Fae of the North (Court of Crown and Compass Book 1)

by E Hall

  “Before you die, Gerda, I’ll give myself the pleasure of telling you the story.”

  Then again, I wasn’t expecting any of this so maybe we stand a chance.

  Leith paces along the castle steps. “I returned from the outerlands to find that Hedda, the lovely princess from over the sea, had been promised to the handsome, strong, perfect Torsuld, my brother. I saw quickly what she was. Fae. How could our parents allow it? How could he stand her? Well, Torsuld had a secret of his own.”

  Gerda narrows her eyes. “He was a raven shifter.”

  “Indeed he was and yet our parents favored him. They didn’t send him away like they did me. They allowed him to take the throne because he represented the family legacy.” Leith goes on, “My plan was really quite simple. Even after they were married, Torsuld spent so much time with his beloved ravens that it wasn’t hard to convince Hedda that he preferred them to her. Nor was it difficult to poison his mind with stories that she wished to run away with her true love from Brendsondl. And a little mage magic never hurts.” He laughs.

  “Lies. All of it,” Gerda grinds out. “There was no one from the Westlands that she loved. You made that up to drive them apart.”

  Apparently, dividing people is what Leith is best at.

  He slaps Gerda with the back of his slim hand at her insolence.

  Faint gasps of disbelief issue from the gathered crowd.

  I throw a kraa kraa followed by the flap of wings from the wooden raven.

  “Now Torsuld’s precious ravens have come to me.” His eyes dance over me.

  Good. He still believes it.

  Gerda growls, “Your story wasn’t finished.”

  Leith’s face crinkles like paper. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “I want to hear the truth, at last,” Gerda says.

  Leith’s voice takes on a feathery, mocking quality. “While the king and queen were apart, I saw to it that Torsuld remained in his raven form forever...along with all raven shifters.”

  The golden raven?

  “The poor queen found herself jealous and alone as months passed and Torsuld remained away—favoring his birds.”

  “You were the wedge that drove them apart.” Gerda glares.

  “She stumbled right into my soothing arms. Poor, poor Hedda. I was there for her when her husband was not. Although Torsuld may have been perfect in our father’s eyes, he did not possess my powers—the ability to see what our parents couldn’t—how I was the most capable and therefore the rightful ruler of this kingdom. When six months had passed, I was to marry her as stated by law.”

  “She despised you.”

  “You sound so bitter, Princess Gerda.”

  “You discovered she was pregnant.” Gerda’s voice is tight.

  “But the child wasn’t mine and considering she’d been consorting with her true love in Brendsondl while married to Torsuld there was no way to prove the child’s lineage. It was sentenced to death upon birth,” Leith speaks in a mocking tone about his web of deception resulting in the potential death of the child as if it’s a triviality.

  “You are a monster,” Gerda says. “Hedda would rather have died than be with you.” Hatred floods her eyes.

  “In the end, it didn’t matter. I disguised myself as the midwife, using a handy little spell thanks to my time with the mages. Then I gave the baby the burden of Frosted Oblivion.”

  “And Vespertine stopped you.”

  For a moment, Leith looks startled as though that’s news to him. “He tried. He failed.”

  “He suppressed the spell. He succeeded.” Gerda’s voice is steel.

  Leith shakes his head. “Even if Vespertine suppressed the spell and the child lived, the curse would take hold on the day he comes of age.”

  Gerda shudders.

  Scenes from Soren’s dreams start to make sense. Was that the curse I’m meant to break? Or the ink? Or something else? All of them?

  Leith brushes his hands like the job is done. Only it isn’t. He must not realize the heir survived, but what of the Frosted Oblivion? Surely, he’s come of age by now...or not.

  “I know that look, the one glittering in your eyes, Gerda. Cold desire. Murder. What you’d like to do to me. The child’s name was Hjaggson Torsuld Hrafn, thunder’s son, am I right?” He laughs thickly. “There’s no one in this kingdom by that name—no fae and raven offspring. I made sure of that with the Grievous Fires as you all them. I burned the books so no spells could be broken.”

  Gerda snarls.

  I glance at Soren, but his expression is impassive.

  “But there’s more,” she says defiantly. “You’re still not done telling the story.”

  “No, I suppose that I’m not.” Leith tears the sleeve from his robes, revealing ink so thick his skin is hardly visible. He turns to face the whole of Raven’s Landing: the patrol, those gathered by the gates and shouts, “Torsuld ruined me. His mage bled the color from his feathers and cursed me with it.” The venom in his voice, the power radiating from him practically makes the castle walls shake and the snowflakes melt.

  “And you turned the curse on the rest of us,” Gerda says.

  “If only you knew the extent of the exchange of curses, Princess,” Leith taunts. “But remember, I was already unacceptable in my family’s eyes. Meanwhile, my brother was a shapeshifting raven, but our parents overlooked it because of the monarchy’s lineage. I was the fae son, discarded. He was the perfect, golden son, accepted. But I knew his secrets and now I am king.”

  I start to fidget, tired of story hour. I wanted to avoid coming to blows; the people have already endured so much, but I’m itching for action. Demon or not, it’s about time to take this bad boy down.

  Soren must feel the same way because without wasting another second, he ducks under the raised weapons, spins, grabs a guard from behind, steals his blade, and fights his way up the steps with a brief clink of metal on metal as he defeats the first row of guards.

  He angles his weapon at the king’s chest. “Your story is a sad one, but it’s not ours. The people of Raven’s Landing don’t deserve to pay for the result of your choices, your fears, or anger.”

  The king’s thin lips quirk.

  “With a swift flick of my wrist I could drive this into your heart,” Soren rumbles.

  “That’s assuming he has one,” Gerda says coldly.

  The king looks from the blade tip to Soren, locking on his eyes for a long breath. “I mentioned I’m immortal, right? Becoming a vampire was a small price to pay.”

  I chill at the words.

  Leith’s dark eyes flash as he stares at Soren. “I see it now, Hjaggson. Has it really been nineteen years to the day?” Then he scoffs at the blade. “Soren, you’re much like your father.”

  “What do you know of my father?” Soren booms.

  “I know everything.”

  “My father was an honorable, courageous man who died too soon.” The passing frown on Soren’s lips quickly becomes a sneer, but in that split second of uncertainty, the patrol closes in, grabbing Soren roughly by the arms and restraining him. The blade drops. Like Gerda, Soren’s hesitation cost him.

  “Show me the birds,” Leith says.

  “We came to make a trade,” Soren counters. “Freedom in exchange for the ravens.”

  Leith scans the wooden raven cage for a long moment. “You are in no position to barter.”

  I release a feeble kraa to make it seem like they’re still in there.

  Leith’s eyes become slits. “I once sought Torsuld’s ravens, and they could still be of use to me. However, the one I most desire is gold. What’s that expression? Kill two birds with one stone.” He removes his crown and pulls the glistening crystal from the front before putting it back on. “I’ll try for several birds, one stone.” He glares between the wooden cage, Gerda, Soren, and all the others.

  “If you’re going to take a life, make it mine if it means saving one of theirs.” Soren grows taller, mightier. “And if I’m to
die by your hand, I want you to know that I refuse to call you king. Even if I don’t gain my freedom, you’ll never rule me.”

  My pulse thickens.

  “That shouldn’t surprise me. I didn’t realize it at first, but I know you, Soren Blackthorne,” Leith says with a laugh. “But the most interesting thing is that you do not know yourself. You may not choose to call me king, but you can call me uncle.”

  Soren’s long lashes blink with confusion and disbelief.

  Gerda hangs her head, confirming that I was correct in my assumption based on what I saw in my dreams. Unfortunately, Leith knows now too.

  The moment splinters and cracks like ice as Leith stalks closer to his nephew.

  Chapter 27

  Soren

  No. No. No. A simple word. A brick. A blow. I want to build a tower around myself because this cannot be true. I want to strike something hard, to feel the resistance as my knuckles come into forcible contact. I want a physical reminder that there is still power in no.

  No, this cannot be.

  No, Leith is not my uncle.

  No, he knows nothing about my father or me or my mother.

  I glance at Gerda. A princess? Her stiff expression reveals confirmation. How did she know and not tell me? That means my mother was the queen. And my father...

  But what of Vespertine suppressing the curse? Coming of age?

  Numbness creeps toward me and not only because my feet are cold from waiting outside for hours. I desire warmth, but it doesn’t come. I was stunned when Kiki stepped forward, going against the plan, but I see now that she wanted to spare us all from more bloodshed.

  But this is almost worse.

  Leith’s broad forehead and the strong line of his nose carry a distinct familiarity. I glimpse disjointed pieces of myself in his reflection.

  No, I don’t want to see myself in him.

  No, he is not my uncle.

  No, this is a trick, a manipulation of reality.

  Leith taps his chin and a sinister smile plays on his lips. “There is some resemblance. I see it now. You do too. It would be a shame to kill a member of the family.”

  “You are not my king and you’re not my uncle,” I say.

  “Perhaps instead of death, I could give you things you cannot imagine. All these years living as a commoner. I didn’t think you’d survived, Soren Hrafn. Or should I say Hjaggson Hrafn? Coming from that hovel—the Roost? Is that where you call home these days?”

  “Even if it’s true that you’re my uncle, I want nothing from you.” My throat is dry, and I stumble over the word uncle.

  “Is that so? Not even your freedom?” He circles me and says, “You can be sure you have resources yet untapped given your lineage. You’re strapping and strong, an obvious leader. There are places beyond Raven’s Landing that could be conquered and we could rule, building an empire together. The Shadow Army will lead the way.”

  “Never.”

  He turns sharply to Kiki. “I know the way you feel about her. What if I use her as leverage to get you to do what I want?” He chortles.

  “I’m not yours to use,” she grinds out.

  “You were lucky the only punishment for someone as insolent as yourself was the stain of ink on your body.”

  “There is no ink on my skin.” I pull up my sleeve and then say, “You’ve left no mark.”

  The ink-black tips of his nails grip my flesh. “But I’ve seen it.”

  I yank my arm free. “You may have dreamed it, but your dreams didn’t reveal Kiki removing it.”

  He jerks in her direction. “In that case, she will prove very useful before I take her shadow.”

  No. The word seems to freeze on my tongue. The story he told earlier tumbles back to me like a snowball rolling downhill. No, like an avalanche. I’m suddenly cold all over. “Torsuld was my father and you tricked my mother?” A weight drops in my stomach. “You gave me Frosted Oblivion—?”

  Kiki’s attention snaps to me her brow wrinkled with concern.

  Frosted Oblivion freezes magic and abilities and sentences the person to death. And if the king and queen were my parents am I raven or fae or...? When do I come of age?

  There is no time to think or wallow or wonder. The people need me. “We brought you the birds. We want to see you let the people be free. No more ink and punishments. No more stealing shadows—” I hesitate, not yet ready to play my winning tile, sacrifice.

  “Then you’ll serve me, Soren.”

  “I’d rather die.” I’d rather try to negotiate. I’d rather try to overthrow him.

  “And you will.”

  “Not before I destroy you.”

  “I’m the king and nothing, not you or a little rebellion, will change that.”

  His repeated threats chip away at the brick tower of no I created. The words dig into the soft and uncertain places in my mind like his inky nails. The force of it could hammer me into complacency and the finality of it draws me into fear unlike any I’ve ever known.

  “Take me into your service,” Kiki says, standing strong.

  The reminder in her voice is all I need to solidify my resolve. Kiki didn’t betray the people of Raven’s Landing or me as I’d momentarily feared. She is our strength.

  “Oh, I will. You will be part of my undefeatable army. Unlike demons, shadows cannot die. But they can destroy. If you’re considering rising up against me, you had better hope your army is bigger and stronger than mine will be. I’ll command you all, living and dead.”

  I glance over my shoulder. The people gather in the lower courtyard, dressed in raven black, and form the word united. It’s a bold reminder against the snow blanketing the ground. Even though Leith took ink and paper, he didn’t rob us of the power of words.

  “Soren will soon succumb to the Frosted Oblivion .”

  “Not until I come of age,” I counter. Whenever that is.

  “You come of age the moment you try to take the throne. Then we’ll dispense with the rest of you.” Leith gestures toward those gathered.

  All of us strain against his threats.

  Leith turns to Soren. “I’ll make this simple. Soren, I’ll break the Frosted Oblivion cure and you can rule with me. After you watch a demon tear away her shadow.” He wears a grim smile. “Or, fae girl, you can put Soren out of his misery.” He juts his chin to the sword. “Prove your loyalty.”

  Kiki’s eyes ice over. “Spare them and I’ll indebt myself to you.”

  “So willing.” He titters. “You’re both so willing to sacrifice yourselves.” Leith takes a sword from a guard. “Well, both of you will fall beneath me. Ah, where were we? Oh, yes, you were going to prove your allegiance, fae girl.”

  The guards shove the husky guy forward.

  “No. Not him.” Leith’s gaze lands on me. “If she really wants to save the people, she’ll do anything.”

  Kiki’s eyes flicker.

  “Soren is going to die soon anyway thanks to the spell so it’s no loss really.”

  Leith hands her the sword.

  Her body seems to hum.

  Everyone holds their breath, waiting, witnessing. Everything is still except for the falling snow and the corners, the blind spots in the pleats of the castle’s exterior, where the Rising wait for the right moment.

  My eyes slide to hers and lock. The little scar on her chin twitches. The edge of her lip quirks ever so faintly.

  Kiki shifts a measure and stares at Leith. “I’ll do it.” Her words are meant for me.

  His expression darkens.

  She doesn’t shrink. She doesn’t wither or fade.

  “Now, don’t get any funny ideas,” Leith says, watching us carefully. “This blade has Soren’s name on it, faetcher.”

  “Don’t call her that,” I growl. I struggle against the guards.

  Leith extends one arm in front of Kiki and then as though twisting an invisible ribbon of energy, he rotates his wrist to protect himself if she were to turn the blade against him.

&nb
sp; “You’ve gone too far. I’m here to end this, Leith,” she says.

  “That is where you’re mistaken. It’s only just beginning.”

  They’re face to face: flaming black eyes to ice.

  “In the end, nature will win. It always does,” Kiki says.

  “Nothing can overcome nature, except me.”

  “Strange thing about nature,” Kiki starts, “it isn’t predictable. Neither am I.”

  Leith’s hesitation before responding gives Kiki the chance to toss the blade toward me. I catch it deftly.

  Winter air explodes from her hands and all at once, the frost of an early morning sweeps along Leith’s skin, covering his face, his eyes, and his hair. It crackles as it forms crystals. She uses her frost fae magic to freeze him in place.

  The patrol launch into action. The Raven’s Rising spring from their hiding places, weapons at the ready. And the bearmen march closer, shaking the earth.

  Chapter 28

  Ineke

  “We will not surrender. We will not retreat. We will have our freedom,” Soren thunders as he commands our soldiers to descend on the castle.

  The driving snow creates a winter white canvas of the sky and earth. For the briefest moments, we’re all frozen like the king, but then the inner court floods with figures in raven black as the Rising enters. The seers, the people from the Basin, the Flats, Battersea, and the Roost, from every nook and cranny of Raven’s Landing, the bearmen, and beyond who’re willing to fight, swear their allegiance to each other as they rush into battle against the king’s patrol.

  I swipe a blade from a distracted guard and lunge forward, defending myself as several guards with their swords lifted charge in my direction. I launch onto the upper steps, sidestepping the still-frozen king, dodging the swiftly slicing metal before I cut the snow-filled air with the weapon in my hand and send patrolmen crumpling to the ground.

  A fist rams into my side, and a guard hisses that he wants his blade back. I lose my balance and slide along the slick ground. A reedy guard loses his footing and crashes after me, but I’m quickly back on my feet.