Trial of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 1)

by Stacey Trombley

  At the bottom of the stairs, we are greeted by several high ranking fae. We bow and nod and smile politely, but Brielle never takes her arm from mine. Will we be attached like this all month?

  I grip her arm tightly, if only so she doesn’t notice my anxiety. My smile is big and bright as we mingle with all of the most important fae in our world.

  “Odds are on you, boy,” Mr. Copper, a Flicker Court official, says with a wink. “So long as that girl doesn’t distract you, of course.”

  I blink, surprised. “Brielle is an ally. She won’t be a distraction. That much I can promise.”

  Brielle beams.

  He tsks. “I didn’t mean Brielle.”

  I swallow and follow his attention to the entryway where a dazzling light-haired female in an elegant black dress descends. She’s beautiful, the dress hugging all the right curves. Sexy, though the neckline is so high even her collarbones are covered.

  My stomach drops. My heart hammers in my chest. My betrayer. Why do the most beautiful girls have to be evil?

  Brielle also seems rather annoyed at how good she looks. “I cannot wait,” Brielle whispers as we watch her gain the attention of everyone in the room, her eyes still dull of life, her expression blank. Bored. Too good to be here. “To snuff her life from this earth.”

  I snicker in return, but I’m glad that my ally isn’t examining my face as I watch my enemy enter the ball. I can’t pull my eyes from her, the black jewels on her dress glimmering as her hips sway gently. On her shoulder is a black bird. It watches the crowd with as much disdain as she does, its wings glistening with hues of purple and blue.

  Brielle suddenly pulls me away from the staring, silent crowd, toward the drinks.

  “What are we going to do about her?” she whispers.

  “You know what we’re going to do.”

  “But how? We need to make a plan. Now. I need a plan.”

  I sigh. She needs something to focus on before she explodes. That I can sympathize with. She grabs a bubbling purple drink and hands me one. I wave it away. “I can’t.”

  “You’re expecting to get through this night entirely sober?”

  I chuckle. “I told my father I wouldn’t drink until the end of the next challenge. He didn’t believe me, so now I must prove him wrong.”

  She smiles. “He’s manipulating you. He only said that to make sure you don’t drink.”

  That very well may be true, actually. I shrug. “I’ll keep it in mind for the next time. The challenge is tomorrow, though. So, I can also see the benefits of withholding for another twenty-four hours.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know. Knowing the content of this next challenge, I say a bit of drink might be a good thing.”

  I chuckle at that.

  The Shadow Court black bird flies over our head and into the moonlight out the window above the courtyard doors.

  I watch as it settles on a crystal lit tree of the terrace, watching through the windows.

  “What are you looking at?” Brielle asks.

  I pull my attention back to the room. “That bird, her bird, watching us.”

  Brielle rolls her eyes. “Ravens are always creepy dicks. Don’t worry about it.”

  I turn back toward the ball, knowing she’s probably right.

  Caelynn

  The crowd parts as I pass them. My stomach sinks as I watch Raven fly overhead, just like we talked about, and right out an open window as planned—because Rev’s thoughtful eyes linger on her for too long.

  I bite my lip and force myself to turn my attention elsewhere.

  A set of golden eyes settle on me, bright and thoughtful, through the crowd. Drake, the Whirling Court champion winks at me and I stumble in shock. What the hell is that?

  “Hello, mi-lady,” a little voice calls from knee level. I find a young pixie, his translucent black wings shuttering in nervousness.

  “I’m not a lady,” I tell him quickly, despite the pleasant stirring in my stomach at the admiring gaze he’s giving me.

  “That’s not what Mama says. She says you’re a hero.”

  I squat down beside him, “You’re from the Shadow Court?” I ask. He nods eagerly. “There are some amazing things from our court. I’m proud of it.”

  He beams.

  “But I am not one of them,” I say sternly, and his lips turn to a pout. “I am not a hero, and I never will be. Don’t idolize me.”

  I straighten and sweep away from him in an instant, dipping through the crowd quick enough that I won’t need to see the disappointment on his face. When I finally stop, face flushed, and scan the room, I find a set of angry silver eyes.

  Rev. Always watching. Always noticing.

  What does he make of that? Another reason to hate me, I suppose. She’s so evil she even makes children cry.

  No one in this room is a friend. I have no true allies—expect those from my own court whose worship I despise. But I might be able to create an ally, if I play my cards right.

  I search for the Crumbling Courts banners, hoping I can find the dwarfish fae—Tyadin, I remember—among the sea of angry inhuman faces. I cross through the hall, the crowds parting for me. The Queen’s speech will start in about twenty minutes, so I have that long to try to align something with him. I don’t intend to hang out here long afterwards, so the faster I can get this done, the better.

  “Tell me, dwarf,” I hear a low voice say not far away. I turn towards the sound. “How hairy is your back, really? Enough to make a full cape?” I winkle my nose at the rude comment, though I can’t see the face of whoever spit it.

  There are some actual dwarves in this court, though they’re often looked down upon. Faeries and dwarves have never been overly fond of one another. Dwarves are considered second class, among fae. There was actually a dwarfish kingdom across the ocean a hundred years ago, but in more recent years, it’s been destroyed by some fell beast.

  The Crumbling Court’s yellowish-brown banner hangs to the far right of the room, in the general direction I heard the insult from. I push through the crowd quickly, leaving a few aghast fae courtiers glaring at me. I turn back and wink when one female gives me a particularly loud squeal.

  A fae from the Twisted Court stands with his arms crossed, towering over a younger fae. They wear the same colors as Rook—Twisted Court green—and the same lifted nose. Near them is a fae with a dwarfish build, but younger than Tyadin.

  “Simply barbaric,” one fae says to the young stocky male, who looks to the ground uncomfortably. “How do you even fight being so short? You have to swing up, just to spar.” They laugh and the young fae drops his elbow onto the dwarfish fae’s cheek. “Oops!”

  I reach them with one more step and without even speaking a word, I sweep my foot beneath the tallest of the bullying fae, knocking him to the floor. “Oops!” I say loudly. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy looking down on someone, you’d have been smart enough to pay attention.”

  “You’re going to pay for that, witch!” the kid says from the floor.

  I smirk. “I’ll be awaiting your vengeance eagerly. But you’ll have to get in line.” I shrug. The group scampers off, and I turn to the younger dwarfish fae.

  He blinks in shock. Behind him approaches a familiar face, his arms crossed. “You okay, Torin?”

  The younger male nods quickly. Now that they’re next to each other I see the resemblance isn’t just in their race. The slant of their eyes and shape of their nose is identical. They’re clearly related.

  “I suppose I owe you a thank you,” Tyadin says, his face harsh—not at all appreciative.

  I wave at him passively. “Not at all. I need no excuses to put a reigning court jerk in his place.”

  He nods sharply. “Run off to Mama, okay?” he tells the youngster who I now assume to be his brother. The kid nods and pushes through the crowd towards the Crumbling Court banner.

  “You came looking for me and found my little brother instead?” He looks over my shoulder as
if he doesn’t want to look me in the eye.

  I nod, not feeling any need to lie. “I heard their sneers from several feet away.”

  “What do you want, then?” he asks sharply and I wince. I was hoping for a better reaction.

  His arms are crossed, expression annoyed. “We’re the only lesser courts left. We worked well together during the first challenge. The others are aligning, working against us.”

  “And you think that means we should work together as well?” He turns his hardened eyes to meet mine.

  My stomach sinks.

  “Normally, I’d agree. But I am not keen on tarnishing my court’s reputation with an alliance so tainted.”

  I don’t speak, don’t respond at all. I just watch him.

  He doesn’t expect to win, then.

  I pull in a long breath. “Wouldn’t it be better if either one of us won, then one of them?”

  “Why? Because we’re the underdogs? Not a good enough reason to befriend a murderer.”

  The breath leaves my lungs, the pain in my stomach like a dagger digging deep. I recover quickly and pull in a long breath. He watches me closely as I school my features, hiding everything.

  “All right then. I suppose there’s no more that needs to be said.” My voice is steady and bored.

  His face softens just slightly as I turn my heel in search of the champion’s table.

  Rev

  I find myself unable to turn away from my brother’s murderer. She’s beautiful, a fact which causes no end to my torment. The back of her dress dips all the way to expose the small of her back. Still, I know despite her outward beauty, what’s inside is petrifyingly hideous.

  She shouldn’t be allowed to breathe any longer, let alone schmooze among the fae realm elite. It gets under my skin, and I find my mood souring the longer I watch her. And the night has only just begun.

  “You’re distracted,” Brielle says, her arm still curled around mine. “What have you learned from your spy-like focus?”

  “More questions.” I watched the murderer make a child from her own court cry—is she simply that heartless or was there something more to it? The more I think about it the more I realize I have never seen her spend any more time with her court than necessary. She didn’t celebrate with them after the first trial, she twists through the crowd as if to avoid them now. They adore her, but does she resent that? It’s a strange thought, but I suspect it’s true, somehow.

  I’d also watched the evil blond beauty defend a dwarfish child, only to be snubbed by her would-be-ally. I’ll have to thank the dwarf champion for his loyalty later.

  An announcement rings from the rafters, prompting the champions to find our seats so the queen can make her appearance, say some pretty words, and then the dancing will begin.

  As I swing Brielle towards the champions’ table, I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Also that our enemy has lost her only ally.”

  Brielle flicks an eyebrow up. “Well, that’s good news indeed.”

  Now, she’s alone. With no power. No experience. No allies.

  I take my place beside Brielle, causing the other champions scrambling to find a new place after I upset the court order. Brielle grins widely at their distress.

  Finally, Drake joins us, seamlessly taking Brielle’s old place—beside the betrayer—without so much as a shift in facial expression. He wouldn’t dare align himself with the outcast, would he?

  As if reading my thoughts, he grins in my direction, his eyes a bright. My stomach sinks. If I am snubbed as heir, he would be the next best contender.

  He wants to be king. He wants to beat me in this competition.

  How low would he sink to achieve it?

  The lights dim, the front of the ballroom glowing with an orange light as the queen descends. Her dress is white with a long train that is embellished with literal flames rising all the way up her back like moving scales.

  She walks slowly and the whole room quiets. Her reign is coming to an end, and I can’t help but feel like she’s eager to shed the responsibility. After all, this plague is no game. I can’t imagine the kind of stress that would put on a ruler. The doubt. The guilt.

  If she can put a stop to it—even by means of finding the champion to save us all—she’ll be remembered as a hero. A great queen.

  If she doesn’t, she’ll be blamed for all time.

  It’s easy to forget here, in this untouched lovely court, the terrors that are spreading through our world.

  “Welcome again. Congratulations to all the champions who succeeded in the first trials.” A roaring round of applause sounds through the room. “It was a horrid thing, losing such promising young fae, in a competition of all things. It’s one of the reasons we did away with the trials generations ago. It was not worth the loss of life. When we resurrected the ancient tradition, we knew there would be loss. We knew that many great fae would die in the process. It was a difficult choice to make, but I believe that it was the right one. These trials are a worthy cause to die for. These trials will choose a savior. If we were not willing to sacrifice ourselves for the betterment of our people, for the survival of our people, our choice of champion would be a farce. So, to those courts who have lost a champion, I want you to know they will be honored. We thank you for your sacrifice.”

  An image appears on the wall—images of the fallen champions.

  “Crevin of the Crackling Court. Prickanante of the Frost Court. Jarsali of the Root Court. Finn of the Winding Court. Willow of the Webbed Court. And still living: Emmett of the Beastly Court and Aaliyah of the Venomous Court. You will all be remembered as heroes.”

  The crowd claps politely.

  “Tomorrow we will begin a new trial. The second of four. The first was intense. This will be a quiet challenge, testing your mental fortitude. Until then, let the merriment begin! Good luck, champions.”

  The queen quickly descends from her throne, now practically speed walking towards the exit and up the stairs, her dress still blazing.

  She finally exits and the lights brighten. Music begins gently rising and falling, growing louder and louder. Purple sprites line a circle in the middle of the floor where couples are already racing to be the first to dance.

  I hold out my hand to Brielle. “Are you ready?”

  “For dancing with you or the challenge tomorrow?”

  “Both.” Her eyes shine with amusement as she takes my hand and I lead her out onto the dance floor.

  Caelynn

  Rev pulls Brielle out onto the dance floor. Faery lights sparkle above, stringed instruments being a soft pur and I slip away from the crowds and onto the quiet terrace. The door shuts with a soft click, and the magical stir of music is muted behind me. I shiver as the cool air hits me.

  The ground is paved with mosaic tiles, depicting important moments and people and symbols in Flicker Court history. I could lose myself in all the details displayed in this beautiful abstract artwork. Bright colors and confusing patterns. If you follow it, you’d uncover the whole story of this powerful court.

  Trees bank the terrace, covered in glowing crystals of varying colors. Bright purple, red, white, yellow, green, blue—each representing the remaining champions’ courts. One single tree isn’t lit at all, a dull void set between yellow and red. I draw closer to the dim tree, cast in shadows. At first glance it looks like a flaw in their elaborate decor.

  It’s mine, I realize.

  I run my fingers over the rough bark absently. Instead of taking time to understand my court and finding a way to represent us respectfully, they left it bare. Shadows are its only embellishment. Lack of light its only worthy quality.

  A quiet stirring draws my eyes up to find one other decoration to represent my beloved court—a raven sitting on its lowest limb, watching me closely. Her wings glisten with translucent colors mixed with the black, purples, and blues shifting with such beauty it takes my breath away.

  If you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t even notice it at all
.

  I smile, my heart soaring for one quick moment. Did Raven understand which tree she chose to rest on? Did she do it for me? I’m not sure I even want to know because intended or not, it means everything to me.

  I curl my fingers over the thin trunk, magic shifting through them. I’ll add one more embellishment. Raven shivers and hops from the tree to the stone below, as a murmur shutters through the leaves. Indistinguishable whispers dart through the leaves making them rustle in a swirling patter, just like in the Whisperwood. This is just a silly charm that won’t last more than an hour, but it’s an echo of the homeland I lost.

  The world inside the banquet hall is distracted by whatever spectacle is happening on the dance floor—something I know without a doubt I do not want to witness alongside them. Not an eye is turned toward the glass doors to the terrace. My lips curls into wicked grin, and I close my eyes imagining the dress in my mind’s eye.

  Dark blue, almost black, with purple and blue stones scattered across it like starlight. Sweetheart neckline and black ribbon around the middle where it extends into a tool skirt.

  A gasp sounds through the terrace, and I open my eyes to see Raven in my purple dress creation, spinning and giggling.

  “It’s amazing,” she whispers. When she stops, she looks into the banquet hall, her eyebrows pulled down. “Is it dangerous?”

  “Not if no one sees you.” I wink. “There are humans in this world too. Rare in a large fae court, but they’re around. Two girls talking outside wouldn’t be enough to cause much suspicion.”

  I take a seat on the short stone barrier at the edge of the terrace.

  “Someone seeing you leave my room, though...” I side-eye her, knowing she’d left the room the other day while I was sleeping.