Chapter 1
T he taste of death is not foreign to me. After all, I was born to die.
Raised on movies and books filled with “the chosen one,” I got the opposite. It’s supposed to be a classic arc. A child born into a horrible family, orphaned, or something equally depressing, but then there’s a prophecy—endure hardships, save everyone.
Instead, I got a loving family, a warm home, the best Mum in the world, and a prophecy predicting darkness, despair, and finally, illness and death.
Twelve months from the womb, Ellyllon’s official witch took one look at me and that was that—fated to meet a grisly end.
“One turn of the clock and the dark touch will meet her. Eight turns and she will bring the reaping. Twenty turns and death will follow her as an illness,” she said, and then, true to form, before anyone could ask her to clarify, she croaked. Died right in front of the council. The dark touch , they called it. Nightelves aren’t known for their brilliant imaginations , that’s what my little Faerie says.
Scholars debated the prophecy’s meaning for years until they reached the (frankly obvious) conclusion that I would live to twenty and then catch some horrible disease. A few months after that—the end. No more Elysia.
I shake my head and stab my fork into the half-cooked deer, stuffing a piece into my mouth. I chew and chew. If it weren’t for this prophecy hanging around my neck like a noose, I think I would wrinkle my nose and and stick out my tongue at the taste of meat—like Mum does. Like Dae, my best friend—my only friend, really—does.
But instead, I take after Dad. I swallow it all down as my parents chatter around the breakfast table. Mum’s no good at cooking meat; she only does it for Dad’s visits. Finally, I say, “Can I go now?”
Mum frowns. Dad smiles. “Yes, yes.” His smile turns wicked, his pear-shaped nose wiggling as he digs into his robes and pulls out a paper packet of sugar-berries and honeyed persimmon leaves.
There are many drawbacks to being from two worlds—which one is home, who am I really, where do I belong—but there are also perks, like Dad bringing me sweets from Ellyllon.
He opens the packet, holding it up like an offering. It trembles slightly in his hands.
I laugh. “I’m nearly twenty.”
He winks, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Never too old for sweets.”
I take one, then change my mind, plunging my hand in and grabbing a fistful. He laughs, waving goodbye as Mum takes another sip of wine.
Dad doesn’t mind that I run off into the woods, in fact, he loves that I’m addicted to the forest. He thinks it means I take after him.
He wouldn’t be so happy if he knew what I get up to there.
A demon chases me through the forest. One with swirling, obsidian horns and long, trickster fingers. One who knows my every secret. What a terrible painter I am. How angry I get sometimes. How lonely I am. Where my parents hid the bodies.
I suppose, ’demon’ isn’t exactly fair—there’s lots to distinguish Faeries from demons. But Dae sometimes comes across like that. I used to think he was my angel. In fact, when we were nine, I made him promise to protect me, to be my guardian. That was when he was still a little forest child with chubby cheeks and tiny stumps for horns.
He’s not like that anymore.
I pick up the pace, my feet hitting the sticks and branches underfoot with a thump and a crack. Dae follows, but when he lands, he’s silent. The ancient yew tree we’ve always met at looms up ahead. Just beyond it, the grey mist that signals the Nori—the crossing between worlds—shrouds the forest.
On this side is one half of me—human, earth, England. On the other side is Faerieland, where Dae is from. And beyond that, past the next stretch of the Nori, is Ellyllon, where Dad is from. I’ve never crossed through Faerieland, I’ve never even entered the Nori, but I’ve heard plenty about what goes on beyond The Between.
I wonder what happens to the humans of Devon if they walk too far. If they reach this crossing, do they think it’s fog and turn back? Do they get eaten by the nymphs of the Nori? Or do they make it all the way to Faerieland, only to be shredded by Dae’s court?
Fingers encircle my ankle, and I fall to the ground with a smack and a bang. I wince, the tips of my fingers darting to my forehead, coming away bloody. Dae clambers on top of me, twisting me around by the hips until we’re facing each other. I lean my head back against the icy grass and let out a breath, mist particles falling from my lips to meet his.
“I win,” he says, his steel-grey eyes alight with humour.
I throw my arms above my head, and he catches my wrists, pinning them there. “It doesn’t count if I let you.”
A crease forms between his eyebrows. “I suppose that’s fair.” Rolling off me, he begins picking at the grass.
“Don’t get moody,” I say.
“Sorry.”
I sigh, slapping his hand away from the strands. He grabs my fingertips and kisses them. It’s been years of this, kisses here, tickles there. I’ve even felt him harden during our play-fights, but it never goes beyond that.
According to my father, Faeries are mischievous creatures obsessed with sex who drag unwilling girls into the woods and fuck them before devouring them. My father should meet Dae. He’s definitely not fucking me, and he doesn’t even eat meat, let alone people.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, although I already know. I’m hoping he’ll just say ’nothing’ and move on, but he’s not one to mince his words.
“You know what.”
I roll my eyes—if only to keep from admitting how scared I really am. “It’s still a week away. Besides, get over it. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of girls in Faerieland to play with.” I’m the one saying it, but that doesn’t stop the statement from twisting into my heart like a poison-tipped dagger.
He climbs on top of me again, pinning me back down. The back of my head hits the ground as he crowds me. “I only want you,” he says.
“Liar,” I hiss, and his small moment of seriousness breaks. He laughs—it’s like the sound of a tinkling brook. “Remember that time?—’’
“Remember when is the lowest form of conversation,” he says.
“I really regret showing you those mafia TV shows.”
He squeezes my side with his fingertips. “Do you think your mum will go away again so we can watch TV and have a sleepover?”
“No way. I don’t think either of my parents are going to leave until well after my birthday.”
He jumps up. “Run away with me.”
I stay lying down. “Stop it.”
“Come to Faerieland. Fuck all this, I’ll keep you safe.” He’s excited now, which isn’t good. It’s hard to convince Dae he’s wrong when he gets worked up.
“Faerieland is dangerous.” And doesn’t have some kind of magical protection against prophecies.
He scoffs. “Compared to what?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I say. He’s wasting the last days we do have, I doubt I’ll be able to claw my way into the forest when the sickness takes me. Maybe he’ll be able to sneak into my room, but it’s a big maybe. I try to stand but he pushes me back down.
“You used to say you would come. You used to beg me to take you.”
“I grew up.”
“Fine, not Faerieland. Just…” Dae pauses. “Just stay.” He jumps up onto his knees, a little boy at Christmas, one who’s been naughty all year but has decided to spend the morning pretending he’s getting more than coal.
“Stay where?” I ask with a small smile. I can’t help it, he’s infectious. “Here?”
“Yes, look.” Dae presses his hand into the ground, and life bursts from the earth. I watch as the moss rises and turns into a bed, one large enough for two. “We’ll stay right here, you and me. I’ll bring you berries and roots for dinner, and we’ll use leaves for plates.”
“And what about when my dad comes looking?” I say, playing pretend with him.
“When someone,” he gives me a long look. He doesn’t like it when I mention Dad. I guess the ancient war that rages between them has poisoned him towards my father as much as it’s poisoned Dad towards him, “tries to find us, I’ll hide us in trees and burrows and beneath knolls. And if they do find us, I’ll fight them.”
“And when I drop dead without getting to say goodbye to my parents?”
“Just trust me, Elly.” He jumps on top of me and pins me down. “Trust that I can look after you. Trust that I can protect you.”
I laugh, because what else is there to do?
He brings his stormy eyes to mine. “Is that a no?” he asks before softly tracing my jaw with two fingers.
A shiver runs down my spine. “To sleeping on the forest floor?” I try to smirk, but the words come out breathless and pathetic. I’m sure my face looks much the same.
“I don’t like being told no.” His voice is dark and firm. I stay silent, and he crowds me, his lips impossibly close. I press my head back into the soil, trying to escape his intense gaze. “Promise me your heart, Elly, and I’ll promise to protect you forever.”
“I told you,” I gnash my teeth together, trying to lighten the mood, trying to make him laugh, to make him stop looking at me like he’s going to chew me up and spit me out. I suppose that’s what I get for falling in love with a Faerie. “To pack it in.
“They’re just silly words, Elly.” He presses his fingers to my heart, and a jolt of electricity holds me in place. The trees curve over us like a cage. I should push him away. Faeries play tricky games. But he’s irresistible. “Whisper them to me. Promise me your heart is mine.”
He can’t protect me. No one can. But I say the words anyway. I tell him the same thing I’ve told him a million times, because this is the only place I can pretend, and I need the game to stop myself from throwing up. “It’s yours, Dae. It’s always been yours.”
He smirks, danger dancing in his eyes. Apparently, this game, whatever it is, is one he’s winning.
He runs his long fingers down my hips, my waist, my thighs. All the air gets sucked out of the forest and I grow dizzy, as I always do when he’s near.