Fae Mistaken (Fae 0f Ballantine Book 4)

by Serena Meadows

  ***Miranda***

  Miranda opened her eyes to bright sunlight pouring through an unfamiliar window and looked around, trying to figure out where she was. The room was no different than the many she’d occupied following her mother around: fine furnishings, a comfortable bed, the sound of a bustling little village out the window. But something felt different about this room; it was full of a warmth she couldn’t quite describe and for a second, it was almost stifling.

  But then a woman sat down in the chair that was pulled up close to the bed, a pleased smile on her face. “It’s good to see you awake; you gave us quite a scare last night,” the woman said.

  “Where am I?” she managed to croak through dry lips.

  The woman poured her a glass of water and helped her drink some, then settled her back against the pillows. “You’re in Ballantine,” she finally answered.

  The name sounded familiar, then she remembered her mother talking about Ballantine, that it had always been her dream to rule the Fae kingdom. For a second, she wondered if her mother had finally gotten her wish, but then it hit her: her mother was dead, she’d watched her die. She gasped and closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could banish the memory of watching her mother crumple to the ground from her mind, but it played over and over until the tears were running down her cheeks.

  When she finally opened her eyes again, some of her initial grief drained away with her tears, and she met the woman’s eyes, which were full of compassion. “You’ve had a rough couple of days; maybe you should try to sleep a little more,” she said.

  Miranda wanted to protest, but her eyes drifted closed, and the next time she opened them, the sun was beginning to set in the sky. This time, when the memories came rushing at her, she was ready, and as she let that night sift through her brain, she realized that she was finally free. Her mother would never rule her life again; she would never force her to do the evil things she didn’t want to do. Best of all, she wouldn’t have to marry the vile man her mother had more or less sold her to all those years ago.

  “I see you’re awake again,” a soft voice said, startling her out of her thoughts. “Are you feeling up to eating something?”

  Miranda looked up at the same woman who’d been there when she’d awoken earlier, and she wondered if she should be afraid; she was in the hands of the Fae after all. But it was impossible to feel anything but warmth when she looked at the woman and she discarded the thought. Instead, she managed to pull herself up into a sitting position, although the effort made her breath quicken for a second.

  “That would be nice; thank you,” she whispered, her throat raw and dry. “Could I have something to drink as well, please?”

  “Oh, dear, I’m sorry,” the woman said, pouring her a glass of water and holding it while she drank through the straw. When she was finished, the woman set down the glass. “Let me just ring for your dinner.”

  Miranda closed her eyes, exhausted from just the effort of sitting up in bed, and wondered why she was so weak. When the woman came back and sat down next to the bed again, she opened her eyes and looked over at her, trying to decide which of the many questions swimming around in her brain to ask first.

  “What happened to me?” she asked. “I don’t remember anything after...”

  Darby reached out and took her hand. “You’ve had a big shock, Miranda; right now, I think it’s best if you just rest,” she said, “When you’ve had something to eat and a little more sleep, we’ll talk about it some more.”

  Her mother had drilled it into her head that Fae could be tricky, and she wondered for a second if Darby was hiding something from her. “Am I a prisoner?” she asked, the thought making her heart begin to pound in her chest, the freedom she’d just been given suddenly at risk.

  Darby squeezed her hand. “Of course not; you’re free to go any time you like,” she said, “But we all hope that you’ll stay here with us for a little while.”

  From the shadows in the back of the room, she heard someone snort, then the sound of a man’s voice. “Not all of us.”

  Suddenly alarmed because she hadn’t realized there was someone else in the room, she stiffened in the bed and tried to pull the covers further over her chest, very aware that she was nearly naked under the sheet. Darby turned and glared at the shadowy figure in the back of the room as if she’d just remembered that he was there.

  “Jamison, I think it’s time you left for a little while,” Darby said. “We could use a little privacy.”

  The man got slowly to his feet, stretched his arms over his head, and yawned, then stepped out of the shadows. Miranda’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the rumpled Fae, her heart hammering in her chest. His clothes were wrinkled, his face, shadowed by several days’ growth of beard, full of contempt, but when his piercing blue eyes found hers, a thrill rushed through her.

  Looking down at the blankets quickly, she sank lower into the bed, feeling his eyes roaming over her body and something deep inside her tighten deliciously. She’d never felt anything like it, and for a second, it scared her, but then it faded, and she let out the breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.

  A knock on the door broke the silence that had fallen over the room, and she heard Jamison say, “I’ll be outside in the hallway.”

  Chapter Three

  Jamison

  Jamison sat down slowly in the chair outside the door, but as soon as he did, his eyelids began to get heavy. He’d been surviving on a few hours of sleep at a time for days and it was beginning to catch up with him, but he didn’t want to leave the witch, was sure that something would happen while he was gone. Darby seemed confident that she meant them no harm, that she wasn’t working for the Unseelie, but he didn’t trust Darby either.

  As far as he was concerned, Darby was part of the problem; a witch, even one who was mostly Fae, didn’t belong in the castle. Ballantine and all of the Fae world had been just fine without witches for a long time, and he saw no reason to change any of the traditions or laws his brother and now his cousin seemed so set against. They’d severed them well for a long time, and if the Unseelie had been able to exploit some small flaws in the system, they wouldn’t do that again.

  Stewing about what a mess the kingdom had become made it easier to stay awake, so by the time Darby stepped out of the bedroom, Miranda’s dinner tray in her hands, he was ready for a fight. “Did the princess eat all her dinner?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Darby sighed. “I’m not going to fight with you, Jamison,” she said, “I’m tired and hungry; all I want to do is have dinner and go to bed.”

  “And what about our little house guest? Are you just going to go off and leave her alone?” he asked.

  “I’ll get someone to sit with her tonight,” she said, “She’s not dangerous, Jamison. I know you don’t want to believe me, but she’s not.”

  Jamison opened his mouth, but behind him, Colin said, “My wife is right. Miranda is no threat to us.”

  He got to his feet and faced Colin. “How do you know? You never even knew this girl existed until that night, had never seen her before. She could be working for the Unseelie. You may have just let the Unseelie into the castle, and neither of you seem to understand that.”

  Colin sighed. “Jamison, you weren’t there that night, and you didn’t see the look on her face when she walked away from her mother. She could have killed Sarah, but she didn’t, and that alone is enough to tell me something.”

  The mention of the Pixie reminded him that the witch wasn’t the only threat his brother had brought home with him. “Which reminds me,” he said, glaring at Colin. “How do you plan to protect the Pixie?”

  “She has a name,” Colin said, “and Sarah is one of the things I wanted to talk with everyone about at dinner tonight. I think I have a plan that will make everyone, including you, happy.”

  “I doubt that,” Jamison spat at his brother. “The only thing that’s going to make me happy is when eve
rything goes back to normal.”

  “When are you going to realize that this is normal?” his brother asked, shaking his head. “Things change, Jamison, and sometimes we have to change with them, even when we’re not very happy about it.”

  The last thing he wanted was to be lectured by his brother, the playboy turned golden child who’d done everything in his power to destroy generations of Fae tradition. “I’ll see you at dinner then,” he said, then stomped off down the hallway.

  He headed straight for the barracks and sent a guard to sit in front of Miranda’s door, then went back to his room in the castle for a much-need shower and a little nap. Neither did much to improve his mood, so when he walked into the dining room to find everyone laughing and talking, it took all his control not to lash out at each and every one of them.

  Instead, he took his place at the table, trying to ignore the empty place beside him, and prepared himself for a long night. It didn’t take long for him to feel like the odd man out in the room, especially when it became clear to him that Reese and Sarah were obviously just as in love as the other three couples in the room. Even his parents seemed swept up in the romance that filled the room, and it was a shock to him to realize just how much they loved each other.

  He pushed the thought from his mind. Love wasn’t for him; when he married, it was going to be to the most suitable woman he could find. A woman who fit in perfectly with his life: she would be beautiful and smart, but not too smart, able to navigate life as a Royal with grace and confidence. She would carry the right blood, pure Royal blood without a trace of anything else, and give him children equally pure.

  He’d long ago come to terms with the fact that he’d never find a woman with all the perfect qualities and love her, so he’d abandoned that hope. But looking around the room now, he wondered what he might be missing—if his plans for a perfect life might not be that perfect after all.

  ***Miranda***

  Miranda was standing looking down at the Pixie, a huge knife in her hand, her mother screaming at her to kill her. She felt her arm starting to move, felt her muscles contracting to deliver the fatal blow, but her mind was screaming at her not to do it. Looking from the knife to the scared face of the Pixie, using all her strength to keep her arm still, she realized that she couldn’t kill, that she wouldn’t kill, not even for her mother.

  But her mother’s hold over her was strong, so strong that she’d never tried to fight it before, never dared to use her power against her mother. She’d learned long ago that her mother was much more powerful than she was, had learned the hard way that her mother would always be obeyed, even if it sickened her to the point that she was physically ill.

  Her mother had seen to it years ago, when she was only eight, that she would always obey her, and it had taken her years of abuse to finally find the strength to fight. Shaking her head to push away the insults her mother was shouting at her, she forced her hand open and dropped the knife just as the Pixie reached for it. Together, they watched it tumble to the ground. Then the Pixie turned away from her to face her mother.

  Forcing one foot to move and then the other, she walked away from her mother and the Pixie, straight into the middle of the group of Fae. When she finally turned and faced her, her entire body trembling with the effort of ignoring her commands, her mother grabbed her head and staggered a few steps toward her, then crumpled to the ground, one last shriek escaping from her throat.

  Searing pain filled her body, and she felt herself falling, but before she tumbled to the forest floor, she woke with a cry and realized that it was a dream. Trembling with fear and horror, she pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and began to rock back and forth, trying to calm down. The dream was still vivid in her mind, like a movie playing on a screen, and as the realization came to her that it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, guilt washed over her.

  She was the reason her mother was dead; she’d let the Pixie kill her, and if she’d done what her mother said, she’d still be alive. Letting the guilt consume her, she tried to reconcile the relief of being free with the knowledge that she was responsible for her mother’s death, but couldn’t find any peace. Finally, exhausted and heartbroken, she promised herself that she’d never use her magic again, that no one else would die because of her.

  When she closed her eyes, she retreated to a place she’d created in her mind as child, a place free of witches, Pixies, and Fae, a place where there was no evil. Letting the images fill her mind, she drifted off to sleep, hoping that when the sun woke her in the morning, the world would look more inviting than it had when she closed her eyes.

  The sun did wake her the next morning, and while the fear and horror of the darkness had retreated, her resolve not to use her magic hadn’t weakened any. She sat up in bed, feeling stronger than she had in days, and let the sound of the village waking up fill her mind, wondering what lay before her now that her life had been given back to her.

  It wasn’t long before there was a soft knock on the door and Darby poked her head inside, smiling when she saw her sitting up in bed. “You look better today,” she said, setting the tray she’d brought down on a table and approaching her.

  Miranda managed a weak smile. “I remember what happened now,” she said. “It’s my fault my mother is dead.”

  Darby sat down next to her and reached for her hand. “You can’t blame yourself,” she said.

  The feeling of warmth she always felt when Darby was around began to creep into her, but she wasn’t ready to forgive herself. “If I’d done what she wanted me to do, she’d still be alive,” she said, pulling her hand away.

  Darby sat back in her chair and studied her for a long time, and Miranda felt like a child who was about to be scolded. “That’s true,” she finally said, “You could have chosen to kill Sarah, and your mother would still be alive, but I don’t think that’s really what you wanted or you would have done it. There was no way you could have known that walking away was going to result in your mother being killed, so it wasn’t your fault.”

  Miranda wanted to believe her, wanted to stop feeling guilty, but the image of her mother falling to the ground was still so fresh in her mind. “I wish I could believe you,” she said. “But I know that it was my fault; I’m never going to use my magic again. I hate it; it’s evil and I don’t want anything more to do with it for the rest of my life.”

  There was a short pause, then Darby said, “I hope in time, you’ll change your mind. The magic inside you is a gift, Miranda, and I’d hate to see you waste it. For now, I won’t push you. But take it from someone who was forced to hide a part of herself for a long time: it isn’t going to be easy.”

  Miranda wasn’t sure what Darby meant, but she was convinced that not using her magic was the only way to be sure that her powers weren’t ever used for evil again. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

  Darby smiled at her. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” she said. “Now, how about some breakfast?”

  Her stomach growled loudly, and she rubbed it, embarrassed. “I guess I am kind of hungry.”

  “That sounds like you’re more than a little hungry,” Darby said when her stomach growled again. “Good thing I brought plenty.”

  Chapter Four

  Jamison

  Jamison stormed into the study without even knocking, stomped across the room, and threw the message he’d just received onto the desk. “I told you bringing them here was a mistake,” he said.

  His father picked it up, read it, then passed it to his brother, who also read it, his face not changing, then looked up at Jamison. “We knew this would happen,” he said calmly. “We talked about this possibility last night; that’s why we have to get them away from Ballantine.”

  “Do you think moving them is going to stop the Unseelie from trying to get into Ballantine?” he asked, his voice full of sarcasm. “They’re going to keep trying until someone gets though; our defenses aren’t impenet
rable like you seem to think. There’s nowhere you can hide them that the Unseelie can’t find. It’s impossible.”

  Colin shook his head. “We’re not trying to hide them forever, Jamison; we just need to buy a little time for Sarah to understand how to control her power,” he said. “A few weeks at most and she’ll be able to defend herself.”

  “And the witch?” he spat, unable to say her name that morning, not after the dreams he’d had the night before. “What about her?”

  “Miranda,” Colin said, emphasizing her name, “will go as well.”

  “And if she leads the Unseelie right to you?” he asked, the same argument he’d used the night before. “You’re crazy to trust her.”

  “I can assure you that’s not going to happen,” Darby said, walking into the room. “Miranda just swore to me that she’s never going to use her magic again. She’s blaming herself and her magic for her mother’s death; she’s convinced that her magic is evil.”

  “I suppose that’s a pretty normal response considering what’s she’s been through,” Reese said, turning to look at Sarah, who had gone pale.

  “I feel terrible. Maybe I should talk to her, explain that it wasn’t her, it was me,” Sarah said, her voice full of anguish. “I could have killed her, too, I felt it right before she dropped the knife.”

  Reese put his arm around Sarah. “I don’t think now is the time for that discussion, but maybe in a few days, it might help,” he said, pulling her closer. “Give yourself a little time to heal before you try and fix someone else.”

  Sarah looked up at Reese, love shining in her eyes, and Jamison felt a stab of jealousy, but quickly pushed it away. He didn’t want what they had, especially since Sarah was a Pixie, but the feeling rose to the surface again. Frustrated that nothing seemed to be going his way, and annoyed that no one would listen to his opinion, he threw his arms up in the air.