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

by Tessonja Odette

  She smiles knowingly. “That is no life for you. Take the mercy I am offering you. It’s only a matter of time before the treaty breaks some other way. Promise me you won’t do the ritual, and you will be allowed to live and return to your village. Warn your people. Take your mother to the mainland and escape the burden you now bear. Take as many of your people off this isle with you as you can.”

  Anxiety crushes my lungs as I consider. I could take this bargain. I could take my people to safety, free them from the responsibility of upholding the treaty century after century. Let them live in freedom, no longer in the shadow of the faewall. No longer fearing fae retribution. But in turn, everyone who escapes to the mainland would lose their homes, their land, the day-to-day lives they cherish. And it would all be my fault. I feel like my legs will give out from the weight of the burden riding on my shoulders.

  “Promise me.”

  I breathe away the anxiety, seeking control, logic. With a deep breath, I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of my dagger against my thigh, hidden beneath my skirts. I pat it once, and my mind begins to steady. One thing becomes clear. I cannot make any kind of bargain with Melusine. “I won’t.”

  Her fangs flash, lips peeling into a snarl. “Promise me or I will make you regret the day you denied my mercy.”

  “No.”

  She lets out an angry roar. The ocean responds, sending its waves to echo her, rising from the sea toward the sky. Shark fins break the surface, jaws snapping from the waves. The sirens begin to wail a harrowing tune.

  I hold my ground, ready to meet it. As powerless as I am against the sea, I refuse to run.

  Melusine’s gaze locks on me, eyes like a swirling tempest as she slithers forward, arms outstretched, monstrous waves at her back ready to crash over my head.

  “Mother.”

  Melusine freezes, head darting to the side. The waves are thrown backward, dousing me in a cold spray. I gasp, the chilling water drenching me from head to toe. In the blink of an eye, the sea is calm again.

  “Aspen, dear,” she hisses through her teeth.

  He strolls towards us at a leisurely pace. “Didn’t you know it’s considered treason to attack the mate of a king?”

  Her composure relaxes and her lips pull into a smile. Her tail is the only thing that betrays her, swishing wildly, erratically, in the sand. “You mistake me, my son. We had an argument that got out of hand. Nothing more. You do know how my temper can be.”

  “I do,” he says. “Regardless, you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

  She lifts her chin. “I wouldn’t call anything I received a welcome. You’ll have to try harder tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” A look of surprise interrupts his stoic expression.

  “The council meeting,” she says. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

  The calm returns to his features. “Of course not. I’m simply surprised you aren’t sending an ambassador in your stead.”

  “Not for such an important meeting. Until then.” She smiles, then dives into the sea, sinuous tail snaking across the sand until it disappears beneath the waves.

  Aspen puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Are you all right?”

  My hands ball into fists, fury roaring inside me. “You.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Me?” Aspen smirks. “What did I do to spark your displeasure this time?”

  “Was she right? Did you keep the truth about the Bonding ritual from me?”

  His smile fades.

  I take a step away, pulling from his grasp. “She was right, wasn’t she? You were going to let me break the treaty without realizing it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? After everything you told me about protecting the balance. How could you do this?”

  “You said you wouldn’t do the ritual. I wasn’t going to force you.”

  I throw my hands in the air. “I may have reconsidered if I’d known the truth. You should have told me. You should have told me everything from the start.”

  His lips press into a tight line. “You weren’t the easiest to talk to.”

  “Neither were you.”

  “You seemed so set in your opinion of me. I wouldn’t grovel at your feet just to give you an explanation.”

  “Because of your pride?”

  He shrugs. “Perhaps. It didn’t seem worth my time when you wouldn’t have believed me anyway.”

  “So you were just going to let me unwittingly break the pact?”

  “Better you than me.”

  My fingers clench into fists. “How can you say that so casually when it would have meant war?”

  “Because if I were to break the treaty, there’s a good chance I’d lose my throne as well. Besides, what were my other options? I could let you make your choices based on human prejudice, resulting in war with a people who might not deserve my protection in the first place. Or I could tell you the truth and make you feel forced to perform the ritual, resulting in a Bond with a woman who hates me, a woman who could use my name against me, use it to dethrone me.”

  “I wouldn’t have.” My voice comes out small, uncertain.

  He barks a cold laugh. “Not even you believe that.”

  “I couldn’t have,” I correct. “A human can’t use a fae’s true name against them. Giving me your name will do nothing. I don’t have any special hormones to secrete that mess with your brain. You’d be the one with all the power.”

  His expression twists into a look of bewilderment. “Hormone? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s what gives you the power to glamour others. It overrides parts of our brain.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s our magic that allows us to use a glamour. The power of giving another your true name uses a strong enough magic for even a human to use on the Fair Isle. Haven’t you heard about the end of the war? The exile of the Fire King? The head of Eisleigh’s council exchanged names with the Fire King and banished him. The Fire King, in turn used the councilman’s name to promise he would never set foot on the Fair Isle again and would live on the mainland until his death. That’s what the Bond is about. The ultimate sign of mutual fear and respect. It can be forged between friends, enemies, allies, and—yes—humans and fae.”

  I’m surprised to hear this part of the story, but it still doesn’t mean anything. There’s no proof the councilman had any power over the Fire King when he used his name. Still, I’m too exhausted to argue. “Aspen, I just want the truth. What happens next?”

  “Nothing has changed on my side. I still won’t force you to do the ritual. The choice is yours. If we must go to war, so be it. If you choose to give me your name, I will give you mine in return.”

  “I thought you were afraid I’ll betray you.”

  He sighs. “If you were ever going to hurt me, you would have let me succumb to iron poisoning.”

  I feel a flash of guilt, remembering the moment I considered doing just that. “Your mother said there is a timeframe determined by the treaty. When must the Bonding ritual be performed by?”

  His expression falters, almost apologetic. “The treaty states the ritual must take place no later than a week before the human wedding ceremony.”

  I do the math in my head. My mouth falls open, and the breath flies from my lungs. “Tomorrow is a week before the wedding.”

  He nods. “That’s why the council is coming. I am to present you as my Bonded by midnight. If not, the treaty is broken, and the council will determine next steps.”

  I close my eyes and turn away from him. All I want to do is scream, to pound his chest and berate him for letting things go so long without telling me the truth. But I’m still too drained to fight or argue. Instead, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  After a stretch of silence, I hear Aspen’s footfall behind me, then to the side of me. I can’t bring myself to look at him. “What did you argue with my mother about?” he asks.

  “She…she wanted me to promise I would
n’t perform the ritual.”

  He curses under his breath. “Of course she did.” He goes still, studying me. “What did you say?”

  I chew my bottom lip, eyes darting toward his face then away again. “I refused to give her my promise.”

  “Because you detest bargaining with the fae, or because you’re actually considering it?”

  “Both.”

  “For your people?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I say. “I’ll do anything to keep the isle free from war. That’s why I’m here. Why I’ve persevered this long.”

  “But you hate it here, don’t you?”

  “I don’t hate it.” My stomach sinks when I say it, but it’s the truth. The fae may terrify me at times, and more than one has directly tried to kill me. But others—Lorelei, Foxglove, Cobalt, Gildmar, even Aspen—are showing me there’s more to Faerwyvae than I grew up believing. I may not love it yet, but I’d rather not see it destroyed by war.

  “What about me?” Aspen’s voice comes out soft, hesitant. “Do you still hate me?”

  My pulse quickens. “Not entirely.”

  “Is there any part of you that wants to do the ritual for…us?”

  My eyes widen and find his, but I say nothing.

  His expression darkens, and he turns away, shaking his head. I watch as he stalks down the beach. For an unfathomable moment, I feel cold at the sight, at the distance growing between us. Without a second thought, I march after him. “Aspen, don’t you dare walk away from me.”

  He pauses, then turns to face me. His expression flickers between cool stoicism and the vulnerability I’ve rarely gotten to see.

  I close the distance between us. “I said I wanted the truth.”

  “I never promised to give it.”

  “Yet you did anyway,” I say. “Don’t walk away from me when there’s clearly more to say.”

  He lets out a grumble. “You really want the truth?”

  I nod.

  “The truth is, I’ve wanted you from the start. From the day I met you at the wall. I wanted you when I first laid eyes on you in the dining room, when Foxglove crushed me with the news that you would be my brother’s bride. I wanted you later that night when I met you at the rail. I wanted to offer you a change of plans, to offer myself to you instead. I wanted you even after you burned me with your scorn, rejected every flirtation I threw your way. I wanted you every time we were together in a room, regardless of who else was there. I wanted you then and I want you now, and it infuriates me that you feel nothing in return.”

  My breaths are quick, shallow, pulse racing. He gave me the truth; I could leave it at that. I could walk away. I could tell him he’s right, that I feel nothing in return. I could ignore all those times I felt drawn to him, like a fire was burning every part of me at once. For so long, I’d mistaken it for the fire of rage, and it was there. But there was another fire coexisting alongside it, something I’ve never given credit to. It’s that thing that makes me feel breathless, out of control, and completely unlike myself. It’s passion. There’s no logic about it, no textbook to tell me how to cut it apart or navigate it. It’s something I always swore I lacked, something only girls like Amelie have.

  But if we’re talking about truth, let me admit mine. I am no stranger to passion. I simply choose to ignore it, lock it up, and keep it at bay. It’s something I’ve never let myself explore. Who would I be if I did?

  I see Aspen beginning to grow tense again, his vulnerability fading behind his stony mask of pride. I could let this end here. Now. Let him walk away, allow the tension to grow between us until it solidifies into a wall.

  “You’re wrong,” I finally say, the words flying from my throat before I can swallow them down. “I don’t feel nothing.”

  His eyes widen, the mask slipping. “What do you feel?”

  I can’t bring myself to use words, so I reach a tentative hand toward his cheek. He closes his eyes, trembling with restraint at my touch. I run my fingers along his jaw, his sculpted cheekbone, the lobe of his ear.

  When he opens his eyes, I have but a moment to bask in their color, in the desire radiating from them. After that, his lips are on mine. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his hair. His hands move down my back, and his lips trail my neck, my collarbone. I tilt my head back, gasping as he kisses behind my ear.

  “I want to pick up where we left off.” His voice is a low rumble, sending a shiver up my spine.

  “Yes,” is all I can manage to say.

  “But not here.” He pulls away from me. Disappointment sinks my gut, but before it can take root, he links his fingers with mine. We run down the shore, back toward the palace. At the base of the rock wall just beneath the palace, there’s a cave that leads to a tunnel, a tunnel that leads to stairs, and stairs that lead to the lower levels of the palace. I’d come this way to meet Melusine.

  At the mouth of the cave stand the guards I left behind. Aspen dismisses them, ordering them to wait farther down the tunnel. They obey, leaving us alone in the cool darkness of the cave, lit only by sparse orbs of light. When we can no longer hear the footsteps of the guards, Aspen turns to me, lips crushing against mine as he presses my back against the smooth, dark stone. Warmth spreads through me from head to toe, and I feel the flames of passion return. I run my hands up his chest, up the silk of his waistcoat, then to the collar of his shirt. From there, I touch his neck, his cheek, his brow. Slowly, my fingers crawl into his hair until I reach the base of an antler. Aspen inhales a sharp breath as I slide my fingers over the length of the branch.

  He pulls away slightly, eyes closed. Worried I’ve done something wrong, I remove my hand. When he opens his eyes, his lips pull into a smirk. “You really are the most desirable being I’ve ever encountered,” he says. “I was willing to let you go time and time again, thinking that’s what you wanted. To marry my brother. To forfeit the ritual. To break the treaty.”

  “And now?” I whisper.

  He kisses me lightly on the lips. “I can still let you go, if that’s what you want. If you’re going to leave, do it now. Leave before my heart realizes what’s happened.”

  The vulnerability has returned to his eyes, more transparent than ever before. There’s a sorrow in his voice that shatters me. I remember what Aspen’s mother had said, that her mercy had been a weakness. She regretted ending the war to save Aspen’s life. She left him when he was likely still a child in fae years. Abandoned him to raise his baby brother on his own in an enormous palace.

  Aspen’s aloofness, his cold demeanor, his hard edges and sharp words—it all seems so fragile now. I put my hand to Aspen’s cheek, run my thumb over his lower lip.

  He shudders. “Leave me now or I won’t be able to stop.”

  I inch toward him until our lips almost touch. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  Our kisses return, deeper, heavier. My lips part for more of him, and I feel his tongue brush against mine. His hands move up my back, my arms, my shoulders. His fingers trail the neckline of my dress. I regret my modest clothing now, wishing my dress were thinner. Or better yet, gone altogether.

  As if he can read my mind, his fingers move to the shoulder of my dress, then slide it down, revealing my naked flesh. I shiver as the cold air snakes across my skin, but his lips trace a line of fire between my breasts, then over my exposed mound of curving flesh. I shudder as his tongue lingers over the summit. He tugs the other shoulder of the dress, pulling it down until my entire top hangs around my waist. It’s still not enough. I want to be closer.

  My fingers find the collar of his shirt again. This time, I seek to loosen his cravat, throwing it to the ground once freed. Then I find the buttons of his shirt, his waistcoat, undoing each one with trembling fingers. He helps me with what remains, shrugging off his jacket, the open shirt, his trousers. I look him over, eyes lighting upon every muscle, every inch of golden skin. All that remains of his wound is dark bruising and several small tendrils of black.
My eyes go lower, and I can’t help but blush when I finally understand the truth of Foxglove’s kingdom innuendo.

  He grins when he catches the look on my face, then returns his efforts to freeing me from my dress. Hands on my hips, he spins me around to untie the sashes that secure the skirt around my waist. It falls to the stone floor in a puddle of chiffon, leaving me bare in the cold autumn air with nothing but Aspen’s roving hands to warm me. Only one thing remains.

  I step away from him and reach toward my thigh to undo my belted dagger, tossing it to the side where Aspen won’t accidentally touch it. When I return to face him, his eyes are drinking me in.

  “Beautiful Evie,” he says.

  “Dangerous Aspen,” I whisper.

  He kisses me softly this time as he reaches for my thighs. With little effort he lifts me, and my legs go around his waist. The fiery yearning pulses at my core and I feel that sense of losing control growing stronger and stronger. This time I don’t fight it. I welcome it. Welcome his kisses, his hands, his fingers. All of him.

  In this moment, there is no looming war, no ritual, no pact, no separation of our kind. In this moment, things are simple—he is mine and I am his. I’m teetering on the edge of passion, tasting all it has to offer me, sampling its joys and pains and moments of euphoria. But I want more than an edge, a sample, a taste.

  I let myself fall completely.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The morning dawns on us, sending streams of light into the mouth of the cave. I open my eyes, lifting my head from Aspen’s warm chest. Salty air tickles my senses, blending with Aspen’s rosemary and cinnamon. He wakes, and his eyes meet mine. For a moment, the silence between us feels tense, awkward.

  A wave of fear runs through me. Does he regret this? Do I regret this?