Hunted: A fae fantasy romance (Fae Magic Book 1)

by Jessica Aspen

  “How may I serve you?” The queen repeated in a sing-song voice. “You may find those gypsies for me!” Her aura again swirled red.

  Haddon hastened to distract her. “Your Majesty, Owen has had much trouble locating the gypsies remember?” Until they found another psychic, they still needed the old man—as decrepit as he was. “They seem to be able to sense when he has located them. Let’s use his talents in a different direction instead, and ask Owen to find another far-seer for you. One with superior skills, who could serve Your Majesty better.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. Owen we need to start looking for your replacement.”

  The old man’s hands wove frantic patterns in the air. “Your Majesty, I’m still young! I can still help you. Let me serve you.”

  Haddon could see the trembling old man would never perform well in this shape. He’d have to step in, again.

  “Owen, Owen, calm down. Her Majesty would simply like to take some of the burdens of your position from you.” The fool trusted him. Why shouldn’t he? Haddon had done his best to preserve and protect the pitiful creature. “Now, let’s see if there’s someone out there who could—help you with your job.”

  “Help me?” The man’s fingers scraped at Haddon’s sleeve. “You would still need me?”

  “Yes, of course we would.” He covered his recoil by taking a step away. “Now, sit down on your chair and see for us.”

  Owen sat down and centered, his rheumy old eyes growing glassy.

  “What do you see, old man?” asked the queen. Her aura had settled down, but a small amount of red still lingered in the grey.

  “I see a lovely lassie. With red hair. Cassandra...I think.” He beamed at the vision only he could see. “Oh, my queen, she’s perfect! Her powers are great, and they will grow.”

  The queen smiled and settled her wings on her back. “Where is she? Where’s the lassie?”

  The old man’s wrinkled forehead furrowed. “Oh, my queen, oh no. I’m sorry. Let’s look for another.” Tears trickled out of the mirror’s eyes, running down the creases in his face.

  Haddon swallowed his disgust. Aging was so repugnant. He’d make sure he was long dead before reaching this stage.

  “Is she dead? Whatever could be the matter? Tell me!”

  “No, my queen. It’s worse, she’s... a MacElvy.”

  Haddon’s pulse jumped. A MacElvy seer.

  “Ahhh!” The queen shrieked and leapt at the old man, clubbing him around the head and shoulders with the sides of her hands. He ducked, throwing his arms over his.

  Foam dripped from her mouth. “A MacElvy! Curse them all!” Her wings shot out wide in agitation.

  Haddon darted to the side, knocking a picture off the wall with a destructive crash. Damn! Of all the luck. The old man would find one of the hated MacElvys now—when they weren’t even trying to locate one.

  The queen glowed purple and she screeched something intelligible that sent the old man cowering to the floor. Objects shot off shelves and tables, crashing around the room.

  Haddon ducked flying shards of glass. Bloody hell! Now he would have to calm her down all over again. He ducked a paperweight. Today was one of the days he knew he’d fucked up and made the wrong decision to become king.

  The Huntsman had better do his job and kill the rest of the witches, or there would be hell to pay.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Trina opened her eyes and stretched in a bar of early morning light pearling through the old windows. She was alone in the brass bed in the quiet of an empty cottage.

  Hot anger rushed through her until her body shook.

  “No way, he wouldn’t have just left without waking me up. Not after last night.” She tossed back the covers and got up. Tugging her dress over her head, she buttoned it while searching for her slippers.

  She walked around the clearing, checking in all of the falling down outbuildings, just in case. But finally, there was no doubt—Solanum, the hounds, and Logan, were gone.

  “Stupid fae jerk.” She stopped in front of the cottage, a frustrated knot forming in her stomach that threatened to rise and become tears.

  She hadn’t thought he’d do it, but now it dawned on her as she paced back and forth in the grass—he’d left without her and she had to follow him like she’d said she would, or she’d truly be his slave.

  Back rigid with determination she headed back into the cottage. She didn’t know where to start, wasn’t sure she could even get out through the hedge, but that didn’t matter. She’d accomplished more over the last few days than she’d ever thought she’d have to. She was a MacElvy. She would persevere.

  She forced some food down, packing more in the magic bag for later. She searched her meager supply of clothes, hoping the cottage would have magicked them into something more practical for hiking. No such luck.

  “Come on, give me a little help here.” She shut the closet door and looked up at the ceiling. “Please make those stupid, sexy, impractical boots into sneakers. Please.” Taking a deep breath and crossing her fingers behind her back, she opened the door. Then slammed it shut again. “Damn!”

  No sneakers. The fucking spell on the cottage made sure she was naked and in bed with Logan and that she had her choice of brooms. But oh, no, practicalities, like decent shoes, were not provided, even though the cottage knew she had to face the hungry, brooding forest. Alone.

  She reopened the closet to swap her thin slippers for the boots. There, in the back, hung the sapphire, swinging from side to side from the impact of her temper. Some of her anger drained away. Thank goodness for Rinnal. The forest would be much less scary with the stone as a buffer.

  She pulled it over her head and the warm, reassuring glow nestled between her breasts. Glancing around the cottage she double checked her supplies. She wasn’t quite ready to leave here. Even though it was a prison somehow, someway the little house had become a refuge.

  Especially when she thought about what might face her beyond the hedge. A chill passed over her. She shook it off, stretching out her neck muscles and standing tall. She couldn’t stay here, no matter how safe, and admit defeat.

  She wouldn’t.

  Wrapping her hand around the stone, she crossed the grass to where she knew the gap in the hedge should be and concentrated.

  Nothing.

  She stripped off her boots and planted her feet. The power of the clearing rose through her bare soles, working its way under her skin and up into her hand. The saphire responded, pulsing in a blue glow. She raised her other hand and directed the combined powers—clearing, the stone’s, and her own—at the hedge, willing it to open and let her pass.

  The tiny green leaves quivered.

  She tried again, drawing more power from the willing node under her feet until, leaves and thorns shaking, the hedge shuffled aside, leaving a small begrudging hole. She grabbed her boots and pushed out through the small thorny gap as it snapped closed, snagging the hem of her dress and leaving her on the dark side of the hedge.

  Pressed close to the hedge, the sinister trees looming overhead, Trina shivered and quickly pulled her boots back on. Heels or not, magical sapphire or not, she wasn’t walking through the hungry forest barefoot. She took a good grip on the glowing sapphire and set off in the direction of the tunnels. The path seemed smaller than she remembered the bushes closer.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose. She gripped the sapphire tightly in her sweaty palms and whirled around.

  The path behind her was definitely smaller. Large tree branches, and whole trunks, pressed in where they hadn’t before, making going back nearly impossible. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to soothe her sudden fears.

  At least Dorothy had Toto.

  Going back was now just as difficult as going forward. Good. The forest had made this easy for her. She started off again. This trip through the forest was different than her last as she moved fast in her sharp heels through the too dark morning light. No jovial Rinnal to flirt w
ith her and keep her distracted from the constant push of the forest’s desire to possess her. No Logan, alert and protective, at her back. Just her, stumbling on roots that seemed to rise up just in time to trip her. Dank leaves drooped low over the path, stretching low as she passed by in a bid to touch her. She ducked and raised the glowing sapphire high, and they pulled away.

  It wore away at her confidence.

  She had no idea how far behind she was. Logan had made a big deal of not using a portal last night for fear of being tracked by the queen and, although the subtleties of why the tunnels wouldn’t be more traceable than the portals eluded her, she was grateful. If he’d taken a portal she wouldn’t have a chance of finding him.

  The main junction came up faster than she was prepared for. She stood looking down the two paths realizing she wasn’t sure which to take. Everything looked different and she swore there hadn’t been two ways to go.

  Of the two paths, the left hand one seemed more inviting and open, the trees and brambles gave it more space, and there was even a little light coming through the canopy of leaves. But the narrow, crowded right-hand path looked more familiar, even if it was dark and gloomy.

  She turned and looked back the way she’d come. For just a moment, she was tempted.

  It might be easier. She could just go back and be Logan’s for the rest of the year—available when he wanted, left alone when he found her inconvenient. But if she did that, how could he ever respect or love her?

  And how could she respect herself?

  She’d slept with him but she didn’t really know who he was. If he understood her? Or if he even cared? And how could she trust him when he felt he could just sneak out without taking her with him, without any sort of discussion? This was her family they were trying to save. Her life.

  And his life would be better with her dead.

  No. She couldn’t go back.

  But which direction? The temptation of the open, clear path that could be a trap? Or the right-hand path that set her teeth on edge with its narrow, forbidding entrance framed by overhanging branches?

  Centering, she drew on her own inner magic and probed the stone. The touch of the sapphire was a cold and alien power that had no agenda, but sent back an inquiry of its own.

  What do you need?

  Trina thought of Logan. How he’d been so considerate of her when she was crying over her family. How incredibly beautiful his eyes looked when he was deep inside her. How she exploded with heat when he kissed her.

  The stone grew warm.

  She began to walk down the more open and inviting left hand path and the stone cooled. She reversed direction and headed down the gloomy, right-hand path. The sapphire warmed. She smiled. It was playing hot and cold, just like when Aunt Theresa used to hide presents from the three of them at the Winter Solstice.

  She whispered, “Thank you.”

  Memories of running around the house on Solstice Eve, looking for presents with her giggling cousins, flooded her. The stone cooled into a chunk of ice in her hands. She closed her eyes. Even the stone couldn’t help her find her own life. She took a deep breath and thought of Logan again, and the gemstone blazed.

  Hot and cold, the stone guided her quickly to the rock pile through the trees and finally, Trina emerged from the forest into bright sunlight, startling the flock of ravens into a flapping, cawing swirl of wings. She smiled, watching the birds flying overhead and the tightness in her chest eased. She’d made it. She was Trina MacEvly, green witch, one of the last of the MacElvy tribe, and she could do this. Underhill, and trees, and sneaky elves be damned.

  She raised the stone up and stared at the pile of rocks. They looked solid, like there had never been an entrance and suddenly, that tightness around her chest was back.

  What if Rinnal was wrong and the stone didn’t work. What if she couldn’t make it work?

  She had to know if Logan was really on her side, if she was infatuated with someone trustworthy, despite his heritage. She couldn’t help thinking, if he hadn’t had something to hide he would have taken her with him. That is, if he cared at all.

  A knot formed in her throat.

  Enough fretting, Trina. Time to get to work. She stepped towards the rocks. A raven broke off from the flock and dive-bombed her, its sharp, yellow beak slicing next to her eye. She screamed and threw her hands up, swatting at the enormous bird, her fingers brushing the edges of its wing. It wheeled away, but before she could relax, it joined the rest of the flock and together they soared up high and firned a phalanx in the air, turning in unison, arrowing straight for her.

  She ran, scrambling over the rocks and scraping her shins and knees. The birds few down, pecking at her eyes, snatching at her clothes, her hair, her face—going after everything but the stone.

  She ducked her head under an arm and groped the rock face where the door had been. Nothing happened. Throat tight, she grabbed the sapphire and thought hard about how the entrance looked as she ducked another bird intent on tearing a chunk of her scalp. She pictured how the stones had re-formed for Rinnal into a gaping hole. How they’d looked, how she’d felt. Anything she could think of to get the damn magic to work, wishing she had the words of a spell, but nothing came to mind. Seconds became a minute, and then two.

  “Open please!” Desperately hiding her face in her arms, away from the sharp beaks and batting wings, Trina put all her will into the plea. The stone flared and beneath her feet and the ground trembled. The birds withdrew flying up into the air cawing in alarm. There was a hesitation in the air, then the stone-fall shuddered and rearranged itself into the dark, gaping mouth of the tunnel.

  Trina ran inside, the cloud of birds cawing their rage as the rocks shuddered closed behind her. By the blue light of the sapphire she lit a lantern, hiding the stone again deep inside the neck of her dress. Logan had said it might draw things. She had no idea what, but she didn’t want to find out.

  Nerves tight, she took her first steps into the depths, trying not to think of the horror of being lost forever.

  WITHOUT ANOTHER PERSON to talk to, Trina lost track of time. There was a monotony to walking in the ever present dark, but it never erased the constant tension and fear running through her veins.

  Step, step, step. When she reached a crossroads she thought of Logan and felt the stone’s response. Hot and cold. Step, step, step—ever mindful of the pebble bouncing off the rock walls, forever on its way to the bottom of the caves.

  An eerie, echoing cry sounded to her left and she jumped, her foot slipping on the edge of a hole to her right, the sound reverberating through the tunnel. A fresh, cold breeze touched her skin and dropped the lantern, the light going out as she pulled her foot away from the deep hole. Shaking and shivering, she tried to relight the lantern without any success, finally giving up and depending only on the pale blue glow of the sapphire.

  After what seemed like hours, she reached a dead end.

  Mindful of how the entrance opened, she did what she’d done before—held the stone and asked, putting all of her will and effort into her request. “Please, open.”

  But nothing happened.

  She wiped suddenly damp hands on her skirt and tried again. “Um, I really need to be out of here. Please open. Pretty please.”

  As the seconds ticked off the beat of her heart picked up.

  This wasn’t failure. It was like everything she’d had to do in Underhill. It simply took more effort than she thought.

  She tried again, but the stone didn’t budge. Pulse hammering, her mouth as dry as sand, she clutched the stone and pounded her fists on the wall. “Please, oh, please!”

  She tried again and again, the air growing heavier and thicker in her lungs as she turned and faced section after section, hoping one of them would open.

  “Please Danu. Help me.” But there was no response from the goddess.

  Gasping for air, Trina sank to her knees, frantic thoughts of Logan returning to find her starving skeleton clutching the sa
pphire in bony fingers, running through her mind.

  As the icy chill of the tunnel floor sank into her body, her heartbeat slowed to normal. Slowly, she regained her sanity. She’d come so far, she wasn’t about to lose it here, not when she’d overcome so many obstacles.

  She got to her feet. Every muscle was stiff with cold, but she wasn’t dead. And she wasn’t going to die. Not here. Not now. With her brain working better she took the stone in hand.

  “Where is the entrance, exactly?” The sapphire cast a stream of light into a shadowy corner Trina had somehow overlooked in her panic. She aimed her focus where the light hit and the rocks slowly shuddered and moved, letting in a bright beam of sunlight.

  “Thank Danu.” Forcing her trembling legs and arms to work, she climbed up and out into the daylight, grateful to her bones to no longer be trapped underground. She took several large drafts of fresh air. She was still in the Black Forest. She could tell by the push of need against the saphire’s shields, but this area looked different. The trees were further apart, letting in a dappling of sunlight. She thought of Logan and the stone guided her through the trees. Beyond a dense screen of bushes, she heard a pair of masculine voices.

  Trina tiptoed closer and peered through the leaves. In the center of a small clearing, Logan was speaking to a tall, thin, man with green skin, dressed in a very elegant, but out of date tuxedo. This was a true Tuathan elf—tall, thin, arrogant— the kind she’d glimpsed once or twice and run from.

  “Enough of your excuses, Huntsman.” As he jabbed his long fingers into Logan’s face, he gave the impression of a malevolent grasshopper. “We need results.” He arched both long eyebrows up, wrinkling his forehead. “Her majesty needs results.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “You know that isn’t good enough. The queen needs the MacElvys dead. Immediately.”

  Standing directly in front of the taller, more slender man, Logan’s mixed heritage and solid, muscular build gave him a more human appearance.

  If only she couldn’t hear what he was saying.