Camden’s hand finds mine again. He squeezes tight, but he doesn’t intervene. Queen Aria now uses both hands to try and pry the diadem off my skull. She fails.
Through watering eyes, I see Bass—King Sebastian step forward. In a booming, authoritative voice, he states, “The Diadem of Darkness has bound itself to Serafina Roberts, winner of the Cursed Contest, and betrothed of Prince Camden.” He claps loudly. Belatedly, a small number of Fae in the crowd join in.
Someone shouts, “All hail the future queen of Seelie, mistress of the Dark.”
Queen Aria stumbles back, and I wish, more than anything, that she had been successful in retrieving the diadem. The look of pure hatred on her face speaks of unfathomable retribution. I’ve just robbed her of victory. I’ve made an enemy today, and I fear it is one I will not be able to defeat.
Camden finds his voice, following Bass’s lead and firing up the crowd on my behalf, “My future bride has brought the power to control the Darkness to our Court. No longer will we be at the mercy of the formidable force. Let us rejoice!”
The rest of the crowd shares his enthusiasm, and the cheers reach their peak level.
I stand there, gazing at the roaring crowd, the furious queen, and my deceitful friend, unable to understand why I, Serafina Roberts from Hartford, Connecticut, ended up here.
On their own accord, my eyes find Bass.
His mouth forms a hard line, and his gaze is trained on my hand interlocked with Camden’s. He’s done putting on an act.
Feeling my stare, Bass looks up. A host of emotions flit across his violet eyes, but he careful to mask every one of them before they can be deciphered.
Camden shifts into sight, and I meet his happy, green eyes. “Let’s get you back to the castle to see Jordan.”
The fact he knows that is the first thing I want to do warms my chest. If only for a moment, I let myself relish the fact I’m out of the contest, I have my memories back, I’m alive, and, most importantly, so is Jordan.
There will be time to figure out everything else out. For now, I will content myself with getting out of the spotlight, speaking with my friend, and cleaning the grime of the contest off me.
Yes… that sounds like more than enough.
Epilogue
The Seelie celebrations lasts for days. Fae boisterously dance through the castle ballroom every evening, swinging and smiling at one another like they are the ones who have accomplished the impossible by winning the infamous contest.
Everyone is happy to have their long-awaited victor and future princess, and they all continue to chatter about my connection with the Darkness, whatever that means.
Everyone is happy, but I feel like a prisoner locked in a luxurious ivory castle. Jordan is still in the healer’s wing. Her wounds were as bad as I’d feared. The gifted Fae assure me she will be fine, but they’ve placed her in a prolonged sleeping state while her body heals.
Camden is kind enough not to force me to attend the festivities, content to give me all the space I need. He believes I am suffering from post-traumatic stress due to the trials I faced in the contest. He is only half right.
I am struggling to come to terms with all that has happened to me, but my main struggle remains the fact one of my best friends wiped my memory and the other sat back and watched me be thrown to the wolves as a contestant in Queen Aria’s contest.
Three taps knock on the door to the lavish chamber I’ve been given as the prince’s future bride. I don’t answer, but that doesn’t stop the visitor from letting himself in. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Bass. Since my victory, Fae and humans have been affording me the same reverence they give the Seelie royals, despite the fact they think I’m human. No one but the Unseelie king would dare to enter uninvited.
I snort. King Sebastian. How had I been so blind? I knew Bass was different. Heck, I think that’s what made my sixteen-year-old self fall for him so much. I’d been a fool. A naïve and idiotic fool.
“Something funny?” Bass approaches and positions himself between me and the bay windows, placing himself in my direct line of sight.
I don’t meet his gaze. “Go away.”
“I will after you talk to me.”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“I strongly disagree.”
I don’t respond. There’s no point. It’s like arguing with a brick wall. A stubborn, pig-headed, brick wall.
“Sera, we must speak. You can’t shut me out forever. There are things we need to discuss.”
“Like how you lied to me?” I snap, letting some of my anger leak out.
“Yes.” He is undeterred by my tone. “Exactly. I know you have questions. I’m here to answer them.”
Again, I don’t respond. Of course, I have questions. But I feel worn down—exhausted. I don’t have it in me to discuss this right now. Especially, not with him. I can barely look at him without feeling like someone has punched me in the gut.
Bass releases a long sigh. “There is someone else who wishes to speak with you, too.”
Intrigue has me turning my head towards the entrance.
A petite young woman with bright pink hair steps out from behind a pillar. She wears a tentative smile, and my heart leaps into my throat. I push off the chair and rush toward her. I throw myself into Pascale’s arms, tears roll down my cheeks.
Pascale’s arms wrap around me, holding tighter than her petite frame would suggest is possible. The last I saw her, she’d been bleeding from wounds inflicted by the sentries who’d abducted me. I’m relieved to see she is alright.
“I’m so sorry, Sera. So, so sorry.”
I know Pascale is apologizing for wiping my memory, but I shush her. I don’t know why she did it. I’ll want an explanation eventually. But for now, I just want to confide in my best friend.
In a broken, weak voice, I whisper, “I’m half Fae.”
Pascale pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. She blinks back tears. “I know.”
I figured. “For how long?”
She bites her lip and glances at Bass. It irritates me that she looks to him for guidance. She sees my face when she looks back at me, and her eyebrows lift in challenge, reading me like a book. “What do you expect me to do? He’s my king.”
My eyes widen. “Your king?”
She nods, dropping her arms. “King Sebastian—Bass, as you know him, is our king. Pixies moved to his realm centuries ago.”
My thoughts go back to all of the times the three of us spent time together. Binge eating at the diner where I worked. Cheering for Bass as he rocked the guitar in his band. Nothing about their relationship hinted at the truth.
Pascale sees the question in my eyes. “Bass isn’t a dictator,” she tells me. “There’s no pomp and circumstance in Unseelie.”
I snort. “He sure acts pompous here.”
“That is how the Seelie expect me to act,” Bass speaks. “It would unnerve them if I didn’t.”
I continue to avoid looking at him.
Pascale offers a comforting smile. “Bass has been looking out for you for longer than you know. You’re mad, but he’s not the enemy here.”
Hurt stabs me in the chest as a thought comes to mind. “Why are you my friend?”
“What?”
I ignore her incredulous stare and brace myself for impending pain. “Are you only my friend because Bass made you?” The conversation between her and her friends the night of my abduction plays in my mind. Aerie, Tonk, and Richie had discussed protecting someone. Calling me off limits.
“Did Bass hire you to watch over me? Is that the only reason you are my friend?” Tears begin to well up in my eyes. I blink to hold them back. I thought I wasn’t ready to get an explanation, but now I need to know. Bass and Pascale have known I’m not human for a long time. Why didn’t they tell me? Are my only two friendships a complete lie?
Again, Pascale looks over at Bass.
This time, I can’t help but shout, “Stop looking
at him!”
She flinches, and I instantly regret my tone.
A hand grabs my elbow. I spin around and pull away from Bass. “Don’t touch me.”
With stern eyes trained on me, he says, “Pascale, leave us.”
She doesn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye, Pascale is out of the room.
My chest heaves with my angry breaths. Bass looks annoyingly calm. I want to scream.
“Don’t take this out on her.”
I scowl, knowing he’s right, but I’m too stubborn to admit it. “She lied to me.”
“For your benefit.”
I roll my eyes.
“I mean it, Sera. You aren’t ready to learn everything yet. You have bigger obstacles ahead, but you need to know that everything Pascale has done, or not done, has been to protect you. I never asked her to befriend you. Your meeting was a divine accident. The pair of you became friends on your own accord. It wasn’t until you moved to New York that I requested she and some of her companions watch out for you.”
“Why?” I cross my arms. “Why did I need a bodyguard?”
“Now is not the time to explain. You have bigger problems to worry about.”
Sounds like a cop-out to me.
“Like what?”
“Like that piece of metal permanently attached to your head.”
My fingers lift and touch the diadem. A familiar zip travels through my arm. He’s right. The diadem hasn’t left my head since Queen Lani used her powers to give it to me. I’ve bathed with it on and slept with it on. Thankfully, the diadem isn’t huge. I can pretend it’s not there. Until someone draws my attention to it.
Now, for instance, its weight feels like a sack of potatoes, pressing down on me.
“Queen Aria is still angry?” I’m reasonably sure I already know what he’s going to say.
His lips form a tight line. “Angry is an understatement.”
I sigh and turn around, falling back into the chair. “Yeah, I figured as much.” I made a mistake retrieving the diadem. Not only am I engaged to a prince I barely know, but now I’ve made a formidable enemy of the queen. I’d be better off if I’d just left well enough alone…
Snap out of it.
I shake my head furiously. Getting the diadem wasn’t a mistake. Doing so saved Jordan, as well as the other four contestants who still survived on the mountain. Hannah, Carol, Vera and Trish wouldn’t have made it without me.
Yes, I’m terrified of the queen and the inevitable punishment she’s going to give me for ruining her plans, but I’d do it all again if it meant saving the others. No question.
Bass drops to his knee, resting his forearms on the propped-up leg. He leans close. I suck in a breath as his familiar scent hits me. He’s intoxicating.
“Sera,” glittering violet eyes meet mine. “Do not fear the queen. You are not alone here. You will be protected.”
For a moment, I forget how angry I am with him. In a small voice, I confess, “I don’t understand why this is happening. Why did Queen Lani give me the diadem?”
Bass grabs my hand. “Because you are worthy. The Darkness is a formidable foe, but that diadem makes you the ruler of the darkness. With you on our side, the Fae will be able to defeat the enemy once and for all.”
“But I don’t belong here,” I argue passionately, longing for him to agree with me. “I grew up on Earth. I’m basically human. I don’t want to marry the prince, and I don’t want to battle Darkness.”
A shadow falls over Bass’s eyes when I mention marrying Camden. He takes a deep, steadying breath and murmurs, “You belong here more than you know.”
“How can you say that?” I try to remove my hand, but his grip tightens. I stop tugging. It’s pointless. “I don’t know the first thing about Fae.”
“Because I know you better than you know yourself,” Bass states in a cool, rational voice. He releases my hand and rises. “Trust me, Sera. It’s your destiny to be here. And whether you like it or not, that diadem is bound to you. You must face this challenge straight on, or all of us in the Fae Realm are doomed to a bleak, miserable fate.”
The End
* * *
Continue The Dark Fae Trilogy in book two, Marked by Darkness.
www.SamanthaBrittBooks.com/TheDarkFaeTrilogy
* * *
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About the Author
Samantha Britt is an avid reader and enthusiastic writer of new adult and young adult paranormal and fantasy novels. When not lost in the fictional world, you can find her in Texas. More often than not, she will be busy making memories with her precious family which includes Sam, her husband, Dan, and their mini-goldendoodle, Bailey.
www.SamanthaBrittBooks.com
A Light Beyond the Darkness
Mikel Wilson
A Light Beyond the Darkness © copyright 2019 Mikel Wilson
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000
Prelude
In a mystical place where werewolves and witches reigned, war raged between lifelong enemies: the Amazons and the vampires. The two rivals had been battling for centuries over the land which the Amazonians called their own. No one was safe. Men, women, and children were all casualties.
Vampires were annihilated without hesitation. Those who feared the fight fled the land in hopes of survival. While blood was shed on both ends, the horror of war reached a new height when Amazons were taken captive and turned into vampires. With Amazonians forced to fight their own mutated brethren, the war seemed impossible to win.
The latest battle was only a few hours old. An Amazonian woman stood atop a steep hill and surveyed the damage below. Smoldering fires like amber-colored eyes blinked in the valley below, glowing against the haze of dawn’s first light. The pungent odor of both smoke and death clung to the air, stinging her nostrils.
Vivid and horrible images played on a seemingly endless loop through her mind. Each time she closed her eyes, the scenes shuffled from one awful memory to another, each more brutal than the last. She shook her head and rubbed the palms of her dirty hands against her closed eyes, as if she could somehow erase them.
Forcing herself to stand straight and proud, she winced as sharp pains raced through her body like bolts of lightning. She was wounded, but would never allow the rest of her tribe to know. To be wounded in battle was to sign her own death warrant.
1
“Christine!” Aaliyah called impatiently. “What are you doing up there on the mountain?”
She pushed her chestnut colored hair away from her face and stretched her long, tanned arms above her head. Aaliyah had always kept her hair short, just above her shoulders, so the scars that ran down each of her arms could be seen. Her scars were a source of pride. She didn’t simply ask for respect; her presence demanded it, and it was freely given.
Christine’s head jerked at the sound of her friend’s voice, her dark eyes scanning for Aaliya. “N-nothing!” Christine stammered. “I’ll be there in just a sec!” She bit her lip, held her breath, and hurriedly bandaged her wound.
It wasn’t like Christine to keep anything from Aaliyah. Small waves of guilt washed over her as she tried to compose hers
elf. She had always been somewhat of a loner, tending to keep mostly to herself. Apart from Aaliyah—who she had known since birth—she preferred the isolation she was accustomed to. Isolation offered comfort. Isolation didn’t ask questions.
She was painfully aware that she lacked confidence, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Being strong was something all Amazons were known for. Christine didn’t doubt her strength, but she was also physically stronger than she gave herself credit for. She’d always fought hard, slaying vampires when necessary, yet she’d never quite come into her own.
Aaliyah huffed and kicked at the dirt, sending little bursts of brown dust adrift on the breeze. “Will you come on already? Get down here so we can girltalk.”
Christine emerged from the bushes and slowly came down the hill, walking carefully to avoid the pain racing through her. She bent to help Aaliya snuff out the last of their campfire flames, rocking slightly on her heels to keep her balance. She was weak from the bite she’d received, but fought hard not to show it.
Aaliyah tilted her to one side and narrowed her almond-shaped eyes at Christine. “So, are you okay?”
The two friends stared at each other as long, silent moments lapsed between them. Christine wanted to tell her. But she couldn’t bring herself do say the words. Finally, Christine broke eye contact, letting her gaze fall toward the dirt around her feet.
“Um, yes, of course. I’m bleeding. You know … girl time.”
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 158
