To Wear a Fae Crown (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 2)

by Tessonja Odette

  As a hazy sunset throws my room beneath a dusky glow, I discard my mental preparations in favor of physical ones. We’ll be leaving by nightfall to arrive in Grenneith by tomorrow morning.

  My hands tremble as I pack my bag, wishing I had more to bring, if only to keep my hands busy. Yet, all I’ll need is a nightdress, undergarments, and extra shoes. I don’t bother trying to dress in human clothing this time, considering not even my corset was salvageable after my arrival at Selene Palace. However, Nyxia did loan me some cream silk trousers and a blue linen blouse, which I’m wearing now beneath my velvet cloak.

  A knock sounds on my door, almost too quiet to hear, as if the visitor is unsure of their intent. When I open the door, I’m speechless to find Aspen on the other side. My breath catches in my throat as our eyes lock. Silence envelops us, leaving nothing but a tense hum of energy I can sense down to my bones. The energy feels wrong, the air too thick. Does he feel it too?

  He clears his throat, the sound so loud it startles me. “Can I come in for a moment?” His tone is cold, formal, catching me off guard.

  I blink a few times, realizing we’re still standing under my threshold. “Of course,” I say, hating how my formality matches his.

  He enters, striding to the center of my room, back facing me. He wears russet trousers, a white shirt, and a bronze waistcoat—wrinkled again. It’s an effort not to reach for him, to place a hand in the middle of his back and soothe whatever has him so rattled. But I can’t touch him, not when everything about this is wrong—his posture, his formality, the way he’s been avoiding me. I get that we’ve yet to reconcile our grievances toward each other, but the way he’s acting has my stomach in knots.

  This can’t be just about my stolen kiss with Franco. Surely anger would suffice his feelings over the matter. Rage, I can handle. Rage, I can counter with my own. But this distance, this strain…I know neither how to confront it nor how it’s come to lie between us. There must be something else I’ve done to deserve his coldness.

  I run through our last few interactions and consider everything that’s happened between leaving Bircharbor and now. So much has changed but—

  Then it dawns on me. His mother died and it was my fault. Does he know? Did Foxglove or Lorelei tell him what I admitted to? Does he realize I could have prevented her death if I’d mentioned her plea before I left? The blood leaves my face, sweat beading over my forehead.

  Finally, he speaks, attention fixated on the empty wall in front of him. “I want to come with you to the Spire.”

  My mouth feels dry as I search for words. The way he refuses to look my way tells me the offer to accompany me pains him greatly. But why? “All right,” I say, my voice tenuous.

  He remains facing away from me, each heartbeat tugging on the air between us. When he speaks again, it’s drowned out by my own words. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  He whirls toward me. “What?”

  I swallow hard. “I said, I’m sorry about your mother. I heard about her...murder.” My unspoken question echoes in my head. Does he know the truth? Does he know it’s my fault?

  He nods but says nothing in reply.

  Another stretch of silence. Aspen opens and closes his fists, a nervous gesture I’ve never seen him do, one that makes the air in the room feel suffocating. I can’t help but feel that this marks the end. That nothing will ever feel right between us again.

  I wish he’d yell. I wish I’d yell. I wish anything were happening but this painful quiet.

  Tears spring to my eyes as the room begins to spin. There’s only one thing left to say. “It’s my fault.”

  His expression softens. “Excuse me?”

  “Her death. It’s my fault.”

  “I don’t understand. You were here when she was murdered. Nyxia vouched for you. I know Cobalt had your dagger, he—”

  I shake my head. “I could have prevented it.” I inhale a trembling breath, preparing my confession. “She spoke with me the day I left Bircharbor, telling me she feared Cobalt. Feared for her safety. She begged me to speak to you on her behalf, to form an alliance. She wanted your protection. And I...I never said a word.”

  He closes the distance between us, stopping a few feet away. His hand lifts toward my face, and my heart races in anticipation of the touch. A flicker of hope rises inside, as if everything will be set to rights with this one caress. But it doesn’t come. Like he did in the hall, he pulls his hand away before he can touch me, curling his fingers into fists as he purses his lips. “It isn’t your fault.” His words come out with a tremor, as if filtered through suppressed rage.

  My throat feels tight, seeing his repulsion in the set of his jaw, in the fists balled at his sides. I call upon my fire to steady me as I fix him with a glare. “Obviously you don’t believe your own words,” I say through my teeth.

  “How can you say that? You had nothing to do with her death. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. She came to me with the same request, the same fears. I didn’t trust her.” A flash of pain crosses his face. “But you, Evie. You’re innocent of blame.”

  My mind reels to comprehend him. His words sound so genuine, but his body betrays the truth. If he isn’t upset about that, then why does he find it so hard to be in the same room with me? Why does he look like he’d rather be anywhere but at my side? I’m about to give voice to the questions when footsteps sound outside my room. My eyes flash to the open door where Foxglove emerges from the hall.

  Aspen takes a step away from me, and the hum of that unsettling energy shatters. “What is it?” he asks, voice gruff.

  Foxglove’s expression flashes with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to find Aspen here. “Queen Nyxia has prepared her carriage for our journey. It’s time.”

  My hands tremble at his words. “I should finish readying my things.”

  “I’ll meet you at the carriage,” Aspen mutters without looking at me. With that, he leaves my room.

  Foxglove gives me a knowing grin. “See, I told you things would be better between you soon enough.”

  I open my mouth to argue but can’t find the words to express the truth of what just occurred. Because honestly, I have no idea what any of it meant.

  A round, white, opalescent carriage awaits us outside the palace. At the front are two skeletal equine creatures, thin and white with lipless mouths and red eyes. Instead of a mane, each creature has a set of sharp ridges that run from their heads to the middles of their backs.

  Nyxia stands before one of the creatures, hands framed on each side of its face as it nuzzles her. The queen’s expression is delighted, as if she’s playing not with a terrifying beast but a puppy. Lorelei leans against the side of the carriage, arms crossed, but straightens when she sees us.

  When we meet, she pulls me into a hug. I’m surprised by the gesture—I never knew Lorelei was the hugging type—but I wrap my arms around her petite frame without hesitation. “Stay safe,” she whispers.

  We pull away, and her arms wrap around Foxglove next. Seeing their worried expressions as they embrace reminds me just how dangerous this journey is. Not only are we traveling to the human lands, we’re going to Grenneith, the capital city of Eisleigh. The most densely populated human location on the isle. There won’t be familiar faces or childhood friends—neither of which I have reason to trust anyway.

  My beloved mentor betrayed me.

  What could strangers do?

  When Foxglove and Lorelei separate, she eyes us each in turn. “Good luck with everything. I will see you again.” She says the last part for me alone, then leaves toward the palace.

  We turn to Nyxia, who is still showering affection on her creatures. Her gaze meets mine as we approach. She gives a final pat to the horse and kisses its bony nose. “Sylvia and Mernog are well-fed and ready for the journey. They’ll make it to the Spire without needing to rest and they won’t need to eat again until they return.”

  I’m about to ask what they eat, but I don’t think I want to kno
w the answer.

  She continues. “If you need to stop for any reason, Franco will communicate with them. They listen to him almost as well as they listen to me.”

  Foxglove and I say the same thing in unison. “Prince Franco’s coming?”

  “But he’s wounded.” As soon as I say it, I know my argument is feeble. Four days is plenty of time for a fae to heal from such a wound.

  “He’s fine,” Nyxia says. “He’s fully healed as if nothing even happened. Besides, if you want to get to the Spire quickly, you’ll have to take the moon mares. We don’t employ any other carriage-drawing creatures in Lunar but them.”

  “And that has to do with the prince...how?”

  Nyxia glares, making me immediately regret my tone. However, the thought of Aspen and Franco together in one carriage...it gives me no small amount of trepidation.

  Foxglove elbows me. “What she means is, for what reason do you give us the great honor of his presence? Surely such a task is beneath the sweet prince.”

  She gives a casual shrug. “Like I said, the moon mares listen to him.”

  I squint at her, wondering if there’s more to this plot than she’s letting on. Is she still hoping she can get me to take Franco as my mate?

  Nyxia ignores my scrutiny. “Go on. My brother’s already inside the carriage.”

  “What about Aspen? Has he come yet?” I ask, scanning the grounds.

  “Why am I not surprised he’s going too?” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll have someone fetch him.”

  Foxglove and I move toward the carriage, and I step inside first. Franco greets me with a warm smile. “Evelyn, I’m so pleased I get to be your chaperone once again. We had such a nice time before, did we not?” His grin is suggestive, making my pulse race. I look from the empty seat next to him to the unoccupied bench on the other side of the carriage.

  “I’m grateful for your generous offer to accompany us,” I say and take the bench across from him.

  Foxglove’s cheeks flush pink as he enters with an audible sigh. His expression is dreamy as he takes the seat next to me.

  “Are you sure you’re recovered enough for the journey?” I ask, giving the prince a pointed look.

  Without warning, he lifts the hem of his shirt, exposing far more flesh than necessary. “Not a scratch. You have a real healing gift.”

  I blush and look away from his lean stomach, while Foxglove emits an awkward giggle.

  The carriage sways as a new figure enters. I meet Aspen’s eyes before they shoot toward Prince Franco and the only empty seat at his side. “Why are you here?”

  The prince gives Aspen a charming grin. “King Aspen, what a pleasurable journey this will be. Cramped, but pleasurable.”

  With a grumble, Aspen lowers himself into the seat, his antlers snagging the white silk roof above him. I look from one male to the other, noticing for the first time how much taller Aspen towers over the prince, and that’s not including the extra height his antlers provide. Franco doesn’t seem intimidated in the least, his eyes resting on me.

  I feel Aspen’s burning into me as well and avert my gaze to the window.

  The carriage lurches and rolls into motion.

  “King Aspen,” Franco says, “I was just telling Miss Fairfield how grateful I am for her healing gifts. She has the gentlest yet most powerful hands.”

  Aspen lets out an irritated grunt while Foxglove erupts with another giggle.

  I shake my head at the window and grit my teeth. This is going to be a very long ride.

  27

  The capital city of Grenneith is unlike any place I’ve been before. I watch out the carriage window as we roll over the cobblestone streets. Even though it’s barely past daybreak, the streets are already busy with commotion. Towering factories clutter the skyline behind endless rows of merchant shops, townhouses, and elegant city manors. I gasp as I watch an automotive vehicle roar across the cobblestones like some mechanical beast. Such contraptions are far more common on the mainland, but even there they are considered a rare luxury.

  Once the vehicle is out of sight, I study the people, their fine dresses and stylish suits, the way they carry themselves almost like royalty. My stomach takes a dive as I realize how out of place I feel. And it’s more than just the fae carriage drawn by skeletal moon mares that makes me feel that way.

  Luckily, no one seems to notice our passing as we make our way down the bustling streets.

  “Are we beneath a glamour?” My voice cuts through the silence that’s fallen since we entered the city. The mood has gone from tense to frightened.

  “We are,” Franco says, brow furrowed as he stares out the window. After a while he meets my gaze, his face pale and tinged with green. “I’ve never been in a human city before. There’s a lot of iron.”

  “Not even I have been in such a place as this,” Foxglove says, covering his nose with his hand. “I think I might faint.”

  “We’re only here until tomorrow,” Aspen says, stoic as ever. He doesn’t so much as glance out the window, as if our surroundings are far beneath his care. “We’ll manage.”

  Our eyes lock, and his expression softens, but we don’t exchange a word. We’ve hardly spoken to each other at all during the entire journey. With so much left unsaid after our last conversation, it’s hard to believe any words could suffice.

  I move away from the window and settle back into my seat. The deeper we move into the city, the faster and faster my heart races. “What’s the plan now that we’re here?”

  “We’ll need to find somewhere to stay the night,” Foxglove says. “Beneath a glamour, of course. Then I’ll act as your ambassador and go to the Spire to sort out all the details for your mother’s trial. All communication I’ve exchanged so far has assured me trials at the Spire begin at noon. However, if there are any others scheduled for tomorrow, your mother’s may not be the first.”

  I inhale deeply to steady my nerves. “Will I be able to see my mother beforehand? I want to speak with her before the trial.”

  “It isn’t safe to go anywhere near the Spire before the trial,” Aspen says. “If anyone sees you, there’s a good chance they’ll lock you up.”

  “I’ll take you,” Franco says. “A raven can infiltrate many places. I should be able to orchestrate a visit with your mother without a hitch.”

  “You don’t know that,” Aspen says with a growl. “It could be more danger than it’s worth.”

  “I think it’s worth anything if it’s the last time she sees her mother before the trial,” Franco argues.

  I look from Aspen to Franco, wishing they’d stop opposing each other at every opportunity. “I’ll do what it takes,” I say. “Even if I get caught and thrown into prison with her, I don’t care. I want to see her tonight.”

  Franco leans forward and places a hand on my knee. “I’ll make it happen.”

  Aspen clenches his jaw, eyes burning into Franco’s hand until the prince pulls it back to his lap. “We’ll all make it happen,” Aspen says through his teeth, “if you’re so keen to squander your last night of freedom.”

  My last night of freedom. Considering the chances of my plan’s success are slim to none, he very well might be right.

  We find a decent hotel on the outskirts of the city, far enough away from the bulk of the crowds yet not too far from the Spire. Foxglove covers me with a mild glamour to help me blend in better with the other humans—I’m assuming that means he’s made my clothing look a little less fae—and my three male companions don their own. I, of course, can’t see the effects of their glamours, but the looks we receive as we enter the hotel are ones of curiosity, not terror.

  We each get a room of our own, which I’m grateful for. Part of me expected I’d be forced to share a room and be put in a position to choose my sleeping companion. At this point, I most likely would have chosen Foxglove over the two other males. I still can’t get over Aspen’s odd behavior in my room before we left. It infuriates me each time I rec
all how he nearly reached for me before snatching his hand back, as if he couldn’t bear to touch me.

  If it isn’t blame over his mother’s death that has him acting in such a way, then is it truly my kiss with Franco? Surely such a misunderstanding isn’t worth this level of disgust on his part. It’s not like I thought I’d ever see my mate again. In fact, I thought he was married when I kissed Franco. Married, for the love of iron.

  I pace inside my tiny room at the hotel, teeth clenched. Now that I’m alone, I can let out my irritation, although it doesn’t really get me anywhere. It provides no answers. All I know is before Mother’s trial, I will force Aspen to speak to me, even if it ends with a fight. Maybe a fight would do me good. A fight. A fiery kiss. A final night of reckless passion before I meet my fate.

  My fate.

  The thought sobers me quickly, and I sit on the narrow yet well-made bed, shoulders slumped with sudden fatigue. The daunting task ahead sets my head spinning. My eyes dart to the single window in the room, one which showcases a view of the sprawling city and smokestacks reaching high into the sky, puffing black smoke.

  To the right of my view stands a tall, stone building, its central tower reaching dozens of floors high. The Spire. I remember learning it’s one of the oldest architectural structures in Eisleigh, built as a castle when humans first settled here. Considering its ability to withstand not only the war with the fae but the tests of time, it’s no surprise the building has been converted into a prison. From what I know, the top of the tower hosts the prison cells, while the bottom floor houses the courtrooms. My eyes lock on the highest point of the tower, wishing I knew how my mother fared.

  Foxglove has already left for the Spire. Soon he will gather all the information we need. Her courtroom location, her trial time. Meanwhile, Franco will fly to the tallest portion of the building and find my mother.