by Skye Horn
Wings of Ruin
A Kingdoms of Faerie Novel
Skye Horn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Skye Horn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America First Printed, 2020
Cover Design by A to Z Cover Design
Editing by Ella Medler
https://ellamedlerediting.yolasite.com
ISBN: 978-1-7345968-2-3
Published by Skye Horn
skyehorn.com
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Did you enjoy “Wings of Ruin”?
Also by Skye Horn
Wings of Betrayal: A Kingdoms of Faerie Prequel
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
War was coming.
Kieran could taste it on the air. There was a shift in the tides as the kingdom of Ivandor grew quieter by the day. Many of the villagers had fled, watching their queen’s banishment from the darkened cobblestone streets. However, some had remained, trusting in the Goddess they’d been taught to love, whether out of fear or dedication.
Kieran was among them, remaining loyal to Ainé after she had saved him from her sister’s horrid curse despite his transgressions against her. And yet, as the days ticked by, Kieran’s nightmares were haunted by round brown eyes staring up from a shallow grave. Blood pooled from her abdomen as she called out for his help—like he wasn’t the monster who’d struck her down.
Ethel.
The first night he’d woken from this horror, the Goddess had been in his chamber, watching him sleep. She’d pressed her cool palm against his cheek with mournful eyes and said she was sorry.
An unnatural calmness had settled over his restless mind, but it did not stop the questions from forming.
She was sorry for what? For giving the order? For not stopping him? Kieran knew there’d been no choice. It was as if her command drove his sword without a second-thought...until it was too late to think.
But it had been his blade that slit through Ethel’s soft flesh, not Ainé’s. The memory brought a cold sweat to the back of his neck. He could still recall the surprise he’d felt when Ethel threw herself in front of his sword. He knew the depths of her loyalty to her family, and yet, he hadn’t seen it coming.
The old him would have.
He wished he could bury the grief that came with this realization, but the Goddess’ touch did no more than settle his beating heart.
And then, just when he’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, she’d asked him to leave, saying that he was needed more outside of the kingdom than within its walls.
The request had sent him spiraling, burying him beneath suffocating self-doubt.
He feared she would cast him aside now that he’d failed her.
Regardless of how miserable it made him, he wanted to please her and began packing his things for the journey—even if he didn’t understand why he was doing it.
The question was pure agony. It tore at him until it felt as if there was nothing left but ruins of a soul, or perhaps a conscience, he’d once had. He didn’t know exactly what she’d done to him in the woods that day, but something inside him was broken, shattered beyond repair. No matter how loud his inner voice screamed that he could break free of her hold, there was a part of him that didn’t want to, that couldn’t want to.
So rather than listen to the voice of reason, he’d buried the screaming deep within himself that night and done as she’d told him, leaving the kingdom to track down the fleeing traitors.
Engrossing himself in the hunt had helped him keep his focus on what was important—remaining faithful to his Goddess and his kingdom. That was what she wanted from him, and that was what he would give her to keep his place by her side.
By the second day of his hunt, Kieran had information he could bring back to his Goddess and the pain had gotten a little easier to manage, becoming more of an uncomfortable knot in his chest rather than a debilitating weight.
Making haste, he burst through the throne room doors with a powerful gust of wind, folding his wings against his back. Candles flickered to life across the wall sconces with each step he took into the lengthy hall, as if the Goddess had not needed their light before his arrival.
He knelt before the throne that the Queen of Ivandor had come so close to sitting upon, bowing his head.
“You have news?” Ainé inquired. Her eyes were liquid gold, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. The green eyes he’d learned from books and portraits were nothing in comparison. Those representations were lies to depict her as more Fae-like than deity, but now he saw the truth—the power that existed beneath the surface of her gaze, endless—raw. The minute she looked at him, he felt his self-doubt melt away. Being this close to her made their connection even stronger, like she was caressing his mind.
Kieran welcomed the peace.
“Yes,” he said. “They’re under the protection of King Aragon in Grimwalde. I could not pass the new protection runes. It appears my aunt warned the king that you might be coming.”
Ainé tapped her fingers as he spoke; he lowered his eyes. Her fiery hair coiled around her shoulders, but he swore it flared to life while she considered his words.
He knew the reason the Goddess wanted the traitors and it was not to make an example. She was looking for leverage… She wanted to lure Thea away from Morrigan, but Kieran doubted that plan would work. Thea was reckless, yes, sometimes even flat-out stupid about her decisions, but she knew what was at stake if she were caught.
Regardless of what he believed Thea would do, Kieran had tracked his Aunt Iris and the others all the way to Grimwalde, hoping to catch them before they entered the protection of the castle walls, but they’d been quick in their flight, even with Ethel’s body to carry.
The moment her name slipped through his thoughts, the knot in his chest tightened, and the wall he’d built in his days away crumbled. Her brown eyes flashed through his mind, painfully clear, and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on the physical pain instea
d. This did not go unnoticed by the Goddess, though. Ainé stood, walking toward Kieran in a movement that made her appear as if she were floating across the floor. Her eyes narrowed as she cupped his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“You’re still suffering,” she said, whipping his head from side to side. His world spun at the quickness of the movement. “I think I have a solution for that.”
She dropped her hand away from his chin and the world righted itself.
He remained frozen on the ground as she walked toward a small cabinet against the wall, pulling the top drawer open. She made a humming noise as she rummaged through the contents, although there didn’t appear to be many. Then with the smallest “ah-ha!” as if she’d discovered something she didn’t even know was there, she returned to Kieran, holding out a small vial of yellow liquid.
“Two drops should be enough to help,” she said. Her golden eyes widened like a child’s waiting for praise.
“Th-thank you,” Kieran said, taking the vial as his stomach fluttered. “What is it?”
“Nectar of a moonflower.” She motioned for him to stand as he gripped the bottle tight in his damp palm. “They only bloom beneath a waning moon, so remember, only two drops.”
“What will it do to me?” Kieran asked, and winced when the Goddess cut him a sharp look. There was a tingle against his mind, and he relaxed, just slightly.
If she was granting him any type relief from this grief, he should be grateful…
He opened the bottle and placed two drops on the tip of his tongue. The liquid was sweet. A sense of calm surrounded his mind as he swallowed, blurring his thoughts and steadying his pounding heart.
“Better?”
Kieran thought for a moment, trying to recall what had upset him in the first place. Then he nodded. He did feel better. In fact, it was the first time in days that he felt like he could actually breathe. The knot was gone and all he wanted was to thank her for it.
Her smile brightened, making her eyes sparkle, and for once the rows of sharp teeth in her mouth did not disturb him. Instead, he fought the urge to run and throw his arms around her.
“Good, now back to business.”
He slipped the vial into his pocket and nodded. She waited patiently as he attempted to recall what they’d been discussing. He knew she’d sent him on a mission, but what had bothered him about it? A slow frown formed on his lips.
“The traitors,” she reminded. “Did you find them?”
Then Kieran remembered.
“They’ve crossed the border, so without an army, I have no chance of retrieving them.” Kieran gnawed on the inside of his already bloody cheek wondering if this news would anger her.
“Then we shall gather an army,” the Goddess said simply, twisting a lock of red hair around her fingers. Her eyes shone with mischief that made his heart speed up. He debated asking where they might find an army, but it seemed like the wrong question at the moment. Of course Ainé had followers who would stand at her side in battle. It was just a matter of gathering them, he guessed.
“We don’t need them,” he said, finding his voice. “The girl is nothing now. Forget her and let us move forward with your plan.”
Ainé shook her head with a sentient smile.
“You are so young, but when you are as experienced as me you realize that one girl is all that is needed to spark a revolution.”
The Goddess leaned down, brushing her lips against Kieran’s.
“Promise me you will stop her, Kieran,” Ainé whispered against the kiss. “For if you fail, she will bring ruin on us all.”
Kieran’s breath caught, but his response came instantly. “I will do whatever it takes, my queen.”
A shudder traveled down his spine, but all thoughts of the Queen of Ivandor were erased beneath the weight of his promise as he fell away into the Goddess’ embrace.
Chapter 2
“She should be locked in the dungeons.” The hiss of a man’s voice woke Thea from her nightmares, but she didn’t dare open her eyes. She could hear the screaming still. Iris shrieking that she had failed. Mica’s blame. Ethel’s empty gaze. The sounds and images blurred behind her eyelids, but didn’t fade away.
Without moving a muscle, Thea assessed her situation. She steadied her breathing as if she were still asleep and counted ten slow breaths to calm her heartbeat. The usual weight of her sword was missing from her side, but the surface beneath her was soft like a mattress, or perhaps a cot. A lingering taste of metal on her tongue brought back a flood of fiery rage that burnt through her entire body, making it difficult to focus on anything but the inferno in her veins.
“Are you that afraid of a child?” another voice murmured with a chuckle. Thea’s muscles tensed with recognition. She wanted to snap that she wasn’t a child, but the lack of weapons kept her silent. The budding magic within her had her preoccupied with confusion.
There was something Thea needed to remember, she knew that, but her mind felt as if a thick fog had settled over it.
How had she gotten here? Wherever here was. And who was Morrigan speaking with?
“I am not afraid of her,” the man growled, raising the hairs on Thea’s arms. “But she is not a guest here.”
“She is my guest and you will do good to remember that,” Morrigan said. Thea could have reveled in the scolding this man was enduring if it weren’t for the sudden realization that she knew exactly where she was. The memories crashed down on her in waves, restricting her airways like a rubber band around her neck. Her heart thrashed against her chest in response, lungs burning for air that she couldn’t reach.
The wedding.
Kieran’s broken soul bond.
Her family fleeing for their lives.
Ethel’s body—
That last memory strangled her, and she choked back a sob that silenced the conversation altogether.
Shit, she thought, realizing her error and blinking her stinging eyes open.
“She rises,” Morrigan said, voice dropping into the gentlest tone Thea had heard from the Goddess of Death yet.
“We will finish this discussion later,” the man said.
When Thea pushed herself into a seated position, she had just enough time to catch the flash of a red cloak and the back of a dark-haired head. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, but there was a familiarity to his voice that she couldn’t quite place.
“How are you feeling?” Morrigan asked, ignoring the man’s abrupt departure and walking toward the bed. The Goddess wore a simple gray gown. It was elegant but unremarkable compared to the gowns Thea had seen her wear during their previous encounters. Morrigan’s hair was pulled away from her face. A thick braid woven with blue and silver ribbons fell down her back, and although her eyes were black as night, specks of gold floated near the edges of her irises. Thea might’ve even mistaken her for a typical Fae, but just beneath her soft pink lips lay a row of pointed teeth that made the Goddess more than a little menacing.
“I’ve been better,” Thea muttered, unsure what else to say. Ethel’s lifeless body haunted her memories, but she couldn’t hide in bed forever. She was a queen who’d fled from her own kingdom, and there was plenty of work to be done because of it. That started with facing the hasty decision she’d made to flee to Blackmire.
Coward, the little voice in her head mocked, but Thea did nothing to silence it. She was a coward. Her entire family—Iris, Mica, Haven, and even Declan, could be dead for all she knew. Meanwhile, she’d fled to save her own life. How could she even try to confront them after that?
The Goddess offered Thea a glass of water from the bedside table, which Thea eyed warily. Surely if Morrigan wanted her dead, she’d be dead by now. Especially now that the bond between them was broken. But did the Goddess know that? Thea couldn’t be sure. She did her best to keep the mental wall up the way Jami had attempted to teach her and found the magic much easier to perform without the tether between her body and Morrigan’s. Apparently, they’d
been right about that connection making it impossible for her to keep the Goddess out.
“It will help,” Morrigan said, noting Thea’s caution.
“How long have I been here?” Thea asked, feeling the scratch on her dry throat as she spoke. She took the glass, sniffed at the clear liquid, but could smell nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, poison could be scentless, but she’d soon die of dehydration if she didn’t accept. Thea tasted the liquid tentatively, and recognizing only the taste of water, downed the entire glass in a single gulp. The rush of liquid made her stomach gurgle.
“A few days.”
“Days?” Thea threw her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the ache from the tips of her toes to the base of her neck.
“I must say, I didn’t expect you to make it out alive,” Morrigan said, but Thea could sense her discomfort with the small talk. She wondered where the deity who’d tormented her for the past year was lurking.
“Happy to prove you wrong.” Thea sighed, rubbing her eyes. She took a minute to examine her surroundings. The room they’d put her in was minimally decorated and had only one window. There was a fireplace crackling with warmth, a nightstand, and a bucket in the corner which Thea assumed was for waste. It brought back memories of Kieran’s old bedroom in Iris’ house, although without the stacks of books she’d never had the chance to read. She recoiled from the memory. The sound of Kieran’s sword slicing through the air toward her overwhelmed her with grief instead. She’d been ready to die—had accepted her fate.
