Veiled Fae (Fractured Fae 2)

“If you’re going to bring logic into this Wyn, who are we to refuse?” I joke as we re-packed our bags and I put Dormouse in his pocket. He squeaks at the other two until they acknowledge him.

“What happened to the quiet mouse he was before?” Jacob laughs as he finally greets him properly.

“He has evolved into a fae mouse, plus he is the queen’s personal tiny companion, it gives a mouse confidence," I give him one more pat before walking out of the room.

“I’m not familiar with the layout of the castle, but it will become more ornate as we get closer to the throne room. This is far too tame for the king’s tastes. My guess is it was reserved for guests, his petty way of showing them that he’s far superior to them. But we’ll find the kitchens near the greenhouse, and the greenhouses will be in one of the taller towers." Gerwyn’s voice trails behind me and I slow down to let them both catch up.

We walk down far too many hallways to count before I notice the décor and carpeting becoming more luxurious. The torches along the walls swiftly change from carved wood, to silver. The carpets and rugs are more plush, the walls polished even despite the years abandoned. Artwork starts to mark the previous empty walls and hope sparks in my chest that we’re making some progress.

The souls are more prominent in this part of the castle as well, which makes walking a bit more difficult. They weave in and out of our small group like we’re the nuisance here. The icy chill so constant at this point I’ve just become one with the cold.

“Gerwyn, is this normal? Shouldn’t most of them have passed on by now?” I whisper, slowing down to walk beside him. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, calming my nerves with just his touch. I love that he always seems to pick up on my moods so easily.

“No, they shouldn’t be here, especially not this many. I’ve never seen them congregate en masse like this. Stay alert, we’re definitely getting closer to whoever is around," he whispers, turning to Jacob and making sure he heard too.

“What kind of person would attract ghosts like this?” I ask, shifting to the side to avoid another run-in with one.

“Mass death,” he says darkly.

“They have to be left from the war then, right?” Jacob asks. But I know in my gut that they’re not just leftover, that something else is in play. The wards, the spirits… we’re about to face something powerful. A sense of foreboding is constantly weighing down my psyche, and it’s not just from my men being frozen.

The prospect of answers has Jacob pulling several feet ahead of us, peering in each room as he passes by.

“Guys!” he whisper-yells at us and the unease in his voice stops me from replying. Instead, I give Gerwyn a nervous look before I rush up to him and peer into the room.

Jacob found the throne room.

There’s no mistaking the overly ornate room before us. Every inch seems to be covered in marble and silver, from the throne to the floors, to the large fireplace behind it.

But the room isn’t the startling part. That was the old fae sitting on the throne, muttering to himself in rapid fire. He doesn’t see us or acknowledge our presence, continuing his quiet tirade. Not wanting to alert him, I put a gentle hand on Dormy, willing him to remain silent. One indignant squeak and we’ll be seen.

“How was he able to survive here?” I ask Gerwyn. When he doesn’t answer me, I turn around and glance up at him. The look on his face has my blood running cold. “What is it?” The alarm in my voice has Jacob whipping his head around to stare at Gerwyn as well. He’s frozen in place, a mask of shock and fear that doesn’t help calm my nerves.

“The King of Winter still lives?” Gerwyn’s voice is full of disbelief and pure hatred. “How dare he kill our world for his power trip, and then somehow survive?”

“I see! I have visitors!” A booming voice rings out from behind Jacob, the man somehow already across the room. I reach for Jacob and yank him out of the way of the evil king.

Not just a king, but my grandfather.

We all turn and glare at him with equal looks of hatred.

I definitely did not hit the genetic lottery.

When he doesn’t speak

“I am Queen Arabella of all of Faerie. And you are?” I ask in what I hope is my best confident and regal voice. It doesn't shake, so I count that as a win. Internally, I’m terrified. We have no clue what to expect from this man, other than malice.

“You dare insult the King of Winter? You look to be a disgusting hybrid," his voice holds every ounce of disgust he can muster as his eyes zone in on my hair and skin tone. Odd, I thought they didn’t have hybrids. How could he recognize me as one?

“Well, Grandfather, I am a hybrid and that is why the Spirits of Faerie have spoken with me and are helping me restore the lands. The amazing pearly skin is just a bonus," I reply, smirking at the look of pure shock and horror on his weathered face. I probably shouldn’t be poking at this clearly deranged man, but my hatred for him is getting the best of me.

Now that he’s silent and I’m feeling a bit calmer, I can see a few similarities in our features. He has skin a similar shade to mine, only without the iridescence to it. I have his nose, but his features are much more angular, which doesn’t do him any favors. He looks worn down and haggard, with his wrinkled skin and unkempt appearance. Plus, he was talking to himself when we found him, so he’s clearly mentally unwell. How could he not be after all these years he’s spent alone.

“I think you broke him, Queenie," Jacob chuckles quietly. His words seem to shake the former king out of his quiet stupor.

“You are no family of mine and you are not welcome here. You will make a beautiful addition to my collection, though. Spirits, bind them!” he commands in an imperious voice that echoes along the high ceilings. We instinctively press closer together, daggers held in a fighting position and ready for whatever the spirits plan to do.

“Do weapons hurt them?” I hiss over at Gerwyn, hoping he has the answers.