by Sage, May
Her feet hooked on a treacherous, sinuous root, and she fell down, chin first, hitting her head on a rock. Crying, she kicked at the root, hurting her ankle in the process.
She managed to get back to her feet, and kept going toward the light.
She had to get there. She just had to.
The huntsmen drew near. She willed herself to keep going, without looking back.
So very close.
The wall of light was just on the other side of the marshes, when the hooves of a dozen horses reached her.
The laughter made her want to weep, so she closed her eyes. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of crying, or begging.
"This one is courageous."
"And pretty enough. Maybe we should have fun with her, first."
Sera lifted her blade to her own throat. Better to die by her hand than submit herself to being tortured by them.
They laughed harder, thoroughly entertained.
Then their laughter died in their throats.
A bright light coated in shadow had appeared between the men and Sera. A shadow with the shape of a short girl. She felt like a ghost, a spirit, but when she lifted her hand toward Sera's blade, it flew to her grasp. Ghosts, if they existed at all, couldn't hold weapons, as far as Sera knew.
The spirit threw the knife at the closest man, and lifted her grasp—answering her call, the blade sliced each and every one of their throats, so fast they didn't have the time to release one scream.
The specter drew the knife back to her, before tossing it at Sera.
"Go on, before something else catches your scent," it said.
And without another word, it disappeared, returning to shadows.
Sera drew a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and rushed toward the light.
The moment she approached the dome, a doorway opened up in front of her, letting her through Whitecroft.
She fell to her feet, tears on her face.
She’d made it.
She’d made it.
Somehow, she was alive.
But the rest of Tenebris was still in darkness.
Someone offered her a hand, and she took it. Looking up, she found herself facing the scariest man she’d ever seen. There was no hint of kindness, no light in his blue eyes. If he’d once known happiness, it had long been extinguished.
“Are you hurt?”
She could feel her lips trembling. Rather than attempting to speak, she shook her head.
He nodded, waving toward one of the eight buildings behind him.
They were strange halls—most recent, except the largest one; the one from which the blinding light warding the territory was shooting out.
“Choose your court. You’ll be cared for.”
Sera had been courageous enough for a day—courageous enough for a lifetime—but she found it in herself to speak to the terrifying dark fae nonetheless. “What about the girl of light? The pixie with purple hair. She helped me get away. Is she still out there?”
The colossal gentry spun on his heel, every single one of his features alight with something that could only be fury.
There was only one pixie with purple hair in the whole of Tenebris, to Rystan Drusk. And she had been comatose for a decade. “What did you say?”
* * *
The End
May Sage writes various series and prioritizes those with a high number of reviews and ratings.
If you enjoyed Wicked Court and want Shadow Curse to be scheduled soon, don’t forget to leave a review!
Deleted scenes
I should have died a month ago.
I was going through the motions. Doing my duty, fulfilling my responsibilities. Earning cash to put food on the table for my siblings and my parents.
I’d been gifted with a power that couldn’t be wasted; I made use of it to protect my home and provide for my family. Dreams and hopes were distractions I seldom indulged in. My one fantasy was her.
She was suitably unattainable, and therefore not worth pursuing.
But now, I’d spoken with her. Touched her. Teased her. I was under her skin. My time with her felt like a beginning.
And I was about to be slaughtered with the rest of the court. There was no denying it.
We were trapped in the royal keep, surrounded by an army, pursued by gods. They’d killed most of the guards. The reinforcement was a day away at most. By daylight, the immortal warriors would have killed us all.
I followed my liege on autopilot, doing my best to stop thinking. Stop existing. If I allowed myself to take a moment to ponder my mere thirty winters on Eartia, I’d think of her, and I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t even bring myself to formulate her name in my mind.
Grayish hair, dark in places and violet at the tips, she bore the mark of a royal, though no one treated her like it. No one but me.
Beneath layers of sophistication, silk, perfume, and badges announcing pompous titles, I’d always been the boy from the murk, and she, a jewel of the realm.
We may be fae, but our story wasn’t a fairy tale. She’d marry a duke, a prince, a foreign lord. Not me. Never me.
Not now, in any case.
The one light I clung to in my darkest day was the fact that she wasn’t here. She wouldn’t die along with me. She’d live. She’d live. She’d live.
Nothing else mattered.
King Consort Alven led us through a maze of secret corridors hidden inside the walls of the keep. We’d already asked. They didn’t lead out.
Though wounded, the king kept going. I could smell an abundance of royal blood in the air. He might have lived a little longer if he’d cared to stay still, but he’d been adamant. We had to get to the treasure room. We had to.
I didn’t bother asking why. I wasn’t one to sit still if it could be helped. Despite the substantial wound in my side, I followed.
My partner, Pearl, wasn’t so amenable. “Why the treasure room?” she’d exclaimed, baffled. “That dreary old room, of all places!”
The king could have ordered her to shut up and follow him, but that wasn’t Alven’s method. His wife, the unseelie queen, had been the iron fist of the power couple ruling over the Shadow Peaks.
“Because,” he’d replied, though forming words took some effort with the gnarly gash in his stomach, “there lies the one hope this kingdom still possesses.”
Hope.
I had none.
But if the kingdom could somehow hold, then she’d be safer.
I shuddered to think what could happen to her, if our world fell to the rule of the western gods. She had a better chance of surviving than most, whatever happened. She’d never been pampered, unlike the rest of her kin. And though she hid in the shadows, she was strong. Resilient. I focused on that.
Nevlaria Bane would survive.
We reached the treasure room at last, walking in through a pivoting door hidden behind a dusty tapestry. I couldn’t say I’d spent a lot of time in this room; I’d never been much of a history lover. Everything here had a tale, long forgotten, or written in schoolbooks I no longer remembered. I eyed the swords and armor displayed behind gold and glass cases. I had to admit, they looked considerably more practical than what I was wearing; dark training gear and a simple short ceremonial sword.
We hadn’t expected the attack. It had come out of nowhere. I still couldn’t understand how the thousands of soldiers had breached our wards.
I didn’t suppose it mattered, in the end.
Alven didn’t reach for the sword of Titania or the shield of Mab. He didn’t even make for Chronos’s cape, rumored to have the ability to manipulate the fabric of time.
Ignoring the impressive heritage of his people, he walked to a plain wooden case in a corner. It looked old; older than anything else in the room. I didn’t think I would have even seen it, had the king not stopped right in front of it, and placed his bloody palm on the translucent case.
The glass surface vanished at his touch. Inside lay a single sto
ne, purple like his royal blood. It should have seemed boring. Cheap, even. There wasn’t any shine to it, and its shape wasn’t as well defined as that of any jewel on the king’s throat, fingers, or clothes.
But it wasn’t plain, nor simple at all.
“What is it?” Pearl asked, as Alven pocketed it.
The king was already rushing away, walking as fast as he could, though he was leaning forward under the pain.
We should have gotten him to a healer.
“Your Highness. If the queen is dead…”
“You’ll trust that I know that my own wife has passed to the underworld, Drusk,” Alven replied lightly.
I swallowed hard. He was right. Though the king hadn’t been the queen’s fated mate, they’d formed a bond. Any fae would have felt the death of their partner through their link.
“Well, in that case, you’re king. We should get you to safety.”
Somehow. Whatever safety meant.
Flying away wasn’t an option; any enemy attacking fae would have posted archers to pick them off the moment they tried to escape. And as the wards of the court were known to be unbreakable, the palace was situated at the very center of the city. Which meant that getting out of here was nigh on impossible, without encountering countless soldiers. A glance out the window revealed just how many immortals were surrounding the keep.
The king shook his head. “No. Help is coming to us.”
That notion was fanciful, at best. Delusional.
“I’m sorry?”
The king kept going; toward the main exit, it seemed.
The treasure room led right out to the great hall. It’d be swarming with enemies.
“We should return through the passages. Sir!” Pearl cried, almost pleadingly.
She froze in her steps, along with the king and me, because the heavy white carved doors were already opening. From the hall.
We were doomed.
Or so I thought, for a moment.
Then I wished we were.
Because the horror waiting for us was worse than certain death. Even in the poor light and despite the distance, I couldn’t mistake the person who stood in the doorway.
Five foot nothing—shorter than most high fae. Grayish hair, purple at the tips. Eyes of emerald, beautiful and filled with secrets.
Nevlaria. The girl of my dreams, now starring in my worst nightmare. And she was covered in blood.
Also by May Sage
My lips hitch up an inch as the hulking, slender man bends down to whisper in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.”
He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground like the flock of gentry buzzing around him.
My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?”
I have to allow him that one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease.
He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.”
I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares.
* * *
No one was ever born less suited to ruling than Rissa, the thorn of the seelie realm—a half-fae so wild she’s spent the better part of a hundred years in the woods.
For all her flaws, she’s the last of the high court bloodline, and the southern king seems to think that’s reason enough to slap a crown on her feathered head. He needs her to unify the seelie forces. She needs him to forget about that nonsense.
In an effort to aid her people without condemning herself to a lifetime of misery, she sets off on a journey to find the one person with a stronger claim to the throne than hers: the cursed prince.
Sealed in the mountains of the Wilderness, under many spells, the heir of the first seelie queen is the only royal strong enough to protect the fae lands from their immortal invaders.
Surviving the untamed tribes and awakening a thousand-year-old prince seem a lot easier than ruling an entire kingdom where everyone hates her very nature.
And her choices won’t come without consequences.
* * *
The Cursed Crown
Out December 2020
