A Court of Silver Fae: Silver Fae Book Four

by KB Anne

  He stiffened, protective energy surging around him and blanketing me. “So, there’s a chance?”

  “If Christian shifted and got angry…”

  Frank leaned forward, bringing me with him. “What? He’d attack her?”

  “No,” I said struggling to free myself from his clutches. “I’ll be fine. I’ve run into Christian’s angry wolf. He couldn’t be more dangerous or angry than when he heard Jude talking to Starr when we were in the tunnels.”

  Frank clung to me. He was as stubborn and protective as Christian.

  “Di, are you sure?” Ben asked. He’d remained quiet giving only short verbal cues of agreement which was unlike him. He didn’t chatter endlessly like Coda, but he always talked. It appeared nerves got the best of him too.

  “Absolutely. Now, what do you need me to do?”

  Within minutes, I was lying on the floor of Ben’s bedroom. There were lit candles on every available surface.

  “What’s with all the candles?” Frank asked.

  “To create a twilight effect,” Bed said.

  I swallowed hard. I was really nervous, but I pretended I was calm, cool, and mostly collected. I practiced the breathing techniques Starr taught me to avoid a panic attack. So far, they were working, but it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge.

  Rebecca rested her hand on my shoulder. Her presence filled me with calmness. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” I whispered.

  She began talking. Her soft voice lulling me into a meditative state. After several minutes of deep breathing, she murmured, “You’re in a meadow. An endless meadow of wide open spaces. The sun just woke up. You are safe. Nothing will hurt you here. Do you see the wild flowers in bloom?”

  An explosion of color appeared in front of me. Their calming scents filled my nostrils. “I do.”

  “Good. There are birds above you. They are singing their morning song. Do you hear them?”

  A harmonious melody filled my ears. “I do.”

  “Good. Nothing will hurt you here. This meadow is your safe place. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. You are following a path. The path winds through the meadow to a log house. Do you see the house?”

  Before me a log house appeared. “I do.”

  “Good. Enter it. You don’t need to knock on the door. Christian is in there sleeping. Is he there?”

  I approached the log house but stopped.

  “Is he there?” Rebecca asked again.

  “No, he’s sleeping on the ground in front of it.”

  I sensed an energy shift from my friends but ignored it. I had a mission, and I planned on finishing it.

  “Wake him,” she whispered.

  I bent down beside him. “Christian, wake up. It’s me, Di.”

  His eyes flashed open. He stared at me, but he didn’t see me. His eyes were vacant, unseeing, void of his essence. He stood up without acknowledging my presence and began walking in the opposite direction down a different path.

  “Christian? Where are you going?” I called out hurrying after him.

  He gave no indication that he heard me. He continued walking toward an unknown destination. Rebecca didn’t mention he might sleepwalk.

  Never wake someone sleepwalking—that was the rule. I imagined if the sleepwalker was a wolf shapeshifter with very large canine teeth, the rule applied double. As the Chosen One, it must apply tenfold. I followed him keeping a safe distance.

  He followed the path to the ocean’s edge. A row boat was pulled up on the shoreline. He pushed it into the water.

  The endless ocean freaked me out. Plus, I didn’t have a lifejacket. Could a person drown in a meditation?

  I didn’t want to find out, but Christian left me no choice. He was obviously taking the boat out into the open water, so I was going with him.

  I took three deep breaths to steady myself, then sprinted to the boat. I grabbed the edge and flung myself into the hull in an act of athletic prowess that for me could only occur in a meditation. I landed softly, but the wood ribs still creaked.

  Christian didn’t react to the added passenger. He climbed in, grabbed the oars and rowed. He broke the surf as skillful as the beach guards Starr and I used to watch when her parents took us to the shore for vacation. I spent my time admiring the muscles required to get the boat across the waves without capsizing. Starr longed to one day do it herself.

  The oars squeaked stroke after stroke as Christian rowed us out to sea. I wanted to ask him if he had a destination in mind, but I didn’t want him to wake him and have him freak out in the middle of the ocean. I could swim, but I didn’t have the freakishly strong arms and legs of Starr and Frank, and nowhere near the lung capacity.

  After what felt like hours, a small island appeared in the distance. Christian kept up his steady rowing until the waves carried the boat onto the beach. He jumped out and took off across the sand.

  I climbed out and hurried after him. The sun blinded me. I used my hand to shield my eyes worried that in that brief second I’d lose him, but there was no need to worry. He didn’t go far or if he did, he had already returned. The reason he existed stood in front of him. Golden light of the sun created a halo effect around her.

  “Starr,” I whispered watching them watch each other. Immense happiness filled me. I tiptoed closer. I wasn’t normally an eavesdropper, but I was here to find out as much information as I could.

  The sand muffled my footsteps. Neither one acknowledged my presence. They only had eyes for each other.

  “Am I dreaming?” Starr whispered.

  Christian smiled down at her. “Would it be so bad if you were?”

  “I hurt so bad,” she whispered.

  Why was she hurting? Then I saw her shoulders and the metal straps attached to bolts, fucking bolts that looked they went through her shoulders. I tiptoed around her to check.

  I gasped aloud before slapping both my hands over my mouth. What the fuck?

  On her back was a metal cross from shoulder to shoulder and down her spine. The metal straps were attached to it. My gods, why did they do that to her?

  Christian didn’t notice any of it or if he did, maybe he knew in his dream-state he couldn’t remove it. He offered her his elbow instead.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m here now. A walk along the beach will heal you. Shall we?”

  Starr slid her arm in his. He led her to the water’s edge.

  I gasped again as I followed her bloody footsteps. What did they do to her?

  A gentle wave caressed her feet.

  She lifted one foot and looked over her shoulder. The blood was gone, in its place a healed sole. She lifted the other one, and it was healed as well. “They don’t hurt anymore.”

  He brushed her hair behind her ear.

  “No, I don’t expect they do.”

  Her worried face stared up at him. “Is this real?”

  He stepped closer.

  “You aren’t asking the right questions.”

  What did he mean by that? What questions should she be asking?

  He slid his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer. Their lips almost touched. I looked away to give them privacy. They deserved it.

  Christian whispered, “Wake up Starr, wake up.”

  “Jessalyn dear, wake up,” someone said in the distance. His voice echoed in our dreamscape. I hurried to see who called out to her. I had to know who her jailer was. I was close to the edge of the sand, almost to the path that led to a giant mansion. If I could just find out who it was…

  “Starr!” I yelled. “Starr, where are you?”

  I stepped onto the stone path.

  “You’re not welcome here,” the voice hissed.

  The world shimmered. The sky turned to black. I fought to stay in the dreamscape. I had to get to her. I had to…

  “She’s in danger,” I shouted. “She’s in danger.”

  Frank clutched me to his chest. “Who?”

  “St
arr,” I cried. “We have to save her. I tried. I tried so hard to get her,” I sobbed. “To bring her back. He took her. He has her.”

  Rebecca rested her hands on my shoulders. “Who Di? Who has Starr?”

  “Jerry White.”

  * * *

  The End

  Stay tuned for more of the Silver Fae Sage in

  February 2021

  * * *

  In the meantime, reviews are like dance parties. Sometimes awkward, sometimes spastic, but someone’s got to get them started!

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of

  Wide Awake: The Goddess Chronicles Book One

  About the Author

  Evil author person causing book hangovers since 2018. Known to erupt into malevolent laughter fits while she writes urban fantasy featuring fierce females, swoon worthy heroes who actually listen, and explosive action because everyone needs excitement in their lives.

  She writes the best-selling urban fantasy series, The Goddess Chronicles and The Silver Fae Series. She adores Celtic Mythology and Eastern Band of Cherokee legends, so all her books include heavy doses. She also has a thing for wolf shapeshifters, so you’ll find lots of drool worthy ones in her books.

  She lives in Northeast PA with 3 goblins, a task master, and a hell hound overlord. To find out more about here visit KBAnne.com

  The Goddess Chronicles and Silver Fae Series are ready for your consumption. Warning: May cause book hangovers.

  Visit her website for more information or to contact her at kbanne.com.

  WANT TO STAY IN THE LOOP?

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  Contact info:

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  Also by KB Anne

  The Silver Fae Series

  Silver Shift: A Silver Fae Novella

  Throne of Silver

  Silver Fae Hunter

  Heir of Wings and Shadows

  A Court of Silver Fae

  The Goddess Chronicles

  Wide Awake

  Blood Moon

  Dark Moon

  Shadow Moon

  Oak Moon

  Storm Moon

  The Goddess Chronicles Books 1-3 Boxset

  Wide Awake: The Goddess Chronicles Book One

  Witches, werewolves and magic aren’t just bedtime stories, they’re my story.

  * * *

  Gram tells me Druids live among us. They worship the forgotten Celtic gods that once ruled the Earth, and for centuries, they’ve practiced in Vernal Falls without incident.

  * * *

  I know nothing about Druids or Celtic gods. I only know the visions began when Breas, the new foreign exchange student, moved in next door. I also know my best friend Lizzie is obsessed with the spell book I found in Gram’s attic.

  * * *

  And someone is following me, which I find oddly comforting.

  * * *

  Breas provokes me—I mean really pisses me off. My friends protect me—but it’s mostly from myself. And a mysterious stranger wants me and I’m not sure what his intentions are, but I’m willing to take the risk.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, evil forces are supposed to be at work, and I need to decide if I’m the one to save them all. Guess what I think?

  * * *

  The Goddess Chronicles are a fast-paced contemporary fantasy adventure with a kick butt heroine, some hot powerful heroes, and loads of magic just to make things more explosive. If you like Twilight, Mortal Instruments, and Sarah J. Maas, you will love The Goddess Chronicles.

  The Prophecy

  One of love, one of light,

  Spring forth from the womb

  To guard from the night.

  * * *

  The power to heal. The power of youth.

  Their existence to all a living proof.

  * * *

  As immortality weighs,

  One shall fall, one shall rise,

  To perish from all humankind.

  Glitter-Farting Unicorns

  I lie. I cheat. I steal.

  Parents don’t trust me with their daughters or their sons.

  That desk shoved next to the teacher’s desk? Mine.

  The hint of smoke in the bathroom when you apply your lip gloss? That’s me.

  The “inappropriate” language scrawled across the fifty-seven million posters advertising the pep rally? You’re welcome.

  Did you find my use of color on the drawing depicting the mating habits of Kensey and her boyfriend particularly intriguing?

  Good. I’m glad we agree. But don’t get too comfortable with that bony ass of yours, because if I find you in my seat at the principal’s office, I’ll wrap my black-tipped daggers around your designer-label shirt and make you realize that after-school detention for skipping class is the least of your worries.

  “Freak,” you’ll mutter to yourself, and you’ll be right.

  Oh, and by the way, “Skunk Girl?”

  One would think the combined efforts of three-quarters of the junior class could serve as one master brain and come up with a nickname a bit more imaginative than “Skunk Girl.” Ever hear of Google?

  Honestly.

  The torture I’m subjected to on a daily basis is un-freaking-believable.

  “Gigi,” Mrs. Kelso whispers, pushing her bowl of fall-themed York Peppermint Patties over to me, “he caught you on film.”

  I shrug with indifference as I unwrap my orange-foiled mint. It’s only a matter of time before they kick me out. The school shouldn’t spend so much energy disciplining one troubled youth.

  Principal Donahue’s door swings open.

  Make that two troubled youths.

  At Donahue’s side stands a shiny new plaything.

  Black leather jacket.

  Black motorcycle boots.

  Ripped jeans.

  Tall, muscular body wearing his clothing admirably.

  Expulsion becomes the last thing on my mind. For once the rumors are true, and I am front and center to the greatest novelty our school has ever witnessed: the foreign exchange student. Three words packed with the promise of awkward fumblings in janitor’s closets without all that pesky long-term commitment business getting in the way.

  His steely gray eyes pin me in place like the dead swallowtail butterfly I mounted on cardboard when I was seven. Together we fall into a cheesy ’80s movie scene with sunshine beaming on the drool-worthy specimen while unicorns fart glitter rainbows out of their asses. In a long, drawn-out moment, I imagine all the legendary things we can do together.

  Until he opens his mouth.

  “You’re mine,” he says in a deep, husky Irish accent.

  The surprise of his voice combined with his words turns my brain into a useless pile of shit. I have no doubt that an extraterrestrial being is about to rip through my chest full-on Alien style.

  This boy—no, this man—glides across the room and out the door, leaving Mrs. Kelso and me staring at each other like mind-blown idiots. And the hammering in my chest makes me think I’m having a heart attack.

  “Doris!” Principal Donahue bellows from his doorway, jerking us back into the present. “Get Dr. McCleery on the line—”

  I reach for a black-foiled mint, hoping to steady my pounding heart. Why would Donahue need to speak to Uncle Mark anyway?

  “—And send in The Delinquent.”

  Ah, yes. That’s my other nickname.

  Original, I know.

  My heart continues to pound against my rib cage, but it has nothing to do with nerves about being called into the principal’s office. No, this chest pain is something different. Something life-threatening. I can only hope that Mrs.
Kelso’s defibrillator certifications are up to date, because if I die on shag carpeting installed by the lowest bidder it would be a travesty. Fitting, but a travesty.

  The mountains of reports teetering at the front corner of Donahue’s desk beg me to knock into them. I find nothing more beautiful than sending reams of paper spiraling in a chaotic rhythm to the floor. Well, except for maybe watching the giant of a man pick it all up.

  But not today.

  Today, foreign encounters of the bizarre kind have thrown off my thirst for small acts of violence and disruption.

  “Cigarettes, Gigi?” he says, followed by an exasperated sigh. “You don’t even smoke.”

  I choose not to disagree with him. When I lie my throat burns like the hot coals I almost swallowed at the Fourth of July barbecue involving intoxication, a dare, and a poorly executed circus trick. The cameras in the school don’t lie either. And the pack of cigarettes on his desk along with the zebra-print lighter carved with “Gigi” sitting on top of the green folder? Cold, hard evidence.

  I shrug. “I like the smell.”

  His eyebrows melt into his protruding forehead. Small children have gone lost in there, never to return.

  “You like the smell of cigarettes?”

  And so, begins our daily staring contest. Each of us searching for the missing plate in the other’s armor before loosing the final black iron arrow. These battles have gone on for hours. Sometimes days. Often weeks. Neither one of us willing to admit defeat. Neither one of us willing to yield.

  That is until today.

  The intercom squawks during a particularly intense clash. Donahue narrows his eyes, still glaring at me as he presses the button.