Fated Crown by Eva Chase
Chapter Seven
Talia
This is only my second time this deep in the fog-drenched territory at the fringes of the fae realm, and I find it just as eerie as the first. The cool haze drifts between the trees, which loom with their branches spread so broadly that only muted sunlight penetrates their leaves overhead. It gives the forest the feel of twilight even though it’s actually midday. Here and there, distant rustling sounds reach my ears.
My fingers itch to curl around August’s arm, to hold onto him as we venture through this haunted terrain, but I don’t want to be in his way if he needs to quickly leap to our defense. Ferocious beasts prowl the edges of the summer realm just as they do in the winter lands. I have my dagger in its sheath at my hip, but I’m not exactly an expert with it.
I walk along between him and the Unseelie representative the arch-lords sent along for my second trip to the human world: the guard with human-like ears I saw Laoni sniping at on the night of the full moon. Now that we have a clearer idea of what to expect, both sides agreed that it was better to send fae who could pass for human. If we need to shed the magic keeping us unseen for some reason, they won’t have to be as careful about how they appear.
The guard, who introduced himself to us as Kesral, peers into the depths of the fringe forest, the damp breeze stirring the short ponytail he’s tied his dark brown hair into like before. Here, his stance is confident, his expression cautious but not particularly tense. He seemed a little wary of August on our journey by carriage out here, but by the end he’d relaxed enough to make a little small talk on August’s favorite subjects: food and combat strategies.
I haven’t seen anything that would explain Laoni’s hostility toward him. Is it just because he has less fae blood than many of her other staff? She trusted him enough to give him this duty. Or is it a punishment in her mind to send him off as a sort of chaperone for my trip to the human world?
None of those questions seem right to ask, but curiosity itches at me.
August stops at a thicker patch of darkness between two tree trunks. It gleams with an almost liquid texture, just as Whitt described the portals between the worlds to me months ago.
August leans close and takes a sniff, then shakes his head. We know the one that’ll lead us to the park not far from Jamie’s house is in this general area, but apparently the portals sometimes shift around a little. He’s already checked a few before without finding it.
“It shouldn’t take too much longer,” he assures us. “That one was almost right.”
Kesral lets out a grunt that sounds dryly amused. “Never much of an exact science, is it, making the trip?”
That remark gives me an opening I can’t resist. I glance at him, watching his reaction cautiously. “Have you traveled to the human world frequently?”
He shrugs, his gaze still scanning the forest around us for threats. “On the winter side, of course. When Arch-Lord Laoni requires something from those lands, it’s often me she asks.”
“Because you can blend in.” I pause and then venture, “Was one of your parents human? August’s mother was. And obviously both of mine.” I bite my tongue, my cheeks flushing at my fumbling attempt to make the question less awkward. I don’t think I succeeded.
Kesral just chuckles though, the warmth of the sound putting me back at ease. “It isn’t so hard to tell, I suppose.” He runs his fingers over the curve of one of his ears. “My blood father. My mother very much wanted a child, and when she and her mate hadn’t been able to in a long time, they decided she would seek out a human to her liking at an opportune time. And here I am. I don’t think of him as a father in any way other than that, though. My real father is the one who helped raise me.”
He speaks about it easily enough—and I guess it is easier when his story isn’t anywhere near as tragic as August’s.
“It’s pretty common in both realms,” August says, leading the way to the next portal. “If fae never slipped out of the Mists to romance a human here and there, there’d be a lot fewer of us.”
Kesral hums to himself. His voice drops as if he’s not totally sure he wants his next words to be heard. “Unfortunate that more of our kin don’t recognize that fact.”
My gaze darts to him again. I grapple with my next words for a moment before spitting them out. “Do the other fae treat you badly because of it—because of your heritage?”
His expression stiffens, maybe with the fear he’s said too much. “I wouldn’t say badly. Only sometimes a little differently. I’m sure you’ve experienced some of the varied opinions on humankind during your time with us, though Arch-Lord Corwin is known for being sof—permissive with them.”
He was going to say soft-hearted. I won’t let myself be offended by that when I’d bet Kesral has overheard Laoni complaining about Corwin in much more insulting terms.
“That’s different,” I say. “I’m totally human, even if I have a few unexpected powers—powers that are nothing compared to what any fae can do, including you. And, I mean, your heritage obviously doesn’t make that big a difference. August can serve on an arch-lord’s cadre no problem.”
My lover shoots a crooked smile over his shoulder at me. “Oh, there are a few who’d mutter about that, I promise you. And I do get some recognition from having a father who’s not just fae but a true-blooded lord. I’d imagine Kesral has had a harder time of it than I have, if the winter realm is much like summer in that respect.”
From the twist of Kesral’s mouth, August must be right. The other man is silent for a stretch. Then he says, “I’m certain I’d never aspire to being part of my lord’s coterie. She is clear on my place within her flock. I’m honored to support her rule in the ways assigned to me.”
I want to ask about Laoni’s harsh attitude toward him, but I’m not sure how without overstepping the tentative friendliness he’s offered. And maybe it does just come down to how much human blood runs through his veins.
If she’s like that with a fae man who’s still very much fae despite his birth father, how does she treat whatever human servants she’s brought to her domain? What about the other winter lords?
I haven’t really had a chance to see how anyone other than Corwin interacts with humans besides me, and he’s definitely considerate of his servants in a way I can tell is unusual. Sylas hasn’t kept human servants at all in the time I’ve been with him… because of what he feared his former brother-in-law would do to them while Kellan was still around.
I’ve been so focused on saving the fae from their curse, I never considered all the other people here who might need my help. If I leave more permanently, who’ll be left who would even think of speaking up for all the other humans kidnapped by the fae?
The question feels like a shackle tugging me in yet another direction. I shove aside those worries as well as I can, pushing on through the fog.
Then August lets out a triumphant exclamation by the portal he’s stopped at. I hurry over, everything falling away except my need to see my brother again.
The whole reason I wanted to make this trip was to get a better idea of how he’s living now. I only had a glimpse last time. How can I decide where I’m needed most, how much I owe who, when I know so little about his current situation? If I’m going to have to choose between all the responsibilities tugging at me, it’d better be an informed one.
August extends his hand to me, and I wrap my fingers around his. As we step through the portal together, Kesral follows close behind us.
The closest experience I can compare the trip to is walking through a hall in a mirror maze. The landscape around me shimmers and wavers as if undulating through water, although the air is perfectly still. I can’t help closing my eyes for a moment like I did last time, dizziness scattering my thoughts.
When I open them again, we’re just stepping onto the grass in the park. There’s a tiny clearing amid several saplings where the undulating impression remains. We won’t be perceivable to humans until we walk beyond that boundary.
August intones the words to wrap concealing magic around us. He was practicing with Whitt earlier today, and he motions to the air with more assurance now. A brief tingling washes over my skin and then fades away.
“All right,” he says, looking pleased with the result, and nods to Kesral. “You were with one of the scouting parties that first located Talia’s brother—I assume you remember the way?”
“Yes, the house that appears to be his main residence is north of here.” Kesral sets off, and we fall into step behind him, letting him take the lead now.
We couldn’t predict exactly what time of day we’d come out into, but the growing warmth in the air and the position of the sun suggest it’s late morning. If it’s a weekday, Jamie and our cousins will be at school and our aunt and uncle at work, so hopefully we’ll be able to explore his current home without interruption or discovery.
Kesral picks up his pace as we reach the streets beyond the park, and I propel myself after him, my limp becoming more pronounced. An ache is starting to spread up from the warped arch into my ankle. August gives me a concerned glance, and I can tell he’s struggling with the urge to offer to carry me. He doesn’t want to embarrass me in front of company.
I reach for his hand again and squeeze, a silent reassurance that if I need him, I’ll say so.
The house Kesral brings us to strikes a tiny chord of memory somewhere deep in my mind. A lifetime—or more than a dozen years—ago, my parents drove us out here to visit Aunt Becca and Uncle Walter. I think they’d just moved into the house then? My memory is pretty fuzzy. We were only here for the weekend. Dad and Aunt Becca had a falling out several years before that and hadn’t been talking much; I remember the atmosphere was still kind of tense.
How did she feel about suddenly taking in his grieving, savaged son?
We go around to the back door where we’re mostly out of view of the neighboring houses. August casts a quick spell to confirm no one is in the house, and then Kesral steps in to magic the lock open. We slip quickly inside.
Sunlight streams from the window on the back door and through another bright pane in the kitchen we find ourselves in. It’s a little messy, breakfast dishes piled in the sink and a box of cereal left out on the counter, but homey enough to bring a smile to August’s lips.
I note a few photos attached to the fridge with magnets—two of my aunt and uncle with their own kids, but another with Jamie there too, on a dock at the edge of a lake. They all went on a cottage trip together?
He’s grinning in the photograph, but I can’t shake the sense that he looks a bit sad all the same.
August prowls through the room, opening and closing cupboards with eager interest. I guess he hasn’t had a whole lot of chance to study the culinary habits of the average urban family.
“They appear to have plenty of ingredients on hand,” he says. “And I can smell that they served a well-cooked roast chicken last night.” He licks his lips so avidly I have to giggle.
We sneak down the hall to check out the other rooms. A few toys belonging to the younger kids dot the living room floor, and a game system that looks newer than the one August likes to play on is tucked away in the TV cabinet. My cousins appear to share the largest of the three bedrooms, with a set of bunkbeds and even more toys lying around. Nothing too fancy—I wouldn’t say they’re spoiled. But what about Jamie?
His bedroom turns out to be on the opposite side of the main hall. Whitt had told me it was small, but I’m still a little startled by the lack of space, only a few feet between the bed and desk and the wall opposite.
A crisp, citrusy smell laces the air that I don’t associate with my brother at all. Has he started wearing cologne? I guess that wouldn’t be so surprising at his age. He must be thinking about impressing girls.
It looks like he has a girlfriend right now. Between the band posters tacked to the wall, I spot several printed photos of him with his arm around a pretty teen with blue streaks in her fawn-brown hair and freckles across her cheeks. His smile in those looks relaxed and genuine, like he couldn’t be happier. Some of the clenching sensation inside me releases.
He isn’t an outcast or anything. Those guys at school might have harassed him, but he’s found other people who care about him.
Mixed in with the girlfriend pics are a couple with a larger group, Jamie and the freckled girl and a couple other guys and girls. He’s even got one from a Christmas that must have been a few years back, with him laughing and raising his arms defensively as the cousins shower him with torn wrapping paper.
Is he actually okay? Has he found a place where he can belong, just like I’m starting to among the fae?
August and Kesral have hung back by the door to give me space to make my investigation. “It all seems pretty good, actually,” I tell August as I sit down at the desk. The room might be small, but Jamie has given it a sense of home. “He’s doing well in school too.” There are a couple of assignments off to the side of the desk, one with a B+ and the other with an A.
I open the drawers expecting to find more of the same, and instead stumble on a stack of charcoal sketches. The one on top is Jamie’s girlfriend, a little rough but recognizable. He did love to doodle when he was a kid—I had no idea he’d gotten this good. He must be a little shy about them since he hasn’t tacked them up.
Lifting the papers onto my lap, I start to sort through them. I’ve only gotten a few deep when my hands jerk to a halt.
I’m staring into a pair of glowering eyes in a darkly furred wolfish face with fangs bared. It sends a jolt of memory through me so strong that my heart is thumping twice as fast in an instant.
And loud enough that August can hear it. He leans into the room. “Is everything all right, Sweetness?”
“Y—yes. It’s just a picture.” But what a picture. And the next, and the next—black beasts slashing their claws across the pages, violently jagged lines, shaded puddles that make me think of blood. I swallow hard, my fingers shaking.
No, Jamie hasn’t left the past completely behind. If these drawings are anything to go by, it’s still stalking him even more determinedly than mine does me. But he’s hiding it away like he has no idea how to shake it.
How could he know how to deal with it? How could he understand what actually happened, let alone explain it to anyone else?
There’s no one in the world who has any idea what he’s going through… except me.
