Her Dark Defenders: Breath of Air (The Darkness of Light Book 1)

by Nala Kingsley

  Her Dark Defenders

  The Darkness of Light Book One

  Nala Kingsley

  Contents

  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

  Author’s Note

  Other Books By Nala Kinglsey

  About the Author

  Her Dark Defenders © 2019 Nala Kingsley

  Cover Art © 2019 Jaqueline Sweet

  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

  To those willing to see a person for who they truly are.

  Chapter 1

  My breath hitched, and I inhaled deeply and double-checked to make sure that my low-cut sweetheart neckline still covered my breasts. They threatened to spill out, but my nipples were covered. The skies knew my mother would faint dead away if I were to flash the entire assembly. As it was, she most likely would not approve of the gown, but I did not care. I was five-and-twenty. Yes, that was young by fairy standards. I would not be able to rule until I was at least fifty, and that would only be the case if my parents had died. Most likely, they would live for another one hundred years.

  That was fine. I would rather they not ever die so they could continue to rule and I could do as I wished. Even now, a reckless, wild sense burned within my stomach. I longed to grab my red, purple, and blue skirts, to dash out of the fairy castle, jump onto the back of a horse—any horse—and ride until I could find the droppings of the moon.

  But I could not. Neither of my parents would appreciate my running away on this night because tonight was my formal introduction to the fairy court. Truly, I did not understand the need for it as I knew all of the fairies well, and they all knew me. But I was Violet Brighthorn, a princess and daughter of the King and Queen of the Fairies, Shade and Joy.

  “Oh, dear, you will be late,” Elle said, fussing with my hair. “I wish you would let your wings out.” Her thin lips twisted into a pout. “You have the most beautiful wings.”

  “They will only get in the way,” I tell her, “and furthermore, there are no slits in this gown.”

  “You…” Elle rushed to my backside and gasped. “You went ahead and altered the design of the gown!”

  “I did,” I said, grinning broadly, enjoying that she had not asked but known I had done exactly that.

  “But, but…” she sputtered. “Your mother! Oh, what will the queen think?”

  “Do not worry. She will know I did this, not you,” I assured her.

  Elle grumbled under her breath. She had been my handmaid for five years now and had lasted the longest by far. Most quit because they could not abide by my ways. It was not as if I deliberately wished to cause the others such conniptions fits. I merely longed to be as free as a bird. Why should their wings bring them to freedom and allow them to flit about as they pleased, but my own wings should be displayed and not used? Hardly any fairies flew nowadays, and I did not understand why they would not. Then again, I loved to feel the wind in my face and in my dark, wavy locks as I rode bareback on a horse. There was something magical about horseback riding, but then, nothing could entirely replace flying under the power of one's wings.

  “I do believe Timber now. I hadn’t thought it possible, but…” Elle shook her head as she fiddled and brushed out a non-existent wrinkle in the skirt of my gown.

  I smoothed the bodice for her, the sparkles of the silver glittering beautifully. Then, I gripped Elle by the shoulders so she would cease her frantic and anxious movements.

  “What did Timber say about me?” I asked.

  Elle glanced away.

  “Go on,” I urged.

  “You should be going. You cannot be late.”

  “A moment more will not be amiss.” When she refused to wag her tongue, I guessed, “He told you about how I would run off.”

  Elle nodded, cautiously looking up at me from beneath lowered lashes. I was taller than many fairy women, standing at five feet, eight inches tall.

  “That was his own fault,” I said hotly. “He and my other tutors refused to teach me any of the interesting spells, claiming they were too advanced, so I would sneak away to learn more about my magic without their assistance. Too advanced… Not at all!”

  A soft chuckle escaped from Elle’s pursed lips, and she blinked in surprise at her amusement. “You should not have done that, Your Fairy Highness.”

  “What is done is done, and now…” I gripped her shoulders again, wincing at the address typically reserved for the fairy king and queen. “Now, I wish for you to go to the ball and enjoy yourself and pretend I am not there.”

  “But—”

  “If you worry about me, I will fire you myself.”

  Elle placed her hands on her hips. “Your mother hired me. You cannot fire me.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Very well.” She bowed low at the waist, her knees bent. “Go on now. You are the loveliest fairy princess I have ever seen.”

  “I am the only fairy princess you have ever seen,” I protested.

  She grinned and shook her head, and I giggled. Of course! She had seen my mother before she had been crowned.

  With a smile and a shrug, I swept by and followed an older fairy guard, Aeden Icebead, to the closed door of the grand ballroom. His gold and silver armor glittered, but not half as much as his broad wings. The light from the candles and streaming through the stained glass wings only enhanced his wings beauty.

  “You are late,” he murmured as he moved to open the door.

  “My own ball can start before me? Well, then, I suppose that is the fault of my parents as that should not be the case.”

  The curl of his smile and the shake of his head had me giggling again. As nervous as I was, I enjoyed that both he and Timber knew and accepted me for who I was. Yes, many thought I was too young and far too fiercely independent. They thought I would never mature enough to be queen. It did not matter that I would have years upon years to get ready for the mantle of queen. It also did not matter that I did not particularly wish to be queen. Once, Aeden told me that I was just like my mother, that she had not wanted the crown either, not until she met my father. I had found that impossible to believe then, and I still had trouble accepting that as my mother was very much the perfect picture of a queen—majestic, regal, grandiose. She always was a step above all other fairies in most everything she did. How could I possibly believe her capable of sneaking away and riding horses for hours on end until she became lost?

  The guard opened the grand, gilded doors, and the herald looked relieved to see me, his shoulders lowering, the creases in his forehead disappearing. He blew into his trumpet, three loud blasts, and the crowd instantly hushed. In a booming voice amplified by magic, he shouted for all to hear, "Please welcome Princess Violet Brighthorn to the ball!"

  All around, fairies applauded. As soon as I set foot inside, I was beleaguered by fairies fr
om all sides, women wishing to compliment me, men seeking my hand so that I might promise them a dance. To each of them, I nodded and slowly made my way closer to the throne.

  My father stood, imposing and resplendent in his red cloak. Gold armor covered his arms only, his hands and chest bare. His pants were a deep red, the material such that the pants looked as if it were floating over him. His gold scepter in his hand grazed against the ground, and once more, the crowd hushed.

  I curtsied low, staring at the ground. As I rose, I lifted my gaze to his face. “My Fairy King. My Fairy Queen.” I nodded to them each in turn.

  My father began to talk, but my gaze fell on a cluster of four men standing in the back corner. They were whispering amongst themselves, which was rather rude to do whilst one's king was speaking. For that matter, I had never seen any of the four before. Two had dark hair, one blond, the last a redhead. Each of them was tall to the point that I would have to look up to them. One said something, and the others laughed. As much as their antics should infuriate me, I found myself smiling.

  The whisper of fabric on fabric forced my attention back to the throne. My mother was now standing and addressing the crowd and most likely myself as well. While Father's crown was several strands of gold entwined to form a circlet around his head, Mother's was far daintier but also more elaborate. A large golden stone was in the center of her forehead, a golden strand dripping with rubies hanging beneath. Twin larger circles, almost hair combs, were nestled into her hair, the pieces attached to the crown by more golden strands. She, too, wore red, her skirt waistline pointed like a "V," revealing her navel through the sheer layer of her gown that covered her stomach. Only patches on either breast were as dark as the circle below. This outfit was my new favorite of the ones my mother wore, but I was surprised that she would wear such a gown to my formal introduction to the court. In that, she could not dare to say anything against my own attire. Perhaps she did not wish to be outshone by her daughter? No, that could not be. I brushed the ridiculous notion aside. She merely wished to look lovely, and indeed, she did. Perhaps she would allow me to borrow this outfit one day.

  My mother's speech was coming to an end. I could tell because she was smiling more. If I were to talk, well, I would not know what to say. Perhaps I should have listened, but I kept sneaking glances at those four men, trying to ascertain who exactly they might be. Angels, perhaps. The very first fairies were the result of humans and angels having unions until enough fairies were created and could reproduce more. For millennium now, the fairies have been self-sustaining, although on occasion, humans and angels would produce another fairy. That was always a difficult situation as humans were not allowed to live with the fairies, but fairies could not live among the humans. Typically, the human's mind had to be altered so they would forget about the fairy and the child. It was not ideal by far, but such was the way things must be. Some claimed I was more human than fairy, considering my rebellious nature.

  “Please, welcome your princess!” my mother cried with a grand flourish of her hand.

  I whirled around and curtsied this time to the crowd. The applause was polite, and I realized the fairies were as uneasy about the idea of my being their queen as I was accepting that title. It was a good thing I would not have to worry about that for a long while. As much as I did not wish to be queen, when the time came, I would do as I must. Until then, I would drink, dance, and be merry.

  As if the fairy musicians knew this, the band struck up a lively tune, and several men rushed up to dance with me. The first to reach me I accepted, and we twirled upon the floor. I noticed that the four in the corner had not made a move, and I told myself I did not care about them. I was going to enjoy myself. Besides, the fairy princess could not be with an angel as royalty especially could not mingle outside of one’s species. I had never heard of a fairy and an angel being together. That would be preposterous! Even I would not go that far. My mother and my father would not approve, and neither would the rest of the fairies. For that matter, I did not think I would like angels all that much. They seemed to be rather stiff and formal from what I knew of them. Personally, I had not talked to one, but considering how fiercely noble and good they were said to be, I did think them to be plain and rather dull. No, angels were indeed not the ones for me.

  Then again, those men laughed and talked far more than I suspected angels would…

  Chapter 2

  My feet glided over the floor. My dancing partner—the tenth one so far—was not the lightest on his feet. After he stepped upon mine for the fifth time, he started to use his wings, which was rather absurd, but my feet did appreciate that he was sparing them.

  The moment the song was over, I nodded to him and rushed over to claim some spiced wine. I had not had anything to drink or eat thus far, which made it rather impossible to drink and be merry.

  After downing my second goblet, I reached for a third.

  Someone coughed behind me, and I turned only after accepting the goblet from a maid.

  The “someone” in question was a tall man, prime and proper. His wings were made from feathers rather than the translucent wings of fairies. He was an angel.

  Curiously, I stole a glance at the cluster of men I had been eyeing this entire time. Not one of them had their wings out. Most of the fairies did, but there were a few, like me, who hid them from view. Most of the other women were trying to be like me, I noticed, eyeing in disdain the one woman who had cut her dress so that the neckline was similar to mine. Her chest, however, was not as large as mine, and she constantly had to tug to lift up her dress to ensure she was covered.

  The angel looked at me and then at my goblet before turning his gaze to the dance floor.

  “Are you judging me?” I asked him and pointedly took a large sip. The heated spiced wine warmed me from the inside out, and I shivered with delight. Yes, I was already feeling the effects of the wine.

  “It is not my place to,” the angel said stiffly.

  “Yet you are.” I eyed him. He was handsome enough, I supposed, but there was something about him I just did not like. “Who are you?”

  He glanced at me and then away. Why did he seem repulsed by me? Was it merely my drinking? Or perhaps my gown made him uncomfortable. The neckline was very low. Any lower, and one could see my nipples. A tall man such as him might even be able to look down my gown and see them. The bodice was skin tight as well, but the many-layered and multicolored skirt was full and not very sensual at all.

  “I am Rafel,” he said after a long, awkward pause.

  “Rafel, I am sorry.”

  He blinked a few times without turning his gaze aside from the dancers. “You are apologizing for what?” he asked.

  “You do not seem to be the happiest here.”

  “Not everyone can be happy at all times,” he said.

  “No, but perhaps I should rephrase. You seem rather miserable. Why?”

  He huffed but said nothing.

  Well then. I nodded to him and moved onto the food. Fairies as a whole had a sweet tooth, and there were so many options here that I hardly knew where to begin. There were butter cakes and honey cakes, fruit tarts and fruit cups, pixie pears and mallow fruits, seafoam candy and more.

  As I sampled a small bite of a butter cake slice, another angel approached.

  “That is delicious,” he said. “I had some earlier.”

  “Oh?” At least this angel seemed nice and genuine. “What of the pixie pears?”

  “Exquisite.”

  I spied a tray that held all kinds of muffins. “And the blueberry muffins?”

  “Perfectly prepared.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Did you try everything?”

  He smiled but did not laugh. “I am afraid I did.”

  “Ah.” I tried some of the seafoam candy. The explosion of sweet, tangy flavors in my mouth nearly made me moan.

  At that moment, for the first time, I locked gazes with one of the four men. His gray eyes pierced into me,
and I swore he could see right through my clothes and to my soul.

  A speck of the creamy candy was on my thumb. Maintaining eye contact with the gray-eyed handsome stranger, I licked my thumb. His grin was wicked as he licked his lips.

  A flush washed over me, and I shivered. Yes, I was feeling the wine all right.

  “I am Sabrael,” the angel said, diverting my attention from the handsome stranger. In comparison, the angel was not altogether thrilling. His eyes were a dull blue, too close together, his lips a thin line as if not made for kissing. “I am grateful to be able to come here for this momentous day in your life.”

  I shrugged. “I do not see how important today is considering I know just about everyone here. All the fairies know me.”

  “As they should, but not all of the angels know you.”

  “Just how close are the angels and fairies?” I asked. An angel and a fairy had never been together, so it struck me as odd just how close the two seemed to be. “I must confess that I do not know as much about angels as I should.”

  I neglected to mention that was because I had taken to slipping away from my tutors whenever they would speak about angels. My thinking them as dull and uninspiring had started many years ago.

  “I assume you do know that fairies are—”

  “From angels and humans at first, yes.”

  “Well, fairies have magic, as angels do. Humans lack that. We feel responsible for your race.”

  “But why? Not all of us are directly related to angels.”

  “That makes no difference. We are family.” He smiled again. His eyes were a little too close together. His hair was cut so short that he was nearly bald. His smile was nice enough, but I felt no fire, not true passion for him.