Kingdom of Yesterday's Lies (Royals of Faery Book 1)

by Hayley Osborn

  “I do. And you should never forget that about me.”

  “But—”

  “I need to rest.”

  That was the end of the conversation. He didn’t speak to me again until the guards had come down with food and water two more times, and I tried to put what he’d said to the back of my mind. I went back to attempting magic without talking.

  Magic wasn’t easy at all. Thinking about the bowl moving didn’t suddenly make it move. Envisioning it didn’t help. Having Fergus talk through how he did it while I followed along didn’t work. My bowl remained planted firmly on the stone floor. I even tried while he was sleeping, but nothing helped.

  When I swore the following day, still not able to do what he deemed simple, he bribed me with music. As I worked, Fergus sang.

  “Isn’t music banned in Faery?” I looked up from my food bowl as if I could see Fergus through the wall. I wished I could. He seemed stronger than yesterday, and the day before, but still not himself. I wished I could see if he was all right.

  “It is. But what are they going to do? There’s not much worse than this, right?”

  Except death. I stared at my bowl, willing it to move. “I guess not.”

  “Did you ever hear the tale why music is not allowed?”

  I looked toward Fergus’ cell again. That was the first time he’d offered any conversation since he arrived. Usually, it was me talking and him answering. “No.”

  There was some shuffling as he made himself comfortable. His voice grew deep as he began his story. “Long ago, the most beautiful young woman the two kingdoms had ever known lived in Faery. She was kind and caring. All the boys wanted to marry her, all the girls wanted to be just like her.”

  I hesitated in my work, already interested in his story. “Did she live in Seelie or Unseelie?”

  There was a brief pause. “You know, I don’t know. And I never thought to ask. Let’s say Unseelie. Anyway, this young woman spent hours working with the sick, or teaching, or spending time with the frail, doing anything anyone wanted from her. She worked with a smile and always sang. Just hearing her voice could make a bad day good. Until the day she disappeared.”

  “That seems to happen a lot in Faery,” I said dryly. “Or at least a lot in any stories I’ve heard of Faery.”

  Fergus didn’t bite, continuing as if I hadn’t interrupted. “Fae everywhere searched the land and never found a trace.”

  I frowned. “What does that have to do with music?”

  His voice was growing weaker. He’d need to rest soon, but he answered anyway. “She was so beloved by the king and he was so heartbroken when she disappeared that he outlawed all music, especially singing, so as not to be reminded of her.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s the reason?” I laughed. Fae had banned music in their lands and ours, all because the king was sad? He should try living in Iadrun after the Wild Hunt had been there, then he’d know what sad was.

  “You don’t think it’s good enough?” His voice was soft.

  “I think it’s the height of arrogance.” It was a pathetic reason to outlaw something so beautiful.

  “Fergus?” I called days later as I was still attempting to move my bowl and getting nowhere.

  “Hmm.” He still spoke very little down here. Each word a massive effort.

  “Why did you come here? To Seelie.” The question kept bothering me, jumping into my mind each time I tried to fall asleep and demanding an answer. He’d told me it was dangerous for him or Jax to be caught in Seelie. I didn’t understand why he’d risked coming here.

  There was shuffling and a grunt from his cell, and his voice moved closer than it had been the whole time he’d been here, like he was leaning on the wall that separated us. “Despite all indications being that you are the dead Seelie princess and therefore my enemy, and against my better judgement, I find I quite like your company.”

  “Seems like a good reason to spend your days locked beneath a castle.” Against my better judgement and to my complete surprise, I enjoyed his company, too.

  He gave a quiet chuckle. “Not my best thought out plan, I concede.” He let out a deep sigh. “There are things you don’t know, and I have no doubt that once you learn them, you will hate me and never speak to me again.” I imagined him resting his head back against the cell wall.

  Seemed a little over dramatic. “Did you forget you’re the only person I can possibly speak to at the moment?”

  “Even so...”

  I sighed. Loudly. My curiosity was now piqued. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Fergus. That there’s no need to tell me whatever it is you’re keeping to yourself? Because now we’ve started this conversation, I really want to know.” Shifting my bowl was momentarily forgotten.

  Fergus’ voice dropped lower, and I moved to the edge of my cell, right next to his, to hear. “I pushed you to come here. I was trying to get you to do it from the moment I brought you to Lanwick.”

  “You didn’t want me to stay there?” A moment ago, he’d told me he enjoyed my company. That admission had made me unexpectedly happy. Now he was saying he wanted me off his island? “Why didn’t you just ask me to leave?” Better yet, why invite me there in the first place? My heart sank to my toes. He’d blindsided me with his words. “It’s better if you hate me.” His voice was quiet.

  “I don’t hate you, Fergus. Not anymore.” Not since he saved my life the day the king took Mother. “I’m just … confused.”

  “If you knew me better, you’d understand. I’m a coward. I didn’t want to cast you out and leave you to find your way alone in Faery. But if you left of your own accord and you had somewhere to go, my conscience was clear.” His voice had grown so emotionless and flat it didn’t even sound like him.

  I felt like my chest was caving in. Perhaps we were never quite friends, but we’d been more than acquaintances. I didn’t understand how I’d read him so wrong. “If you hate me that much, why are you here?” The prison was unusually quiet as I awaited his answer.

  The silence was long, and I thought he’d fallen asleep until he continued. “I was with Father for three days after you left, still trying to find out why he’d taken your mother and where he might have hidden her, when one of his spies rode in, directly from Seelie. She’d ridden for two days solid and was so exhausted she almost fainted in front of us. Before that could happen and before Father could send me away, she blurted out her message. The dead princess had returned to Seelie. And Rhiannon had locked her in her dungeon, where she’d stay until they could arrange a public execution.” His voice dropped even lower. “I knew without a doubt the moment she said it, that you were the princess Rhiannon had captured. But I swear I didn’t know who you were until then, Bria. I’d never have made you come here if I thought you were the lost princess.”

  I shook my head, my heart still hurting from his admission. “Why not? With me dead, aren’t your problems solved? You can keep your father searching for the woman you’re pretend-bonded to, and no one will be any wiser.”

  “I didn’t want you dead, Bria. I never wanted that. I just wanted you … gone. Hidden away somewhere Father couldn’t find you.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind,” I whispered.

  I heard him swallow. “That’s what I thought. When I discovered you were the princess, I knew you weren’t safe here. I came to rescue you, but a guard caught me trying to break into the prison.”

  His reasoning for all his actions made no sense. “Why are you so against having to marry? Once you do, you’ll eventually become king. As king, don’t you get to make the rules? Couldn’t you just decide you want to be king and Xion?” If he married—someone other than me—and eventually received the crown, he could start making the rules and enjoying his life. He’d no longer have to pretend to be bonded. All his decisions would be his own. If I were him, I’d want that crown as soon as possible. Which probably meant it wasn’t so much marriage he ob
jected to, but marrying me.

  “You’ve seen my father. Do you see any differences between our personalities? Actually, don’t answer. I already know you don’t. You can’t think of a worse fate than being fae.” It was the most force he’d spoken with since he arrived.

  It was no secret I didn’t want to accept my fae heritage, but he was wrong about the rest. I saw the differences between the king and his son. Fergus wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t unfeeling. He wasn’t ruthless. Xion Starguard, on the other hand, was all those things, his personality much closer to that of the king. And Xion was part of Fergus. “But I’ve seen you in the Wild Hunt—”

  “Ah, yes. The Wild Hunt. That tells you all you need to know about me, right?” His voice vibrated with rage and darkness.

  I’d managed to keep hold of my emotions, but a hint of anger rose in my voice in response. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. “Shouldn’t it?” Just because he hid those parts of himself until he was Xion didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

  “No! You should…” His voice petered out.

  I waited, but the silence stretched on. “I should what?”

  He laughed. It was cold and hard. “I hardly think you will do anything I suggest. I’m a cruel and hard-hearted fae, after all.”

  What was driving this anger? I’d never said these things to him. Not directly, at least, though I’d thought something similar in the past. “Not always,” I whispered.

  His voice was just as soft when he spoke again. “And yet you still expect the worst of me.”

  His admonishment was on target. He’d hurt Mother, but he’d fixed her as well. He’d carried Father from our home, but he hadn’t been the one who’d killed him. He’d saved my life in the forest in Iadrun. Fergus was still Xion Starguard, and his reputation proceeded him, but he wasn’t Xion right now. And he hadn’t been for most of the time I’d known him. “I’m sorry.”

  He sighed, returning to my original question. “I don’t have the stomach for what’s required of me as king.”

  “Anyone want food?” Tarryn banged a mug against the stone wall, holding a torch in his other hand. The sudden racket made me jump. With Fergus’ torch burning and our strained conversation, I hadn’t noticed the guards heading our way. Today he had with him two guards instead of one. One held our bowls while the extra guard held a torch in each hand.

  My heart rate kicked up. Something was different. I’d kept my imagination in check about what would become of me, but with Fergus mentioning execution, my imagination ramped up. Were they here for me? To kill me? To hurt me? For some other hideous reason I couldn’t even imagine?

  “Princess.” Queen Rhiannon’s voice bounced off the stone walls as she picked her way down the staircase behind the guard carrying the torches. She held her dress up off the floor, showing off her delicate black ankle boots. “You must be hungry.”

  I kept my eyes on the ground. I would not engage. She’d tricked me once. I wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

  “Thirsty?”

  Stars, yes. I didn’t move.

  “Oh, Princess.” She strolled toward my cell, her boots tapping on the stone. “I know you’re thirsty. Do you know how I know? Because my guards give you just enough water to survive. Never enough to quench your thirst.”

  With her words, my throat grew drier than it ever had.

  “But today, I’m in a generous mood and I’ve brought something special with me. Two mugs filled to the brim with ice cold water. Just for you.”

  I lifted my head, certain she must be joking. But no. Her dress was no longer in her hands. Instead she held two mugs, water sloshing onto the ground each time she took a step. I licked my lips, my tongue barely wet enough to make a difference. “What do you want in exchange?” I bit down on my question, wishing I could have ignored her, but it was an effort not reach through the bars and rip the mug from her hand.

  “Bria.” Fergus’ low voice contained a warning. Believe nothing she tells you. Trust nothing she offers.

  “Give up your right to the Seelie throne.” Queen Rhiannon held one mug of water out toward my cell.

  I didn’t want the Seelie throne, but surely giving it up was worth more than two mugs of water, no matter how thirsty I was. “You’ll set me free if I agree?”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed, and she puffed out her chest. “Did I say anything about setting you free? My offer was for extra water.” Her voice grew loud and shrill. With a disgusted glance down my body, she lifted one mug into the air and upended it.

  As the water hit the ground, a drop bounced onto my leg. I scooped it onto my finger and put it in my mouth. It tasted so good, but it wasn’t enough. Perhaps I’d made the wrong decision. I needed water. I’d die without it. I reached my hand between the bars, careful not to touch them. “Please.”

  “You agree to give up your right to the Seelie throne?”

  Wait, no. That had been the agreement for the extra water. Not for my usual ration. I opened my mouth to object but before I could, the queen tipped the other mug over the ground. Then she slapped both mine and Fergus’ bowls of food out of the guard’s hand where they fell onto the floor.

  I stared at the stale bread and slop lying out of reach. There’d be no food or water for either of us until they returned. I turned away, walking to the back of the cell. It was more of a reaction than I wanted to give, but better than dissolving into tears which is what I felt like doing.

  The queen laughed. Tarryn did the same.

  I shattered.

  I whirled around and ran at the cell bars. With each step, Mother’s voice echoed in my head spouting words I’d heeded every day of my life. She wants a reaction, then she wants to use that reaction against you. Don’t respond, Bria. You’re better than that. But I wasn’t better. I was angry, and I was sick of taking everyone else’s crap like they shouldn’t have to own the way they acted. I was also beside myself with hunger and thirst.

  Heat washed over me, the warmth starting in my chest and radiating out to my hands. I hadn’t been warm in all the time I’d spent down here. Before I could enjoy the feeling, the cell lit up with pink light. The queen’s eyes rounded and my palms itched.

  A loud crack sounded from high above. It seemed to go on forever.

  With a deafening crash, hundreds of rocks fell from somewhere high above and the pink light flickered out. But not before the guards were hit then buried beneath the falling rocks.

  THIRTEEN

  One moment the guards all stood in front of me, heads thrown back in laughter, the next they were gone, entombed beneath a pile of rubble that fell for so long, I wasn’t sure it would ever stop. Though I wished it weren’t true, I was sure the queen had saved herself. Her form flickered away just as the first stones fell.

  When the noise quietened and the rocks stopped moving, a thin layer of dust coated my body. None of the rocks had fallen on me. Or near me.

  I turned in a slow circle.

  I was no longer trapped in darkness. The rocks had come down from high above, leaving a jagged hole to the outside world through which light filtered. Around my feet, I could walk two paces in every direction before I’d have to climb the rockfall to move. When I stood in just the right place, I could see the grassy side of a hill, and, for the first time in a long time, I could see the sky. Even murky gray, as it was today, it was beautiful.

  Better yet, if I climbed up the pile of fallen rocks, I could reach that hole in the ceiling and escape this cell to freedom.

  But I wasn’t going without Fergus.

  I rubbed my itching palms together while a slate colored cloud drifted by. The wall between our cells was now an enormous pile of rubble.

  “Bria!” All around, the prison walls groaned like they might collapse at any moment, but the muffled sound of Fergus’ voice floated over the noise.

  I scrambled up the rubble that was once the wall between our cells, dodging an iron rod that jutted from the rocks. �
��Fergus? Are you all right?” Hundreds of rocks had come down into his cell before spilling out past the iron bars and into the corridor where the guards had stood. I climbed carefully, searching for his black mop of hair among the rockfall.

  “Fergus!” The only response was the creaking of the walls. I didn’t know if I’d imagined him calling to me, or if he was too hurt to call out again. Please don’t let him be dead. He was the closest thing I had to a friend in this wretched place. I didn’t want him to die.

  “Bria?” Fergus’ muffled and weak voice came from somewhere below my feet.

  I let out a breath. He was alive. “Where are you?” I dropped onto my knees. A rock tumbling from somewhere high echoed in the distance and I tensed, waiting for the walls to collapse again.

  “Beneath the rock pile. Beneath … where you are now. Can you dig me out … please?”

  Some rocks beneath my feet were huge, which meant Fergus was probably badly crushed beneath them. All the healing training I’d ever undertaken kicked in. I had to get him out of there. Then I could assess his injuries. Then we’d find a way to leave this place together.

  Balancing on my hands and knees, I pulled away rock after rock, throwing them as far as I could—the small ones, anyway. The large ones, I dug around until I could push them down the pile. My nails tore and my hands grew bruised and bloody, but I wasn’t stopping. There was so much creaking and groaning around me, I was starting to wonder if either of us would be alive by the end of the day.

  Using my legs, I pushed a large rock until it tumbled away, and I found myself staring into Fergus’ brown eyes.

  He lay on his back, arms locked and stretched into the air above him. He was shirtless—the dim light making dips and hollows of his perfectly formed chest and abs—and he seemed unhurt, if somewhat dirty. In fact, it seemed as if, although buried beneath the rockfall, none of the rocks had touched him, either. I held out my hand to pull him to his feet. “Are you okay?” Because he looked better than he had any right to look.