by Sofia Daniel
I took another look at the guy who was supposed to be my fated mate. He stared down me through sad, beetle-black eyes. Up close, he had handsome features, if anyone cared to look past that awful fuzz.
Leaning into him, I asked, “Why’s everyone laughing?”
His broad shoulders drooped. “Lady Gala does this to all the new girls who come in with glowing wings.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not your fated mate,” he said with a sigh. “The Fated made my wings glow just to laugh at your horrified reaction.”
“Oh.” Annoyance tightened my skin. Didn’t these faeries care that they’d made this poor guy endure rejection for their amusement? I hated Lady Gala before, but now I despised the rotten cow. “I’m really sorry—”
The male raised a large hand. “There’s no need. I’m used to it.”
From the hurt in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t, but I wouldn’t make him feel worse by pointing that out. Instead, I held out my hand. “Well, then, I’d be honored to be your friend. What’s your real name?”
“Pokeweed.” His gaze flickered toward Lady Gala, who had already settled in her silver seat, presumably no longer interested in humiliating either of us. “I’d better return to the kitchen.”
My shoulders drooped as he scurried through the dining hall. I should have guessed by the look of glee on the Fateds’ faces that this had been a set-up.
A large hand landed on my shoulder. “Well done, Unity,” said Gladiolus. “You handled that situation with grace. I’ll walk you over to the remedial tables, and—”
Someone screamed from the direction of Lady Gala’s table. I turned to find Lady Aster pointing at us with a hand clapped over her mouth.
“What?” Lady Gala shot out of her seat, letting the silver chair clatter to the marble floor.
The entire dining room fell silent, and everyone stared at Gladiolus and me. No, they were looking at what was behind us.
Power equivalent to that of the monsters I had encountered in the bargain circle made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My mind flashed back to the faerie with the serrated wings who had cursed my human life out of existence.
Gladiolus glanced over his shoulder and gasped. “Good lord!”
Holding my breath and bracing myself for a vision as terrifying as the one I had seen in the bargain circle, I turned around.
Standing in the doorway were Princes August, Caulden, and Rory, with an equally powerful fae with hair the exact cerise as cherry blossoms. I could only guess this was the fourth brother, Prince Bradwell of the Spring Court, as his features were similar to that of Prince Rory’s.
But their handsome looks weren’t the most striking aspect of their appearance. Each of the princes’ wings protruded from their backs and glowed as brightly as the afternoon sun.
And all four of them were glowering at my glowing wings.
Chapter 8
I watched a DVD of Survivor a few years ago, the show where a bunch of people get stranded in a remote location and have to live off the land and survive all kinds of ridiculous challenges. I hated it.
The show reminded me too much of life here on the Isle of Fae, so I swapped our stash of Survivor DVDs for jars of honey and asked Elijah to see if he could find The Bachelor instead.
Anyway, one of the contestants was explaining the fight-or-flight response, the body’s physical reactions in the face of a threat like a predator. It’s something that happens to humans as well as animals. There was also a third response—to freeze. It was when the mind recognized a no-hope situation, and the animal remained still or played dead in the hope that the predator would lose interest and walk away.
That’s how I felt, locked in the gazes of four fae princes. Like a mouse about to be devoured by four ridiculously handsome tomcats.
Prince Bradwell’s amber eyes narrowed, and his glowing, cerise wings expanded as though ready for battle. “What is the meaning of this?” he said in a voice cold enough to freeze my insides. “Some kind of prank?”
I turned to Gladiolus, hoping he would speak up for me like he had when I had first met the fated, but the older faerie continued gaping from my wings to those of the four princes.
Prince Caulden, the heir to the Winter Court, stepped forward. His wings were as white as freshly fallen snow with the tips glowing like the morning sky. “Who are you?”
“Unity,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “My name is Unity Quayle.”
“A halfling?” asked Prince August, whose lime-green eyes bore into mine. The Summer Prince’s wings reminded me of the sun shining on buttercups, with their incandescent tips.
“The outsiders found Unity last night in Hope Woods with her memories erased,” said Gladiolus, finally finding his voice. He launched into his explanation of some high fae lord deciding to disassociate himself from me to find my own way in life.
Throughout the older faerie’s monologue, Prince Rory stared at me with calculating eyes. The kind of contemplation market traders made when trying to work out the best way to run a scam. He was the heir to the Autumn Court and Lady Gala’s fated mate.
Of all the four princes, his reaction quickened my pulse the most. I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth he was planning.
“I will not accept this halfling,” said Prince Caulden. “And neither will my brothers.”
Princes August and Bradwell nodded, but Prince Rory swept his gaze up and down my form, assessing me for reasons I couldn’t yet fathom.
My throat dried, and I gulped several mouthfuls of air. This had to be a mistake. Fated mates were rare, and always one male matching one female. I was no expert in faeries, but I was pretty sure that a female didn’t get matched to four males who already had mates of their own.
Chatter broke out across the dining hall, and the students left their tables and gathered around us to gape. Even the pixies flew above us, straining to listen. My skin itched with all the attention. I was used to interacting with the lower fae in Doolish, but this many high faeries so close gave me palpitations.
“Out of my way!” screeched a female voice from beyond the throng.
Gladiolus stopped talking, and the crowd parted to reveal Lady Gala leading the three other Fated. I gulped. This was like one of those montages from an American high school movie, where the Queen Bee led her cohort of beauties through the hallway. Except there was no snappy theme music, this wasn’t in slow motion, and I wasn’t watching from the comfort of my sofa.
Fury blazed in each girl’s eyes, making my heart gallop faster than a centaur. I snatched my gaze away and stared at my feet.
“This is treason,” said Lady Gala. “An attack against the princes and punishable by death!” She prodded me hard in the chest, her slender finger freezing my rib.
Cold spread across my chest, warmed by the fury exploding through my veins. I’d bet my entire DVD collection that Lady Gala had been responsible for my cold response at seeing Pokeweed, along with the shuddering.
My head snapped up, and my wings flapped so hard, her platinum hair blew off her arrogant face. She couldn’t treat me like the lowly human she’d tried to bury in drake shit the day before. The wards had accepted me, and even if this was all a terrible mistake, I wasn’t going to let her push me around.
I shoved her hand away. “Get off!”
Lady Gala flinched, her gasp drowned out by the crowd’s shocked exclamation.
Everyone stepped back. I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for the worst.
Lady Gala’s face twisted into a rictus of rage. “Did you see that? The halfling just assaulted me!”
“Perhaps she didn’t like your attempt to freeze her heart.” Prince Rory ran a hand through his russet hair.
The tightening in my chest loosened a fraction. Something about the lightness in Prince Rory’s expression said he might not be wholly opposed to the idea of having me as his mate.
Maybe desperation was making me see optimism where it didn�
�t exist, but I was surrounded by angry faeries who looked ready to turn me into a cockroach. I stepped closer to Gladiolus, hoping he would intervene if Lady Gala convinced her friends to attack.
“Are you taking her side, now?” Lady Gala turned to the other Fated. “You see, this is the work of powerful, dark magic. The halfling is already turning our mates against us.”
Lady Aster clapped her hands to her face. “What if this is the work of Queen Maeve?”
My brows drew together. “I’m not in league with—”
“I see it!” Lady Salix staggered back, her willowy figure swaying as though blown by the wind. “The halfling is Queen Maeve’s daughter, sent to destroy us all.”
Angry mutterings spread across the crowd. I glanced from left to right, my mouth opening and closing, not producing words but ragged breaths.
If I told them I was a human under a curse, it might make the situation worse. For all I knew, Lady Salix might have been onto something. The dark faerie who had cursed me could have somehow been connected to the banished Queen Maeve.
“Dark magic is against the lore,” Lady Gala snapped. “Punishable by execution. I say we send her to King Oberon for judgment.”
“Everybody, please remain calm!” Gladiolus raised his palms.
Lady Gala grabbed Lady Aster’s hand. Both faeries raised their arms, directing a gust of icy wind into my face. Doubling over, I twisted around to protect my front, but one of the princes stepped forward and turned me around. From the frost coating his hands, I guessed it was Prince Caulden of the Winter Court.
“Kill the pretender,” someone shouted.
“Calm yourselves,” Gladiolus yelled over the noise.
I twisted around, looking for an escape, but the faeries surrounded us.
Strong arms scooped me up, cradled me to a hard chest, and my rescuer launched himself into the air. My stomach lurched, but it was nothing compared to the icy wind and angry shouts of the high faeries beneath us.
I raised my head, only to meet the fuzz-covered features of Pokeweed, the faerie who resembled a common moth. Below us, the crowd closed in on Gladiolus.
Gulping, I asked, “Why isn’t anyone following?”
“The wards allow staff members to perform certain kinds of magical feats,” replied Pokeweed. “He’s made us invisible or created a glamor that fools everyone into believing you’re still down there cowering.”
“Right.” I blew out a relieved breath as he flew me out through the fourth wall, which I had previously thought was a window.
Instead of hitting glass, magic fizzled against my skin, which I assumed was there to protect the students from the elements while allowing them to enjoy the spectacular view of Snaefell Palace and the mountains.
Why couldn’t my fated mate have been someone like Pokeweed instead of one of the sought-after princes? At worst, the Fated would have laughed at me, but they wouldn’t accuse me of dark magic. Now, they wanted me dead, and I needed a way to survive long enough to find Sicily.
Pokeweed flapped his moth wings, propelling us higher. The wind swirled around my ears, bringing with it the scent of violets. He stared down at me with eyes so black, I couldn’t tell his iris from his pupil.
“Why are you fated to be with the princes?” he asked.
“I…” The words died in the back of my throat. Telling the truth out loud might alert the wards that I was an intruder, and giving anyone an inkling that I was actually a human under a curse might get me assassinated. Lady Gala was already calling for my execution. “I’m not sure what’s happened.”
He flew around the pristine white building, up to a tower with crenelations. I squinted against the reflection of the sun on the window and focussed on Pokeweed. The hairs covering his face were patterned like a common moth—completely unlike anything I’d seen on the Isle of Fae. Even centaurs and satyrs had an exposure of bare skin, but everything about this poor guy seemed designed to repel others.
“Are you a high faerie or a half-blood?” I asked.
“Neither,” he replied. He remained silent for a moment, his lips pressed together as though holding back the intensity of his emotions. After a sigh, he said, “Both, but the story is complicated.”
Pokeweed didn’t elaborate, so I rested my head against his velvety neck. “Where does the headmistress stay?”
“Up in the donjon.” He gestured at the highest structure, a square tower in the middle of the castle that stood about ten stories, which ended in a protective wall with crenelations. Built above it was a round tower that stretched up to the sky, its jet roof reflecting the glare of the afternoon sun.
As we continued up toward the highest tower, I made the mistake of looking down. My stomach spasmed at the sight of the rooftops below. Moments later, he flew through an archway and deposited me on a stone floor.
“Thanks.” My voice echoed on the round walls.
“Mistress Ellyllon is in there.” He reached behind my back, making me step aside, and made two sharp raps on a wooden door.
It swung open, revealing a stone room containing nothing but a faerie sitting behind a glass desk. Her skin was as indigo as the midnight sky with pale blue hair and eyes that sparkled like stars.
She rose to her feet, raised her hand, and beckoned me closer. “Unity Quayle, I presume?”
When I turned around, Pokeweed was gone.
The faerie’s laughter tinkled like bells. “He won’t protect you from me. Come inside, child.”
“Um… Thanks.” I stepped into the stone room and looked around for a seat.
Her silver eyes skimmed my wings. “You have found your mate, I see.”
“How do you know?”
“The wards, my dear. They tell me everything, including your human past.”
My mouth dropped open. “You know?”
“The circumstances of your transformation were unfortunate, but I believe Lugh made the right decision.”
Anticipation made my heart skip several beats, and my chest swelled with hope. If the headmistress knew what had happened to me, she might also know what had happened to Sicily.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Mistress Ellyllon,” screeched a voice at the door. “I demand the destruction of this… this treacherous creature!”
My insides deflated, and I turned around to find Lady Gala and the three other Fated standing at the doorway with the four princes at their backs.
The headmistress’s pleasant features hardened. “You are in no position to make demands of me, child.”
Lady Gala flushed. “But I’m—”
“Fated?” Mistress Ellyllon raised a silvery eyebrow. “There are four princes and five fated mates. Simple mathematics tells me that at least one of you will never become a princess.”
All four girls’ faces fell, and I sucked in a deep breath through my nostrils. Right now, I couldn’t tell if the headmistress was on my side, trying to be neutral or plain sick of the spoiled and entitled Lady Gala. Whatever her reasons for not cow-towing to the younger faerie’s demands, I had to appreciate her level-headedness.
Lady Gala gaped, looking as though this was the first time someone had ever refused her demands.
The headmistress steepled her long, elegant features. “If any of you children had bothered to learn ancient history, you know that our very goddess had four mates, each fathering the four main races on the Isle of Fae.”
I swallowed hard. This was the second allusion that the humans on this island differed from the ones on the outside. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I focussed on the conversation.
“But fate is double-counting.” Lady Gala slammed her palm on her chest. “Prince Rory is mine, not the halfling’s.”
The other fated piped up with similar exclamations. The princes nodded their agreement, all except Prince Rory, who was staring at me.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I snatched my gaze away. What on earth was he thinking?
“Mistress Ell
yllon,” Prince Caulden’s voice sliced through the chatter. “May we summon the fates to recall their decision?”
The headmistress shook her head. “Nobody has seen the fates for centuries.”
“Then I demand we force their hand.” Prince Rory rubbed his chin.
“Explain,” said Mistress Ellyllon.
He stepped forward. “In the days of Queen Maeve, anyone vying for a position in her court had to prove their worth in a battle to the death.”
I reared back, my life flashing before my eyes. “Wait!”
The entire room went silent, and everyone stared at me, the weight of their glares making my skin itch.
I cleared my throat and straightened my spine. “It wouldn’t be fair, because I don’t have any magic or training in weapons. Can’t I just sign something saying that I don’t want a mate?”
Lady Asher snorted. She turned to Prince August, looking like she wanted to tell him a joke, but he looked down at her with a stony expression, indicating that he didn’t want to hear it.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” replied the headmistress.
“Why not?” I rasped.
“Prince Rory is correct,” she decided. “In a situation such as this with several candidates for the same position, the fates will decide who survives in a trial to the death.”
Every ounce of blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded. I had hoped Mistress Ellyllon was on my side, but it turned out that she was no better than the academy’s bloody wards.
“What?” I whispered.
The headmistress didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t have to, as her message reached me loud and gut-wrenchingly clear.
All four princes and their fated mates turned their attention to the person least likely to survive a trial to the death.
Me.
I swayed on my feet, hoping that everything from the time Sicily and I had gone to bed the night before the supposed shipment of iPads had been a dream. Something brought on by overindulging in one of Elijah’s delicacies. I might be able to brawl one or two of the faerie girls at a time, but I would lose in any kind of magical fight.
