Trial of Thorns
Wicked Fae, Volume 1
Stacey Trombley
Published by Stacey Trombley, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
TRIAL OF THORNS
First edition. March 4, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Stacey Trombley.
Written by Stacey Trombley.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
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Caelynn
Caelynn
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Caelynn
Caelynn
Rev
Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Rev
Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
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Caelynn
Caelynn
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Caelynn
Caelynn
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Caelynn
Caelynn
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Author Note
Bluff
Acknowledgements
Caelynn
My bunkbed rattles beneath me and I sit up straight, hair grazing the uneven ceiling. I wince as bits of dried paint rain down on my lap.
My plain bedroom is dark and still. Shadows shift and pull, causing my stomach to flip pleasantly. Humans dislike the dark.
I love it.
I’ve always loved it. Unfortunately, there are some very bad creatures who also enjoy the magic of darkness. I blink the sleep from my eyes and immediately feel the swirl of magic in the air. Magic that doesn’t belong in this place.
I swear under my breath as anxiety shoots through me. Though the top bunk is rickety and the mattress too hard, I’m warm and comfortable in my plush blanket—a gift from Raven this past Christmas. I’m going to have to leave it behind.
I’m going to have to leave her behind.
There is very little in my life that makes me happy. She is one of them. I shouldn’t be surprised even that will be ripped from me now—my past mistakes are relentless in their haunting. Who is hunting me today? I wonder.
The house is quiet. The tremor is subtle enough it doesn’t seem to have woken the others in the house, but I can feel the dark power coiling. Building. Rushing like a coming storm just on the horizon.
I’ve played this game many times before. Run, hide, and pretend to be a normal teenaged human not being hunted by fae royalty and evil monsters alike.
I brush the paint flecks from my hands and hop down from the bunk, pushing away every doubt. I have no time for feelings right now. There is only one option for me if they’re coming.
Run. It’s the only way to keep her safe.
The room is pitch dark, but I don’t miss a beat, strolling out the door with sure steps and no hesitation.
“Caelynn!” a voice whisper yells just before I shut the door behind me. Dammit, Raven.
I pause and shake my head. The lovely human teenager from the bunk below me scrambles to follow me into the hall, brushing her wild black hair from her eyes.
“Go back to bed, Raven.”
She crosses her arms. “Stop treating me like a child.”
In the human world, she’s almost an adult—she just turned seventeen. I get it. But she’s not ready for the horrors outside these walls. So yes, I’m going to protect her whether she likes it or not.
“If you’re sneaking out, so am I. You promised you’d take me to your next party.” The floor trembles beneath our feet. “What is that?” she whispers.
I heave a dramatic sigh. Of course that’s the only thing a human teenager would have on her mind. Parties. Boys. Girls. Fun.
“I’m not sneaking out for a party, Ray,” I say, continue down the hall speaking under my breath. “I don’t want to leave, but I—”
“You’re leaving?” Raven is the second oldest of all the foster kids living in this home. Unlike me, she has two parents hoping to regain custody. If only they could kick the drug habit. They’ve tried. Her mother has almost made it work several times—only to let it slip through her fingers and Raven along with it.
My frame is slight, my eyes large and in the human-world, hazel. I look like a sixteen-year-old human, so that’s what I pretend to be.
Everyone seems determined to protect me, despite the fact that I could crush them easier than blinking. It’s tedious, being treated like a child, but it does have its perks. I am given a home—good or bad—without even having to ask for one. I have a place.
“I have to.” I’ve told her entirely too much—about my life, my world, the magic in my blood. All things humans aren’t supposed to know, but there’s something about Raven that makes me feel—at home. Comfortable. I want her to know me. The real me. Because I’m fairly certain she’s the only person in either world that could know everything and still love me.
She’s the only person in the last decade to look at me like this. Her big eyes full of adoration and other emotions I don’t dare name. My fingertips rest on her cheek and my stomach squeezes as she closes her eyes. “I always told you they’d come for me.”
She knows I’m not human. And my enemies aren’t either.
Her eyes pop open, apparently just now realizing what’s really happening. “You didn’t say they’d come in the form of a small earthquake.”
“It’ll get bigger.” It’ll most likely come in the form of something not-unlike a hurricane, but there’s no need to elaborate. “I’ll find you again, okay? I promise.”
It’s a stupid promise. It’ll only put us both in danger, but I can’t bear to abandon her like everyone else in her life.
She doesn’t stop me as I pull away, and I skip down the stairs quietly. I almost make it to the front door without incident when someone grabs my wrist just inches shy of the door knob clenching tightly.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Collins, our foster mom stares at me with sharp angry eyes.
I swallow and take in a long calming breath, summoning my magic. It’s annoying, but glamouring her won’t be overly difficult. The darkness outside is closing in, and I only have moments before it could blow this place to bits, with me inside it.
“Oh!” I tilt my head innocently and breathe out long and slow, magic shim
mering through the air. She sucks it in, chest heaving and then blinks rapidly. “You told me I could go out for a breath of fresh air—don’t you remember?”
She blinks, eyes glossy. “No.” Her voice is sharp. Firm.
I narrow my eyes and then swallow. That can’t be good. “What?” I can see the magic at work in her so why didn’t she—
“You have somewhere to be, Caelynn.” I recognize the strange echo layered behind each word, and I suck in a breath.
I rip my arm from her grasp and leap for the door, realizing a beat too late why my magic didn’t take effect.
Because Mrs. Collins has already been glamoured.
I RUN OUT INTO THE night. Dark tentacles wrap around my soul like an old friend. It feels so good it sends a shiver down my spine, overcoming the panic. Dammit do I miss the night. I miss the magic.
I don’t have time to appreciate the welcoming because I am not alone in the darkness.
Caelynn, a hissing voice wisps through the wind, but it’s not the inhuman sound that scares me the most. It’s the soft—human—footsteps following behind me.
I whip around and grab Raven by the upper arms and drag her into the brush beside the road. “Ow!” she squeals.
My heart clenches. “God dammit, I don’t care if I die,” I say aloud in my anger. It would be an escape, in a way. “But I won’t allow you to die because of me.”
“If you’re running away, I want to come.” Her voice quivers.
“If I die, do you want to die too?”
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” she says desperately, tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t leave me, please.”
I suck in a breath, ignoring the pit in my stomach. That was another stupid promise. I don’t want to leave her, but I’ll break any promise to save her life.
“We have business to attend to, Caelynn,” the voice slithers from the inky blackness on the open street. The dark spirit is waiting for me. It wants me out in the open.
I press my forehead to Raven’s, my eyes closed, trying desperately to remain calm. “Stay here,” I hiss. “No matter what you hear. No matter what happens to me. Don’t move until the sun rises—then go back into the house.”
“What?” Her voice trembles.
“Trust me, okay?”
My heart slams into my chest, and I leave the coverage of the trees.
I could run. The creature even knows I could. He can track me when I’m sleeping and my guard is down. But if I veil myself, I can hide from anyone and anything.
Only problem is—I can’t hide Raven. Not now.
I step out into the streetlight and take in long breaths, my head held high.
“Ahh, you are ready to face me, are you? Because of the human. Interesting.”
My stomach clenches, and I summon every ounce of energy I have into my act. “You said you had business. I’m intrigued.” I place my hand on my hip. I don’t want his thoughts anywhere close to that girl.
Black smoke swirls in front of me, forming the silhouette of a man. I know better. This is not a man. This is the spirit of an evil fae. It’s the form I’ll take one day, when my time comes. Which very well may be today.
“What kind of business is it?” I ask. “My execution, perhaps?”
The glinting blackness explodes, rushing at me. I wince, but pain never comes. Only the tickling of a whisper in my ear. Do you wish for death? it asks, before curling back around and forming the silhouette again.
“Was banishment not punishment enough?” The creature’s voice echoes through the streets. “You are a hero in our court, my lady.”
I groan. “Don’t call me that. I am no hero, nor a lady.”
“Many in our world would disagree, did you not know that? The brave countess, willing to do anything to increase her court’s status. You are quite respectable in many circles. Beloved in some.”
I roll my eyes. “I murdered a fae prince and was banished from my own world. If that’s what you find respectable—then you’re all insane.”
“A fae prince that just so happened to be next in line to rule over High Court? A right unfairly stripped from the Shadow Court over a hundred years ago? Yes, we know exactly what you did, my lady.”
I grit my teeth, knowing I could never admit to being proud of my crime. Even though, in the darkest of moments—I am. That’s what scares me most. That’s what most assures me that I will become a wraith when I die.
“And if I told you my actions were not even remotely motived by anything political? I just killed a boy. That’s it. I am deserving of my punishment.”
“To be frank, my dear, your motives are meaningless. Your action spurred a worthy rebellion. You should be proud of that. You should own it.”
“I should be proud of the worst thing I’ve ever done, just because you all took it and used it for your own gains?”
“Indeed.”
I wince. The thought of being praised for something I still hate myself for is soul-crushing. “Why are you here?” I ask the wraith, my patience running thin. If he’s not here to kill me—a legitimate shock, to be honest—what the hell is he here for?
“I have been sent with a message, from your queen.”
I purse my lips. “The Queen of the Whisperwood? Sent me a message?
“Yeeeesss,” the black form hisses.
Well, this conversation has not been what I’d expected.
“For many years there’s been a campaign to reinstate your status. The Shadow Court argues that your actions were that of a soldier’s in war and you should not be punished so harshly.”
I blink and take a step back. That’s ludicrous.
“Of course, the High Court would have nothing to do with it, but your name is quite popular, and the movement has gained momentum. So much so that the council has... agreed to a compromise.”
I purse my lips. “What does that mean?”
“You see, our world is in peril. A plague we’ve dubbed the scourge is spreading through the land. Magic is failing in the places the scourge touches. Children are dying at an alarming rate. And we are in need of a champion to save the world of wild magic from utter destruction.”
“You think I can be your champion? Of what? I’m no healer.”
“No, there is only one cure for this disease, and we know where to find it. That is where you would come in.”
I hold out my hand, palm up, waiting for the creature to go on.
“It is inside the Schorchedlands.”
I swallow. The Schorchedlands are essentially fae hell. With unbearable cold, dead plants and animals that live in a frozen state of decay, where the souls of evil fae are entombed in wraith form—though they’re occasionally set free by a bargain. “Only wraiths can go there,” I say, “And why would a cure be there?”
“Not only wraiths. Mostly wraiths.”
Of course. If they were going to lift my banishment, this would be what they’d ask of me. Nothing less awful could be considered.
“The illness began with a curse. A curse given by a sorcerer banished into the Schorchedlands. And now we need to get his spell book in order to reverse it.”
“Great. Sounds like you have a solid plan. So, why don’t you go get it?”
“Because I, my dear, have no physical form.” He holds out his shadow hands. He couldn’t carry a book. “And besides,” he continues in a low hiss, “that would be no fun.”
Of course. The wraith is only here for the intrigue. They enjoy the suffering of others.
“So you, a wraith, are here hoping to save the world?”
“I care not for the cure.”
“Then why are you here?” I say slowly, firmly.
He rushes forward, shadows swirling around me. “I am looking for you,” the shadows whisper around me. “The Shadow Court is my home, and I wish to see its power reinstated—or if not, at least make those in the seat of power squirm. I want to see the Luminescent Court’s pain and rage as you walk into the competition.”
&
nbsp; That’s what this is all about. Not me. I’d be willing to bet they all know I am nothing close to a hero and my actions had nothing to do with their stupid blood feud—they’re just using me as an excuse.
My court was once influential and powerful, but their right to rule was stripped from them several centuries ago. They’ve been looking for revenge ever since. When I killed the next heir to the High Court, we should have ruled, they used that to fuel their rebellion.
“What competition?” I ask skeptically, measuring his words carefully.
“You will have the chance to escape your banishment entirely, but first, you must prove yourself. They won’t choose just any champion, but the high courts have agreed to allow each of the fifteen courts to choose a champion. Any champion. You are ours. Your banishment will be temporarily lifted, and you may enter the fae realm, so long as you are in the trials.”
“Trials...”
The smoke over his makeshift head curls into something like a smile. “The Trial of Thorns, to be exact.”
Rev
The moment she walks into the banquet hall, my vision is rimmed with black. Hatred—pure hatred fills my soul, dark and unending.
My father stands and his chair flips to the floor. His expression shows rage matching my own. It’s uncommon for us to agree, ever. This evil fae is our one exception. We both hate her more than any single soul in the universe.
My mother gasps, placing a hand over her heart. Several sets of eyes dart to my family’s table at the front of the room, then back at the horrendous creature they call a countess.
She’s petite, with light blonde hair—ironic given her court is one of darkness. Her eyes are dull, dim, and I cross my arms, evaluating.
She killed my brother when she was still an adolescent. My powerful brother who was not only the heir to the Luminescent Court but the chosen heir to the High Court. He was going to be High King for a hundred years.
And yet he was killed by a fae who stands before us openly weak and powerless. How?
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Though her dim eyes leave me with uncomfortable questions, it also tells me what I need to know.
She can’t win.
She’ll be easy to beat. Easy to kill.
The blond betrayer marches down the aisle, her eyes straight ahead, face determined. Emotionless. Her body is high fae—skin glistening, nails sharp, eyes gleaming. Her clothing, though, is human. Raggedy skinny jeans, her feet adorned with plain black boots and a black T-shirt with some symbol I don’t recognize. Plain. Harsh. Ugly.
Trial of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 1) Page 1
