Page 141 of Faeling
The woman groaned beneath her, shuddering again as the fight went out of her.
“What have you done?” she growled.
“They’re spelled,” Ravenna answered in faethling. “They negate the wearer’s magic.”
Rising to her knees, Ravenna clambered off the fae woman to sit in the dirt beside her. It was the first chance she had to truly look at her.
Despite the tattered homespun clothes, there was no mistaking a fae woman of the royal bloodline. The silvery white hair, the wings the color of a starry night sky, and her dark eyes—she was just as Maxim had described the royal family. The only difference was, her cheeks held a glow of warmth. Her blood was obviously a healthy red, not the inky black of a fae subsisting only on magic.
Behind them, the white unicorn screamed again. She fought ferociously to make a break for her rider, but Oberon and his stallions handled her masterfully. Blocking and rebuffing her with their necks, they got her turned around before she could make it far.
“Don’t hurt her,” the fae demanded.
“They won’t. Just tell her to stop fighting.”
The fae woman turned an icy glare on Ravenna. “Whothe fuckare you?”
“I’m queen of these lands.”
The woman snorted in derision. “That’s impossible. These are orcish lands.”
Oh, she had quite the story to tell her. But first, “And which are you? A niece or a daughter?”
The fae lost what little color she had left in her face, those indigo eyes fixing on Ravenna with a terror so potent, Ravenna herself felt it skitter down her back.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“No need to be coy. I know you’re of royal blood.” Her father had told her of Amaranthe’s most wicked deed—almost five-hundred years ago, refusing to give up power, she slaughtered her sisters, daughters, and nieces. The fae needed a hub for their magic, a queen to rule the hive, but such power corroded. It was the fate of every queen, when her time came, to sail to the Twins and take the eternal sleep, returning her soul and her magic to the earth and the goddesses.
Without a successor, the fae had no choice but to suffer Amaranthe. The cycle didn’t renew, and the corrosive magic seeped across the faelands.
Except, Ravenna was looking at a successor. A possible new queen.
From her white lashes and brows to the indigo iridescence of her wings, this fae was exactly as her father and all her books described the royal line. The stories told of how the palace at Fallorian had once been full of white-haired sisters, daughters, and nieces, all more beautiful than the last. They helped channel the magic, strengthening the borders and the bond with the land.
Fates, it just couldn’t be so simple. Suspicion raised her hackles; this smacked too much of destiny or divinity. There were forces at work far more powerful than her, Vallek, or a royal fae.
“How did you escape?” Ravenna asked. She must have been quite young at the time of the slaughter, for she still carried a youthful look to her that most fae maintained in their first millennium.
Her question was met with a fiercely suspicious glare.
“There’s no use denying it. I know who you are, even if not your name. The fates set our paths to collide this day.”Quickly, she explained her visions and how she’d been led to this time and place. Unfortunately, the longer she spoke, the more horrified the fae woman seemed to be.
“But why…” The woman shook her head. “It’s impossible.”
“I’ve learned it’s better to let the fates guide you than rail against them. That way leads to madness.”
The fae woman shot her a look that said she clearly thought Ravenna was already far down that path.
She shrugged. “My name is Ravenna Broch-Illyinia. And you are?”
The woman frowned. “You’re only half fae?”
“Yes, my father was Maxim Illyinia.” Grinning wryly, she teased, “Have you not seen a fae in so long you couldn’t tell the difference?” Although Ravenna might seem utterly fae-like to the orcs, full fae would notice her dissimilarity immediately—shorter ears, small wings, and unruly magic.
The woman’s lips went tight.
Ravenna’s stomach dropped. Fates, had she truly been on her own for that long? To be sure, she would’ve had to flee the faelands to avoid the slaughter of her kin. Had she been in the wilderness all this time? Alone?
