A Heart of Midnight (Dark Fae Academy Book 2)

by Jenna Wolfhart

  A Heart of Midnight

  Dark Fae Academy - Book Two

  Jenna Wolfhart

  A Heart of Midnight

  Book Two of the Dark Fae Academy Series

  Cover Illustration & Design by Jo Painter

  Copyright © 2018 by Jenna Wolfhart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Also by Jenna Wolfhart

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Jenna Wolfhart

  Dark Fae Academy Series

  A Cage of Moonlight

  A Heart of Midnight

  Order of the Fallen

  Ruinous

  Otherworld Academy Trilogy

  A Dance with Darkness

  A Song of Shadows

  A Touch of Starlight

  Protectors of Magic

  Wings of Stone

  Carved in Stone

  Bound by Stone

  Shadows of Stone

  The Bone Coven Chronicles

  Witch’s Curse

  Witch’s Storm

  Witch’s Blade

  Witch’s Fury

  Chapter 1

  Bree

  It was a day of celebration, but Bree’s heart was full of fear. She clutched the assassin’s note tightly to her chest and wondered if she should go straight to Taveon to tell him what Fillan had done. With a quick shake of her head, she reopened the small square of parchment and read the words for the hundredth time.

  You and Taveon and won the crown but only because of me.

  You owe me, Bree Paine. And I intend to collect on your debt.

  Bree crumpled the note into a ball and threw it into the roaring fireplace, watching the edges curl up and turn black. Smoke filled the air, filling her lungs with soot. She would have to tell Taveon about Fillan’s note, but not today. There was no telling how he would react. He might decide to call off the coronation completely, believing that he had not won the crown legitimately if Fillan had been the one to take care of all of the champions. And Bree couldn’t have him doing something ridiculous as that. Prince Taveon needed to sit on the throne. He needed to rule Underworld. He was the only one she trusted. He would be kind to the fae in not only his realm, but he would also be kind to those she’d left behind.

  Taveon wanted to stop the Tithe, the agreement the Dark Fae had made with the Light Fae realm. The agreement to steal innocent humans from their world and transform them into vicious monsters. It was the only way the Dark Fae could get the energy that they needed to survive.

  But Bree knew there had to be another way. A way that would not end in so much death. A way that Taveon had sworn he would find.

  With a deep breath, she gave a nod to confirm her reasoning with herself. She would tell Taveon exactly what Fillan’s note said, but she would do it tomorrow. After the coronation. Through their magical bond, Bree could feel excitement and hope rippling toward her. She knew that he would be able to feel her unease, despite how much she tried to keep it bottled up inside. Even though the two of them were inexplicably linked due to the nature of the champion bond, she was able to keep most of her thoughts and feelings to herself…unless she wanted him to hear what was on her mind.

  It was a strange sensation, one that she was getting oddly accustomed to. There was a strange kind of comfort in knowing that Taveon was only a thought away. A warmth surrounded her mind and her heart. He was part of her now, as strange as that sounded. And he would be as long as they didn’t sever the bond.

  Rafferty popped his head around the door to find Bree staring down at the fireplace, her eyes still caught on the charred remnants of Fillan’s note. He cocked his head and sized up her expression, but he didn’t say a word. Rafe was used to Bree’s changing moods by now.

  Instead, he let out a low whistle. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Bree. The ceremony is about to start. Are you ready?”

  She glanced up at him and smiled, a new kind of warmth spreading through her entire body. Rafe had called her breathtaking, but he was the one who could truly steal the air from anyone’s lungs. His silver hair curled around his pointed ears, and his eyes flashed with a kind of heat that could make her toes curl. He was tall and lithe, and he moved with a kind of grace that betrayed the truth of who and what he was: a shapeshifting Dark Fae whose raven form soared through the moonlit skies of Underworld. Rafe was part Wilde Fae, but it was impossible to see their orc-like nature reflected in Rafe. He was one of the gentlest, kindest Dark Fae she’d met. A total contrast to the Wild Fae’s penchant for vicious violence.

  “I’m ready.” Bree smiled across the room at him, her eyes drifting to his fitted fighting leathers that stretched across his muscular chest. Even on a day like today, Rafe dressed the part of one of Taveon’s warriors. She glanced down at her violet dress with the lacy edges that cut across her chest. “Am I dressed okay? Should I change into my—”

  “You look perfect.” Rafe strode across the room and held out an arm. “It is an honor to accompany you to the coronation. Every fae in the room will be extremely envious.” He gave a wink, and Bree’s cheeks filled with heat.

  The two of them exited her living quarters and made their way through the castle grounds to join the bustling crowd in the Main Courtyard just inside the front gates. A stage had been erected at the far end where the silver throne had been placed. Usually, the throne sat deep within the Keep in the throne room, but it had been moved outside for the ceremonial day. The Dark Fae believed in each King making his vows for the realm outside and underneath the power of the moonlit skies.

  Bree shivered as they strode through the crowd to take their seats toward the front rows. Many of the fae had donned their horns and strange, gruesome masks had been painted on their faces in varying shades of reds, oranges, and greys. Even after spending weeks inside this castle with these fae, Bree still hadn’t grown accustomed to the beastly side they only showed during special occasions. The twisting horns that protruded from their skulls, especially. It was a reminder of exactly where she was and who these fae were. Many of them were full of viciousness. Many of them were dangerous.

  She needed to keep up her guard.

  Bree and Rafe took a row just behind the previous King’s council. Ethne, who had helped get Bree ready, Lord Dagen, whose changing loyalties made Bree’s head spin, and Conlan and Branok, both of whom had claimed allegiance to Taveon back before all of this had even begun. She stared at the back of their heads, frowning. Conlan and Branok had seen her meeting with Fillan that day, back during the Silver Moon Ball. And yet, they’d never informed the Prince about it. She couldn�
�t help but wonder why. Taveon had always told her that Fillan did not let anyone see him unless he intended them harm. And yet, not only had Conlan and Branok seen and recognized the fae assassin, but they hadn’t even seemed particularly alarmed.

  But her thoughts were cut off as the buzzing crowd fell into a sudden hush. In the distant, a low horn echoed through the expansive castle grounds, bouncing off the tall, sharp towers that rose up high all around them. Hooves clattered on the stone ground, starting with a hush and building into a roar. As if one, every head in the crowd turned to gaze at the front gates of the castle, at the thick iron bars that were being dragged open by two armed guards decked out in red and gold finery.

  Two more guards appeared in front of the gates, their black horses trotting down the path. Through the bond, Bree felt the first hint of apprehension from Taveon. Even without seeing him, she knew he was only seconds away from appearing in front of the gates. She sent back her own emotions: encouragement, hope, and something else she couldn’t quite name. Something akin to friendship, though that word barely seemed to cover the way she felt about Taveon. Their relationship had been strange from the moment they’d met, and it hadn’t gotten any simpler in the weeks she’d spent inside his realm.

  First, there had been anger. A hell of a lot of anger. From both sides. Then, there had been a grudging acceptance. Until the anger had taken ahold once again. Now, they had a bond that surpassed the magic that connected them together. A strange kind of trust that they could only have after everything they’d gone through.

  As Taveon approached the front gates, appearing on his silver stead, Bree couldn’t help but feel a blaze of affection toward the Prince. She had tried so hard to keep that affection at arm’s length, but it had broken through every wall she’d erected between them.

  There was no denying how she felt about him, not anymore, though she barely understood the full depth of it.

  Taveon urged his horse forward, coming into full sight of the guests gathered to watch him ascend to the throne. Bree couldn’t help but gasp at the flicker of her heart. His dark hair had been smoothed back from his face, highlighting the sharp cheekbones and the commanding curve of his jaw. His eyes were deep pools of pure black, but they somehow glowed underneath the light of the bulbous moon hanging low in the night sky. Underworld was always drenched in darkness. They had no daytime in this realm. But, right now, with the future King striding toward her, Bree felt like a light as bright as the midday sun had suddenly appeared.

  As Taveon continued down the pathway that cut through the rows and rows of fae, his gaze caught hers. Something passed between them, a flicker of affection and heat that made every hair on Bree’s arms stand on end. And suddenly, she understood what his look meant. Through the bond, she heard it all. Taveon thought that all of this—his coronation, his crown, his throne—was all because Bree had been brave enough to fight as his champion.

  But now Bree knew the truth. Fillan had done this. Not her. Taveon’s success had nothing to do with Bree. Her heart dropped low in her chest, and she shrunk underneath his beaming gaze. Oh, how she wished she could be the result of that look in his eye. To be the true reason of all that pride. Because that was what it was. He looked proud of her. Proud to have her as his champion. Proud to have her waiting to watch him take his crown.

  She blinked back tears and tore her gaze away from Taveon’s form, the silver finery barely hiding the tightly-coiled muscles that made him the strongest Dark Fae she’d ever laid eyes on.

  “What is wrong, my love?” Rafe leaned close and whispered the words in her ear. She gritted her teeth and turned toward the throne. Rafe didn’t need a bond to understood what Bree felt. He could see every emotion written across her face. But she couldn’t tell him about Fillan either. Not yet. And definitely not here in front of every single member of the court.

  If the wrong fae heard the truth, there was no telling what would happen.

  A question-mark came through the bond, but Bree kept her gaze focused ahead instead of behind. Slowly, the Prince approached the stairs, swept his legs over the side of his horse, and gracefully landed on the stone ground. This time, he didn’t cast a glance her way, but she could feel his attention zeroed in on her, even with his back turned her way.

  Everything is fine, she said in a whisper through her mind.

  The tension in his shoulders relaxed but only slightly. He climbed the stairs, coming to a slow stop at the top of the stage. With a deep breath, he turned toward the crowd with his jaw clenched tight. He kept his dark gaze focused on the distant horizon, his chin lifted high. Bree swallowed hard as she stared at him. He was undeniably powerful. Even without his wings spread wide for every eye to see, he carried with him the kind of strength that rippled off his body in waves.

  He looked like a Prince. And he looked like a King.

  Lord Dagen strode forward from where he’d been waiting in the row just in front of Bree. Taveon had surprised her by choosing the Lord to perform the coronation. The two of them had always been so at odds before now. Prince Taveon had never really trusted Dagen, and the same could be said in reverse. And yet, somehow, they’d finally come together when it truly counted, even though Dagen had once tasked Bree to spy on Taveon.

  “Before we get started,” Taveon said, clearing his throat after Lord Dagen gave a nod, “I would like to make a short announcement about the future of this realm.”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Bree furrowed her eyebrows. She’d never attended a coronation before, but she had a pretty good idea that this kind of thing never happened. An announcement?

  Prince Taveon held up his hand, a signal for the crowd to fall silent. “I understand there have been some rumors circling as of late, due do various...circumstances. Some of these rumors are false. However, some of them are very much true.”

  More murmuring spread through the crowd like wildfire.

  “As you all know, each year the Dark Fae and the Light Fae participate in a Tithe intended to provide us with the human energy we need to survive.” A pause, Taveon’s face growing grave and serious, though that was hardly different to his usual self. “During this process, not only are innocent Light Fae sent away from their families but humans are twisted and deformed into Redcaps. Innocent humans. Innocents who then kill more innocents. This is how it has always been, but it time for a change. I intend to make that change by finding another way for the Dark Fae to draw our energy. And I intend to do away with the Tithe.”

  The murmurs grew into a roar. A few angry shouts were lobbed at Taveon, but he kept his gaze focused on the distance, and his grave expression never faltered. Instead, he turned to Dagen, gave a nod, and waited for the furor to die down.

  Dagen cleared his throat and turned to the crowd, his face pale and his eyebrows cinched tight. “Now that Prince Taveon has spoken his intentions, it is time for the coronation to continue. Everyone, sit down or the Court will find you in disrespect of the proceedings.”

  At that, silence finally hung heavy over the tense crowd. Prince Taveon had mentioned this part to Bree. Any fae who did not respect the coronation or did anything to disrupt it at all, would be found guilty of treason and thrown straight into the dungeons. It seemed a little extreme to Bree, but she could now see why they had that rule. If they didn’t, the whole thing would probably descend into chaos. The Dark Fae were not happy to hear Taveon’s plans, and that was putting it lightly.

  In the distance, hidden somewhere deep within the castle grounds, a harp began to play a melody that whispered across Bree’s exposed skin. It was a soft and soothing kind of tune but one that twanged with melancholy notes. The sound of it dug deep into Bree’s bones, and it made her entire body feel as it was curving toward Taveon and the throne.

  Tears filled her eyes, for reasons she did not understand. As she glanced around the gathered crowd, she could see that others were just as moved by the song as she was, despite the fact they’d been two seconds away from fighting
only moments ago.

  Rafe leaned toward her, his voice rough with emotion. “This is the Song of the Moon Tree. It is always played when a fae becomes King, and it is a song that most here have not heard in centuries. For some, not ever.”

  Centuries. Bree’s heart squeezed tight. The previous King, Prince Taveon’s ‘father’, had ruled these lands for longer than Bree could even comprehend, the lifespan of a Dark Fae never-ending. Unlike Taveon, most of the fae here were not immortal. They could die by disease, by poison, by sword. But they would never die of old age, which meant they scarcely ever did. These lands had not been plagued by disease or war in centuries.

  Lord Dagen opened up an old wooden trunk that had been brought to the stage by two male fae with dark gray horns. He pulled out the glittering black crown, decorated with row upon row of tiny silver moons. They were bright and bulbous and somehow glowed from within, and the light of the moon glinted across the smooth surface. The sight was dazzling and one that Bree would not soon forget.

  Lord Dagen knelt before Taveon, and the swelling music stopped.

  “By my commitment to the realm of the Dark Fae, I bring Prince Taveon of the Kavanaugh family before you as the next ruler of our great lands. Taveon, do you make the vow to your peoples?” Lord Dagen’s voice was clear and strong, echoing through the hushed crowd.

  Taveon gave a slight inclination of his head, and his smooth melodic voice drifted through the courtyard. “I, Taveon Kavanaugh, hereby vow to serve Underworld with all the power, the strength, and the will in my immortal body. I no longer serve myself but the realm as a whole. I give my life to these peoples, here and for always, until the day my body no longer takes a breath.”