As I looked around, I caught movement in the trees lining the glade. Something large and gray was moving toward the clearing at a rapid pace.
Instinctively, I grabbed an arrow from my quiver and nocked it back in my bow.
Someone screamed as an ogre crashed into the clearing and ran at the crowd. Elves began running in every direction. The ogre ignored them, charging directly for Prince Cirrus.
“Get down!” I yelled, taking aim at the rumbling ogre.
It was a moving target, but a large one.
I released my arrow. It zipped through the air, hitting the ogre’s right eye with a sickening slurp. The ogre jerked to a stop and roared. I nocked a second arrow and loosened it into his gut. Still he bellowed. I walked toward him, releasing arrows as I went. The heart. The neck. The head. It took five arrows to put him down for good. My heart thundered inside my chest as I stopped, having reached the ogre’s side where he lay dead on the grass. I didn’t know what I would have done if he’d still breathed when I reached him. Probably become elf pulp beneath his meaty fist.
Stunned silence froze the gathering as all eyes turned to the downed ogre. Then clapping broke the spell—one set of hands, those of Prince Cirrus, his eyes seeming to glow as he stared at me, slamming his palms together like cymbals.
Liri’s eyebrows rose. The moment our eyes met, he tipped his head in respect. I knew when I saw his nod that I’d sealed my fate to become his sister-in-law, Prince Cirrus’s bride. In fifteen months he’d make me a widow. But on that day, the day of the tournament, I had no idea what was to come.
It turned out Cirrus had compelled the ogre to attack him as one last test of the contestants. He wasn’t looking for a bride so much as a guardian angel. Two older brothers before him had been murdered—one by his own Fae wife who had conspired with another brother. Plotters, all of them—all to get one step closer in the succession to become king.
I never loved Cirrus, but he was never cruel. He was an attentive lover and made sure my family was generously compensated. While he didn’t allow me to visit the elven realms, he did deliver letters between Mel and me. My father and Shalendra never wrote, but I didn’t want to hear from them, anyway.
I tried to keep Cirrus safe, but in the end, Liri poisoned him. Afterward, my brother-in-law had offered to make me his bride.
“You’ve blossomed into a true beauty in Faerie, Aerith, and my brother said you pleased him in bed.”
Such cold, cruel beauty in his ashen face and hair the color of snow.
Nothing should have surprised me after fifteen months amongst the Fae in Dahlquist, but nonetheless, I’d gaped at Liri in shock. Did he seriously think I’d consider an offer to marry my mate’s murderer? His own brother?
I’d chosen my words carefully, using what truths I could about missing my own realm and family—wanting to return to the lands I loved. It was never a good idea to insult the Fae, especially one as immoral and powerful as Liri.
After I’d refused him, Liri had smiled.
“Perhaps after you’ve returned home for a spell you will find you miss Faerie. Perhaps we will meet again, my pet, and you will reconsider my offer. You may find yourself wishing to return sooner than you’d imagine.”
It had taken all of my willpower not to visibly shudder. I knew exactly the kind of mate Liri desired—not a Fae who could match his powers, but a pet, as he called me, to satisfy his needs and obey.
I’d escaped one brother. I wouldn’t sacrifice myself to the next one—not if I had any say in the matter, which I did. For now.
Let Liri think I might reconsider, so long as it got me back home.
The Fae arrogantly believed their realm was the best one of all and couldn’t imagine why anyone would live anywhere else unless they had no other choice.
All I wanted was to return home and never step foot in Faerie or see Liri’s smug face again.
“Can I go home now?” I’d asked, squaring my shoulders.
Liri had given me a tight nod.
“Whatever you wish, Aerith.”
I wished I’d never been forced to marry for my father’s convenience. And yet, after everything, after my absence—my sacrifice—Father was about to insist I do it all over again.
Chapter Three
The grounds of my family’s new estate were as big as the entire neighborhood I’d grown up in. Manicured shrubs lined the cobblestone drive leading up to a two-story manor home that rose up from the grounds like a mountain range, spreading to either side of the property.
Cirrus had honored his promise and paid my father well. But instead of being cautious, Father had sold our home in Pinemist and purchased this monstrosity in Sweetbell.
When it came time for me to return home, I found myself on unfamiliar ground, feeling even more like an outsider than when I left.
Saturday eve, laughter and music filled the grand parlor, shaking the chandeliers from the high ceiling. A pianist played lively music from the pianoforte while finely dressed elves clustered in small groups. Shalendra had three admirers vying for her attention beside the bay windows. She wore a new purple velvet gown and black onyx beads at her throat.
I had not seen any signs of her emerald pendant, the one from Mother, since returning to the elven realms three months ago. Nor had I seen Jhaeros. He’d been cast off from what Mel had told me. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a prick, I would have felt sympathy for him.
I stood near the pianoforte where it was loudest and most difficult for any of our present company to approach and make conversation.
Aside from my sister’s three admirers, there were five “eligible males,” as my father called them, from the richest families in Sweetbell. They stole glances my way. My time in Faerie had heightened my previously lackluster looks. Faerie food, not harmful to elves—unlike the unfortunate humans who found themselves in the Faerie realms—had filled out my figure. The dark half-circles beneath my eyes had completely disappeared, and my blonde hair had taken on a golden shine that followed me back to the elven realms.
Liri had sent me home with the lavish wardrobe and jewelry I’d acquired during my fifteen months in Dahlquist.
Tonight, I wore a beaded nude gown with light blue, pink, and maroon embroidered florals. A maroon satin ribbon circled my waist, tied in a thin bow, and the gown pooled at my feet where the skirt flared over the intricately woven rugs of the parlor.
I stood poised, taking in the scene around me while listening to the music, which Melarue had wanted to dance to earlier, until Father snapped at her to “behave like a lady.” Remembering Mel’s pout brought a small smile to my lips. Mel was now in her seventeenth year and still a spitfire, despite being dressed up in a ruffled white gown—which she kept tugging at.
Fifteen months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to stand still without fidgeting either. I would have fought not to clutch my stomach or tremble any time a male approached. But as a princess of Dahlquist, I’d learned poise and grace—much to my father’s delight since the purpose of tonight’s social gathering was to auction me off.
While Cirrus had compensated Father generously, my mate’s death marked the end of the monthly stipend. If Father had remained in Pinemist, there would have been enough funds to last several lifetimes, but the estate in Sweetbell cost a king’s ransom to maintain.
“Yes, yes, the air of a goddess, to be sure,” I overheard my father saying eagerly to an elderly elf couple and their highbrow grandson who flicked his eyes my way with an assessing expression. “Chosen by a Fae prince for her otherworldly beauty and grace,” Father continued.
I nearly snorted.
Sure, that was why Cirrus had chosen me—nothing to do with my arrows and direct aim. I met the male’s stare, held it long enough not to appear too demure, but brief enough not to be perceived as willfulness.
It wasn’t simply poise that kept me still, but an alert attentiveness Cirrus had counted on for his survival against a family plotting for the crown.
; One of my sister’s admirers waved over a footman carrying a silver tray with bubbling champagne flutes. She and her merry posse grabbed glasses and tipped them back, cheeks reddening with each swallow.
Nobody in this crowd was plotting murder, but marrying any one of these pompous fools would be the end of me.
The moment I saw an opening to slip out unnoticed, I took it—moving swiftly past the gathered groups like a passing breeze. There in a fleeting second, then gone the next.
I allowed a rare smile to lift up my lips in the hallway, impressed by my own disappearing act given I’d been an object on display and was well aware of how stunning I appeared in the sheer embroidered-and-beaded gown. The garment was gorgeous enough to hang on the wall as art.
I lifted the skirt off the floor to avoid snagging. As I passed the empty sitting room, I cast a longing look at the beautiful campaigne board with its pewter and bronze game pieces set up on a polished round table. I’d never cared for the game growing up—I’d never had time for such idle pursuits—but in Dahlquist I’d found myself with few friends and plenty of leisure time. Campaigne had been the only familiar thing from my world in Faerie and I’d spend untold hours mastering the game—often stuck playing against myself. I doubted even Jhaeros could best me. The thought of beating the arrogant elf at his favorite game brought another smile to my lips.
I hurried my steps to the back of the estate. Escaping the parlor unnoticed was one thing, being missed for much longer was another. Once I reached the French doors, I propelled myself outside into the dark courtyard and breathed in the fresh, balmy air.
Lanterns glowed at my feet. The darkness above blanketed me.
How soon until Father tracked me down? Dragged me back inside? Forced me into the arms of some highfalutin elf?
I pictured the assessing brown eyes of the elf in coattails who’d looked me over in the parlor.
I couldn’t decide which was worse, being stuck beneath Father’s roof or with a mate by arrangement.
I looked into the stars overhead, searching for an escape. I hadn’t belonged in Faerie, and I certainly didn’t belong in Sweetbell. As I stared into the Sky Mother’s boundless depths, a blinding white light split apart the darkness directly above my head. I shielded my eyes, but it only glowed brighter before contracting and solidifying into a brilliant sliver of parchment. It fluttered down from the sky, landing in my hands. My chin lowered as I gaped at the silvery parchment. Before I could read what it said, plump fingers snatched it away.
“What is this?” Shalendra demanded.
I whipped around, fingers balling into fists, ready to strike. Old habit. Father stood behind me, arms folded, a deep frown on his lips. Beside him, Shalendra looked over the silver parchment, flipping it over to examine the back. I gritted my teeth, frustrated they’d managed to sneak up on me. If it hadn’t been for the flash of light, I would have noticed my family closing in.
I uncurled my fingers and flung my palm out in front of Shalendra. “Give it back,” I said in a low warning voice.
“What is it?” Father asked.
“An invitation to The Monster Ball,” Shalendra screeched. “Do you know how rare it is to get one of these? How come Aerith was invited?” Shalendra’s lower lip pouted.
I snatched the parchment from my sister, nearly ripping it as I did. One side of the invitation had “The Monster Ball” written in elegant calligraphy. My Father inched his way closer as I turned the invitation over and read the back side.
Just as the moon has brought me to you,
so shall the moon bring you to the ball.
October 31st
The Witching Hour
I squinted then lifted the invitation closer to my eyes to read a second and a third time.
“It’s because that Fae prince made her a princess, isn’t it?” Shalendra asked, still pouting.
“That Fae prince” had made sure she lived in luxury, yet my sister wouldn’t even say his name.
“You mean your brother-in-law—Cirrus?” I said, unable to hold my tongue.
Shalendra wrinkled her nose as though a royal prince of Faerie was beneath her.
Father rubbed his hands together and beamed. “This is excellent news!”
“How so?” Shalendra cocked her head to one side.
“I’ve heard tell that those lucky enough to receive a ticket to The Monster Ball are royalty from all of the different realms: princes and princesses; even kings and queens. Supernaturals with powers and riches beyond anything we could imagine.” Father’s eyes practically glowed.
Shalendra turned up her nose and tossed her hair back. “And I’ve heard it attracts the unsavory sort—wicked creatures who would kill to get their claws on one of those invites.” Shalendra looked at the silver parchment in my hands and took a step backward.
I rolled my eyes. “I survived Faerie. I can certainly make it through a ball—no matter what kinds of creatures are in attendance.”
“Very good, my dear,” Father said, bobbing his head. “You will be the belle of the ball, and by the end you will have found yourself a new mate.”
I lowered my arms and glared at my father.
“I don’t want a new mate,” I said between clenched teeth.
“At least this time you get to do the choosing,” Shalendra piped in, daring to step closer to me and my cursed silver ticket. “Maybe you’ll meet a wealthy gargoyle prince, or a shifter, or even another Fae.”
My body froze at that. What if Liri had been invited? Or worse, what if he’d arranged for my invitation? He had talked about meeting again. Somehow, I doubted he’d take “no” for an answer twice.
I shook my head.
“I’m not going.”
Father’s whole body jerked and his eyes narrowed to slivers nearly as thin as the parchment pinched between my fingers.
“You do not turn down an invitation to The Monster Ball.”
“Shalendra can go in my stead.”
Father sighed with aggravation. “Yet again you disappoint me, Aerith. Have you no sense of honor?”
My heart tightened, beating against my ribs like a fist—striking out again and again.
“Have you no shame, Father?” I fired back.
Father could plan and plot all he wanted. I’d already sacrificed myself once. I wouldn’t do it again.
Father tsked and shook his head. “Faerie changed you, my dear, and not for the better.”
“Whose fault is that?” I asked.
Shalendra gasped. “What’s gotten into you, Aerith? How can you speak to Father that way when he’s already been through so much—losing his mate, then scraping by to keep a roof over our heads? Now we could lose our home again because your mate up and died and you’re refusing to consider a new one. It’s not like you’re in mourning or anything. I doubt you shed one tear for poor Cirrus.”
Oh, so now she could say his name.
Shalendra moved to Father’s side and looped her arm around his, giving him a gentle squeeze.
My stomach heaved. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten any of the stuffed mushrooms or mini pear tartlets being offered from trays in the parlor.
“There, there, darling,” Father said, patting Shalendra’s arm. “If Aerith won’t go, I’m sure Melarue would jump at the chance to attend such an illustrious gathering. She has complained about feeling bored in Sweetbell.”
Shalendra rolled her eyes. “She’s too wild for her own good. She’d probably end up marrying a goblin just for the novelty of it.”
Molten heat seared through my veins, causing spots to form over my vision. I crushed the ticket in my hand.
“You cannot send Melarue to the ball. She’s only just turned seventeen.”
Father huffed. “She’s old enough now and unlike you, Mel has a sense of adventure.”
I put my hands on my hips. “So, you would throw her to the wolves?”
Father lifted his nose. “I have no doubt Mel could hold her own.”
“W
ell, you can forget about sending her. It’s my ticket to do with as I please.” I moved toward a lantern as quickly as my fitted gown allowed and fed the silver parchment to the flame.
“No!” Shalendra screeched, eyes expanding in her face. She pulled away from Father and reached out a hand as though she had the power to call the ticket back.
Tiny bright sparks erupted from the parchment like a sparkler on solstice.
My smile of satisfaction was interrupted by a flash of light overhead.
No. No. No.
As with the first time, the light dispersed and a silver ticket fluttered down in front of me. I snatched it from the air as it floated past my neck and stared at the parchment in disbelief. The familiar calligraphy felt like a summons.
Father puffed out his chest. “Looks like it’s settled, Aerith. You’re attending The Monster Ball.”
Chapter Four
On the eve of the ball, Shalendra’s maid, Penelo, helped me get ready. I’d let Mel select my dress—a yellow ball gown with a sleeveless corset top.
“In case you find yourself lost in the dark amongst monsters,” Mel had said. “Remember you are sunshine.”
Tears had glistened over my eyes.
And then Mel had added, “And you’ll burn anyone who bothers you to a crisp.”
The burst of laughter that erupted from my lips had felt good.
Now I sat fidgeting on a low-backed cushioned chair while Penelo finished arranging my blonde locks into a soft bun with wispy strands framing my face. Next, she brushed golden shimmer over my eyelids and applied dark liner that made the blues of my irises pop.
Mel sat on the edge of my bed holding still for once as she watched every step of my makeover. Thankfully Father and Shalendra knew to stay away.
“What kinds of shapeshifters do you think you’ll meet?” she asked.
I held my youngest sister’s gaze in the mirror and shrugged.
The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 3
