The Fury of the Air (Spirit Bound #2)

Prologue

Even in the gentle fall sunlight, King Alder’s orange skin resembles an out-of-season citrus. The counselors and lords and ladies of the landed families chat while awaiting their turn at the ball.

King Alder’s hit goes wide. All the counselors firmly ignore this. As Alder straightens, pretending to test the weight of the croquet mallet, Ordained Rafe steps forward and takes a shot. The ball slips easily through the hoop.

“I’ll be heading back to the Monastery Isles soon,” Rafe says conversationally.

Counselor Fitch manages to hold down his excitement. “Oh? Whatever for?”

Rafe adjusts his black robes. “I need to speak, face-to-face, with the Mother and Father.”

Counselor Neari, the sun shining off his smooth head, discreetly kicks Alder’s ball towards the hoop as he walks by. “Has there been further word from Larkstead?”

King Alder turns back. “With all those sons? Hm, never been impressed by them, bunch of show-offs, how many Faelings do you need?”

Fitch answers, ignoring the king, “Yes. They are suggesting naming one of their sons as Alder’s heir.”

“Preposterous!” shouts Neari, taking another kick at Alder’s ball.

“Yes, of course, they are delaying. They know we’d never agree with such an outrageous offer.”

Counselor Kudrons, an attractive teal-skinned water Fae, eyes the king. He’s not that old for a Fae, yet his mind is weak. She chokes back a laugh. Surely his seed is weak too, since he’s never produced a child.

Perhaps we should take their offer, it’s not like Alder is finally going to succeed in rooting his seed no matter where he plants it, she thinks. Something must be wrong with him, his father produced children with every fertile Fae he lay with. She steps forward for her turn at a ball.

“Yes, well, some things simply cannot be written and sent on wings. I must travel there myself to speak with them.” Rafe puffs up his chest, standing on his perpetually overinflated sense of self-importance. He tosses back his long brown hair like a show pony.

Kudrons rolls her eyes. He’s such a smug prick. And so terrible in bed. Worst five minutes of my life, she remembers.

Counselor Neari approaches them and lowers his voice as the sweat drips off his shiny, pink head. “Any word on the rebels?”

“Hush,” Fitch admonishes. “We don’t need Alder to get on one of his tangents. Next thing we know, he’ll be sending out a new decree before we can catch it. But I intend to issue a proclamation and large reward for any of the leaders.”

“Ah!” Alder crows from the other side of the field. “Did you all see it? Hole in one!”