Darkly Fae: The Moraine Cycle

by Tera Lynn Childs

“Because we can use that as excuse when I call off the wedding.”

  “When you call off the—“ Her question cut off abruptly. She stopped and considered him for a long moment. “I see. So you love her.”

  It was not a question.

  Cathair nodded. He had been prepared to walk away, for the good of the clan. But his near-death had brought life into perfect clarity. “As you have always shown, what is best for the clan is the strength of its leaders,” he said. “And I will be stronger with Winnie at my side.”

  He was not defying his mother so much as making sure she understood that he would not yield. Surely she would respect that.

  The silence stretched for so long that he began to worry his mother might never respond at all.

  “You are wise beyond your years,” she finally replied. “Besides, it would not do well to go to war with your bride’s clan.”

  “Is war inevitable?”

  “Even now, the Moraine army is readying itself for an assault on the Deachair palace.” The queen paced to the door, ready to return to her leadership duties, but then stopped. Without looking back, she added, “Go, find your love. When you return, you will both be needed.”

  The certainty of war could have made him doubt his decision, but it did not. Instead, it only solidified it. He knew in his heart that with Winnie at his side, both he and his clan would be stronger for the union.

  He threw off the covers and made ready to go back into the human world once more.

  Chapter 16

  Winnie watched the wolf slink away from the palace, slipping into shadows like ink into blackness. Like last night on the roof with Cathair, she felt herself both within and above the dream world. She was aware it was a dream, and also aware that she was not entirely in control of it.

  She had never dreamt about an animal before. While she had seen many creatures in her dreams, one had never been the focus before in the way she was actively pursuing this wolf. As if it was the star of the dream.

  When the wolf reached the perimeter guard station she finally understood why.

  Helpless to do anything but scream, Winnie did just that—screamed and screamed—as a woman stepped into the wolf’s path and the beast immediately launched onto the fae guard. It clawed at the frail body, tearing at her chest and shoulders. The wolf’s massive jaw clamped over the guard’s throat. In one fierce movement, teeth slashed flesh and suddenly there was blood everywhere.

  The wolf released its prey, leaving the guard limp on the ground, lifeless.

  Just like Winnie had found Cathair on the sidewalk.

  As the beast walked away, it turned back over its shoulder and stared straight at her. It could see her. Then it transformed before her eyes into a fae man. Into the queen’s advisor. Still he stared at her. Until he started to run.

  Winnie didn’t realize she was actually screaming until Aunt Maureen’s voice woke her.

  “Winnie, sweetheart,” she said, her tone both soothing and firm, “wake up. You’re only dreaming.”

  Winnie bolted upright, gasping for breath. Her blood roared through her veins and she felt the tickle of sweat across her forehead. It took her almost a full minute to focus, to realize she was in her bedroom, safe in her bed. Safe from Ultan.

  “There you are.” Aunt Maureen’s hand smoothed up and down Winnie’s back. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

  Winnie struggled to breathe, struggled to think.

  She wished her aunt’s reassurances were true. Things were so much easier when she believed her dreams were nothing but fantasy. But now she knew that everything she had just seen was actually happening. Had already happened.

  Which meant—she forced her mind to put the pieces together—that the wolf had attacked Cathair outside her house. The queen’s advisor had tried to kill the prince. Ultan was a traitor.

  “I have to warn them.” Winnie jumped out of bed and dashed to her closet. She grabbed jeans and a shirt and then headed for her dresser.

  “Whoa, Winnie, calm down.” Maureen stepped between her and the dresser. She grabbed Winnie by the shoulders. “It was just a dream.”

  Desperate, Winnie blurted, “It wasn’t. It’s not just a dream.”

  She shrugged off her aunt’s grip, surprised when Maureen let go so easily. Winnie knew her behavior must have seemed erratic, and she expected more resistance. Whatever the reason, she didn’t have time to wonder. Lives were at stake. The future of an entire fae clan was at stake.

  She dug out a bra and socks from her dresser drawer.

  Maureen wandered over to the bed and sat with a heavy bounce.

  “You see them, don’t you?” Her aunt’s voice sounded distant. Hollow.

  It made Winnie stop. “What?”

  Maureen’s gaze met hers. “The fae. You see them.”

  “How did you—“ Winnie froze, shocked. Maureen knew? “Did Gran tell you?”

  “Your grandmother?” Maureen frowned. “No. Your mother had the sight. And our mother before her. It passes only to the oldest.”

  Winnie dropped onto the bed next to her aunt. Her mother? Her mother had been able to see the fae? She’d never said anything.

  Everything made sense now. She had two powers because both sides of her family had fae magic. It was almost beyond comprehension.

  But Winnie didn’t have time to freak out about that. She had to get back to the veil, get back to Cathair, and tell him what she’d seen in her dream.

  “There’s more,” Winnie explained as she pulled on her clothes. “I don’t just see them in real life. I dream about them.”

  Maureen looked at her, eyes wide and confused. Then her confusion cleared. “Your stories.”

  “My stories,” Winnie agreed as she bent down and pulled on her shoes.

  “The prince?” Maureen’s smile softened. “You love him?”

  “I do. I really do.” Winnie yanked her laces tight. “My stories don’t come from dreams like I thought. They’re really happening. And right now, I have to go tell them what I saw.”

  Maureen didn’t argue as Winnie stood and walked to the door.

  “Wait,” her aunt said.

  Winnie stopped, afraid she was going to try to stop her.

  Instead, she heard her aunt push up from the bed. “I’ll drive you.”

  Chapter 17

  Cathair did not see the car until it was almost too late.

  He was so focused on getting back to Winnie, that he just barely saw the flash of blue in time to leap out of the way. Tires screeched on pavement. A voice shouted, “Stop, stop, Aunt Maureen!”

  Cathair picked himself up from the knee-high grass by the side of the road. As he stood, he saw Winnie climbing out of the car. Leaving the door wide open behind her, she raced across the blacktop.

  “Cathair!” she shouted. “Oh God, are you okay?”

  He caught her as she all but leaped into him. Eyes closed, he inhaled her berry-sweet scent. Wrapped her in his arms. Felt her in every inch of his being.

  “I am fine,” he insisted. “The car could not have hurt me.”

  She leaned back. “What? Oh right, the practically immortal thing.”

  He could not hold back the smile. He felt lighter than he had in months, years probably. With Winnie in his arms, everything felt right.

  “Your neck.” She tilted her head to get a closer look. “It’s all healed.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  If not for her efforts, he would be dead on the sidewalk next to her house and Ultan would likely have gotten away with his treachery. Perhaps no one would have even known his fate. They might have guessed he ran away, fleeing his arranged marriage to be with his human love. Perhaps that was what Ultan had planned.

  “I—“ She placed her hands on either side of his face. “I was so scared. I didn’t know if it would be enough. I didn’t know if I could save you and—“

  “Shhhh.” He wrapped his hands around hers. “It is well. I am well.”

  She stared,
unblinking, like she couldn’t quite believe it was true.

  “Oh!” She jerked back. “I need to tell you about my dream. I saw a wolf, the wolf I think attacked you.”

  “And it was Ultan,” he finished. “We have uncovered the traitor and driven him out.”

  “How could he do that? How could he try to kill his own prince?” She sounded genuinely confused by the idea of anyone perpetrating such evil.

  Cathair smiled at her goodness.

  “Greed for power corrupts the purest hearts,” he replied. Not that Ultan had ever had the purest heart. But Cathair had seen with his own eyes the cost of power lust. His father had been consumed by it. He would not let such darkness come between him and Winnie, not now that they were reunited.

  “There has been one benefit to Ultan’s betrayal,” Cathair said, his voice soft and full of the love he felt for Winnie. “I am free.”

  “Free?” she echoed.

  Cathair lifted her chin with a finger. “I.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Am.” Another to her forehead. “Free.” The final kiss landed on her mouth, and he sank into it. She welcomed the pressure of his lips on hers but then she suddenly jerked back.

  “You’re free,” she said, a goofy smile on her face. “You’re. Free.”

  “That is what I said.” He returned her smile.

  “So what you’re saying is,” she said, beaming, “that you’re free.”

  “That is the general idea.”

  Winnie kissed him. Hard.

  He felt like his heart might actually explode with joy.

  “Ahem.”

  Winnie pulled back, her cheeks flaming red. “Oh. Right.” She turned and gestured at the woman standing next to the car. “Cathair, this is my aunt Maureen. Is there any way she can…”

  She waved her hands vaguely at him, but he understood her meaning. He drew back his magic, peeling back the shield that hid him from human eyes.

  Winnie’s aunt gasped. “Unbelievable.”

  “Aunt Maureen, this is Cathair.” Winnie looped her arm through his. “Dark Prince of the Clan Moraine.”

  “I am…” Maureen shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  With a smile, Winnie turned back to him. “This is all really new to her.”

  He reached up, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. In this moment, with her in his arms, Cathair felt like the rest of the world—both human and fae—could just fade away. But he knew that could not last forever.

  “Were you coming to find me?” she asked.

  “I was,” he replied.

  “Good,” she said. “Because I was coming to find you.”

  “Then it seems like we found each other.”

  Though it did nothing for his magic, he could feel the contentment within her. Could feel the joy.

  “Will you come back with me?” he asked.

  “I can’t just… walk away. Not forever anyway.” She glanced back over her shoulder at her aunt, who seemed to be in some kind of shock. “I’m the only family she has.”

  “I’m not asking for forever. We can figure out forever later.”

  Her smile could have melted the coldest heart. She pulled away, went to speak with her aunt, who seemed only capable of nodding and wide-eyed staring. After a few minutes, Winnie returned to his side.

  “I told her I would be back soon. She understands.” She glanced back over her shoulder and waved. She turned her face up to him. “Did you know I have fae magic on both sides of my family?”

  “So I have recently heard.”

  Cathair took her hand in his, and together they walked into the forest.

  His mind swirled with all the joy and happiness he knew was coming.

  There would be pain and difficulty, too, he knew that. There always was.

  But he had faith. Besides, it wasn’t every day a seer pulled him out of dreams and found him real life. That was a deeper magic even than that which guarded his realm. A magic he couldn’t walk away from. He was going to take whatever magic he could, for as long as he could. Somehow he didn’t think there would be a shortage around Winnie.

  They could figure out the details later.

  Chapter 1

  “They are coming, Princess.”

  Arianne did not look up from the message she scribbled hastily on a scrap of parchment. “I know.”

  Margaux, her most trusted maid and confidante, rushed to her side. “It is worse than we feared,” she continued, her voice taut with worry. “They have rallied their forces. We will not—“

  “I know,” Arianne snapped. Her tone was too harsh, too abrupt. Margaux did not deserve such treatment. But they could not afford to waste time on proclamations of doom.

  News had spread quickly of the attempted assassination of the Moraine prince. Rumors were thick in the air, many saying that the villain had been colluding with the Deachair. With her clan.

  As there had been no communication since, she had to assume that the Moraine were choosing a military response over diplomatic.

  Yes, the situation was dire. The Deachair could not fall, she would not allow it. And she was the only one left to ensure their safety.

  Knowing her royal title would have no effect on the note’s recipient, she signed only her first name, then folded the parchment and addressed the note.

  “Take this.” She thrust the note into Margaux’s shaking hand. “Send it by our swiftest raven.”

  Margaux glanced at the parchment. Her face lost all color. “Princess, no—“

  “It may be our only option.” Arianne pushed to her feet.

  “There must be another way.” The maid could not tear her gaze away from the single word scrawled across the folded note. A most powerful word. A name.

  Callistra.

  “Go,” Arianne insisted, taking her friend by the shoulder and nudging her toward the door. “Hurry.”

  Their gazes met briefly; Margaux’s wide with terror, Arianne’s steady with a certainty she forced herself to feel. Any doubt she felt, she pushed deep into her toes. Yes, it was a risk. A dangerous choice.

  It seemed as though dangerous choices were the only ones available to her anymore.

  When Margaux still hesitated, Arianne drew herself up to full height, lifted her chin with as much hauteur as her royal tutors had repeatedly drilled into her, and commanded, “Now.”

  It was enough. Margaux nodded, then turned and rushed into the hall.

  The weight of her position, her responsibility, nearly crushed her. If she were the sort of fae to bemoan her lot, she would think herself too young for such a burden. She would melt under the pressure, give up the throne and let someone else—anyone else—be in charge.

  In truth, it was not duty that weighed on her. She had been born a princess and always knew she would eventually become queen. Though the duties came earlier than expected, she was well prepared. She had been trained countless hours in the arts of leadership and negotiation, diplomacy and confidence. She was made to rule.

  She was not, however, made to keep secrets. She learned at a very young age that she was not skilled at concealing the truth. If she snuck an extra cake from the kitchen, the cook got her to confess. If she did not finish her assigned reading, the tutor knew immediately. If she feigned illness to escape a boring royal ceremony, her mother saw through the deception.

  Her heart ached at the memory of her mother—the always laughing, always moving, always hugging, kissing, loving woman from whom Arianne got her dark curls and steadfast courage.

  Shaking off the past, Arianne crossed to her wardrobe and pulled open the doors.

  Missing her mother would not bring her back. Just as wishing things were different would not change their course.

  If that were so, her world would have changed a decade ago.

  Her fingers moved nimbly as she unlaced the front of her simple, everyday dress. It was too ordinary by half. If she were going to convince the Moraine to go along with her plan, she would have to play the part of proud,
powerful, prosperous leader to perfection. She needed something bolder, more conspicuous.

  The lavender.

  She pulled the shimmering silk gown out of her wardrobe.

  Margaux flew back into the chamber, breathless. “It is done.”

  Arianne nodded. “Good.”

  She stepped out of her dress and tossed it to the floor.

  When Margaux began to reach for the discarded gray cotton, Arianne said, “No. Leave it.”

  “Princess?”

  “There is no time.” Arianne handed Margaux the lavender silk. “But I have a plan.”

  Margaux did not question, just started helping Arianne into the gown. If luck was on their side, this might just save them all. Luck had not been on her side for some time. Some might believe that cause for despair. Arianne chose to believe she was long overdue.

  Chapter 2

  Tearloch Donne surveyed the gathered forces of the Morainian army. They were smaller than he would like. Less organized. And less powerful.

  There was nothing to be done for either weakness.

  Even with the combined numbers of the Royal Guard under Tearloch’s command, the Palace Watch under Liam’s, and the volunteer forces, if their sources were correct, the enemy would still outnumber them by a significant factor. The Moraine had never been the largest clan, but they had at one time been the most powerful. Were they still half so strong, the traitor Ultan never would have dared to attempt assassinating the Moraine prince. Never would have declared war on his own people and then fled in cowardice. And their meager forces would not now have been spread out around the Deachair palace, bathed in the glow of the setting sun and resting on the brink of battle.

  Their powers were so diminished that many could not even transform into ainmhi to make the journey easier, instead relying on horses to speed their travels.

  What they lacked in power and numbers, he hoped they made up for in fury. No fae royal had been assassinated in any of their lifetimes. That their much-loved high prince had been a feather’s-breadth from being the first brought their people to anger.