Read A Dark Faerie Tale Books 1 & 2 Page 40


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  Dawn cracked through the window, penetrating her eyelids with its burning light. Shade turned away, groaning and drowsy. Her sleep had been fitful, leaving her exhausted. She yawned and stretched, feeling sleep slip away and wakefulness push at her. She lay there for a moment, wondering about the events of the night and the day prior. So many things had happened, and they were gnawing at her head like dogs on bones. She sat up slowly and scratched her scalp, rubbed her eyes and lifted them to the blasted windows she was beginning to loathe.

  The sky was a deep grey and orange as the sun bled over the forest canopy. Her room overlooked the treetops and on to the distant mountains like a glass watchtower. She wondered if it was just as see-through from the outside. Closing her eyes, she let the rising sun gleam its warmth over her face.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and glanced over to Sary’s bed, half hoping to see her figure lumped under the blankets. The bed remained untouched. She sighed as she stretched her neck from side to side. She remembered the whispers in the night, and the memory sent shivers up her spine. It wasn’t her long lost spirit guides, Elaby, Astrid, and Duende. They rarely visited her in dreams anymore. No, the whisper had awakened her in the night, beckoning her with something—she knew not what. Shade strained to remember if it had come from a woman or a man. It had been so ambiguous in its urgent quietness.

  Shaking her head, she decided to think about it later and moved on. She grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom to ready herself for the day. She was anxious to get the day moving, not certain what was else was going to surprise her. She wanted to find the twin guards Andraste and Draden and ask them the many questions that had been left unanswered the last time they met, especially the ones about her real father.

  Shade finished up in the bathroom as quickly as she could. She brushed her damp hair back into a tight ponytail and pulled on her backpack before slipping out of the room and into the long ornamental hallway. She looked down both sides from her door and chewed on her lip as she realized she had no idea which way to go. She’d been escorted everywhere the night before and had not been given any kind of tour. The hall ran long ways in both directions and disappeared into turns as far as she could see. She decided to head in the same direction they had led her the night before, toward Prince Ursad’s—Lotinar’s—chambers.

  As she proceeded, her lips slipped into a smile. She couldn’t believe of all the people or faery that she’d met, Ursad was the Prince here. Prince of the entire Northern Realm of Faerie, no less! She thoughtfully licked her lips. He’d turned out to be quite some eye candy for sure. Too bad she had one too many interested guys on the bandwagon already. She wasn’t really ready to choose anyone, though; there had been too much going on to really worry about boys. She had her magic lessons with Ilarial and Braelynn, fight training with Than and Soap and now this little negotiation meeting to please the Prince of the Northern Realm. Ursad was cool, but his magic tricks and lies had put him on the naughty list for her. Right now, Soap was probably the only one not getting on her last nerve.

  Shade reached a turn at the end of the hall and followed it until it opened up to a set of stairs which appeared familiar. She wasn’t sure if they were the same she’d used before, but she figured it couldn’t hurt to keep going, so she descended the steps to the bottom floor.

  The castle was eerily deserted. Maybe it was just she expected more people to be scurrying about in such a large place—servants, workers… someone. She turned to her right where she heard some murmurs of voices. She walked along the hall, studying the intricate woodcarvings and random paintings of landscapes, scenes of forests, mountains, streams and other places she’d never seen. They were wondrous and must have been painted by very skilled hands.

  She stopped, admiring one painting of a woman standing at the edge of a forest clearing, clearly watching a raging forest fire far in the distance. Her face was forlorn and lost. Her honey brown hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders in waves. She wore a fey warrior’s leather outfit strung with daggers, a pack on her back, and a sword fastened in a hilt to her side. One of her hands gripped the trunk of the tree she stood by. Shade felt lost in her face. A feeling of dread and familiarity washed over her.

  She wondered who the woman in the painting was and what was in the distant fire, deep in the forest, which was causing her so much turmoil. Most of all, Shade wondered why she looked so familiar. She could be my sister!

  She was still staring at the painting when she felt eyes boring into her back. She whirled around to find Dylan standing silently behind her.

  “Geez, do you have to give me a heart attack? What are you doing standing there like a ghost?” Shade hissed as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the painting, not wanting to let the woman’s face go.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to ‘give you an attack.’ Really. I thought you might be wandering the palace when I didn’t find you in your room.” He shuffled up next to her, staring at the painting along with her. “It’s called Ash and Embers.” Shade turned and stared at him. He didn’t turn to her but continued to study the woman’s painted face.

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  Dylan nodded. “I have seen this faery’s work many times. It was painted about three hundred years ago by the Oracle Niara. She chose to wither and faded not long after she completed this and a few other paintings. She was definitely a strong Oracle but tormented by her visions. She painted what she saw in them. This one, she said, was about a woman who watched a loved one die in a fire that appeared out of nowhere. The ash spewed into the sky like clouds of night, and the rocks cracked with veins of red, molten lava pouring out from the earth like a volcano, where before there were none.”

  Shade listened intently, awed by his tale.

  “And the woman in the painting, did Niara ever say who she was?” Shade asked.

  Dylan tilted his head, drinking in the face of the lady and sighing before he spoke.

  “Yes, it was said that Niara called her ‘The Shadow.’ Not sure what she meant by that.” Dylan looked over to her and smiled, his brighter mood flowing over her.

  “Hmm. That’s actually very interesting. Thanks for telling me.” Shade smiled at him.

  He nodded his head toward her. “You’re welcome, Shade.” His shoulder brushed her side and she turned to look at him. His eyes were the dark grey of a storm, and in them, she could see that they were filled with words unsaid. She felt her heart flutter like it always did when he looked at her that way.

  Her mind flipped back to the garden of the Santiran Fountains where they had kissed. The feel of his lips had been like warm, sweet honey. She could still feel the heat from his breath skimming her cheeks and the pounding of his heart beating against her chest as he held her so tight when he’d zapped the Unseelie soldiers with his power. The bluish fire and lightning electrified them but had done nothing to her but leave her breathless and tingling all over. She wondered what it had meant. The way he’d held her felt like he would never let her go. She remembered how she hadn’t wanted him to let go.

  Now he stood here, watching her as her thoughts floated in her mind, waiting for some sort of reaction from her. Shade suddenly felt like she’d neglected their relationship greatly. His haunted eyes drew her into the wells of pain and suffering he held deep inside. She wanted to open him up and draw it all out, make him smile and make him continue to feel happiness in the dreariness of life.

  She snapped back into the present and watched Dylan flick his grey eyes away from her and back to the painting. She swallowed and wondered if everything she’d felt had meant something to him. She didn’t have to wait to long for an answer, suddenly feeling his warm, soft fingers lace through her hand, curling and holding it tight. Her hand responded to his grip as she felt his warmth radiate up her arm and fill her with his tingling magic. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to touch Dylan; it made her body vibrate in response. She missed him
, in more ways than one.

  “Well, the lovebirds have arisen.” The deep baritone voice startled Shade. She turned to see who was spying on them, letting go of Dylan’s warm hand. Draden stood in a hard stance at the turn of the hallway. He held a spear in one hand and a heavy-looking sword strapped to his side. His long, blond hair was pulled uncomfortably tight at the nape of his neck and was tied with a plain leather tie which matched the full warrior gear he wore. The smooth lines of his muscles bulged from under the soft material which fit him like a glove. The hardened lines on his face seemed to have softened since she’d seen him at the Santiran Fountains. She hadn’t taken the time to study his face much when he’d taken her to Prince Ursad’s chambers, but now she had plenty of time to take in his features.

  “Am I interesting to you, little Princess? Moving on to the next one already, huh?” Draden’s eyebrows arched inquisitively, glancing between her and Dylan. His eyes filled with mean laughter as he snickered.

  “What? No, I just….” Shade stammered, caught off guard by the husky guard. His laughter roared around them, echoing down the halls, taunting them. Dylan’s face was blank and hard as stone, not betraying any kind of feelings under his mask. Shade could still feel him tense up beside her.

  “Wait a minute, what did you say?” Shade gathered her senses. She was still confused, but now very interested in Draden’s words.

  “Which part? About moving on already? I’m single if you really want to know. You aren’t really my type, though. I like ‘em a bit bustier with a spill of red hair, but there is a shortage of fey women around here, so I’m not really gonna be too damn picky.”

  Shade’s face rushed in a spill of scarlet. She wanted to slap the guard but restrained herself. Her curiosity was too much to bear. “I meant the part where you called me ‘little Princess.’ Why did you say that?” She waited, her confusion playing around her eyes. She was hoping he wasn’t going to continue to joke around.

  Draden’s face turned serious then. His hard stare bore into her like a stake which turned and turned her insides to a messy mush. His smile was gone, replaced by the hard, thin frown which made him look incredibly scary.

  “Paying attention, I see. Yes, Shade, I said ‘little Princess,’ but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He approached her, tilting his head to stare her down. Shade now had to tilt her head back and straighten her stance to stand just even with his chest.

  “You remember what I said at the Fountains, right? About your father? I did know him—I was his second in command, first lieutenant. I knew him well.” He eyed her, daring her to speak.

  Shade gulped as she tried not to look away, determined to not back down. She felt him testing her.

  “What was his name?” Shade pressed her lips together, biting down on her lower lip. She could feel the sweat build up and her heart racing as she stared right back at him.

  Draden sized her up with his hard, stormy, blue eyes. His face softened as he chuckled and backed down. Shaking his head, he reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “You are a stubborn little brat, aren’t you? You’re just like him. His name was Verenis. He was the King of the Southern Realm of Faerie.” He watched her, pausing for a moment for her to take in the information.

  “The Southern Realm. The Seelie Scren Court of Faeries is rightfully yours, Shade. You are his only heir. He was a Changeling, capable of changing appearance to whatever it was he wanted. Powerful magic is almost unseen in the fey, these days. Do you know if you have inherited these abilities?” He waited, watching the shock fill her eyes as she listened. She weakly shook her head and turned to look at Dylan, whose eyes were wider as he struggled to remain stoic.

  “I—no, I don’t think so.” She felt her knees weaken as they threatened to collapse. Dylan took her arm and led her into one of the many rooms which lined the halls. He brought her into what looked like a small library. It was filled with dusty books, hardback, leather-bound volumes the likes of which she would expect to find in an expensive collection. Dylan guided her to a small cushioned couch. She slid down onto the soft, old velvet and let her head fall between her knees.

  She hadn’t expected anything Draden had said at all. The doubt filled her mind and made it difficult to breath. Should she believe him? Was she really a Queen of her own Faerie Realm?

  Chapter Seven