To Carve a Fae Heart (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 1)

by Tessonja Odette

  “Good morning, good morning,” he says. “And don’t we look lovely.”

  Amelie and I are dressed in another set of fae gowns. My sister wears the shimmering pink one she was looking at yesterday, while I wear a pale blue dress with flowing, bell-like sleeves and two strands of pearls crisscrossing over the low-cut back. The skirt is loose with multi-layered ripples of floral-patterned fabric, hiding my dagger. My sister has her knife wrapped in pink silk and stashed in a tangle of gauzy sashes she wears around her waist.

  “I was just about to do Evie’s hair,” Amelie says. Hers has already been brushed into long copper waves.

  Foxglove nods. “Proceed. I can share what’s on the agenda for today while you do so.”

  Lorelei steps forward, looking annoyed like always. “Need me for anything?”

  Amelie hesitates before flashing her a smile. “Sure. You can hand me the hairpins.”

  “How nice,” the fae mutters, then joins us at the mirror.

  I pull up a chair and sit while Amelie attacks my hair with a brush.

  Foxglove stands behind us. “King Aspen has finalized the date for your weddings. Normally, the hosting court of the Chosen is given one month to secure a wedding alliance to validate the treaty. But because of the mishap with the Holstrom sisters, our schedule got a bit thrown off. Worry not, we have it all sorted out. The human wedding ceremony will be exactly one month from now. The mate ceremony, however, will take place much sooner. It’s scheduled ten days from now and will happen on the topmost balcony at sunset.”

  “The mate ceremony?” I echo.

  “Yes. It’s a fae celebration for paired couples. We don’t call the resulting pair husband and wife; we call them mates. While it isn’t nearly as binding as a human wedding, it is the closest thing we have here in Faerwyvae and is required by the treaty. It’s usually reserved for noble pairings and alliances, situations where a bit of fanfare is needed. Afterward, you and your mates may perform…um…the ritual.”

  I swallow hard, wondering if he’s referring to consummation. “What exactly does the ritual mean?”

  He hesitates before answering. “That’s a private matter, one you will discuss with your mate. It’s a very ancient and sacred ritual, one that is not discussed with such informality as we are speaking with now.”

  “Are you talking about sex?” Amelie doesn’t so much as blush, just looks at Foxglove questioningly.

  “Sex?” He puzzles over the word, then his eyes go wide with understanding. “Oh, you mean mating. Ha! No. Mating is not so sacred here in Faerwyvae. Honestly, your human ceremony puts much more emphasis on the sanctity of the mating act than we do. I mean, it is expected that you and your mate will…well, mate, but—for the love of oak and ivy, you’re doing it all wrong. I can’t stand by and watch this.”

  Foxglove steps forward, shoving Amelie out of the way and taking my hair in his hands. With deft moves, he undoes the few pins my sister already had arranged, then coils several strands of my hair at the base of my neck. He pins them in place, then pulls a few loose strands to frame my face.

  “Now you,” he says to Amelie, snapping his fingers for her to replace me in the chair.

  I’m surprised when she rushes to obey. She never wears her hair up, preferring a longer style that showcases her natural color and texture. But when he finishes and steps aside, my sister is glowing, jaw hanging on its hinge. “I was offended at first, but my goodness, Foxglove! I’ve never done nearly such a beautiful job as that!”

  “Obviously,” he says, assessing his work with smug admiration. “I am a flower fae. I know a thing or two about beauty.”

  Even Lorelei looks impressed. “You’re putting me out of a job. Perhaps you should be their lady’s maid.”

  Foxglove scoffs. “I think not. Anyhow, let’s not get off track. I haven’t finished explaining the agenda.”

  I blush, remembering our mating conversation.

  The ambassador continues. “With the mate ceremonies just ten days away, the king has decided you shouldn’t be complete strangers by then. You will spend this time getting to know King Aspen and Prince Cobalt when they are free to entertain you. Which brings us to today’s agenda. Amelie, the king will meet with you this afternoon in his study. Evelyn, during this time, Prince Cobalt will take you on a walk outside the palace.”

  My pulse quickens. Amelie and I are going to be separated. My sister will be alone with the Stag King. “Can’t we get to know our fiancés within a group setting? The four of us? Perhaps you and Lorelei as well? I mean, it’s hardly proper for us to be alone with…” I trail off at Foxglove’s raised brow. Right. Human propriety doesn’t mean much in Faerwyvae.

  He laughs. “Oh, don’t be frightened, my dear. Remember our chat yesterday? Don’t set traps. Don’t plot treason. Don’t go swimming. Simple!”

  I cross my arms, searching for the right argument.

  Amelie sighs, then bounces the side of her hip lightly into mine. “I’ll be fine, Evie.”

  I face her, hoping I can convey all the warning I can with my eyes. She tugs her rowan berry necklace, then brushes her fingers over the sashes at her waist. The sashes that hide the knife I gave her.

  It isn’t much, and it might not be enough. But in the end, it’s all we can do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  No hidden blade can comfort me as I find myself trekking through the woods a few hours later, marching up a steep incline behind Cobalt. All worry of Amelie has been swept from my mind, now that my main concern is trying to breathe properly.

  Is he trying to kill me? He is. He must be.

  Cobalt casts a glance behind him, winking when he meets my eyes. “Almost there, I promise.”

  I grind my teeth in reply, silently cursing Foxglove for describing my outing with Cobalt as a walk outside the palace. This isn’t a walk. It’s a hike. There’s a distinct difference.

  Cobalt, unwinded and unhindered by sweat and mortal lung capacities, leads the way higher and higher while I pant behind him, struggling to keep up with his long stride. He pauses and offers me his hand a few times, which I refuse. It only makes me want to hide my exertion better.

  Thankfully, the incline begins to even out, the trees thinning until there’s nothing but a vast field strewn with red leaves, like a blood-red sea. The field ends in a sharp edge that opens to nothing but blue sky. Cobalt sprints forward, then stops abruptly at the cliff’s edge. When I make no move to run after him, he waves at me to hurry, face split into a wide grin. “Come on! You’ve got to see this.”

  I let out an irritated sigh, then slowly make my way forward. A delightful breeze brushes over my skin, drying the sweat from my brow. I pause several feet behind him, again that question nagging at me. Is he trying to kill me? Did Cobalt bring me here just to push me off the edge of a cliff?

  My eyes shift from the prince’s back to the view before us. All prior thoughts go still. A chill runs down my spine, but it isn’t from fear. It’s awe that has me in its grip. Below stretches red-orange hills rolling to the left and right, with endless ocean straight ahead. Bircharbor Palace is a tiny silhouette in the distance, perched at the edge of its cliff. Gulls soar high overhead in the clear blue sky, sunlight glinting off their feathers.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Cobalt asks.

  There’s no point denying the truth. “It is.”

  “I’ve impressed you!” His smile is infectious, and I find myself averting my gaze to hide the tiny spark of joy fighting for dominance over my face. Cobalt doesn’t seem to notice my struggle and turns away from the view to walk to the middle of the leaf-strewn field. There he plops down in the grass and begins unpacking the goods from the basket he brought.

  I follow but hover a few steps away from where he sits.

  He pats the grass next to him. “Come. I packed us a meal.”

  I stay where I am, eying the spread of cheese, nuts, and unfamiliar fruits he’s laid out.

  When he sees I haven’t moved, he pause
s and meets my eyes with another disarming grin. “I’m not going to hurt you, Evelyn. You’re safe with me.”

  He can’t lie, I remind myself. “Promise me.”

  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  I let the vow hang between us for a few moments. While I don’t believe a fae promise is a thing of magic like most people think it is, I know the fae put much stock into the word. A promise is a thing of deep reverence to them, like their inability to lie. It’s something I can use like a shield.

  With a deep breath, I take a seat opposite him, on the other side of the food-laden cloth. The earth is warm beneath me, the noonday sun beaming down upon us. My stomach rumbles at the sight of the meal, so I pick up a piece of cheese.

  Cobalt takes a piece of fruit shaped like a pear, but with tiny red spikes all around it. He bites into it, spikes and all. “They aren’t sharp,” he says through the mouthful.

  “Fae fruit, I’m guessing?”

  He nods. “You have to try some. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before.”

  I stare at the fruit with suspicion. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

  “It is, trust me. Besides,” he says, taking another bite, “you brought your salt, right? If you’re worried, sprinkle some on every bite you take.”

  As much as I’d like to avoid all things fae and potentially dangerous, the fruit does look appetizing, especially the way the golden juice runs between Cobalt’s fingers when he takes a bite. After the grueling hike, I could use something refreshing. I grab my pouch of salt, then choose a piece of fruit—one shaped like an apple but with an opalescent golden skin.

  “Good choice. We call that an autumn equinox apple. You’re going to love it.”

  He’s right. Even with the salt, the flavor is overwhelmingly delicious. It’s sweet and bright with a crisp, juicy texture. I close my eyes to enjoy the sensations.

  “So…tell me about yourself,” he says, popping a blood-red berry in his mouth. “What was life like for you before you came here?”

  I salt my apple again and take another bite while I consider what to say. I’m hesitant to speak about anything personal, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to share some. Right?

  “Well, let’s see. I grew up living in an apothecary run by my mother. For the past two years, I’ve been working as a surgeon’s apprentice. And before I was forced to come here, I had plans to attend medical school on the mainland.”

  “Surgeon, wow. So, you cut up human bodies?” Cobalt asks as he grabs an apple like mine.

  “I suppose you could say that, although it’s more complicated. It’s a healing practice. Surgery is often the difference between life and death for humans. Is there nothing like that here?”

  He shrugs. “We aren’t easy to kill. If there’s ever a time we’re wounded badly enough to require intervention, it usually means there’s no coming back from it.”

  I take another bite of salted apple, pondering over what kind of wound would be bad enough to kill a fae. I’ve heard stories about the fae’s impressive abilities to rapidly heal from injury, their supposed immortality. As far as I’ve been told, their main weaknesses are iron and ash. But can they heal from a wound inflicted by either material or is it always fatal? And what about a wound from an ordinary wood or metal? I know what kind of wounds can kill a man, but does the same apply to the fae?

  “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, shattering my morbid thoughts. “About you being forced to be here. I can tell you were passionate about your plans for school.”

  I nod but say nothing in reply. His words make me wonder if he knows why I was brought here—knows about my first meeting with his brother at the wall. If he does, he’s doing a good job not bringing it up. Whatever the case, I’m done talking about myself. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your adolescence.”

  He reclines on the bed of leaves, elbows supporting his weight. “Hmm. I am much older than you by several hundred years, so it’ll take me a moment to think back that far.”

  “Several hundred years, you say? And to think you don’t look a day over three-hundred and seventy-two.”

  “Ah, perfect. I was beginning to think my blues were showing. That’s what humans get, right? Different colored hair with age?”

  “Something like that.” I take my last bite of apple and exchange the core for one of the pear-like fruits.

  “Ha, thought so. Now, let’s see. I was born the second son of Queen Melusine. She returned to the sea not long after I was born, which basically meant Aspen had to raise me, although he was barely more than an adolescent himself at the time.”

  “Your brother raised you? Does that mean the two of you are close?”

  He ponders that for a moment. “I’ve lived with him my entire life, but I wouldn’t say we’ve ever been close. I love him and I’m sure he loves me, but it isn’t always smooth sailing between us. He frustrates me at times, and I know he resents me.”

  “Why would he resent you?”

  His expression turns apologetic. “It’s no secret many of the council would prefer to see me on the throne.”

  Part of me wonders if that wouldn’t be a good idea. So far, Cobalt seems far more civilized than his brother. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I just want what’s best for Faerwyvae.”

  “Isn’t that what every good king should want?”

  He shifts, looking flustered.

  My stomach drops, realizing my words are bordering on treason. There I go with that mouth of mine again. Time to change the subject. “Tell me more about your childhood. Who’s your father? Foxglove said King Herne died before your brother was born, so I take it you don’t share his paternity.”

  He shrugs. “I never met my father. He was one of Mother’s many undersea consorts and never bothered coming to land to meet me. It’s the unseelie way.” There’s a note of sorrow in his voice, and I can’t help but feel a squeeze of sympathy for him.

  “I don’t remember my father,” I say. “He parted ways with my mother when my sister and I were small. When Mother moved us to Eisleigh, he stayed behind. We’ve never heard from him since.”

  “I’m sorry. At least you had your mother, though. You must miss her terribly.”

  My throat tightens. I do miss her, and I can’t fight my regret over the sharp words I said to her the night I left. She knows how much I love her, doesn’t she?

  “What’s wrong?” Cobalt’s brow is furrowed as he studies my face from his reclined position.

  I don’t want to tell him what’s really on my mind. If I talk about my mother, I won’t be able to trust myself not to cry. Instead, I voice another valid worry. “I just hope Amelie is faring well with your brother.”

  “You mean at her interrogation?”

  I bristle at the word. “Why do you call it that?”

  He frowns. “You know he’s only spending time with her to make sure she doesn’t plan on killing him, right?”

  “Amelie? Kill King Aspen?” I may have given her a knife for protection, but if anyone were to kill the king, it would be me. Of course, I don’t say so out loud.

  “He thinks everyone is trying to kill him,” Cobalt says, a note of irritation in his voice. “You’ve seen how paranoid he is, how he has his food tested before he eats it.”

  “Why is he like that? Does anyone have reason to kill him?” Aside from him being an insufferable prick, that is.

  His eyes unfocus as he considers this. “He has many enemies—basically every fae on the Council of Eleven Courts. But I can’t imagine they would target him with the kinds of underhanded assassination attempts my brother fears. If anything, they’d demand his removal from the throne.”

  “Why does the council hate him so much?”

  “Well, to be honest, he’s the most unstable ruler in Faerwyvae, always switching from seelie to unseelie and back again for no reason at all. I think he does it on purpose, just to stir chaos.”

  I remember what Foxglove told
me during the carriage ride, about fae politics and the history of the original unseelie fae. “What do you mean he switches from seelie to unseelie? Do you mean politically or physically?”

  “Politically. We all shift into our physical unseelie forms from time to time. But when it comes to politics, the rulers are supposed to take a firm stance on what each side represents. The unseelie ultimately want control over the isle. They were responsible for the war a thousand years ago and are the main supporters of going back to war and ridding the isle of humans. The seelie, on the other hand, are determined to keep war from ever reaching the isle again. They keep the unseelie in check and smooth things over with the humans when tensions arise.”

  “So, you’re saying your brother constantly changes his mind about whether he supports war?”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that. I doubt he even cares about the politics at all, otherwise he wouldn’t play the games he does. You see, in order to pass any new motions, the council needs a majority vote. Ever since the war ended, the council has remained mostly seelie. Occasionally, a ruler will change sides, especially when a court is inherited by a new ruler. But every time this happens, my brother switches sides too, to whatever opposes the newest change.”

  I furrow my brow. “Why would he do that?”

  “To be difficult. There could be no other reason. If he was doing it to keep Faerwyvae from going to war, it would make sense. But he even shifts sides when an unseelie votes seelie.”

  “You think that’s why the council dislikes him?”

  “I know they do. The seelie hate him because his constant shifting keeps the council from getting anywhere near unanimously seelie, which in turn prevents them from bringing in new measures to further the seelie cause. If the council were to shift heavily seelie, they’d be able to make bigger and better changes. Changes that would do more than the treaty does now. Changes that could make human-fae relations even stronger.”

  “And the unseelie hate him for the same reason.”