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

by E Hall

  However, I’m colder than I’ve ever been so I’m not sure if my hope was enough to ensure my survival.

  Guards and the Rising knock into me, a popsicle person. My mind drifts to my mother lying in her bed where I found her seemingly frozen then I remember the heat when I pressed my palm to hers. The warmth before I landed in the Sea of Dreams lifts me up. My mind floats to better memories—summers in New York when Mom and I would sit on the fire escape and eat popsicles or ice cream and watch the sunset. We’d be sweating up there but didn’t care.

  Sweltering nights. Humidity. Heat.

  An idea bursts through my chilled haze. Vespertine talked about balance, equal and contrasting opposites. My frost fae nature might be cold, but it needs the counterpoint to exist.

  I dig into my fae power, summoning warmth.

  Defrost, defrost, defrost.

  The source of my power sparks and then like a fuse it catches flame, burning through me, radiating, thawing.

  I blink a few times, wishing I’d known about this nifty feature after plonking down on the iceberg in this realm. Will I ever be able to get home or is this my life now?

  My life. I keep fighting my way back, waging an internal, invisible battle everywhere the grim magic tries to take hold—it tries to freeze out my good memories, the beat of my heart, and the fae light along with the shadow, but I feed it the one thing it can’t tolerate. The thing my mother taught me is the most important thing and what Soren’s mother must’ve known too.

  I warm through, confident that the Frosted Oblivion didn’t take me.

  I remain still, not yet revealing that I defeated the spell. I spot Gerda battling two guards. I can hardly believe she’s the queen’s sister. A princess from another land. What’s worse were Leith’s deceptions, separating the golden king and queen. Although a swell of sympathy rushes through me at the idea of the princes’ parents favoring the shifter brother over the fae brother. Still, that’s no excuse for what Leith has done.

  Wounded, but still standing, Britta, Trotter, Grunk, and others from the tavern fight bravely. Some guards even retreat, disappearing over the wall.

  King Torsuld was Soren’s father. He’s the heir to the Raven’s Landing throne. What must this mean for him? Like me, he never knew his real father and to find out that he was a king must be overwhelming. He must be torn between the man he believed was his dad—the bearman and Torsuld’s battle arm—and the legacy of the golden king.

  I spot the horn, discarded on the snowy ground. I wiggle my fingers and toes, bringing the blood back to them.

  Just as I’m about to make a run for the horn, something shiny glints on the ground. A loose dukh, a piece of armor? No, it must be the stone from the crown. Without another thought, I skitter toward it, but a boot kicks it in the opposite direction. I pivot and go the other way. It crunches in the snow beneath another boot—this one belonging to a member of the Rising. “No,” I shout. But my cry is lost to the grunts and shouts of fighting.

  I lose track of the stone and start to dig through the snow when I spot it sail into the air, arcing like a rainbow. I follow its path but before I see where it lands, my attention halts on the sight in the sky.

  A silver bird, a golden raven, and a black raven battle fiercely above. There’s pecking, gnashing, and piercing cries.

  Red hot power radiates from Leith, aimed at the other two. No!

  A guard rushes my way as my frost power flashes from me, aimed carelessly and blowing holes in stone walls and hedges.

  Maybe the reason my instructors at the Police Academy thought I was so enthusiastic—or dangerous, depending on who was asked—was actually because my fae power was bursting to come out.

  The ground fighting continues as the ravens do battle in the air. The loud kraas sound violently from above. Feathers rain down along with the snow as father and son avenge the false silver king.

  Once more, I scan the ground for the stone. Instead, I find a discarded sword and slash my way through the masses.

  The birds above continue to do battle then all at once, Soren lands beside me, turning back into a man. He swoops a sword from the ground and takes a swing at the thief of thrones and shadows.

  His eyes shine when he sees me and he smiles briefly as he dodges an arrow. “Leith shifted back from that bird form,” Soren says. “He’s not a shifter though. Must be some spell.”

  “He said he’s immortal. What do we do?” I ask.

  “Nice to see that you’re not frozen,” he says, planting a quick kiss on my lips as he turns to ward off a guard. “And I like your hair.”

  “My hair?” I grip a few strands. It’s white. Must’ve been an effect of the Frosted Oblivion.

  “To answer your questions, there are all kinds of immortals. Vampires, some shifters...” He trails off as another guard attacks.

  “What about a fae immortal?”

  “No such thing,” Soren replies, breathing heavily.

  “That’s a relief, considering I wouldn’t want to live forever,” I mutter though I don’t want to die right now either. “Seems like a terrible existence. I’m going to see if I can get the stone from him. You go for the crown. It’s yours after all.”

  Soren smirks.

  We both go headlong into fighting, targeting Leith whose firepower seems to be amplified by the gemstone. He must’ve been using it to shift into the bird and whatever I was scavenging for in the snow was a regular rock.

  I use all my training from the Police Academy before they moved me to the Peace Force, but apply it to my fae power. I blast fiercely from all directions. Leith manages to avoid most of the blows. Then I shift gears to a focused assault, moving like a karate master—Mr. Miyagi style. I’m still not successful at getting the stone, but Leith fails at a block and I land my frosty fae power on his shoulder, thigh, and by his waist. “Take that, loser,” I yell.

  He must draw on some reserves of strength and power the rest of us regular people don’t have because even some of his guards have turned against him and yet he fights them all off with ease.

  His eyebrow lifts in his inked skin and he blasts me with flame practically burning my eyelashes.

  “No way, dude.” I decide to pull out the big guns—superhero moves from the movies. Lucky for me, I can fly. I summon my wings and take to the air, doing flips and aerial moves as I pluck off guards from above. At the same time, a loud kraa sounds from overhead followed by the beating of many wings. Hundreds of ravens flood the sky, blotting out the snow. They came at the call from the horn, at the arrival of their rightful king.

  In the lead, the golden raven divebombs Leith, its black eyes fixed on its target.

  Over the din, I hear a little plink. Something fell onto the cobblestone beneath the snow.

  The raven went after something shiny...knocking the stone from Leith’s hand.

  I scramble toward the ground, searching for it.

  Soren sweeps past me, lunging for Leith. I don’t know whether to protect him from the firepower with my ice magic or search for the stone. I hesitate as the two engage in hand to hand combat.

  I find the stone in the snow and just as I’m about to grab it, a boot lowers onto my fingers.

  “Not so fast,” Leith says.

  Two thoughts flash in my mind. One, he doesn’t take aim with his firepower, confirming he must need the stone to amplify it. Two, I am fast. I take aim with my other hand and blast him with the full force of my frost, distracting him long enough to grasp the gemstone.

  He blows backward into several of the members of the Rising who begin to pummel him. That doesn’t solve the problem of his immortality though.

  The good news is that I have the stone. I slip it in my pocket at the same time Soren grabs the silver crown from Leith’s head. He raises it in the air, triumphant. Instead of putting it on, he drops it to the ground and smashes it with his boot.

  The crowd starts chanting his name, but he shakes his head. “I am not the king for you.”

&nb
sp; “But you are,” I say. “You’re Torsuld’s son. The rightful king.”

  “That may be true, but I can’t rule this land. I have a Shadow Army to defeat...with you.”

  I beam a smile. “I’m glad to have you by my side, but the first order of affairs is dealing with Leith.”

  “How to contain him?”

  “I was more thinking destroy.” I scan our surroundings. “Well, we did have a cage for a criminal.” I point to the singed wooden raven. “Although it needs some repairs.”

  “I don’t think it’ll hold against his firepower.”

  I toss the stone in my hand and catch it. “Ah, but I think he’s pretty much useless without this.”

  We both race toward Leith and I refreeze him with my frost fae magic, starting with handcuffs like I’m making an arrest. My heart longs for home but glancing past the castle walls to the sea, I know there is more work to be done.

  Soren follows my gaze and then gasps. He leans forward, squinting toward the harbor. He makes a loud whoop. “A boat.”

  Everyone still standing turns in the direction of the water as forest fae flutter into view with a boat suspended between their beating wings as they lower it into the water.

  Thea alights on the castle wall. “We received word from Vespertine you might be in need of something that floats. While it’s not our specialty, we are skilled with woodworking.” She glances over her shoulder toward the forests beyond the Raven’s Landing wall.

  The compass feels heavy in my pocket.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  She smiles warmly.

  “The people will rebuild and make Raven’s Landing great again,” Soren says.

  “I have no doubt it will shine.” Thea gives us a regal bow and rejoins the other fae.

  While the Rising helps with the wounded, I don’t take my eyes off Leith. He’s frozen in a permanent leer and I have to admit, it gives me the major creeps.

  Ravens perch on the buttresses, battlements, the wall, and countless other surfaces. All of them focus a watchful eye on Leith.

  “They came,” I say when Soren comes over.

  He nods. “I feared I’d remain in the shifted state.”

  “Maybe the curse didn’t apply since you weren’t born yet when Leith cursed your father.”

  “What I do know is that shifting works up a fierce appetite.”

  He slings his arm over my shoulder and we walk to the tavern.

  Trotter waits along with a stout woman standing at his side. She leans heavily on the counter.

  “Francie,” Soren calls, drawing her into a friendly hug.

  “I heard you were brave.” Her voice is thin as though she’s recovering from being sick and I notice a stain on her teeth—perhaps, she had a stijl problem.

  “Not only me. All of us. And you too. Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  “Remember, I promised that I’d bake you brown bread and I think that day won’t be long off now.”

  Soren smiles.

  A group of rowdy and soot-covered people rushes into the room, hooting and hollering.

  Soren snorts a laugh and takes a seat with Gerda—I give them some space to talk about the past. Soren got some big news after all.

  Meanwhile, groups of the Rising sit in clusters—some rowdy with triumph and others deep in despair over losing loved ones and friends. I’m not sure whether to be thrilled or preoccupied. There is still much to come. I have to find my sisters and stop the other false kings. After I eat a hearty bowl of stew, a stark reality hits me.

  Soren has a crown and I have a compass.

  “Where does this leave us?” I ask him when he breaks from talking with Gerda—not necessarily looking like he resolved things.

  His smile doesn’t reveal we’re meant to part ways. “What do you mean?”

  “You have a kingdom to rule. I have a mission to complete.”

  “Remember what I said about being by your side when this is over?”

  “But it’s not over.”

  “True, but you’re stuck with me unless you’d rather—”

  My hand winds around his chest and I press my cheek to his heart. His raven’s heart.

  “We go? We go together,” he says into my hair. “We fly? We fly together.”

  “We sail?” I ask.

  “We sail together.”

  We announce our plan and some people want to come with us including Gerda while others prefer to remain behind and rebuild Raven’s Landing. A trio, including Trotter, is assigned to lead in Soren’s absence.

  As Trotter clears our bowls, he says, “You’ll be back, right?”

  “As soon as possible. And if I’m not within twelve moons, get worried. But did you know I was Torsuld’s son?” Soren asks him.

  His beard twitches. “There was a network of us enlisted to look after you.”

  “And keep my identity from me.” Bitterness laces Soren’s voice.

  “Your mother thought it was for the best. At least until you were ready. She never foresaw what Leith was going to do, but there was no telling what he’d do to you had he known.”

  Soren thinks about this for a long moment. “Thank you.”

  “Be safe out there and remember, the throne is waiting. Also, Francie owes you some brown bread.”

  “In that case, I promise to return.” He winks.

  “I keep hearing about this famed brown bread and I’d definitely like a slice.”

  The two men give each other a hug.

  We say quick farewells because there’s no time to waste. If there are other kings led by a ruthless vampire named Count Nikolai, we have work to do before he raises the Shadow Army. I can’t imagine other dominions that were as bad as Raven’s Landing was when I got here, but I have to be prepared for anything.

  When we reach the harbor, people load crates filled with thermoses containing honey tea and enough food to last us a few weeks. The boat is simple but well-crafted as we board. The sun shines high overhead as other supplies are loaded and others say farewell.

  “Anyone know how to sail this thing?” Soren asks, walking along the wooden deck.

  “I have the compass.” I pat my pocket.

  Gerda casts him an annoyed look. “I’m Princess Gerda from Brendsondl. Of course, I know how to sail.”

  “How was I supposed to know that? You kept your identity secret. Mine too.”

  “We already talked about this, Soren.”

  “Argued, more like.” He gripes.

  She shakes her head as she shoves Leith onboard. He’s still bound by my magic. “You sorry, yet?” she asks him.

  “No, and I never will be,” the false king leers.

  “Oh, yes, you will. You haven’t met my father yet.” Her inked skin is exposed. I’d asked her if she wants me to remove it, but I have a feeling she wears it like a badge of honor—a symbol of her defiance that ultimately lead to triumph.

  I pause and my thoughts drift to words...the kind printed in books. “I’m new to this whole magic thing, but if Leith is a vampire, shouldn’t he be, like, melting in the sunlight. At least, I’ve read that can happen to vampires.”

  “Foolish, foolish, faetcher.” The false king uses what I’ve come to know as the worst possible insult for fae. “You know nothing of me or what I am.” He hisses and his eyes flash greenish, demonish.

  A wave of knowing, born from years of study at the Magical Management Vocation Academy, washes over me. I was taught to recognize the signs of a demon. Eyes backed by lacquered light? Check. Skin that looks like it would dissolve in water? Check. And a vibrational type of energy that leaves non-demons feeling slightly off? Check. My demon radar is blaring. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.

  “Maybe he’s not immortal after all,” I say. “There’s only one way to find out.” I rip the sword Vespertine gave me from my belt and take one, menacing blow. Unlike Gerda and Soren I didn’t hesitate when given the opportunity to slay a demon.

  “Whoa, you w
eren’t messing around,” Soren says with a mixture of surprise and pride.

  I grin. “It’s a fae thing.” I never knew I had power but now I understand the source of my so-called enthusiasm. Plain and simple: defense against those who’d dare to steal my shadow or anyone else’s for that matter.

  The dude’s appearance flickers and then morphs. A greenish slime oozes through ashen flesh for a moment.

  “Ah, now we see his true colors. He was glamoured,” Gerda says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. Nothing glamorous about him in life or death. He could’ve certainly used a makeover.

  Gerda gazes at the water as the green substance stains the water. “Leith was a demon, but glamoured himself to remain looking like he did before.”

  “Which wasn’t all that nice to look at. He was nearly entirely inked and pretty creeptastic.” I squirm, which is rare since I’ve dealt with countless demons over the years.

  “Why wouldn’t he have glamoured himself to look like he did before the curse?” Soren asks.

  “The curse was too powerful. Curses can be layered and some can’t surpass others.”

  “Ah, in other words, he could only reset himself to his previous configuration?” I ask.

  They both give me a strange look.

  “Terra lingo, but I get it,” Soren says.

  Gerda stands at the helm of the small ship, watching as what remained of the silver king disappears. “Leith was built on lies and more lies,” she mutters. “The question remains who turned him into a demon?”

  “Probably the same person who’s populating New York with demons...Count Nikolai. And it’s up to me to track him down.” All at once a deep belly laugh erupts from me. Tears stream from my eyes and I can hardly catch my breath.

  “What’s so funny?” Soren asks as though he’d like in on the joke—I’ve gathered that people in Raven’s Landing don’t laugh too often.

  Gerda looks at me with a wrinkle of concern in her brow.

  When I finally calm myself down, practically hiccupping, I say, “I’d tried to earn my way onto the Police Force so I could slay demons. Instead, I was demoted to the Peace Force. As it turns out, I’ll have to slay the biggest demon of all. The big daddy demon. Ironic, no?”