Page 1 of The Court the Fae Forgot
CHAPTERONE
Once again,the dark depths of the Wildness called to me.
The trees were larger here, their branches growing wide and jagged like broken fingers reaching out to choke the life from the rest of the forest, to choke the life from me. Their leaves were such a dark green that they were almost black, even in the shafts of sunlight that struggled to penetrate the forest’s darkness. The very vines that clung to their sides had an oily, inky sheen to them—their furled leaves small, shriveled, and feeble, like there was no life left to steal from the trees they’d deigned to climb.
And then there were the shadows. The shapes that formed between the trees. Unnatural shapes, strange shapes, shifting silhouettes created, I was sure, by my own mind. Shapes of creatures. Shapes of men. Shapes of fae.
These, like the Wildness itself, tried to beckon me closer. They whispered promises of secrets to share, of answers to questions I didn’t know I had. More than once I’d been tempted to heed their call, to abandon the life I’d been dealt in favor of losing myself beneath its dark canopy. I’d be lost there, I knew, but sometimes I wondered if that would be better.
The wagon beneath me jolted suddenly, and in the moment before the Wildness’ hold on me broke, I thought I saw something move among the trees. Something more than a shadow. It darted between the trunks, a flash of thick, fire-colored fur. It was a blip of color in the gloom, disappearing as quickly as it came.
Just like the Wildness now retreating into the depths of a forest far more ordinary.
“Aurra!”
The sound of my sister’s voice forced me to tear my eyes from the passing trees to look at her, my sister’s head barely visible above the great piles of flour stacked in the wagon between us. I followed the direction of her outstretched arm until I saw what had caused her to call out to me, her voice giddy with excitement. There, at the end of her pointed finger, the thatched roofs of the village had started to come into view.
My stomach fluttered with a strange uncertainty. I should have been glad to see the place that was the one small escape from the monotony of my life as a miller’s daughter. Perhaps the Wildness hadn’t quite let go of me yet, because this time the sight of those thatched roofs filled me with a dread I couldn’t shake.
I glanced back at the forest as if seeking those answers that were promised to me, but there was no hint left of the Wildness beyond. Only trees. Regular trees. Part of me knew there was no Wildness there to begin with, not so close to the village, but even that didn’t dull the unease that had settled firmly in the pit of my stomach.
I wanted to be cross with Ada, my sister, wanted to blame her for leaving me shaken … but I couldn’t. Even now, with her voice drowned out by the deafening clatter of hooves and cartwheels on cobble, her eyes still shone bright and excited as she motioned toward the village once more.
This was her one joy, too. The one thing we shared that wasn’t yet poisoned for us.
It didn’t matter that the fae lords hadn’t fixed the roads in so long that I couldn’t tell if it was the potholes or the brisk morning air that made my teeth chatter. I tried to motion for Ada to sit down, but I nearly lost my seat on the back of the wagon instead. I barely caught myself from falling by clutching one of the white-caked bags of flour at my side, the powdery film I’m left brushing away far preferable to the mud of the red-clay of the road.
I would’ve gotten more than a mouthful for ruining my one good dress.
Thoughgoodwasn’t exactly the right word to describe the patchwork of worn threads draped over my already skinny frame.
At least the jolt was enough to finally shake the momentary apprehension that had taken hold of me. The last of the Wildness’ dread having seeped away, replaced with that small swell of happiness I allowed myself at the sight of the ramshackle buildings now rumbling past. I forced all other thoughts from my mind, determined not to let anything spoil our sacred ritual. Soon, we’d be pulling to a halt at the village stables and for one glorious day, one afternoon, it would be just Ada and me.
That was all that mattered.
By the time the wagon started to slow, I’d grown nearly as giddy as Ada. I waited as long as possible before slipping out the open back, but not quite long enough. I landed hard, one hand flying out to grab the lapel of a man walking by to steady myself in the absence of a convenient stack of ground wheat. He cried out at my grasping hands, but didn’t have time to so much as get a good look at my face before I’d already muttered a hasty apology and dashed back off toward the cart now rapidly nearing the end of the street without me.
It had slowed to a halt outside the stable yard by the time I reached it. The double doors leading inside had been propped open with chipped wooden blocks, the hinges so close to giving way that the heavy doors had long since carved lines into the cobblestones beneath.
The scent of horse manure and sweat was surprisingly sweet in the hours before the sun could heat it to something unbearable. Soft whinnies and disgruntled grunts came from the horses stabled too close together inside.
My father’s face was unreadable as he climbed down from the cart. The sight of it made me cringe nonetheless, knowing that if he’d noticed me drop from the cart earlier, he’d make sure to punish me. He’d tell me I’m too old to be gallivanting off like a common trollop—a term I was all too familiar with—jumping off of wagons and accosting strange men.
Then, as always, his hands would reach for his belt, fingers turning white as they wrapped around the leather. If I was lucky, the belt would stay on.
I wished luck was something I was familiar with, too.
Even if the sting of leather didn’t follow, he’d yell when I flinched all the same.
It often seemed the only thing that made him angrier than my repeated transgressions was the fear on my face when he got around to punishing me for them. I’d never been good at hiding my emotions, no matter how I tried to learn. It got me in trouble even more often than the headstrong impatience I’d long since given up trying to overcome.
Just because I was aware of my character flaws didn’t mean I had the willpower to change them.
Stubbornness was, naturally, another one of said character flaws.
It was a flaw I was grateful for, however, if only for the fact that it had so far saved me from the grasps of the stablemaster now trudging out of those sweat-reeking stables to add our sorry horses to the already crowded stalls.
I kept my eye on Rayner as I helped Ada down from the carriage, the skin on the back of my neck prickling at the very sight of him. He was a big brute of a man, not unfamiliar with the ways of dealing with a sharp-tongued female. His wife had been the worst of us, right up until she’d died some years ago under more than slightly dubious circumstances.
