by Skye Horn
Wings of Deception
A Kingdoms of Faerie Novel
Skye Horn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Skye Horn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
First Printed, June 2020
Cover Design by AtoZ Book Cover Design
Editing by Ella Medler at https://ellamedlerediting.yolasite.com
ISBN: 978-1-7345968-1-6
ASIN: B088Q3XV5W
Published by Skye Horn
skyehorn.com
For my husband, who made sure we survived a pandemic while I disappeared into my Faerie land.
Thank you for cooking dinner for us and cheering me on every step of the way.
Don’t miss out on Book 1: “Wings of Fate”
Available now on Amazon
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Did you enjoy “Wings of Deception?”
Also by Skye Horn
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
“How the hell am I supposed to fight the Goddess of Death if I can’t breathe?” Thea asked as Ethel pulled on the laces of her corset for about the tenth goddess-be-damned time. Her ribs were about to snap under the pressure, but she dug her bitten nails into the back of the large, cushioned chair as her only response. The chair had been a gift from one of the council members upon hearing that she was redecorating her old bedroom, and despite her general dislike of most of the council, the beautiful midnight-blue cushion matched her bedspread perfectly so she allowed it to stay.
“You’re not fighting the Goddess of Death. You’re going to a council meeting,” Ethel replied. Mahogany curls framed her round face in the mirror in front of them, and she rolled her eyes at Thea as she finished tying the long laces before retreating to pick up Thea’s slate grey dress from where it lay across her enormous bed.
“One and the same, if you ask me,” Thea said sourly.
The bed, like the chair, was a gift. It had arrived a few days after they’d released Morrigan from her imprisoned form, along with a note from her great-godfather, King Aragon of Grimwalde. Thea’s gratitude had been immense after trying to sleep on a normal-sized bed with her wings dangling off the sides of her mattress for many unsuccessful nights.
Ethel pulled the heavy dress over Thea’s head, scratching her face with the lacy material. It was not an easy task with the burnt-umber wings protruding from her back, but with practice Ethel had gotten better at navigating the layers of material around Thea, no longer crumpling the velvet-soft feathers each time she helped her get into these elaborate gowns. Thea stuck her arms into the long, lacy sleeves and tugged on the undergarments beneath to relieve the discomforting feeling of suffocation that they brought her.
“I’ve done everything they’ve asked. I’ve attended the meetings; I’ve explained what happened with Morrigan; I’ve thrown the fancy parties for the villagers to attend so they can see me in a court setting. What else can they possibly want from me? Why can’t the coronation happen already?”
Ethel finished buttoning the back of Thea’s dress and began working on her hair as Thea ranted through her list of complaints. As usual, her hair was a tangled mess, either from the flying or the nightmares—both left her looking disheveled, with shadows beneath her eyes that needed the white powder makeup on her vanity.
“Are you so ready to be queen now?” Ethel asked with a raised eyebrow. The girl had only turned fourteen a few months ago, but Thea often had a hard time not feeling as if she were her own age.
“I’m ready to do something,” Thea said, wincing as Ethel jerked a brush through her knots. “It’s been six months and we’re no closer to finding Morrigan than we were the day she disappeared.”
Thea smoothed down the material of her dress. She’d hated dresses before the magic, myth, and legends had entered her life, but the dresses in Faerie were a new level of torture for her. When she had a choice, she wore pants and tunics, the same as the soldiers, albeit crafted from the finest materials the Kingdom of Ivandor offered. However, it seemed to her like she didn’t have a choice regarding anything anymore, let alone her appearance.
“Well, we know that we can’t hurt Morrigan without hurting you,” Ethel said pulling Thea’s hair into an acceptable crown of braids atop her head. “And it’s not like the council is about to offer you up as a sacrifice to stop her. You’re the sole heiress of Ivandor.”
If they knew that, they might offer me up as a sacrifice, Thea thought. Ethel and Iris had made her promise to keep the connection between Morrigan and herself a secret for the time being, claiming that fewer people knowing the truth meant they would have more time to figure out a way to sever the connection. She regretted making that promise now. Even Kieran, who’d been unconscious during the entire ordeal six months ago, was unaware it tied her life to the Goddess of Death’s.
“Then shouldn’t we be searching for a way to fix that?” she asked with a frustration that was becoming all too familiar. Thea felt sore from all the tugging at her scalp, but she didn’t complain, knowing she’d never be able to do her own hair. She was a lost cause with anything more than a simple side braid. Her wings shifted a little in response though, and Ethel received a faceful of feathers that made her sneeze. “Sorry!”
“You know that we’re searching,” Ethel stated, rubbing her tickled nose with a look that said she might be about to sneeze again.
Thea sighed, suddenly interested in the ceiling. She knew exactly how well that search was going.
A familiar knot formed in the pit of her stomach as the earlier thoughts of Kieran lingered. It was a mixture of hurt, anger, and regret all balled up inside her, threatening to explode from beneath her skin. She pushed it down until it ached in the pit of her tired body. Ethel watched with a look of caution, pinning a final piece of hair into Thea’s braid.
“You’re ready,” she said, but Thea disagreed. Despite her constant attempts to avoid being the girl destroyed by the man who’d left her, Kieran had undeniably turned her into that girl. Her soul was shattered, and no matter how desperately she’d told herself over these past six months that time would heal her, nothing had changed on the inside. She smiled for her kingdom and her council, but real smiles had been rare since the day she’d woken from the fight of her life to find her soulmate gone and her familiar dead. And yet, despite remain
ing in broken pieces, her world continued to spin because her people still needed a queen.
“Thank you.” Thea turned and embraced Ethel. Her hair tickled Thea’s skin and smelled of Thea’s favorite lavender soap, which matched the color of the new dress Ethel wore. To Thea’s relief, Ethel had remained with Thea when Iris returned to Grimwalde. Thea had showed her gratitude by bestowing innumerable hugs on Ethel and purchasing luxurious clothing for her with the newfound wealth she’d discovered being a princess included. “Have you heard anything from Iris?” Or Kieran? The unspoken question hung in the air between them.
“Cora’s father is very ill. She says that he often asks when Cora will come home…”
“Poor Iris,” Thea responded with a sigh. She couldn’t imagine what Iris was going through, but she’d understood why she needed to return to Grimwalde. Cora’s father was all that Iris had left of her lost lover, and if he was ill, then Thea knew Iris felt she needed to be the one to take care of him. That was what one did for family.
Thea had once thought Iris would become her own family in such a way, but fate had other plans for her. With Kieran gone and the High Council breathing down her neck about high-court affairs, Thea wondered if she’d ever feel she belonged to any family again. She knew that Iris loved her, as did Ethel, Mica, and Mirielle, but things had grown uncomfortable since Kieran had left. That discomfort might have been avoidable or at least bearable if Thea would have bothered to read the letter that Kieran had left for her, but as far as she’d been concerned at that time, whatever he wanted to say should have been said in person. She wasn’t sure now if that had been the right decision. Her nightmares told her it hadn’t.
“You will be late if you let your thoughts keep you distracted much longer,” Ethel said, bringing Thea back to reality as she often did.
“Of course.” Thea took a deep, steadying breath and raised her shoulders to stretch out her wings. The thoughts billowing through her mind would have to wait. She lifted her chin, attempting to mask her face into that of a queen, or at least, that which she believed a queen would have.
You will be fine, Princess, Kieran’s voice told her from within as she prepared for yet another meeting with old men who wanted to control her life. That was the way she often described the council to Ethel, at least. Sometimes she enjoyed the fact that the little voice in her head took on Kieran’s voice. It was comforting to know that after six months she still remembered the sound of it. But other times, hearing him just made her want to sink down and cry. Today was the latter, but she swallowed her brokenness, burying it into that same pit of despair her thoughts had traveled through earlier. She armored herself with the wall of numbness she’d grown accustomed to and unclenched her fists.
“They can’t do any worse than asking you to dress like this all the time,” Ethel teased. She knew how much Thea hated to dress up for these court events, but Thea knew her words weren’t true. They could do far worse if they wanted to.
The High Council traditionally comprised six members. Despite her gender and royal status, Iris had infiltrated the council, becoming a member under the pretext that Thea needed someone she trusted, not having grown up in Faerie. However, when Cora’s father had fallen ill, Thea had insisted Iris follow her heart to take care of him. The consequence of that decision had been that Thea was left with five male Fae who seemed to believe she was a puppet to toy with. She missed Iris desperately every time she had to attend one of these meetings, which was turning into a daily routine.
“They want me to select the Queen’s Guard,” Thea murmured to Ethel as she pulled on her cloak. Although the dark magic had fled the kingdom with Morrigan and the season should have turned into spring and then summer, an unforgiving winter still frosted their lands. Thea wondered if she would ever be tan again—a petty problem that she never voiced, of course.
“Oh,” Ethel said with a frown.
Kieran had sworn himself to be her right-hand soldier, a position Thea had realized in the last couple of months meant a lot more than she’d known at the time. He’d basically vowed to be the head of the most powerful group of soldiers in her kingdom, and yet he’d left, ultimately breaking that vow. The only people who knew it were Kieran and herself, but Ethel had come to her own conclusion about why Thea found it difficult to pick soldiers for her guard—no one would ever be Kieran, after all. Despite the undeniable importance of her own protection, Thea had avoided choosing guards for months. She’d entertained the council’s requests for her to sit in on training and observe the soldiers they’d hand-selected, but so far, she’d successfully avoided actually forming the Queen’s Guard. It felt like a nail in a coffin she wasn’t ready to seal, like she’d be accepting that Kieran was really gone if she moved on without him.
If she were being honest with herself, which she rarely was, Kieran being gone was too painful to face, so she’d been putting off the selection process for months, leaving herself vulnerable—as the council enjoyed pointing out to her.
“I will figure it out,” Thea said, shaking her head and giving Ethel a last hug. “Wish me luck.”
Thea hurried out the door as Ethel did exactly as she’d asked and wished her luck. It made Thea smile, just a little, at the fact that she knew Ethel would always be on her side. They’d had a few rough patches to begin with, but if anything positive had come out of Kieran leaving, it was the fact that Thea and Ethel had bonded over the past few months, becoming more like sisters than Thea had ever imagined herself being with her actual sister.
The thought of Amara made Thea pick up her pace down the busy castle hallways. Not having seen Kieran for months also meant she hadn’t seen her half-sister either. According to Iris, Amara and Kieran traveled together to make sure that Amara truly had turned a fresh leaf. Thea didn’t know if she believed it or not herself, but for Iris’ sake, Thea hadn’t demanded they lock Amara in a cell after the hell she’d put her through.
Kieran, who also had very little trust in Amara, seemed to think it was his responsibility to babysit her on whatever mission he’d taken up from King Aragon.
Stop thinking about him, Thea scolded herself, hating how everything she did or said seemed to bring her back to him. It wasn’t fair to her fragile heart, and he didn’t deserve her thoughts after what he’d done. And yet, no matter how often she reminded herself to hate him, she couldn’t. He remained a constant reminder of the loneliness she felt in his absence. Ethel was supportive and kind, but she was still a child who didn’t understand what Thea was going through. The loneliness was the worst part of it all—an empty void she just couldn’t shake herself out of.
“Have you ever seen so many pricks in one place?” Kieran asked as he and Amara walked through the courtyard of Gimmerwich under the orders of King Aragon of Grimwalde. He’d accepted this mission six months ago hoping it would allow him to gain intel on Morrigan, but instead, he’d turned into a messenger boy for the king.
Punishment, he reminded himself with disgust. His inner monologue often reminded him of the mistake he was making, but at this point it was more of a nuisance than a conscience. For breaking his god-daughter’s heart.
Even the smallest thought of the princess made his jaw clench, locking his teeth together. Kieran could feel Amara’s side-long glance, but after all these months of traveling together, his cousin was smart enough not to say a word regarding his tension.
Instead all she said was, “I imagined they’d look happier about the wards being brought down by Ismara.”
“Queen Ismara,” Kieran growled. He didn’t need one of the queen’s subjects to go telling her that Malachi’s daughter was speaking so casually about her. It was risky enough bringing her here in the first place, but Kieran couldn’t exactly leave her unattended. He’d made a promise to Iris after all—no matter how much of a pain in the ass Amara became, he’d keep her safe. Of course, Iris wouldn’t have considered coming into Gimmerwich with a well-known and well-hated bastard daughter of Malachi, but that was
a problem for another day. “Stay close to me.”
The words were a common warning to his cousin in each unfamiliar territory they entered, and they’d entered many. King Aragon had sent him all over Faerie to inform the villages in the farthest reaches of their lands about Morrigan’s return. The news of Malachi’s death had spread quickly, but no one aside from those closest to Thea truly knew what had happened that night. No one understood how Thea had released the Goddess of Death upon them to save his life. But though they’d kept the details hidden from the public, Kieran’s task had been to prepare them for what came next. King Aragon had sent him to speak to the leaders that protected the regions, which was exactly what he was doing in Gimmerwich.
He focused on the pain that threatened to tear out of him, forcing it down, and eyed a nearby royal’s gawking gaze with bared teeth. The purple-eyed blonde flushed and averted her eyes, bulging at the sight of Kieran and Amara’s arrival. It had been a long time since any of these royals had left the safety of Gimmerwich, if they ever had, so the sight of strangers in their court was new. The pairing of the malicious daughter of Malachi with King Aragon’s personal errand boy also brought a lot of extra attention their way. That attention had only grown more apparent over the past couple of months as word of their travels had spread through the Kingdoms of Faerie.
