison with the other nations of Arorial. Well, other than Amarya.

  Occasionally we’ll hear stories of people trying to escape Eruxus, but the warrior tribes of Igamoxar have handled all of those expeditiously, and they wear their pride for controlling those outbreaks like a rite of passage in their culture.

  “Thank you for joining us for dinner tonight, leaders of Arorial. It is a true pleasure to see you all again,” my father says, thoroughly distracting me from my thoughts. “It’s time for us all to retire for the evening, I’m sure you’re all tired from your long journeys, but as you know, the festivities will recommence bright and early tomorrow morning with the royal hunt. Goodnight, leaders.” He doesn’t spare me, or anyone else for that matter, a glance as he turns and retreats down the staircase to the castle with his fae woman on his arm, their wings wiggling against each other in an overtly sexual display that should never occur outside the bedroom, and I jerk my eyes back to my plate as I try to keep my food inside my stomach.

  I notice Ambassador Falconwood stacking his utensils and his napkin on his plate, cleaning up his own mess, and making an honest attempt to help out the servants. The action distracts me enough from my father’s antics to bring another smile to my face.

  It’s hard to imagine him as the criminal I know he must have been at one time as I watch him hand his plate over to the servant, surprising her to no end. He just seems to have too big of a heart to actually commit a crime, but as I think that thought, the bounty sheets in my pocket jump to the forefront of my mind, and within minutes, I’m practically running through the castle back to my bed-chamber to play the rest of my princess duties out for the day so I can get started on capturing the fae depicted on the sheets.

  Chapter 4

  A few hours later, I’m lying in my bed, listening to Mika tell me about her day while I double-check my blankets to make sure she can’t see the castle guard’s uniform I’m wearing to bed. It’s uncomfortable and restrictive, especially on my wings, but I deal with the sensations as best as I can so she won’t think anything is going on. If she saw the stolen uniform, it would spark a conversation I’m just not willing to have with her.

  “Alright, I’m done for the day. I’ll quit talking your ears off now so you can get some sleep,” she says on a sigh before she starts heading toward the door.

  Smiling, I say, “You could never talk these pointed things off my head. Goodnight, Mika.”

  “Goodnight, Princess,” she says as she closes my door behind her and makes her way back to the servants’ quarters.

  As soon as I know she’s gone for the night, I throw my covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed, lock my door, and pad over to the side of my dresser. Running my hand down the length of it, I feel for the chip in the wood where I need to place my finger to activate the mechanism within. I press on the trigger inside the small hole and hear the indicative click that makes a small compartment open out of the side.

  Uncle made the dresser custom for me right after my mother passed, and my training with him began. He’d said every good bounty hunter needed a place to stash things, and over the years, he’s given me plenty of things to hide and plenty of things like my dresser to hide them all in.

  Reaching inside, I pull out two glass containers from the plethora of others that surround them. One jar has some old flower petals, browned from age, tucked inside. The other has freshly plucked black flower petals I refilled yesterday.

  These flowers are like disguise potions and are made from some of the rarest plants in existence. Each one has a different effect, and depending on the situation, I may use a few on any given night. Luckily, Uncle grows them for me, so I never run out.

  The brown petals will turn my big black feathery wings a drab sort of brown color and will offer me the disguise I’ll need to make it out of the castle unnoticed, especially when combined with the guard’s armor I’m wearing and the helmet I plan on putting over my face before I leave. I don’t usually steal uniforms to escape the notice of onlookers. In fact, most of the time, after sunset, I pretty much have the place to myself. However, with my father being home and a bunch of other royals staying over, the place is filled to the brim with eyes I need to avoid.

  The black flower petals will allow me to lose the disguise if I find myself in a pinch by returning my wings to their natural black coloring, and at Uncle’s insistence, I’ve always carried some of them with me, whether I ended up needing them or not.

  My plan for tonight is to simply find and watch the four criminal fae, see what they’re up to, figure out why they’re here in the first place, that kind of thing.

  With my palms sweating and my heart beating loud inside my chest, I chew on the dried petals and try to ignore my nervous anticipation as my wings shake with the color change they’re
experiencing.

  You’d think after so many years of bounty hunting on my own, I’d have gotten over how nervous sneaking out of the castle made me, but no. I think my trepidation has only grown worse over time. My first solo hunt took place when I was fifteen, but even now, at twenty-three, I’m still worried about being caught. The fact that I’m an adult fae doesn’t matter one bit to my society when it comes to allowing me to make my own decisions.

  A princess shouldn’t be bounty hunting on the side to exact revenge for her personal vendettas. I’m supposed to be the picture of elegance and refinement, watched and monitored by those that would rat me out to my father if I ever gave them half a chance. Most servants, guards, or anyone for that matter, would stop at nothing, would do anything to have my father’s ear, to gain the king’s favor. And it’s those precious fuckers I try to avoid as much as faely possible.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the sheets Uncle gave me earlier, and study the faces and names on them one last time:

  Lazlo Cren of Igamoxar

  Male with teal wings (Trader)

  Suspected captain for the rebellion

  Of average height with a muscular frame.

  Lighter skin tone, dark hair, brown eyes, scruffy beard.

  Charged with: murder, theft, trespassing, evading arrest, and crimes against Arorial.

  Roan Grissom (Origin Unknown)

  Male with brown wings (Guard)