Curse of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 2)

by Stacey Trombley

  GETTING THROUGH THE gates of the Luminescent Court was surprisingly easy the second time. I don’t suspect the guards considered I’d leave, just to turn back and hop back through their defenses a moment later. The guards are still reeling from the first “invasion” as I heard them call it and hardly looked up to consider a return trip.

  I cover myself in shadow and slip over the white grass, sparkling like glitter dumped everywhere, then past the crystal pond and a maze made of bright white hedges. Everything here is white, scattering sunlight all around. That doesn’t mean there aren’t shadows, though. The open grass is nearly impossible for me to pass by with being noticed, but the hedges leave me just enough shade to blend in.

  The palace itself is made of white marble, and the damn thing reflects so much light it hurts my eyes.

  It’s beautiful, in a typical sort of way.

  I slip into a pantry window, down the hall, and up a wide set of stairs. Two guards stand in front of a familiar hall, but something about them gives me pause. Their muscles are tense, eyes darting around.

  I bite my lip and consider.

  I’ve been a spy inside this palace once before, and back then, passing through this hall was not a challenge, but that was before a shadow fae murdered one of their princes. Passing through the main gates was not a challenge either.

  Would they place their most talented guards at the front gates or the most important? I purse my lips, check that my shadows are wound tightly around me, and then slink forward as quietly as possible.

  In an instant, there are crossed swords blocking my path.

  “Password,” one of the guards says casually, looking directly at me.

  My mouth falls open. Well... that’s unexpected.

  Password... I think back to the note. “Raven.”

  The swords ring as they slide apart. My eyebrows rise, and I don’t dare drop my shadows as I pass them awkwardly.

  I’m in front of Rev’s bedroom door in only moments. I know my way around this place fairly well. I spent three full days hiding out here when I was a teenager.

  The Night Bringer, an ancient being that tricked me into a terrible bargain, ordered me to assassinate a prince. If I succeeded, I’d get everything I’d ever dreamed. If I failed, I’d be his slave for eternity.

  I had no choice but to comply. Except, when I’d met my mark—the fae I was sent to kill— I couldn’t do it. So, I went to that ball and danced in that same banquet hall I just presented the dismembered head of a fae assassin to the king. I’d danced with the youngest heir of the Luminescent Court, not realizing who he was.

  And for those few minutes, while I spun in circles beneath their glittering lights, held in his arms, I forgot my pain. My fear. My confusion. My doubt.

  For those moments, I was simply a young fae dancing with a handsome boy who made me feel beautiful. Until I realized who he was.

  If I hadn’t figured out Rev was my fated mate, maybe I would have been able to do the deed.

  Instead, I hid. I stayed hidden in the shadows of his palace for three days, searching for some escape.

  I was alone and freaked out, hiding from my fate.

  So, yes, I know more about this place than any outsider should.

  I tap on the door.

  It swings open quickly, revealing a confused Rev. His lips part in surprise.

  “Caelynn.” He blinks. “How did you— “

  “Never underestimate a Shadow Court fae.” I wink.

  He knows I killed his brother in this palace, but he doesn’t know how much time I spent here. He doesn’t know that I spied on him too, while desperately searching for a way to save him.

  I did. I found a loophole that could save his life and keep me from the Night Bringer’s clutches. But it meant killing his brother in his place.

  His brother was a sadistic arrogant fool that deserved his fate. I am not sorry for shoving a dagger through his chest. Because of what he threatened to do to me. Because the realm is better off without him as their king. And because by killing him, I outwitted the Night Bringer and saved Rev.

  I’m proud of that kill, and no matter how much Rev loved his brother, I can’t stop that from being true. I hate myself for many things, and one of them is that feeling; that sick joy swirling around inside makes me a bad person.

  And that’s the reason Rev and I can never be together.

  I won the game, but I lost Rev. We lost our life together. Because I’m his brother’s murderer, and that will never go away.

  Rev lets me into his room. I shift awkwardly, crossing my arms. I bite my lips as I glance around his bedroom. It’s mostly the same as a decade ago.

  The desk in the corner is larger than before, more ornate. Dark mahogany instead of white, a nice contrast. There’s a huge quadruple set of shelves covering the far wall full of books and a few knick-knacks. I cross the room, eyes pinned to a shoe wedged between two sets of leather-bound books.

  A female’s lovely black heeled boot.

  My breath comes out shaky as I stare at it. Had he had it back then? I didn’t notice.

  I clear my throat and turn back to him. “So, how’re the plans to save the world coming?” I ask him casually, trying not to show any more emotion than necessary. This place brings up memories, good and bad. Memories better left buried.

  My breathing is just a tad too shallow, heart-pounding too fast.

  He watches me closely. His hair has grown since the end of the trials. Black locks, slightly curled at the ends are swept to the side so they don’t fall into his eyes. He’s wearing a casual tunic, the sleeves rolled to his elbows exposing his intricate black thorn tattoos. His eyes are bright silver.

  “Not as well as I’d have hoped.” His eyes darken.

  My eyebrows rise, but I shrug. “You’re not dead yet. Can’t be all that bad.” I smirk, but it fades as I notice his expression. Something is wrong.

  “It’s... not good, I’ll tell you that.”

  I purse my lips. “What is it?”

  “You can’t tell anyone.” He lifts his shoulders in a lifeless shrug. “No mention of it. Not even to my father.”

  I laugh. “Your father? You’re joking, right?” With any luck, I’ll never even be in the same room with that man ever again.

  He shrugs. “You could assume he knows and let something slip in passing. He doesn’t; he doesn’t know.”

  “Well, I’m very good with secrets.” I walk past the white cushioned bench and sit on the windowsill that overlooks a small copse of white-leaved trees in the courtyard below.

  “I was supposed to enter the Schorchedlands three weeks ago.”

  I open my mouth but stop and snap it back closed. Rev stares at the ground, his expression grim.

  “Why haven’t you?” I say casually, but anxiety curls in my stomach. This mission is everything. To him and the realm.

  He sits on the silver sheets of his massive four-poster bed that I have very purposefully not glanced toward. His hands fall into his lap, and he stares at them. This is a very different Rev than the one I know. Confident and proud, strong and determined. This Rev almost seems... defeated.

  “In order to enter the Schorchedlands,” he begins slowly, “you must pass through the wall of thorns. It is impenetrable for a physical body—only bodiless souls can pass.”

  I nod absently. It’s called “fae hell” for a reason. It is the permanent home for souls too wicked to find peace in the afterlife.

  “The only exception is the Wicked Gate. The Wicked Gate is the only way in or out for anyone other than a wraith. And she will only allow one being to enter and return with their body intact every ten years.”

  “Yes,” I prompt him to go on.

  “Well, the gate refused me passage.”

  Rev meets my eye, the color dimming. My stomach sinks.

  “Why?” I breathe. “Someone else has already passed?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Then, what?”

  “I wen
t three weeks ago. The queen wanted to keep the journey quiet as long as possible, knowing my time inside may be longer than the courts expect and they would get nervous. So, I went without anyone knowing. I approached the gate, slit my arm, and pressed the blood against the door. Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “It whispered to me. A message. It said, the one who enters must belong. You cannot pass. And then it flung me backward onto my damn butt.” He sighs. “I tried three times. It stopped whispering to me and wouldn’t even let me approach any longer.”

  I blink several times, trying to wrap my mind around it. We fought fifteen of the strongest fae, one from each court, in a brutal competition. The winner was chosen to enter the Schorchedlands in order to save us all. Inside those walls, among the souls of evil fae, is a cure to the curse plaguing our lands. But the one who won the games... cannot enter.

  That’s interesting. And potentially bad. Really, really bad.

  If all of this was for nothing, if there’s no hope for us to retrieve the cure, our world is doomed. And for Rev personally...

  He needed to win the trails to prove his place in his own court or risk being outed as a bastard. His father has quietly worked to get him out of the way without his dirty business—his queen’s apparent affair—coming to light. For many years, he’s worked to undermine Rev’s ability to rule by spreading rumors and belittling him in front of his people. Now that Rev won the trials, there’s no hope such small actions could turn the people against their beloved prince.

  “Do you think your father could be behind it?” I ask.

  Rev blinks. “How? Why?”

  “He hates that you won. He wants you to look the fool... He wants to find any reason to disinherit you.”

  Worse than losing the trials and his princely status, if he were to fail in his responsibility to save the realm... his father would have all the ammo he needs. If he cannot enter the Schorchedlands, he will be considered a failure. Everyone will blame him. Thousands of deaths will be on his hands.

  He considers this, face crumpled in concentration. It’s adorable, actually. “But would he really put the entire realm at risk in order to achieve it?”

  I bite my lip. “Maybe he’ll wait for your failure to be exposed then orchestrate a solution—I don’t know, let Drake get through so he’ll be the savior instead of you. It would bypass me as the runner up too.”

  Rev shakes his head. “That’s quite a conspiracy.”

  I chuckle. It is. And yet I wouldn’t put it past these wicked men. But I nod. “You’re right, there are probably more realistic options to consider first.”

  I wonder if the gate does not recognize Rev as the winner of the trials. It was a fairly controversial ending. I beat our opposition and then gave the win to the magically drained Reveln because he’d sacrificed his chance to win to save Raven’s life.

  Perhaps, to the gate, I am the rightful savior.

  That would imply some kind of magical bargain the High Court made with the gate itself, and I’m unsure if that’s even possible, let alone likely. Does the gate actually care who won?

  It does seem to care who enters.

  My next thought is that Rev is too... pure. Too good for that place. It is hell, after all. The message was the one who enters must belong. My theoretical translation: the soul of the being allowed to pass must belong in that wicked place.

  Rev isn’t exactly a saint, though, so even that seems outlandish.

  These two theories are still problematic because, even if someone else could enter and retrieve the cure, Rev would still be considered a failure. He’d be the fae who should have saved the realm and left them to die, forcing another to save them.

  “So, now what?” I say softly.

  “I’m working with the queen for a solution and, well, stalling.”

  “Do you have any theories?”

  “Some. None I like.”

  I bite my lip and nod. I look out the window, to the lands beyond this one. I came straight here from the human world because I wanted to give the king of the Luminescent Court a message, but I do have something quite important to do before my banishment is reinstated.

  I haven’t been free in the fae realm in a decade.

  As a child, I had one goal. One wish. All I wanted, truly wanted, was to be a full member of the Shadow Court.

  I was trapped into the Night Bringer’s web before I reached even my first rite of passage. If I completed those two, I’d be invited to the Shadow Castle to meet the Queen of the Whisperwood. The castle is ancient and massive, a relic of the time our court was powerful, rather than poverty-ridden.

  I’d be invited now, if only I could make my way across the realm. I could fuel it with my magic—a gift from the very creature that destroyed my life. My pain could give the court I love life for a little while at least.

  I sniff. Ironically enough, those rites of passage I was barred from as a child were two of the tasks we completed during the trials. Now, all that’s left is being welcomed by the queen inside her throne room.

  I’ve met my queen, a few times now, but never in our own court. And I still have never set foot inside my own court’s palace. I long, more than anything else, to go there. To see it for myself. The history of our people. The remnants of our pride, our power that was taken from us so long ago.

  I could have this one thing. It’s small, and maybe even pointless. But it’s something I always wanted, something I mourned during my time in the human world.

  And I could have it now. All I’d have to do is leave here and go take it.

  All I’d have to do is abandon Rev in his time of need.

  Maybe if I’d thought it through, I wouldn’t have given the win to Rev. Because if I’d won the trials, I would have been free and able to use my magic to help my poor kingdom, lift them out of obscurity, and give them hope.

  But I’m not sorry. I’ve always picked him over me. And I’m going to do it again.

  I sigh, knowing I won’t be traveling to the Shadow Court any time soon. I won’t enter those palace walls like I’ve dreamed about so many times.

  Because right now, Rev needs my help. And I won’t fail him.

  Rev

  Caelynn stares out the window for a long time, and I can’t help but wonder what it is that has her so transfixed. Is she disappointed in me? Does she regret allowing me to take the victory at the end of the trials? Is she trying to puzzle it out?

  After a while, I find myself just watching. Her breathing is even, calm. Her eyes dim, but not dark, not like before. Her legs long and thin, folded beneath her as she leans against the windowsill. As much as I’m not a fan of the human clothing she seems partial to, it does show off her figure. The tips of her hair are still tinged red with blood.

  Finally, she turns back to me, and her eyes are noticeably darker.

  What is causing her pain?

  “Do you think your father will allow me to stay in the castle? Or will I have to find a home in a tree somewhere?”

  “What?” I cough.

  “You don’t think I’d leave you when you need help, do you?” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  I sigh. I do need her help but... “I... I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering. Unless you’d rather do it on your own? I suppose I could understand that— “

  “No! No, I am not that proud. I could certainly use the help. My father will definitely not allow you to stay in the castle. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this... but he’s not very fond of you.”

  She smiles darkly. “I don’t know. The assassins were a nice parting gift.”

  My lips curl into a smile.

  “But,” she says slowly, “you do have one other ally we could call on.”

  My eyebrows pull down. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” she asks sweetly, tilting her head. “We need someplace to hideout that isn’t here. Or did you t
hink taking on a few dozen guards per day is good training for the Schorchedlands?”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to tell more people about this than is necessary.”

  “You told me. Your sworn mortal enemy. I think you can handle requesting help from one more person.”

  My stomach sinks at the prospect, but it does make sense. “The Crumbling Court is the closest kingdom to the Wicked Gates in the realm.” It’s only thirty miles out, and I’ve considered calling on Tyadin before but didn’t have the nerve to do it.

  “Ahh. It’s too bad we don’t have any friends anywhere near there,” Caelynn draws dramatically.

  I smile, giving in to her bit, and her suggestion. “You don’t suppose that dwarf friend of ours would let us in?”

  Her eyes brighten, and that makes it all worth it. “Only if you promise not to call him a dwarf.”

  Caelynn

  Rev insists I sleep in the spare room adjoining his for the night. This works well because I don’t need to leave his room and risk gaining the guards’ attention.

  Tomorrow, we’ll set out on our trip to the Crumbling Court.

  Tonight, I am in enemy territory. In a place that holds powerful memories.

  I force my mind to focus on productive things rather than those dark or selfish thoughts—like why Rev would have a spare room connected to his or about my time in this palace a decade ago.

  That’s an impossible task. My mind won’t stop swirling with so many thoughts and memories. I’m trapped in them.

  I stare up at the ivory ceiling adorned with gold swirling designs. My teeth chatter gently. I bite my lip as I think of my second favorite time in this palace. It was my second day living in the shadows of this court’s palace. No one knew I was here as I desperately searched for a way out of my bargain.

  And I sat in on Rev’s music lesson. I was pressed to the corner, shadows covering me so thoroughly I was invisible to the fae there. He played the violin so eloquently and I closed my eyes, feeling like I could hop inside his soul and live there forever.

  I open my eyes and shake my head. Even memories like those are bitter in their sweetness and laced with acid. Because I can’t forget what came after.