Gold Spun E-Book

Brandie June

• Herausgeber: CamCat Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 492

Beschreibung

Gold Spun

Leseprobe

Gold Spun

Brandie June

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter 33

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by CamCat Books

Shadows Over London

CamCat Books

CamCat Publishing, LLC

Brentwood, Tennessee 37027

camcatpublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

© 2021 by Brandie June

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address CamCat Publishing, 101 Creekside Crossing, Suite 280, Brentwood, TN 37027.

Hardcover ISBN 9780744301663

Paperback ISBN 9780744301748

Large-Print Paperback ISBN 9780744302325

eBook ISBN 9780744302431

Audiobook ISBN 9780744302868

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020951243

Book and cover design by Maryann Appel

Map illustration by Rebecca Farrin

Audiobook narrated by Kathleen McInerney

5 3 1 2 4

For Mom, my biggest cheerleader.

And for Erica, my best friend and favorite artistic partner in crime.

“In a certain kingdom once lived a poor miller who had a very beautiful daughter. She was moreover exceedingly shrewd and clever; and the miller was so vain and proud of her, that he one day told the king of the land that his daughter could spin gold out of straw.”

—Grimm’s Goblins (1876)

By Jacob & Wilhelm Grimm,

translated by Edgar Taylor

Prologue

Prince Casper leaned against the ornately carved marble railing of the balcony as he finished the last of his coffee. In his five years as a royal hostage he had developed a taste for the very sweet cinnamon coffee so common in Faradisia, but always wondered if he would still enjoy the strong, bitter tea of Reynallis when he was finally given leave to return home.

If he was ever allowed home.

It had been weeks since his brother, King Christopher, sent him a letter. When Casper first arrived in Faradisia, his brother had written almost every day, praising Casper’s courage and keeping him updated with news of home. Casper knew his brother was occupied with ruling Reynallis, aware that his focus was now directed at keeping their country safe from the dangerous fay. Still, he could not help the feeling that he had been sacrificed and forgotten.

Casper stared at the vast landscape of Faradisia, long rows of citrus trees and wide stretches of grassland that were only green during the few weeks of rain. The sole movement in the serene valley was a lone man on horseback, galloping toward the palacio. As he neared, Casper could make out the official orange and white garb of a royal messenger. Casper idly wondered what news the messenger was bringing, though he knew King Jovian would never share sensitive information with Casper. The Faradisian king treated Casper with great courtesy, but never forgot that Casper’s first loyalty was to his home country.

Straining his eyes towards the horizon, Casper imagined that he could see all the way to Reynallis. It was foolish, he knew, but it was his habit since he came to King Jovian’s palacio. He had been fourteen when he first arrived as an ‘honored’ guest. Not wanting to shame his brother or his country, Casper only allowed himself to cry in the very early hours of the morning, long before even the servants would come to wake him. He would creep out on his balcony and stare to the north, his heart aching for home. He had not shed any tears in years, but he still looked towards Reynallis every morning.

Sighing, he set down the slender porcelain mug, wondering what activities the day had in store for him. Though it was mid-winter, the southern kingdom of Faradisia enjoyed mild winters, a brief respite from their sweltering summers. Perhaps Lord Gerreld would want to hunt game or the ladies of the court would be interested in organizing a picnic by the hot springs. He might be afforded the finest luxuries the country had to offer, but his time was dictated by the whims of the Faradisian nobility, and his every move was subtly watched by half a dozen guards, even though he had never given King Jovian the slightest reason to doubt him.

As if reading his thoughts, King Jovian himself burst into his room, his rich orange and white robes flaring out behind him.

Casper startled, nearly knocking over his cup. The king never came to Casper’s quarters, rather summoning Casper when he required an audience with the Reynallis prince.

“King Jovian,” Casper managed, giving a short bow to the king, as he smoothed on his diplomatic grace. “I am honored by this unexpected visit.” But the smile slid off his face as Casper approached the king, noting his grimace.

“Prince Casper, a messenger arrived this morning from Reynallis. I thought it only right that I be the one to tell you.” King Jovian paused. For a wild moment, Casper hoped that Christopher was sending for him, that his clever brother had finally found a way to keep peace with Faradisia and summon him home. But the question died on his lips as he noted the deep furrow in King Jovian’s forehead. Casper swallowed hard, a sudden knot of fear making him sick. He had to fight the desire to cover his ears.

“I take it the news is not pleasant,” Casper said, forcing his words to remain calm even as his mind whirled, trying to figure out what could be so important that the king himself would deliver it.

King Jovian briefly looked away before fixing Casper with an unblinking stare. “No, it is most grave.”

“The treaty?” Casper could not imagine his brother would do anything to destroy the peace he had worked so hard to create, but it was the only matter so important that the king would personally deliver the news.

The king shook his head. “This is not about the treaty.”

“My family?” Casper’s whisper was more of a prayer. He wished the king would correct him, but King Jovian only took another step towards Casper, confirming his fears.

“King Christopher was killed a fortnight back.”

No, not Christopher. The floor dropped away from Casper, the rush of emotions making him dizzy. He stumbled to a chair, almost falling into it. King Jovian stared at him for a moment. Casper knew he was breaking protocol to sit while the king stood, but he did not think his legs would work as commanded. King Jovian gave a small nod and took a seat next to Casper, letting the slight go. Casper almost wanted to laugh, that it was mad that he was thinking about etiquette breaches right now. But it was easier than allowing himself to accept the king’s words. Anger, confusion, denial, and pain all swarmed inside him, making him want to scream. King Jovian sat by, staring at Casper with his shrewd eyes as Casper forced himself to regain some control. His brother would not want Casper to show weakness, even now. Casper inhaled deeply. Pretend to be in control, he reminded himself.

“What happened?” Casper’s voice was even, if a bit husky.

“There was an attack by the fay off the Stigenne Road near the Biawood Forest. King Christopher was traveling back to your capital, but he never made it to Sterling.”

“But it is too early for Christopher to be heading to Sterling. He never travels to Sterling till spring,” Casper argued, as though that would bring his brother back to life.

“The messenger informed me that the fay had sent word they wanted to initiate talks of peace. Your brother was heading to Sterling early to commence such talks.” King Jovian slowly reached into his pocket. “But unfortunately, it was a falsehood on the part of the faeries. They ambushed him.”

Casper had never seen a fay, but knew with certainty they all had to be malicious and cunning if they had outwitted and murdered his brilliant brother. Casper swallowed hard, praying the rumors he had heard about the fay were not true. Were the Mother truly merciful, though, Christopher died with a sword in his hand, fighting. But if the Mother was truly merciful, Christopher would still be alive. He had to know. “And how did my brother die?”

King Jovian apprised Casper, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “The envoy told us dark magic was used. King Christopher appeared to have choked to death on his own blood.” Casper imagined the scene, tasting bile in his throat. He needed to take care not to vomit in front of this king. “This was found pinned to your brother’s body.” King Jovian pulled out a folded piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to Casper.

Kill ours and we strike back. We do not forget.

Shock and fury warred inside Casper as he numbly held the death note in his hand. A few drops of dark rust stained the parchment. My brother’s blood. The very thought of the fay’s dark magic made him want to burn down the entire Biawood Forest, and all the fairies that lived beyond it.

“It does not make sense. We didn’t kill any fay.”

“The fay are a deceptive folk. They have no qualms about lying if it serves their purpose.” King Jovian put his hand on Casper’s shoulder, almost a fatherly gesture, but it felt wrong, awkward, and he moved his hand away.

Casper crumpled the note in his fist, wishing he was squeezing the neck of the fay that killed his brother instead. He silently vowed to never show mercy to the fay. They did not deserve it. Someday, he promised, he would avenge his brother.

“We will have preparations made for your departure.”

Casper looked up from the crumpled parchment to the king, feeling a sudden rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Your Highness, for granting me leave to attend my brother’s funeral.” It was not the homecoming Casper wanted, but at least he could say goodbye. He wondered how long the king would allow him to stay in Reynallis.

King Jovian shook his head. “You misunderstand, Prince Casper. Your sister will not be taking the crown.”

Casper stared blankly at the king, not sure he understood. “But Constance is next in line.” The fact of it was so ingrained in Casper, that he had never questioned it. His memories of Constance were more faded than those of Christopher; she had stopped writing him years ago. But the pain of being disregarded by his sister would be no reason for him to betray his country. King Jovian had treated Casper well enough, but he would never abandon Reynallis. “If you are suggesting I seize the throne, you deeply misunderstand me.” King Jovian was clever, and perhaps thought Casper would be a more pliable king, having grown up in Faradasia.

King Jovian’s raised eyebrows were the only indication of his surprise, or possibly his irritation, at Casper’s accusation. “Prince Casper, you are in shock, so I shall forgive any accusations. Princess Constance has decided to decline the crown. You are to take your place as king.”

All of Casper’s diplomatic practice and training abandoned him. “You are jesting.”

King Jovian rose, and this time Casper scrambled to his feet as well. “I do not jest, Prince Casper. You are free to return home. The situation from the initial agreement has clearly changed.” The hostage exchange, Casper thought. “And I assume you shall send my niece back home when you reach Sterling,” King Jovian continued. “Arrangements will be made for your immediate departure. I imagine you will want to reach Reynallis with time to prepare for your coronation.”

“My coronation . . .” The word did not feel real to Casper. Coronations were held on the longest day of the year, and the summer solstice was in less than six months. There was no way he could mourn his brother and prepare to become a king in so short a time. “What reason did Constance give for passing on the crown?” Casper had never imagined anything would happen to his brave and brilliant older brother, but if it had, he assumed his older sister would be crowned queen. She might not care for him, but surely, she still cared for their country. Casper recalled her sharp tongue and efficient manner. Constance was no dormouse to scurry away from responsibility.

“The messenger offered no reason. Perhaps you should ask her yourself when you return home.” King Jovian took several steps towards the door. “I will give you some time to collect your thoughts and ready for your travels.” Right before leaving, he turned back to Casper. “And might I be the first to say to you, long live the king.” And then King Jovian was gone, and Casper was left with his ocean of crashing emotions.

Once he was sure he was alone, he allowed himself to cry. Home. King. Casper wondered how he could possibly ever fill the void Christopher had left behind.

Chapter 1

By Chace’s den, we are so screwed, I thought, stomping off the Stigenne Road and onto a lesser known path in the Biawood Forest. I had been so sure of the day’s success, certain we could sell our cure-all tonic within the day and have enough coin to feed us for weeks. Admittedly it was only a simple mixture of water, cinnamon, and molasses, but it transformed into a miracle elixir by the time I was done selling it. We had spent the last of our meager coins on those blasted green glass bottles.

I cringed as I thought about how I would break the news to my brothers. When my brother Jacobie, only eight years old, had asked where I was going this morning, I’d gleefully told him I was off to scout the Spring Faire in Sterling and find us the perfect spot, promising to be back before midday. The sky was still inky with cold, bright stars, and my breath plumed around me as I instructed him to go back to sleep. As I left our tiny encampment, really only a rickety wagon, a crippled old donkey and the four of us in our thin bedrolls, Jacobie turned over, his soft snores soon joining those of our brothers Devon and Finn.

Only, once I reached the town square, I found another family selling miracle tonic. They even demonstrated its efficacy by curing a cripple boy’s limp. I was certain the boy was their son and had no such limp. We had planned to perform the same trick with my brother Finn.

A city might be interested in one cure-all tonic merchant, but they became immediately suspicious when two set up. One time we had tried to sell our ‘miracle’ elixir in the same market as another party selling an almost identical bottle. People demanded a test to show which elixir was real and who was selling them snake oil. Neither tonic cured the sick villagers, and we were run out. My brothers and I barely made it out of that town, and to this day we avoided that village.

I kicked at the nearest tree in frustration. The thick birch trunk didn’t care, but a sharp pain shooting up my foot had me unleashing an especially colorful string of curses as I hopped up and down in rage.

“Are you in distress?”

Whirling around, I started to see an elegant young man leading an equally fine horse. I silently scolded myself for crashing through the woods like a wild boar and thus not even hearing the approach of this stranger. I was a poor girl alone in the woods and well aware of what some men thought themselves entitled to. Still too far from camp to yell for my brothers, I took a quick step back, but my foot flared with pain, causing me to stumble and fall on my behind. The young man’s lip trembled, and I had the feeling he was holding back a smile.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, struggling to my feet.

“Here, allow me.” The young man advanced toward me, his hand outstretched. I was about to push his hand away when I saw the glitter of gold on his finger. I held out my hand, allowing him to pull me up as I gently slid his ring off, dropping it into my pocket before he noticed.

Standing, I bit back a cry from the dull pain that still radiated from my foot and appraised my rescuer. He did not look ready to pounce on me the way drunken tavern men tried, but he was also far too richly dressed to be a pilgrim or even a merchant come for the Spring Faire. And he was not hard on the eyes; with a strong jaw, and hair and eyes the color of obsidian. He was young, probably only a few years older than me, but held himself with the erect posture of the nobility. Of course, the costly blue velvet riding outfit also called out his wealth. The steed he led, a sleek midnight-black horse, was adorned with the finest saddle and bit I had ever seen.

My daft brain was shocked by in the incongruity of seeing a lone nobleman in the midst of the Biawood and I spoke before thinking. “What are you doing here?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” I couldn’t tell if he was amused or offended.

“I only meant that you’re clearly highborn, and we don’t see many nobles wandering the woods. Alone.” My surprise made me sound foolish, and I scolded myself. I needed to stop talking and get away from this nobleman before he realized he was one golden ring short.

He laughed, a warmth filling his dark eyes. “I imagine I am an odd sight in these woods,” he looked around at the surrounding trees, “but I seem to have lost my way. I was going for a ride, wishing to experience a bit more . . . freedom.”

Freedom to wander around the woods? I had to school my face from betraying the mockery I felt well up when I thought about how ridiculous the highborn behaved. All the money in the world, and they go and get lost in the Biawood. That’s not how I would enjoy such wealth. But instead, I smiled brightly, dipping into a deep curtsey to feign awe.

“Well, you are in luck, because I just came off the Stigenne Road. And you are not far off. You’ll be able to see the road just south of that cluster of elms.” I pointed him in the right direction, wanting to ensure his quick departure.

“Ah, wonderful, thank you.” And without another glance, the nobleman jumped onto his horse and set off towards the Stigenne Road. I watched till he was out of sight, a grin slowly spreading on my face as I pulled the ring from my pocket. It was heavy, possibly even pure gold. It was a signet ring, the flat surface engraved with three roses, thorns, and vine intertwined. I slipped the ring on my finger, happily thinking that the morning had not been a complete waste after all.

Not wanting the nobleman to find me once he discovered my theft, I detoured deeper into the woods, much farther from the Stigenne Road. Rumors told that the fay of Magnomel came into the Biawood this close to the border, but I decided baseless gossip was less dangerous than a wealthy man with a fast horse. My return trip to camp would be a longer but safer journey.

Halfway to camp, I heard the distant sound of running water. It had to be a stream. Feeling thirsty, I veered toward the sound for a victory drink. The stream was narrow enough to jump over, but still flowed briskly with freshly thawed snow. I knelt by the water, splashing my face and drinking deeply, the cold filling my stomach and radiating through my body.

“I still think we should kill it,” a voice said nearby. It was male, with an irritating whine.

“And miss our chance for the reward, I don’t think so.” This second voice was deep and harsh, like grit grinding.

“We can bring it in dead, Garin. It’d be safer.”

“The Crown pays for live fay, not corpses, Acel. They says they can’t question a corpse.”

I stopped, stunned. Would the fay leave Magnomel and enter Reynallis? Sterling had flyers posted with the gruesome image of the Fay Queen Marasina and claims that the fay drank human blood. I had been preoccupied in town, but now I wondered if there really were fay here in Reynallis. Leave, leave, leave, my commonsense shouted. But I just want to see it, my curiosity answered back.

Crouching low enough to the ground that I could smell the damp moss at my feet, I crept into some bushes and peered through. There was a small clearing in the woods where two men had set up camp. Their various supplies, sleeping rolls and a tiny cooking fire were off to one side. The whiny man, Acel, was tall and wiry with a rat-like face. His companion, Garin, was stout and as solid as a tree trunk. While Acel couldn’t stay still, almost hopping from foot to foot in anxiety, Garin stood his ground, firm in his footing and his argument.

I couldn’t see the fay, but when Acel gestured to a tree, I figured the faerie must be tied up there. It was just outside my range of sight, and I tiptoed around the clearing to get a better look. I was almost angled right to see the fay when I snapped a twig underfoot. I froze, fear of detection shooting up my spine.

“Did you hear that?” Acel hissed.

“All I’ve been hearing is your incessant yelling,” Garin growled back.

“No, I think I heard a noise, over here,” Acel said, getting louder as he approached my hiding place. I leaned back against a large oak tree, the only cover I had, and held my breath.

“We’re in the middle of the bloody forest you idiot,” Garin snapped. “Probably an animal or something. We’re too far from the Stigenne Road for travelers.”

“Yeah, fine. I guess so,” Acel grumbled as he returned to Garin. I let out the breath I was holding. I should leave, but . . .

Cautiously, I leaned around the tree and looked out at the clearing. I now had a perfect view.

I gasped.

I was staring at a faerie. I almost couldn’t believe it, but there he was. And he looked nothing like the monsters the flyers warned about. He was stunningly, painfully beautiful. His hair was gold—a true gold, not simply golden blonde, and it shone in the morning light. His large, almond eyes were deep, emerald green and his skin was pale, almost luminous. He had delicate, carved features, looking both elegant and otherworldly. He angrily shook his head and I saw his ears, which tapered to fine points. The only thing common about him were his clothes, which were travel-worn and dirty.

I would have expected the creature to shoot fire out of his mouth or control the minds of his captors with his dark fay magic, but he didn’t look evil. His hands and feet were bound with thick rope, and another rope was tied around his chest. I checked to see if that rope was binding him to the tree, but it was not. He struggled against his bindings without success while the two men stood over him, arguing.

“Do you even think we’ll get the reward?” Acel asked, pacing in tight circles. “More like the guards will think we are working with the fay.”

“Then what do you suggest? We can’t just leave him here. And we could use the reward money.”

“We have to get rid of him. It’s the only thing,” Acel immediately responded.

“Just let me go and I will be gone. I shall never bother you again,” the faerie said. Despite his predicament, he sounded calm. For a moment I shivered, hearing dark music in his voice. There was a power to his voice, hypnotic and dangerous. I forced myself to pay attention to the men. At the moment, they were the real danger.

“Don’t listen to him,” Acel snapped. For a fearful moment, I thought he was talking to me, but I realized he was speaking to his companion who had taken several steps toward the faerie. Garin shook himself, as if he had been entranced.

“I can make it worth your while to let me go. Is it gold you want? I can give you all the gold you desire.” The faerie’s voice was melodic, and I found myself leaning in to hear him better.

“How much gold?” Garin asked. There was suspicion in his voice, but also eager greed.

“Enough to have you living like a king.”

“He’s a liar,” Acel hissed. “They all are. He’s a fay. They’ll say anything. He wouldn’t be roaming the woods if he had enough gold to live like a king.”

“A liar? Me? Never.”

Acel kicked the faerie in the shin. Hard. The faerie let out a cry of pain. I winced thinking about my own sore foot.

“And they say humans are such a civilized race,” the faerie spat out.

“Shut your mouth or you’ll get another one.”

“Maybe we should gag him. He might curse us and turn us into toads or something.” Garin was smiling, but it wasn’t kind.

“If I could have turned you into a toad, I would certainly have done so by now.” Despite his calm tone, I could see fear and anger in the faerie’s large eyes. It suddenly seemed very wrong that he would be killed or imprisoned just because he was fay.

I knew I should leave. This was not my problem. And what if the fay were actually dangerous? I should turn around and pretend I had never seen any of this.

But . . . what if the reward amount for a faerie was truly as high as the flyer had claimed? Maybe the amount was not a joke after all. How many months could I feed my family if I turned in this faerie? It was insane to even consider it. But a sum that great, and we could actually start life fresh, maybe even buy a new mill to replace the one we lost in the fire. It could mean the end of a life of petty crimes just to eat. A thrill ran through me, the same nervous excitement that filled me every time I started a scheme. It felt like a challenge that I decided to accept.

I crept over to the small cooking fire. The two men were busy arguing and didn’t notice me. Close to their fire was a small bundle of their supplies, a bottle of spirits and some food. I leaned over and opened the bottle. The alcohol smelled strong and sour, but I wasn’t planning on drinking it. I silently poured it on a rolled-up blanket that was leaning on a nearby tree. I laid the blanket on top of the food and supplies, and carefully pulled one end of the blanket into the fire. Then I disappeared back into the trees.

Back on the other side of the encampment, I crouched near the faerie but stayed hidden. I didn’t have to wait long. The alcohol-soaked blanket quickly caught fire. Soon, the whole thing was burning. Acel noticed the fire first.

“The fire,” he squealed, running to the blanket and stomping on it. Garin followed, and soon both men were busy trying to extinguish the flames.

Now or never, I thought. I slipped through the trees until I was inches away from the faerie. This close, he was even more beautiful, with a face that looked like it had been carved in glowing marble. I was stunned for a moment, until he spoke.

“If you are trying to steal me to claim a bounty, be warned: I am very dangerous.” His green eyes narrowed. This close, I could see his pupils were not round, but rather cat-like slits.

“Yeah, you look very dangerous,” I whispered, not wanting to draw the attention of his captors. “And you can come with me unless you’d like to stay with these kind gentlemen.”

Without a word, the faerie lifted his wrists up to me. I pulled out the dagger sheathed in my boot. But instead of freeing his wrists, I began to work on the bindings at his ankles. Keeping only his wrists bound was a weak protection, but I didn’t see another alternative.

“Free my hands,” he hissed.

I ignored him, working on the rope around his ankles. Despite its size, the rope was cheap and poorly made. My blade cut it quickly. Once freed, I silently helped him to his feet. It was apparent he had been bound for a while in the stilted way he rose, wobbling slightly on unsteady feet. It was all the more difficult with his hands still bound together.

“We have to move,” I whispered, not wanting to draw the attention of his captors. He glared me, raising his bound wrists, but I shook my head. He muttered something under his breath without resisting me while I led him away from the clearing. His legs were too stiff to navigate the bumpy ground, so I tried to shoulder most of his weight as we staggered towards the trees.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

I snapped my head around to see Garin staring at me across the clearing. The fire was little more than a smolder.

“Run,” I yelled.

Chapter 2

I threw my arm around the faerie as we dashed into the trees. I led us in a diagonal path, trying to shake Acel and Garin from our trail, but we didn’t have enough of a head start and they were closing in. For a guilty moment, I thought about leaving the faerie to save myself. But I kept my grip on him.

“Get back here girl and give us our faerie,” Garin yelled. Not wasting the time to turn around, I kept pushing the faerie to move faster.

“Pox on you,” Acel cried, but he sounded winded. Maybe we could outrun them.

Just as we were getting some distance from our attackers, my foot stuck in an upturned root. I slammed into the faerie and we both went crashing to the ground. By all the Mother’s maids, we were in for it.

“Untie me!” he demanded.

I saw our window to escape closing and made my choice. I whipped out my dagger and quickly cut through his bonds. As soon as the rope fell away, the faerie snatched my dagger, his fingers quick and strong.

“Give that back!” I snapped, as he and I both scrambled to our feet. I cursed myself for trusting a faerie, even for a second. Before I could grab my dagger, Garin and Acel were upon us.

“I wouldn’t move if I was you,” Acel said in his nasal whine. He held a knife, a jagged, nasty-looking thing, and pointed it at me. I swallowed hard.

“Don’t like it when someone takes what’s mine.”

“I don’t belong to you,” the faerie snarled, but Acel didn’t look away from me. His shrewd eyes were cold and calculating. I’d seen that expression in the Faradisian soldiers who burned my village in the Southern War. A shudder of fear squeezed me tight and I had to force myself to breathe.

“She’s not much to look at, but we could have some fun with her,” Garin said, just to my right. I didn’t look away from Acel, but the fear in me intensified. I tried to stand my ground, but I could feel myself trembling.

Acel laughed, a cackling sound. Struggling to buy time, I slowly raised my arms in the air, hoping they weren’t shaking too much.

“Look gentlemen, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. This is my brother.” I gave a little laugh, but it sounded hollow.

“That thing isn’t even human. Do you take us for fools?” Acel asked.

“Actually, I kind of do,” I said, lunging toward Acel. I grabbed the wrist of his hand holding the knife and shoved it away. Most crooks don’t expect their victims to attack and aren’t ready for it. Luckily, Acel was like that. Surprised, he stumbled backward as I pushed him to the ground. He got in one swipe of his knife before he tumbled down. My foot gave a swift kick to his groin. When he yelped in pain, I jumped on him and punched him once, in the face. A sharp crack sounded as blood began to pour from his nose.

Then I was hurled off my feet and thrown backward, hitting the ground with a crunch that sent my head spinning. I looked up to see Garin almost on top of me. Something whizzed past, and I saw my dagger embedded in Garin’s shoulder.

I turned to look at the faerie, but he was already running toward Acel. Garin growled in pain and red bloomed from the wound. For a moment, he looked like he was trying to decide if he wanted to attack the faerie or me, but he started toward me again. The faerie left Acel and darted out behind Garin. He pressed at the knife wound. Garin yelled in pain and surprise. Then the faerie wrapped his bloody, slender fingers around the large man’s neck.

“Morir sange.” I didn’t understand what the faerie had said, but Garin looked dazed. He took a few unsteady steps and stopped. He started clawing at his throat, as though he couldn’t breathe, even though the faerie was no longer touching him. Frothy blood started to form at his mouth and run out his nose. He dug his nails into his neck, scratching it so more blood was running down his shirt, as though he could remove whatever force was choking him. But it did no good. He dropped to the ground.

I stared at Garin, feeling both relief and horror as blood continued to pour out of his mouth and nose, and soon, streams of dark blood ran from his eyes and ears, staining his blotchy face crimson. Though I had never killed anyone, I had seen people die, and could not feel sorry for the man who would have likely killed me if given the chance. After a few minutes, the large man stopped struggling. He twitched a few times, and his eyes went glassy. The faerie looked at me, but I couldn’t read his expression.

“What did you do?” I was too stunned to move, grateful he took out Garin, but alarmed at the new danger facing me. Though I had never killed anyone, I had seen people die, and could not feel sorry for the man who would have likely killed me if given the chance.

“Stopped him. Stopped his blood,” the faerie said, speaking slowly as though I did not understand what death looked like.

“You killed him,” I said, stating the obvious. Were the fay stories true? Would the faerie start drinking Garin’s blood or eat his heart?

“Would you rather I had let him kill us?”

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked, staring into his emerald cat-eyes. I wanted to look away, see what happened to Acel, if he were still a threat. I wondered if the faerie had used the same dark magic on him. I wanted to run far away from here, from this dangerous creature, but I was too afraid to move. I cursed myself for getting involved.

“You are human.” He said it as if it was an insult. “But you did free me.” Now he sounded resentful.

Despite his words, I did not feel relieved. He had not actually said he wouldn’t kill me. Blood dripped from his hands. I spared a quick glance to Acel, who was unmoving, no longer moaning in pain.

“Did you kill him, too?”

“Yes.”

I had to fight a sudden urge to be sick. My blade was no longer sticking out Garin’s shoulder, but I didn’t want to go see where it had fallen. There was dark blood covering the man’s shirt, though how much was blood from the shoulder wound and how much was blood he had choked up, I couldn’t tell. Acel’s face wasn’t much to look at, either. I focused again on the faerie, the real danger.

“Are you upset? They might have also been humans, but they meant me great harm, and you too.”

“No, not upset,” I lied. I wasn’t upset they were dead, but I was upset that I let myself get into a situation where I was alone with a monster who could kill just by touch.

“I owe you for my rescue,” the faerie said, taking a step toward me.

“Don’t come near me.” I jumped backward, desperately wanting to get away from this creature. I felt a sudden, searing pain in my right leg, where Acel’s blade had grazed me. I’d hardly felt it in the heat of the struggle, but the hot flash of pain made me realize it was far more serious. I inhaled sharply but refused to look away from the faerie.

“You’re hurt. I can take care of that,” he said, taking another step toward me. I saw a glint of steel and realized he had taken my blade from Garin’s shoulder.

“No!” I yelled, unable to conceal the terror in my voice. “Don’t touch me!” I tried to take another step, but my right leg buckled, and fiery pain shot up my leg. I gasped and collapsed. My leg was soaked in blood.

I didn’t hear the faerie approach, but suddenly he was kneeling next to me, concern on his beautiful face. I was surprised at how quickly he moved. “You’ve been stabbed, let me see your leg.” He gently pulled the fabric of my trousers up, holding my dagger in his other hand. The fabric was drenched in blood. My blood. The cut was much deeper than I’d initially thought. I stiffened at his touch but was trapped, sure I would start choking blood the moment he touched me. He must have sensed my anxiety, because he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

He moved carefully, as though I were a wild animal he didn’t want to frighten. His fingers were cool on my skin, his touch light. After a moment, I realized I was not choking. I wanted to laugh or cry, feeling relieved but still terrified. I wondered if this creature would change his mind.

His fingers were sticky with blood. Do not pass out, I commanded myself. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus on breathing. I closed my eyes and took deep gulps of air.

Suddenly the faerie stood up. I started to tear at my trousers, knowing I would need to create a tourniquet to stop the blood.

The faerie loomed over me. For a moment I thought it was my end. I struggled, trying to stand, the pain and blood loss making black spots appear in front of my eyes. I knew I was no match for the deadly fay. He suddenly turned the dagger on himself, slicing a shallow cut on his hand. A shimmering, viscous liquid oozed out. It was a pale gold, almost silver. With a start, I realized that it was his blood. My surprise had me rooted to the spot, and before I realized what was happening, the faerie had knelt down, pressing his bloody palm to the cut on my leg.

His touch felt icy and numbed the fiery feeling that had been in my calf. The throbbing eased and soon I couldn’t feel anything. The faerie gently removed his hand and I forced myself to look down and examine my leg. It was still bloody, but no longer bleeding. Instead, a puckered pink line ran across my skin, like that of a fresh scar. The golden fay blood had been absorbed into the wound, and all I saw was a gentle glow to my skin. I tentatively touched the scar, it was tender, but without pain.

“How?” I asked, bewildered.

“Fay blood heals. At least, it does for those with the gift to use it.” He smiled, the first time I had seen him do so. He looked pale and tired, but the smile lit up his face, making him look positively radiant, even if his pearly white teeth were too sharp and his eyes had a strange glow. A film of sweat gleamed on his forehead, and I wondered what this magic had cost him.

“Thank you,” I said, unsure what else to say. Even sweating and disheveled from our escape and fight, he looked as lovely and deadly as the paintings of angels I had seen in our church when I was young. Though lean, he was well muscled and stronger than he appeared. His emerald eyes assessed me intently, but I had no idea what he was thinking. I felt suddenly and ridiculously self-conscious of my dirty, straw-blonde hair and dull brown eyes. I chided myself, knowing this creature wouldn’t care what I looked like. I’d be lucky if he let me live. But why heal me if he meant to kill me?

The childhood stories I had heard in my village of demonic fay ran through my head, stories of creatures that were so beautiful they lured unsuspecting villagers into a false sense of trust and then used their dark magic to torture and enslave them. Though he had saved my life, just as surely as I had saved his. But I still didn’t trust him.

And then I remembered other stories, ones my father used to tell us about the fay. In them, the fay were dangerous, but not evil. They just wanted the right to live their lives in peace. In an unusual story, a faerie prince had even fallen in love with a human girl. My father was the only one in our village to tell such stories about the fay, but maybe he was right. I wanted to say something, ask this faerie why he was in Sterling, when faeries were forbidden to enter the kingdom of Reynallis.

Instead, I said, “You should leave. Reynallis doesn’t allow fay within its borders.”

“I owe you for my life, or at least my freedom,” the faerie said slowly, as though each word weighed on him.

“I wasn’t going to free you.”

The faerie didn’t look surprised. “But you did.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” I just wanted this encounter to be over. Part of me wanted to stay with this faerie, as if his beauty was so intense, I was intoxicated by it. But the rational side of me wanted this boy, no, not a boy, a deadly faerie, to go away. I would be far safer away from this creature. No amount of gold was worth staying with a creature that could kill by touch.

“You are a strange human. Almost decent.”

“You must have met some awful humans if I’m to be considered decent. Look, fay, uh, sir, you know, I don’t know what to call you.”

“Pel,” the faerie said, and he gave me a small smile and a nod. I tried not to think of how lovely his face looked when he smiled. His smile was striking and a bit unsettling with his pointed teeth.

“Pel, I’m Elenora Molnár. Call me Nor.” I put out my hand to shake his. He just looked at my hand, so I withdrew it. “You should probably stay away from all humans.”

“You aren’t going to try to turn me in for a ransom?” Pel asked. He was smiling again, and I realized he was mocking me.

“Not after what you did to the last people who tried to do that.”

“You are indeed an odd human.” Pel’s look was appraising and I felt like I was being examined.

“Just one with better survival instincts.” We stood there for a minute, neither of us speaking before I broke the silence. “What are you doing out here?”

Pel looked away at first, then turned to stare at me with those sparkling green eyes. “Passing through.”

Before I could ask him where he was going, he yanked at a tear on his tunic. He pulled a thread loose and drew it out, unraveling a small patch of his shirt as he wound the thread around his hand. Satisfied, he ran the thread through his hand, turning the dull thread a copper as our mixed blood soaked on it. He then began to twist the thread back and forth between his fingers. After a while, the thread no longer looked copper, but glittered in the afternoon sun. I stared, transfixed, at this new magic. In his hands was now a length of delicately spun gold thread.

“Is that—”

“Spun gold. A specialty of mine.” He gave a pointed glance at my hand. “I’ve heard humans are quite fond of gold.” I glanced at my hand, seeing the noble’s signet ring glinting on my finger. I had completely forgotten I was wearing it.

Without thinking, I reached out for the thread and he dropped it in my hand. It was not simply a golden-colored thread, but an actual thread of gold. I pulled at its end and saw a spidery-thin wisp of golden strands.

“How?” I asked, mesmerized by the gold. I’d never seen anything like it. I glanced at his shirt, but it was still the color of undyed wool.

“Trade secret.”

I should have counted my blessings and left right then. Between the ring and the thread, I possessed more wealth than my family had ever seen, even before the Southern War. But he had so easily transformed wool to gold. I decided to see if I could goad him into making some more for me.

“One thread? That’s the value of your life?” I asked, quirking up an eyebrow. I waited expectantly, knowing I was being too greedy, but unable to stop myself. “After all, I did just save you from some terrible fate that probably involved a dungeon, or worse.”

Pel fixed me with an unreadable expression, his cat-eyes staring at me. Something dangerous crossed his face, and his lips curled up in a feral smile, one that instantly reminded me what sort of creature I was dealing with. I immediately regretting provoking this fay, and tried to take a step back, but Pel was so much faster than I. He was on me in a moment, his slender fingers tight around my wrist.

“I didn’t mean” I started, panic rising within me.

“I know not if you are merely foolish, greedy or both, but you shall have your wish human,” he said, wrapping a loop of the thread around my wrist, tying it off before pulling free the rest of the thread, which he let drop into my hand as he released me.

I took several shaky steps back, but he made no further move towards me. I looked down at my wrist, the loop of golden thread forming a delicate bracelet. “I don’t understand.”

He laughed, a sweet, musical sound that played at mischief. “You asked for more Nor, so there it is.”

“There is what?”

“How you can call on me for the debt I owe you. Put a drop of your blood on the thread that encircles your wrist. That will summon me, and I will come and repay my debt.”

“Wait? My blood? That’s wrong!” I had to repress a shudder. I yanked at the golden loop around my wrist, desperate to pull the thread off. “Come to think of it, I am actually perfectly grateful to have just the golden thread.”

“I work in blood magic. Fay blood heals and human blood . . . well, that has many uses.” He gestured to the two dead thugs.

“So, you didn’t just kill them by touching them?” I asked, startled.

“No, I needed blood. Their blood.” He paused before adding, “In order to stop their blood.”

“Well, I now see why so many people think fay are scary demons,” I said, my fingers still fumbling with the thread on my wrist.

“Do I look like a scary demon?” He stared at me intently. I looked up into his beautiful emerald eyes, green as fields on a summer’s day.

“You are beautiful,” I said without thinking, then blushed deeply. Was I mooning over some deadly fay? “But aren’t the most dangerous creatures the beautiful ones?”

“They usually are.” He looked like he wanted to say more but decided against it.

“This won’t come off.” The thread was so thin, I couldn’t understand why I was unable to yank it off my wrist. I bit it, but it held fast.

“Ah, gold you have, but can never spend.” He smiled and winked. “Elenora Molnár, you should know that all faerie magic comes at a price. Consider yourself lucky that the trick I played on you was so small.” With that, he carefully untied the rope that was secured around his chest. As he adjusted his cloak, I realized the purpose of the rope.

He had wings.

I gaped at him, not having the words to say anything. His large wings were dragonfly-thin and translucent, their opalescent surface shimmering in the afternoon light. Acel and Garin must have tied the rope around him to prevent him from flying away. Fully outstretched, his wings were around three feet in both directions. They seemed too delicate to lift him, but he flapped them a few times, rainbows splitting the air, and then he took off, easily navigating through the tree branches and up into the sky. All without saying a word or even turning back to me. I watched him, flying high into the air until he was little more than a speck against the clouds.

I left the bodies where they were. No one would care if two criminals had been killed in the woods. I briefly considered saying a quick prayer to the Mother for them, as the only human witness to their deaths. But remembering how they had wanted to ‘have some fun with me,’ I decided against it. I carefully wound the rest of the golden thread into a small spool and headed back to my camp. The entire time I picked at my new bracelet, but it held fast.

Chapter 3

Stopping by the stream, I washed most of the blood from my hands and leg. But there wasn’t much I could do about the bloodstain on my pants. I fiddled again with the bracelet, but it held firm. I contented myself knowing that between the ring and the rest of the gold thread, secured in my pocket, there was plenty for us till I figured out how to remove Pel’s ‘trick.’ Pushing down my sleeve, I made my way back to camp.

“Nor!” Jacobie yelled, spotting me first. He ran over, slamming into me with a massive hug. I swung my little brother around a few times, again grateful that the wound on my leg had healed. I set him down.

“You’re back!”

“Of course, I’m back, you little nut,” I said, patting his head.

“Why were you gone so long?” Devon asked, giving me a stern look. Even though he was only two years older than me, he had an annoying habit of trying to act like a parent.

“Because I was scouting the city.”

“Did you get us something to eat?” Finn asked, pausing from packing up our meager supplies. At thirteen, he was a sapling of a boy, always hungry and thin as a beanpole.

“Sorry, we didn’t have enough coin.” I tried not to wince, remembering the fake crippled boy. Finn looked painfully disappointed but didn’t say anything.

“But I’m hungry,” Jacobie whined, and I had to look away from the forlorn expression on his small face.

“And that took all morning? That’s not like you, Nor.”

“Sterling is a big city, Devon.” I didn’t know exactly why, but I didn’t want to tell my brothers about Pel. I tried to convince myself that they would just worry too much.

“Nor, your leg,” Finn cried, seeing my bloody pants.

Chace’s den, I thought, trying to think of some plausible excuse. Finn reached out to examine my pants. Jacobie and Devon were also staring at the bloodstain. Jacobie’s eyes were wide, filled with fear. I worried he’d start crying.

“It’s nothing,” I insisted, but no one believed me. I batted Finn’s hand away when he tried to touch my pants.

“What happened sister?” he asked, voice high with anxiety.

“I’m not hurt. It’s not even my blood.” My three brothers looked at me skeptically.

“It’s not,” I insisted, desperately trying to think of some sort of lie to appease them. I quickly decided a half-truth would serve me best. “I was attacked, on my way back to camp.”

“Who hurt you?” Devon asked. My older brother looked ready to track my attacker and murder him. Too late for that.

“They’re long gone,” I lied, trying to ease the tension. “And this is their blood, not mine, so no need to fuss over me.”

“What happened, Nor?” Devon asked, still using his serious-parent voice.

“I was, well, I . . .” Nervously, I fished around in my pockets, fingering the signet ring as my hand closed on the spool of golden thread. Recalling the young noble in the woods, I decided to alter the truth of the morning a bit. “I picked the wrong pocket. This man caught me, and we had a bit of a fight. I had to use my dagger. But he came out for it far worse than me. And look what I got for my trouble.” I pulled out the golden thread, displaying that and the ring. They shone in sun and my brothers came in close to see my new treasures.

“Nor, is that gold?” Devon asked, stepping to me. His eyes were entranced by my sparkling prizes.

“Yes!”

“So pretty,” Jacobie said in awe. “Can we buy sweets?”

“If we’re careful, this much gold could last us months, maybe even a year.” Devon was already making the calculations in his head.

“We can buy sweets and food and new clothes,” I added, catching my brothers’ excitement.

“We won’t even need to sell elixir today,” Finn said, staring at the gold.

“Which I should mention is no longer a possibility.” I let them know about the family already selling ‘miracle’ tonic.

“All the extra luck then that you found gold,” Devon said. “With this much money, we could replace the wagon and get new supplies for whatever job we want to do next. Get some fresh straw for Stony.”

Our donkey perked his ears at the mention of his name. Something about replenishing our supplies stuck with me. Something about the straw.

“And buy sweets,” Jacobie repeated, making sure his request wasn’t forgotten.

“And actually have some money put aside for leaner times,” Finn added, always practical.

The fragments came together like pieces of a puzzle, and I realized I had our next plan. “I got it!” I practically yelled, halting my brothers’ enthusiastic chatter. “We’re not going to sell the gold, not yet anyway.”

Three sets of brown eyes looked at me as though I had lost my mind.

“I have an idea. One that will let us fill our pockets and keep the gold.”

“What are you talking about, Nor?” Finn asked, his tone as wary as his look.

“I have a new plan for the market faire. We’re going to need straw. A whole lot of straw.”

I quickly explained the plan, excitement building within me as I mapped out details. The familiar rush of nerves and anticipation that came with every new job flowed through me. It was a feeling I craved; one that made me feel alive. I demonstrated what I would do with the gold thread, slipping it seamlessly up my sleeve.

“That’s a terrible plan.”

My next words died on my lips as I looked into Finn’s hard face. He usually supported my schemes but now crossed his arms, a disapproving frown pulling down his thin lips.

“What?” I asked, stunned and hurt.

“It’s reckless, Nor. Sometimes you go too far, and you are putting us in danger for no reason. We already have plenty of gold now.”

“You sound like Devon,” I countered.

“I think this is a fine plan, so leave me out of this,” Devon said, stepping away from us.

“Sorry, Devon,” I muttered, still glaring at Finn.

“Come on Jacobie, let’s pack up camp while Nor and Finn finish their spitting match.” As Devon pulled Jacobie away to gather up our things, I could hear my little brother asking why we were fighting. Devon said something about us having the temperament of stray cats.

Low enough that my other brothers wouldn’t hear, I stepped towards Finn and said, “Seriously, Finn, what is the matter? It is a good plan.”

“It’s not a terrible plan,” Finn said, but then stalled, as though searching for the right words. Though only thirteen, he had always been a studious boy, probably the smartest of all of us, at least when it came to book knowledge. Though our father was a simple miller, he had known how to read and write, something he had taught us. We had even owned several large books, mostly about medicinal plants and herbs, and Finn had read every one several times.

“Nor, your story doesn’t make sense,” his voice as low as my own.

“What do you mean?” I could not quite meet his eyes. He was far too good at reading people.

“You haven’t gotten caught picking a pocket for years. You’re too good.”

“I got lazy, it happens,” I said, still looking away. If anyone could call out my lie, it would be Finn. “Let’s get to work. Besides, does it even matter how I got the gold? The important thing is that we are going to be rich.”

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat. I could tell he didn’t believe my story, but I didn’t say anything. “We’ll go along with your plan, because we always go along with your plans. But I don’t like being lied to.”