Faerie Lords Boxset

by Isabella August

  Kaitlyn let out a sob. She took a few shuddering steps forward — and threw her arms around Gabe.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” she whimpered. “You… you’re here.”

  Gabe stared down at the woman in his arms, frozen in fear and confusion. Slowly, it seemed to dawn on him that Kaitlyn wasn’t going to attack him or scream at him.

  “I thought I’d lost you both,” Kaitlyn hiccuped. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t know… I couldn’t have imagined… could you ever forgive me for thinking the worst?”

  Gabe tightened his arms shakily. The dazed, frozen expression didn’t quite leave him, but it softened significantly. Jenna pressed a hand reassuringly to his elbow, and he took in a shuddering breath. Tears threatened in his eyes; he ducked his head to hide his face against Kaitlyn’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered. “I thought… I was so sure you’d never want to see me again.”

  Kaitlyn lifted up on her toes to shower fierce kisses on his forehead. “You stop saying those awful things right now!” she ordered him, and a bit of her teacher voice slipped out in the process. “You’re my little boy, Gabriel, and I… I did a terrible job of protecting you. Both of you. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

  The declaration struck Gabe like a blow to the chest. He crumpled utterly, holding onto the woman in front of him for dear life.

  Jenna glanced quickly toward Marie, but the younger woman was studiously doing her best to avert her gaze from the emotional scene playing out in front of her. The rest of the patrons in the Lounge seemed to be politely copying her discomfort, for which Jenna found herself deeply grateful. She hadn’t exactly meant for everything to happen here in public, but things seemed to have fallen out that way.

  Jenna angled herself slightly between Gabe and the rest of the café, trying to win him a bit of privacy. Eventually, he managed to raise his head again, and Jenna’s heart gave a bittersweet flip in her chest at the raw expression on his face. He sucked in a hard breath, wiping shakily at his face.

  “I… I should… buy you both a coffee,” he mumbled.

  Jenna smiled sheepishly. “I just bought mom hers,” she said. “But we’ll call it a rain check.” She threaded her arm through his, helping him circumspectly back toward one of the other chairs in the window.

  Kaitlyn settled into the chair next to him. Her hands flew over his face, touching his hair in confusion. “You look so different,” she said, bewildered. “Your hair—”

  Jenna shook her head. “I told you, Mom—”

  “—I know, but seeing it is still very different,” Kaitlyn huffed. She softened her look toward Gabe. “I’m not saying it’s bad. It’s just so… all of this is so much, all at once.”

  Gabe shook his head with a hoarse laugh. “Oh, I know,” he said. “I’m right there with you.” Jenna didn’t miss the way he leaned into her mother’s touch though, and she smiled sadly.

  “I’m sure I was going to say things,” Gabe mumbled. “I don’t remember any of them. I was going to say, um. I love Jenna. And I’m going to marry her. I mean, not now, but someday, and—” He blinked, and his dazed expression gave way to alarm. “—I was going to say that when she wasn’t here. Oh, god. You’re right Jen, I’m not romantic at all—”

  Jenna froze abruptly. A bright red flush crept up her cheeks, along with a confused delight. “That’s…” She cleared her throat, sinking down into her chair. “That’s okay. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Her smile was utterly stupid now though, and she knew it.

  “Oh my lord,” her mother gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You finally decided to date a decent man, Jen?” She stared at Gabe, her eyes wide.

  “My taste in men is not that bad!” Jenna protested. She knew her face was still red, though. “And, um. I was gonna tell you eventually. Gabe just kind of… beat me to it.”

  Kaitlyn wasn’t listening, though. “Thank all that’s holy,” she was saying. “That boy Joshua had maybe two brain cells to rub together. I barely managed to keep my mouth shut, but I would have cried if you married him, and not in a good way—”

  Jenna burrowed her face into her hands, thoroughly embarrassed.

  It was a strange few hours of catching up. The tension never quite gave way, but it had lessened significantly by the time the café was ready to close up. Many long hugs later, and Jenna was convinced that it was only a matter of time before things between them all felt… well, not normal, but better.

  They dropped her mother off at her hotel, but Gabe continued walking with her, still keyed up and full of nervous energy. Jenna mumbled something about the cold, and buried herself underneath his arm, though it was really just a transparent excuse to nudge herself closer to him.

  “I made a mess of that,” he said finally, in a very small voice.

  Jenna slid her arms around him, holding on tightly. “You did not,” she contradicted him. “You did just fine. I think Mom was just as scared as you were, so she hardly would have noticed.”

  Gabe sighed against her. “Well… I may as well keep making a mess while I’m at it,” he said. “Come on.”

  Jenna blinked — but she let him lead her on a detour. They soon emerged into Dundas Square, where she felt the Looking Glass already flickering eagerly to life at its lord’s approach.

  The way back to the Looking Glass didn’t bring them to the false Dundas Square, though. Instead, as Gabe tugged her through the Hidden Path, Jenna felt the world step sideways.

  Leaves crunched beneath her feet. A great, golden oak tree sprawled its branches every which way across the vaulted ceiling of the Met’s entrance hall. Jenna blinked, startled. It had taken over nearly every inch of the space in the time since she’d left.

  Gabe let out a breath, behind her — she felt the tension ease from his shoulders as he set foot once again in the realm he owned. He slid his arms around her, pressing his lips to her neck. “I remembered why there’s a tree here,” he told her. His lips curved up against her neck, but she felt his hands still trembling for some reason.

  “Oh?” Jenna asked, perplexed. “Why is there a tree here, Gabe? And what have you been feeding it?”

  “Do you remember the first time we came here?” he asked her. That nervousness was back in his voice. “Not when you opened the Path. Before that. My mom took us here for Christmas.”

  Jenna knitted her brow. “Yeah,” she said. “I kind of remember.” She’d been kind of out of it the whole time — but as little fun as a museum visit had sounded to her as a little girl, she’d been so thrilled to get out of the apartment that she’d said yes. And Gabe had spent the whole time making jokes about all the boring exhibits anyway, so she’d barely noticed the educational bits.

  “There was a Christmas tree up,” Gabe said. “You asked whether it was an exhibit.”

  Jenna huffed at the memory. “I was like nine, okay? I thought it might have historical ornaments or something.”

  He grinned. “And Mom told you it was just there for Christmas. And you said—”

  “—that there should be a tree there all year,” Jenna finished, caught off-guard by the sudden memory. “But not a Christmas tree. A bigger tree.”

  Gabe nodded sagely. “A cooler tree,” he said.

  Jenna colored. “You remembered that?” she mumbled.

  “I guess I did,” Gabe said. His voice seemed caught between pride and embarrassment. “How’s it stand up? Is it, uh. Cool enough?”

  Jenna burst out laughing. “It’s awesome,” she said. “Way better than a Christmas tree, Gabe. They should hire you to run this place for real.”

  His chin settled over her shoulder. His hands closed on hers, and Jenna felt him press something into her palm. She looked down, and her heart sped up.

  A plain silver ring with a tiny little sapphire sat in a wooden box in her hand.

  “Would you marry me?” he whispered. She could hear the hope and fear in his voice. “Not right this second, obvious
ly. Or even soon, I guess. Just… eventually. If you want to.”

  Jenna’s breath stuck in her throat. “Y-yes,” she managed. She turned to throw her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. His arms still shook on her, and she laughed giddily. “Any day. Today. Right this second, if you want to.”

  Gabe exhaled in abject relief. She took pity on him, and nudged him back toward the ticket counter, so he could lean back against it. He slipped the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger, and her heart melted just a little bit more.

  Jenna leaned her head against his chest, breathing in to stop her head from spinning deliriously. “You okay?” she asked with a silly grin.

  “Oh, yeah. Fine. I’ve just been working up to that for years, you know?” Gabe kissed her again, gently, and Jenna decided that it would be hard to beat the moment of pure bliss it inspired within her.

  “—wait,” she said suddenly, bursting into surprised laughter. “Years? You bought that before you’d ever even asked me out?”

  Gabe groaned. “Okay,” he said. “In my defense, I was still a little bit drunk from the night before. And you’d just made me pancakes. It seemed like it was meant to be.”

  Jenna raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t have a receipt for your drunken mistake?” she asked with a grin. “Rookie move, Gabe.”

  “Drunk me thought he was very smart,” Gabe muttered. “Drunk me didn’t need a receipt. But I might have decided… it was an okay long-term investment. I thought it might encourage me to finally get around to that first part.”

  Jenna’s smile was so broad it hurt just a little bit. She curled against him, closing her eyes. “We got around to it,” she mumbled.

  Gabe sighed, and threaded his fingers through hers. “Thank god,” he said. “I was starting to run out of pick-up lines.”

  Jenna’s grin widened another inch. “No, you weren’t,” she told him.

  “No, I wasn’t,” Gabe acknowledged. He paused, and cleared his throat. “So, Jen…”

  “Mmhmm?”

  “I must be in a museum,” he observed slowly. “Because you are truly a work of art.”

  Jenna shook her head. “You’re lucky I love you, Gabe,” she mumbled.

  “I am, actually,” he told her softly. “I’m very, very lucky.”

  And for a long while after that, they held onto one another in the world that they’d unwittingly stolen together.

  THE END

  Thanks for reading Crown of Glass — but the faerie tale is far from over! Read Pallid Valentine’s story in book 4, Crown of Salt.

  (Keep reading for an excerpt.)

  Craving more faerie tales? Get regular updates and sneak peeks at what’s in progress on the Isabella August mailing list. Subscribers also get early access to chapters from each book, before anyone else!

  Crown of Salt

  More than a hundred years after losing her soul to a faerie lord, Valentine Ellis returned home to die.

  Time was a strange thing when you had too much of it. It had been many decades since Valentine had seen Kingston upon Hull. When she’d first left, it had been a bustling shipping port, full of life. Maybe fifty years ago, she’d visited out of idle curiosity, and found it falling apart. Tonight, as she staggered her way out of the Hidden Path from faerie and into Hull’s quiet, foggy streets, she saw signs of a half-hearted modern recovery that hadn’t quite taken. The buildings were nicer than they had been, at least, and the air wasn’t quite so tinged with hopelessness.

  Valentine stumbled away from the boardwalk, deeper into the city. Away from the ocean, she thought dimly. I’ll die on dry ground, thank you very much.

  Hot, sticky blood dripped between her fingers where she held them against her chest, matting in the already-tangled strands of her long black hair. Her body was cold, but that wasn’t indicative of much — since binding herself to the Drowned Lord and accepting the Deeps into her soul, she’d been numb to much of the world. Still, her vision had begun to blur, and she thought that must have been an excellent indicator that something had finally injured her badly enough to steal her from the faerie lord’s dark grasp.

  Her booted feet swerved on the sidewalk. She caught herself against a wall, her breath heavy in her chest. As she glanced up, she realized that her path wasn’t quite as aimless as she’d tried to convince herself it was. The tall old steeple of Holy Trinity rose ahead through the fog, taunting her with a last, bittersweet mixture of emotions.

  Valentine clutched at the ivory crucifix that still hung around her neck. An old, familiar magic within it responded to her call, soothing what little remained of her fears. Normally, that magic told her: You shall endure. Whatever happens, at least you will survive. But tonight, it told her only: You shall finally get your rest.

  God might have abandoned her long ago. But there was a certain symmetry to the fact that she’d used His symbols of suffering to keep herself sane.

  She wasn’t destined to reach Holy Trinity. Her knees hit the ground, and she blinked in surprise. Her cheek soon pressed against the cold, wet pavement, and she closed her eyes.

  It wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t bliss. But it was the end — and that was something, at least.

  That bastard will have to find someone else to do his dirty work. The thought of the Drowned Lord’s annoyance put a distant smile on her face as nothing else had done so far.

  As darkness slowly closed in, however, she felt a soft nudge at her fingers. Something snuffled near her ear, then gave a high whimper. Footsteps followed nearby. Someone knelt down beside her, sliding hands carefully beneath her body to turn her over. The person above her hissed in a breath, and Valentine slitted her eyes open curiously.

  The man kneeling next to her was slender, with a delicate cast to his pale features. He was wearing a gently pinstriped oxford shirt and trousers, and the sort of expensively-fitted tweed jacket that somehow managed to look even more casual for its high price. His short hair was a strange, snowy white — but his eyes were currently two soft red pin-pricks of light, staring down at her in the darkness.

  Valentine laughed, hoarse and weak.

  Probably the only vampire in Hull, and I found him.

  “Tonight’s… your lucky night… leech,” Valentine gasped through labored breaths. Her old, broad Hull accent slipped back to her as she spoke. “'Ave a free meal.”

  A wet nose nudged into her hand again. There was a large, shaggy black dog nuzzling at her with concern.

  “You need a hospital,” the man above her said softly. His accent was jarringly cultured. If the Received Pronunciation were to take human form, Valentine thought, it would sound an awful lot like the tweed-ridden leech that currently knelt next to her, taking her bloody hand gently in his own. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His hand trembled though, and she knew it wasn’t with fear or disgust. Even if he’d fed recently, his hunger had to be tempted by the blood that currently soaked her.

  “Don’t bother.” Valentine gave a shaky laugh. Her fingers closed weakly on his. “I won’t make it… to a hospital.” That was the point, after all.

  Those red eyes flared with alarm, and she closed her eyes again, vaguely triumphant. Somewhere beneath the cold feel of the Deeps, she remembered to feel a hint of fear — but it was surprisingly calming, having that hand on hers.

  This isn’t the worst, Valentine thought hazily. The simple presence of another human being did more for her peace of mind than she might have expected.

  A strange warmth spread through her body where those strong, elegant fingers threaded through hers. Valentine shivered with delight and confusion. I can’t remember the last time I felt warmth, she thought. Maybe the Deeps have lost their hold, now that I’m finally dying.

  The vampire released her hand abruptly, and Valentine let out a faint whimper in spite of herself. He slid his arms beneath her body though, cradling her close to his chest. “Don’t give up,” he whispered to her. “There’s still hope.”

&nbs
p; Valentine turned her face against his chest at the suggestion. Not for me, she thought with a tired, sinking feeling. Never for me. But she didn’t have the strength left to say the words aloud.

  The last shreds of Hull slipped away into darkness.

  Maybe, she thought longingly, death would just be like dreaming.

  “…and ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low… who toil along the climbing way, with painful steps and slow…”

  Warm, golden candles burned away at the darkness of the night, glittering upon the stained glass windows of Holy Trinity. Men and women sat in the pews, their heads bowed, their eyes shining with the understanding of this hushed, sacred Yuletide moment. The choir sang on, their voices mixing on the air.

  But as always, it was Valentine’s clear and ardent tones that rose above the rest.

  “Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing,” she sang. “O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing!”

  Her mother’s face looked out from the crowd, shining with pride. Sidney Ellis sat next to her, dressed in his holiday best. He looked every bit as enchanted; his dark eyes met Valentine’s across the church, and something about his expression made her flush with delight.

  “For lo! the days are hastening on, by prophet bards foretold — when with the every-circling years, comes round the age of gold!” Voices swelled around her, rising in a final crescendo. “When peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling; and the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing!”

  The last of the song echoed through the church, lingering on the air. There was no clapping — that sort of thing was discouraged during something so somber as the Christmas service — but appreciative murmurs rippled through the audience nonetheless.

  Her breath came hard in her chest as she stepped off the stairs, but it was a good feeling. The joyous sense of a meaningful, well-executed performance stayed with her as her mother came to take her hands.