Page 2 of Courting the Fae Captain
Lightning forked through the sky as I made my way inch by careful inch down the rain-slick slate beneath my bedroom balcony. Thunder roiled, and a large crack made me flinch so violently I nearly lost my grip, which kept me from the precarious drop below.
My heart bashed against my ribs. I’d done the climb many times before and was no stranger to the risk, but my fingers were so cold, it was an effort to curl them into the narrow ridges of stone. My only saving grace was that it had yet to start raining.But one wrong move and this foolhardy endeavour would all be for nothing.
I had to go. My father would ship me off to Domeratt tomorrow to join a host of other would-be-wives hellbent on marrying the city lord’s son—a captain of the Shadow Court’s vast naval army, or so I had heard.
Frankly, I couldn’t care less what the male’s titles and achievements were. I had no desire to vie for his attention. Stories of how highborn Fae treated their wives in the Shadow Court had often floated past my ears. The servants in my home liked to gossip over juicy scandals and female misfortune. From their seemingly endless chatter, there was a lot of that in my homeland. When one was born into a world of immortal necromancers and dark magic wielders, one was bound to get a little more comfortable with death or other ill-fated fortunes. Hence, the abundance of misfortune that often went unchecked.
There were four courts in the Fae land of Mithria, each with their own class of magic wielders—Spell Weavers, Soul Speakers, Bone Cleavers, and Blood Mages. Though these classes were not exclusive to each court, the four belonged predominantly to the Shadow Court, the Soul Court, The Bone Court and the Blood Court, respectively. I belonged to the Shadow Court, though my magic had yet to reveal itself, but I didn’t plan to be anywhere near the Shadow Court when it did.
I frowned, pressing myself flat against the stone as one of the castle servants reached out to tackle the banging shutters of a bedroom window beside me. Halfway there. Just a few more balconies to navigate and castle guards to avoid. I’d prepared myself, though. This was a climb I’d timed more than once, considering patrols, guard rotations, and any other disturbances one might find when scaling a damn building as tall as this one.
Ironic that I was the picturesque damsel locked atop my father’s tallest tower. Only, he had no idea the kind ofextracurricular activities I got up to when he wasn’t looking. Take rock climbing, for example. Not very demure. Not very ladylike.
A slow smile spread across my face. The conditions were less than favourable, but I’d trained enough times in hazardous weather to know the grooves and footholds as well as the back of my hand. Besides, this was just the kind of challenge that made me feelalive. The only other time I felt like this was when tinkering with potions and brews.
Alchemy.Thatwas my true passion. Something I had done under my father’s nose since I was a little girl. Thanks to his courtly duties and long trips away, I’d been afforded the time to discover my skills, and I had no plans of stopping. Which was exactly why marrying some pompous noble who thought of females only as breeding vessels was not on my list of things to do.
I neared the lower levels as my fingers were turning blue with the cold, but I’d have time to lament their stiffness later. Just a little further and—I froze. Just below me, bundled up in furs and staring out from the balcony edge, was one of the ladies of court. Melania, judging by the ginger hair wisping out of her braid. And that female? The only thing she loved more than herself was money and power. Or any means by which to get it. If she spotted me…
I sucked down a breath and forced my teeth to stop chattering as I waited. All she had to do was look up. Why in the hells was she outside anyway? The winds were bitter and howling, the cold sinking deep beneath my bones. This also wasn’t where her rooms were located. In fact, I was sure they belonged to … oh.
A male strode onto the balcony, gathering Melania in his arms as he turned her and claimed her lips. My body went taut. It wouldn’t be any real scandal or surprise to see a noblegetting cosy with another member of the court, but this was not a male whom any female had a right to covet.Thatwas Declan James, Blood Sword of my father’s and, more importantly, a married male. Scandal, indeed. If word got out about an affair, Melania would be finished. She would be seen as adulterous and unworthy to wed—utterly dishonoured. Declan would receive no real punishment, but that’s the way it always went with the male Fae in Mithria. Bastards.
My muscles screamed as I held onto the wall for dear life, and sweat bubbled over my back, forming little rivulets that dribbled down my spine.Please, please, just go inside and go back to bed.
He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh and blush prettily, then he pulled her back towards his chambers. She protested coyly, and it took everything in me not to roll my eyes. I’d bet my left tit she was already naked beneath those furs.
Five steps.
Four.
Three.
Two.
I almost heaved a sigh of relief when they took one last step, their heads nearly disappearing beneath the threshold, when something changed. Maybe I’d done something to piss off the gods. Maybe it was the boot that slipped ever so slightly out of the groove it was jammed in, but right before that last step, Melania-fucking-Harron raised those pretty blue eyes and gasped as she found me staring right back at her.
She took in my clothes, the braid, the gaiter pulled up over my face, before her eyes slowly moved to my own. Recognition set in before the bitch smiled like it was the best day in her miserable little life.
Melania whispered to Declan, who looked up with piercing blue eyes of his own. He’d always given me the creeps. That male was colder than the deepest frost or the most bitter of winds.And I knew as soon as he looked at me that I was as good as dead. He swore and stepped indoors briskly, though his face remained a mask of calm.
I fucking moved, hightailing it across the wall as fast as I could go. My shot at escaping this hellhole just dropped by half, and the odds were never great to begin with. Declan was not a forgiving male, nor would he forget. He had always hated me. Even if I made it safely back to my rooms, I knew he’d eventually come for me and make it look like an accident. Maybe even pay some lowlifes to do the job for him.
My heart thumped, and my palms were slick and clammy. I could either continue down the wall and run for it, putting as much distance between me and him, or I could go back inside and find a public, populated place to lie low in, hopefully blend in and appear like nothing was out of the norm. There was no way he could harm me in plain sight of the castle patrons, even with our backwards gender laws.
I looked longingly at the ground. My future was at stake. My freedom. But what chance did I have of making it out now? If I escaped and was caught, the dishonour could cost me my life. My father would be furious with me after Declan informed him what he’d seen, but if I returned without complaint, my father wouldn’t do much more. Not when the Rite was coming up tomorrow. Everything would be swept under a rug and kept hushed. Then I’d be forced to compete for a male I didn’t want and a marriage that would rule me. I’d have my life, yes, but what was that really worth if I was never free?
Fuck it. I bypassed the closest balcony and continued my descent. At the same time, the heavens finally opened and rain poured down in a sudden torrent of rage. My hair was sodden within seconds, and my visibility drastically decreased.
I blinked back the water in my eyes just as Declan reappeared and nocked an arrow to a bow. My heart dropped into mystomach. He wouldn’t take me out on the wall, surely? The fletching on his arrow could be traced back to him, and then where would he be? My father may not have wanted me, but he would not permit the murder of his only child. And yet that evil male looked down at me, took aim, andsmiled.Terrible and cold, and joyful with the hunt. Oh yes, he fucking would. Perhaps he was a greater asset to my father than I’d realised. Perhaps my father would turn a blind eye for his precious Bloodhound. Declan had never liked me. Maybe covering the affair was just an excuse to shoot me down.
Declan drew back his elbow, ready to release the arrow. A scream tore from my lungs and thunder cracked in answer, swallowing any sound. I took one look at that arrow, prayed to any god who might be listening, and the second before the fletching passed through his fingers … I jumped.
CHAPTER TWO
‘An acolyte’s ascension determines both the class of magic and the court one is most skilled to serve. Deny the ascension, and one faces a fate worse than death.’
The Trials and Traditions of a Mithrian Fae
