Fortress of Blood and Power: A Gothic Romantasy Inspired by Mansfield Park (Fae of Brytwilde)

CHAPTER ONE

Asingle drop of scarlet blood welled against my pale skin, threatening to stain the pristine fabric. With a hiss, I withdrew my finger before I could ruin my dress and set my needle aside. Besides, there was no more time to fuss over the gown, and it was finished. Even if I wished I could spend the rest of the night adding delicate details like lace or tiny bits of embroidery—anything that could keep me confined to the relative safety of my room and away from the oppressive atmosphere of tonight’s town ball.

Kate was already there, her face an expressionless mask as she offered me a handkerchief. Though my maid had learned to school herself, I could sense the judgment emanating from her, as heavy as the dark clouds painting the evening sky outside my bedroom window. I was used to her coldness, but tonight, my nerves were frayed, and it grated on me.

Cringing, I pressed the kerchief to my finger, waiting for the bleeding to stop, and succumbed to letting Kate begin preparing me.

“Your brother has enough for you to pay a seamstress to make your gowns,” Kate muttered at last, tugging harder than necessary on the laces of my stays.

In my heart, I knew I should rebuke her. There was nothing unladylike about making one’s own dresses, and it wasn’t a servant’s place to give her opinion on my brother’s wealth or my hobbies. But my tongue remained frozen, stuck to the roof of my mouth as she tugged me into my petticoats and finally my dress.

As I studied my reflection in the mirror, taking in the soft lavender fabric I’d spent so many hours carefully stitching together, pride warmed my heart. It offered the barest relief from Kate’s icy looks and the unwelcome howling of the early December winds outside.

When I settled into the chair before my vanity so Kate could start on my hair, she paused, her permanent scowl deepening. Her eyes flicked disdainfully toward the long locks cascading down my shoulders, gleaming bright silver in the flickering candlelight. “Perhaps you should cover it for once.”

Instead of answering, I looked down, silently fidgeting with the folds of my skirt until Kate sighed and got to work, barely trying to repress her grimace as her fingers brushed through my hair. As if touching it would harm her in some way.

Shame and hopelessness smothered my earlier pride. My brother Charles and his friends had been gossiping about me more than ever. I suspected it had much to do with the fact that Charles was hoping to make a match with Louisa Eggerton, a woman whose beauty was fine, no doubt, but whose father’s fortune and influence in our town had a far greater pull on every eligible young man’s heart. The more he distanced himself and made cutting remarks about me, the more the townspeople warmed toward him.

While the wind continued to howl and the clouds smothered the dying sun, threatening either icy rain or snow, I concentrated on ignoring Kate and her disapproving looks and erecting an imaginary world to escape into. One where Charles remained my affectionate younger brother, where my stepfather was still alive, and where I could dream of a peaceful existence. A gentleman falling in love with me and taking me to a comfortable house, somewhere in the countryside away from town gossip and superstition, somewhere I could stitch dresses to my heart’s content and know peace and love and security. Somewhere I was wanted, not tolerated or scorned.

The illusion shattered as Kate finished, and not a moment too soon. Persistent knocking sounded on my door, jolting me from my chair. While Kate crossed my bedroom to open the door, I shoved my feet into my slippers and seized my jacket from where I’d laid it across my bed.

“The carriage is ready,” Charles said impatiently from where he hovered in the doorway. His eyes were the same rich brown as mine, but when they locked on me, there was nothing but hostility in them. “Don’t make us late.”

My heart ached, remembering all the times we used to laugh together. Back then, he’d let me mend tears in his clothes and had appreciated my skill the same way Father had. He’d enjoyed games of chess with me and evenings reading together by the fire.

Now, the only remaining member of my family was a stranger. He cared only for the approval of the town, for gaining their favor now that he ran Father’s house, and for marrying well.

“I’m ready,” I said softly, stepping toward the door.

My half-brother’s eyes landed on my hands, taking in the callouses adorning them. “Put on some gloves.”

I seized a pair from my vanity. As I trailed him along the hall, down the steps, and toward our front entryway, I dared to ask the question that had pestered me all evening and every other event Charles had forced me to attend with him. “Why not spare yourself embarrassment and permit me to stay home? It’s not as if anyone will want to dance with me. I can sit alone at home just as well as at the ball.”

When we approached the door, I buttoned my jacket and braced for the night’s chill wind. As soon as we stepped outside, its fingers raked along my cheeks and toyed with my hair, pulling unruly strands free to frame my face.

Silence hovered between my half-brother and me as the coachman handed me in and Charles followed after. But as soon as the door shut, I turned to him expectantly.

A muscle ticked in Charles’s jaw, and for a moment, I imagined I saw a shadow of regret in his eyes. But it was gone too fast. Perhaps my memories with him were a dream, some strange farce, and this was the true Charles. Not the laughing, teasing one I remembered, who’d looked up to me fondly. “As your guardian and provider,” he said stiffly, staring out the window rather than meeting my gaze, “it is my responsibility to assure you want for nothing.”

“And I don’t,” I said. Though my allowance was pitiful, Charles had never withheld anything from me. He’d let me keep my old room, clothes, and maid. I had everything I could ever need or dream of—except what I desperately longed for most. Love. Peace. Family. “A ball is not a need, Charlie.”

At the sound of his name, Charles cast me a sidelong glance. The carriage rolled forward, horse hooves clopping along dirt and wheels creaking over holes and pebbles as we wound toward the town hall. “You’re out in society, and a proper lady. Not a recluse. Perhaps if you made an effort to cover your hair and try to be normal—”

“I am as human as you,” I interrupted, my voice trembling around the lump in my throat. My vision swam, and I glanced away, staring out the window at the passing houses, the scattered leaves tearing across the road, the looming clouds blotting out the last of the evening light. “And Father loved my hair. He said it was beautiful and unique and nothing to be ashamed of. Certainly nothing to fear.”

“It’s a sign of fae blood,” Charles snapped. “And you can’t tell the citizens of Altidvale not to be afraid of the fae, not when we’ve all heard the stories and the warnings. You’ve lived through the winter solstices with the rest of us. You’ve seen them—with all manner of strange colors of skin and hair and eyes—dancing and cavorting. The violence. The bloodshed. The horrors.”

I ground my teeth. And that’s why you, of all people, should know I’m not like them. But I let the argument die. Charles’s distance was hard enough to bear. I wasn’t sure I could withstand a full-fledged fight if I dug in my heels and tried to counter all his wild theories. According to him, my fae blood meant that eventually, I would crumple to their allure. Maybe I’d leave the safety of our home one winter solstice night—the only night the creatures of Silverfrost, the nearest fae kingdom—were allowed to freely roam our town. Maybe I’d conjure magic, wild and unpredictable and violent.

In his mind, fae were untamable, and that meant I was destined to follow in their ways no matter what I thought or how human I behaved now.

All of Charles’s suspicions had begun a year ago, once Father had confessed on his deathbed that he’d married my mother after I was born, after my true father, a man whose identity my mother had kept a secret, had died. It had turned my world upside down, realizing the man I’d called Father wasn’t related to me at all, and that Charles was only my half-brother. The town gossip had started not long afterward, everyone talking about how they’d known my silver hair wasn’t natural. How my late mother must have had a romantic dalliance with a fae. How I was not to be trusted.

Perhaps I’d been na?ve to trust that Charles would come to my defense, to assume he’d care for me more than his own reputation.

Instead, he’d made me an outcast in my own home.

As we neared the town hall and the carriage slowed, Charles sighed. “Try to behave yourself,” he said, as if I’d ever caused a scandal. “Maybe someone will want you for your dowry at last and take you off my hands before I marry. Father should have known better than to let someone unnatural like you under our roof.”

The young men were whispering about me again—just as I’d expected. Sitting in the corner with the matrons and other ineligible women, I plastered a demure smile on my face and pretended I wasn’t listening.

It was a game I’d played often over the past year. Smile. Sit up straight. Act as if I couldn’t hear the words, as if nothing could upset me, and try to lose myself in a daydream of the happy past or some unattainable future.

In my mind, my heart was as impenetrable as stone, as cold as ice. The scathing words, the suspicious looks, and the frequent rejection didn’t cut me.

Of course, that was all a lie.

“Her hair has turned even greyer—or perhaps it’s silver,” Frederick Rains muttered. “Did you see how it glistened when she came in? Like moonlight. Unnatural.”

“Perhaps this winter solstice will be when her magic manifests,” Jacob Wick insisted, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe Charles hasn’t cast her out.”

My stomach tightened. For most of my twenty-one years, I’d loved my unusual features because Father had, and because he’d told me that, before Mother had passed of a fever when I was too young to remember her well, she had loved them too. Back then, the townspeople had been led to believe I was Father’s child by blood, not marriage, and though they’d sometimes muttered or looked at me strangely, they’d been pleasant enough. But nowadays, with my true heritage constant speculation, I was forever shunned and whispered about.

And now I had the growing fear that Charles—who’d promised Father before he died that he’d care for me—would decide his loyalty to his dead father wasn’t as strong as his desire to be rid of me and the taint I spread on his precious reputation.

“Sweet Miss Florentia Cantwell,” came a wheedling tone as the young men ended their talk in favor of seeking out partners for the next dance. “Too shy to mingle with the other young ladies?”

I stiffened and turned, my muscles already tensing with my urge to flee. Mrs. Eggerton studied me with false sympathy.

“I think we are well enough acquainted that you can call me Ren,” I insisted. Florentia was too formal, too extravagant, and I’d always disliked it.

Mrs. Eggerton tsked. “Would you disregard the name your own mother bestowed on you?” Her eyes roved over me. “My dear, I think you should try to put yourself out there. How do you expect to catch the eye of one of these handsome gentlemen if you’re always hiding in the corner? False modesty doesn’t become a young lady, especially someone of your age who should be thinking of finding a suitable match.”

Heat flared in my veins, but Mrs. Eggerton wasn’t finished. “You know that it hasn’t been easy on your devoted brother to care for you, and I have reason to expect he’ll be married soon. I’m sure his generosity—and my daughter’s—will know no bounds, but is that something you want to take advantage of, lingering in their home after the wedding?”

My fists scrunched in the fabric of my dress, but I swallowed back my growing hurt. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure I fully concealed it. Her daughter Louisa wasn’t the worst of the young ladies who scorned me, but she hadn’t gone out of her way to befriend me either. We exchanged passing pleasantries, especially now that she’d captured Charles’s attention, but it all seemed superficial.

And I’d already heard more than one of Charles’s berating remarks about how I would be even less welcome once he was a married man. He’d reminded me of this fact at breakfast this morning.

“Tonight, I’ll see Miss Eggerton again, and I expect to make my intentions toward her known. If I end the evening an attached man that much closer to marriage...well, it is that much closer to the day this house will have a woman running it. My new bride won’t want to share this space with you. At twenty-one, you should be trying to be useful and strike a match yourself, not continue to live off my charity.”

My throat burned. “If you want me to marry, perhaps you should stop encouraging the rumors about me.”

Charles leaned forward, his dark eyes alight with a livid glow. “But saying you have fae blood is the truth, is it not? Look at your grey hair, like a crone before your time. You are not one of us.” Sneering in disgust, he turned away, as if I weren’t worth wasting another moment on.

Inhaling deeply, I forced my pain and fear about the future down. I wasn’t an old maid, but the constant reminders from everyone around me about how generous my brother was in continuing to care for me were growing repetitive and worrisome. I clung to the hope that Charles would be too afraid to break his word to our deceased father to turn me out. But what if that lingering loyalty eventually faded?

Standing without bothering to do more than dip my head in the barest of curtseys toward Mrs. Eggerton, I shifted past everyone on the sidelines. They had no trouble enjoying themselves, all conversing politely, laughing easily. They hadn’t a care in the world—at least not here, at a ball. This was where the rest of society set aside their grief and worry.

It was the opposite for me, a constant string of rejection and loneliness. At every ball, if I dared to gather my courage enough to even attempt to socialize, I was faced with the same treatment. Gentlemen whose gazes wouldn’t linger, who muttered excuses before I could converse with them even though we’d grown up together. Or those who dared to speak or even dance with me, but never deigned to treat me as more than an acquaintance.

Superstition ran too deeply in the veins of these people, despite the fact that I’d never once shown a propensity toward anything fae. My ears were curved and delicate and utterly human. Only the flash of gold in my brown eyes and the silver stream of my hair marked me as unusual, but those meant nothing when I didn’t have magic. My mother had been human. If there was fae blood in my heritage, it was so diluted as to be nearly nonexistent. I wasn’t like the half-fae we occasionally saw wander into town or dance in the streets on winter solstices, the ones who possessed pointed ears and wielded magic proudly.

The song drifted to an end and the dancing couples parted, many spinning away from the dance floor in favor of finding food and drink. My eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for one of the men who’d humor me with a conversation. I’d smile and laugh and pretend so Mrs. Eggerton and Charles would have no grounds to accuse me of not trying.

I swallowed back the regret threatening to clog my throat. Once, I’d dreamt of marrying for love. Now I knew that was a fool’s dream. The best I could hope for was a marriage of comfort, one that would offer me a place in this world where perhaps I’d be respected as the lady of a household, a wife, and not a strange outcast girl with no future.

A flash of blond so pale it appeared white burned in my vision, and my gaze sharpened. Across the dance floor stood a stranger, clothed all in black leathers vastly different from the coats and trousers the town gentlemen wore. His short hair was the shock of white-blond I’d noticed, a bright gleam against the darkness of his attire and his gold-toned skin. His piercing eyes met mine, burrowing into my soul.

The heat of the room vanished, and my blood turned to ice. Fae.

I knew before my eyes raked over his pointed ears. He was too handsome, his aura too...other. Even from across the room, I felt an unnatural pull toward him, the sort I’d been warned about all my life. Fae were beautiful and charming and magical on the outside so they could attract their unsuspecting victims, but their hearts were ruthless and bloodthirsty.

It wasn’t unusual for fae or half-fae to wander across the border of their world, called Brytwilde, and into ours. Fae from the winter kingdom of Silverfrost climbed down from the mountains to explore the mortal towns that lived in their shadows more often than we humans liked to contemplate. What startled me most was that this fae man hadn’t glamoured himself to appear human, and that no one else seemed to find his presence unusual.

Rarely did the fae come for peaceful reasons. Sometimes they came to strike dangerous bargains, to glamour mortals into obeying their every whim, or to steal someone outright. My town of Altidvale was relatively safe due to old deals struck between its founders and the fae, ones that kept the fae from meddling with us as long as we allowed them certain liberties. One was that anyone who ventured past our borders too close to the mountains was as good as theirs, and we humans promised not to search for our lost loved ones. Another was that anyone who left their homes on the night of the winter solstice also belonged to the fae, who were allowed to wander our streets freely then.

And occasionally, our mayor agreed to let a fae servant or messenger enter our town and share news from Silverfrost and offer to take the boldest and most foolhardy among us to their royalty to bargain for their greatest wishes.

But if a fae stranger had been invited to our town ball, the gossip would have spread like wildfire.

As far as I knew, this man was an intruder. A dangerous one.

The music resumed and couples started to dance. The stranger circled the ballroom, making his way toward me on sure, lengthy strides. No one else gave him more than a passing glance as he moved along the edges of the dance, his eyes never leaving mine. Perhaps he hadn’t glamoured his appearance, but had instead glamoured every guest in the ballroom to leave him alone—and had glamoured me to remain still. For, as much as my terrified mind screamed at me to run, I couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe.

As he drew nearer, candlelight flashed in his eyes, revealing them to be an unnatural shade of gold—and sparkling with a predatory gleam. Ice skittered down my back, but I was still rooted in place.

He paused a mere yard away, and rather than offer an elegant bow, he smirked and dipped his head in greeting. “Miss Florentia Cantwell?”

I frowned. “I’m afraid we have not been introduced.” My eyes scanned the ballroom for a familiar face, anyone who might know this man and give us a proper introduction. It seemed foolish to cling to etiquette in this moment, yet I was desperate for any excuse to get away, to find someone else so I wasn’t alone with this fae man.

“Your mortal customs are charming, but unnecessary.” The stranger held out a hand, and I noticed callouses and faded scars tracing his palm and fingers. “Dance with me.”

“Who are you?” I asked, my composure slipping. I wondered if he could read the fear on my face, if he could already scent it on me. It was rumored the fae had far superior senses, everything from stronger smell to better hearing.

He didn’t pull his hand back. Dark amusement traced his full lips. “Garrick Darkgrove. And now that you know my name, and I’ve already learned yours thanks to your numerous town gossips, we have been introduced. Come dance, and I’ll answer your questions.”

One more time, I glanced about the ballroom, but no one seemed to sense anything out of the ordinary. There was no fear on anyone’s faces, no suspicion. “Do they even see you?”

Mr. Darkgrove listed his head. “They see what they expect to see. One of the young men you grew up with, being polite and offering you a dance. Later, they won’t remember who you danced with, but it won’t be of any importance to them.”

The comment burned. Had he already noticed how little anyone in this town cared for me? Perhaps it was the bite of rejection that granted me the courage to set my hand in his and dare to dance with the only man here who seemed to find me interesting.

A lump lodged in my throat as a new song began and Mr. Darkgrove steered me toward the dance floor. I cast another furtive glance around, but no one noticed us. The music swelled, and the fae released my hand to stand across from me.

I met his eyes despite my fear, determined to exercise the propriety that had been instilled in me since I was a girl. The fae danced to our human music like he’d spent his life in the mortal world, his every step exuding as much grace as any gentleman present. Perhaps that was due to the predatory litheness all fae possessed, an elegance that was as entrancing as their otherworldly beauty.

“Mr. Darkgrove,” I said, swallowing, hoping my voice didn’t tremble. I pretended instead that he was like any of the other men present tonight, and that it was my responsibility as a lady of good upbringing to make pleasant conversation. “You said you would answer my questions. What brings you to Altidvale?”

The man huffed a laugh, his smile surprisingly genuine. A flash of white teeth proved that he did not, thankfully, possess any fangs or wickedly curved canines like some of the fae I’d seen on solstice nights. “Call me Garrick, please. And I wandered near your town on business.”

I frowned. “What sort of business?”

“I’m a hunter. Though tonight, I confess, I was drawn to your town ball in the hope of some warmth and entertainment. The mountains’ solitude can grow lonely.”

I stepped away, circling the room as part of the dance, but continuously casting sideways looks Garrick’s way, trying to see how the other dancers responded to him. Garrick grinned and dipped his head, all pleasantness, and ladies and gentlemen merely smiled in return.

As I wound my way back toward Garrick, I repressed a shudder. Though all children in Altidvale were taught that fae couldn’t lie, we were warned that they could twist their words and bend the truth. I couldn’t help but suspect that Garrick was doing that now, for would a fae truly sneak into a human ball only for entertainment and companionship? Their revels were far rowdier than our mortal parties.

And why was I the only one who could see what he truly was?

Maybe Garrick wanted me to see he was fae, and he hadn’t glamoured me. Though I wasn’t sure why that would be the case. Why had he chosen to speak with me?

Charles was right, I thought wildly. Impossibly, I have fae blood after all, blood that lets me see through glamour, and now they’ve come to claim me.

I tried to shove my fear down as Garrick and I twirled around one another and then apart. When we stepped together again, his eyes flicked to my hair. “Have you always seen through glamour?” he asked.

“What?” I stumbled and righted myself, a flush creeping across my cheeks. But no one else had seen my embarrassing misstep. I was as invisible as ever, and never had I been more grateful for that.

“You knew immediately what I was.”

I inhaled sharply, the dance all but forgotten. I was vaguely aware of music twining through the air, subtle and lovely, but turning discordant as it mixed with the thundering beat of my pulse in my ears. “I—I don’t know what games you’re playing at, sir,” I stammered. “But you aren’t supposed to enter our town without permission.”

Garrick leaned in, dropping his voice lower. “Why would I need permission for doing something no one will ever know about? I’m only dancing. I don’t plan on harming anyone.”

I wanted to flee to the other side of the ballroom, but, as if reading my thoughts, Garrick grasped my wrist. His hold was gentle, yet it made me feel trapped, and my heart stuttered. “There are rules we honor, and that you must honor as well.”

Garrick’s eyes darted to my hair again. “Why are you different from them, Florentia?”

I grimaced. Father had called me Ren. My full name sounded pretentious and wrong.

“You have eyes that pierce through glamour and hair of starlight. Is that why you sit all alone while they gossip about you?”

Ducking my head and refusing to meet his gaze, I resumed the steps of the dance, managing to tug out of his hold on me. I had the impression that now he’d found me, he wouldn’t let me go. That if I walked away, I’d only be more interesting, like a fleeing mouse capturing a cat’s fascination. Perhaps if I danced quietly, I’d seem dull, and Garrick would leave me alone. I was overcome with the fear that my earlier courage might prove fatal, and I inwardly cursed myself as a fool for giving into it and allowing this stranger to lead me to the dance floor.

Whether he’d come for entertainment or to fool humans into terrible bargains, I no longer cared. I wanted to leave this floor, leave this ball, and return home. Away from the stares, the noise, the gossip. Away from the danger and cruelty of humans and fae. Away from all my forced smiles.

I was awfully, bone-deeply weary of pretending.

But I’d have to do it a little longer. Lifting a hand to feign fanning myself when inwardly I was clenching my teeth to keep my teeth from chattering with cold, I sighed in relief as the song ended.

“Thank you for the dance,” I murmured, staring at my feet as I dipped my head to Garrick, “but I feel faint and need to sit down.”

It was a reasonable excuse, one I hoped he’d accept without following me. Plenty of young ladies grew overheated during the exertion of dancing for hours, especially when they forgot to take a rest and drink. The crush of bodies was warm enough—or it had been, before this strange chill had started overcoming me.

I walked on wobbly legs toward the nearest table, eager for a glass of water, anything to distract myself. My slippers skidded along the polished floor. The sound of footsteps trailing me made me turn, skirt swishing about my ankles.

Garrick.

“Please, sir,” I said, but as soon as I unclenched my teeth, they began to chatter.

Garrick’s eyes widened. “Are you unwell?”

Surprise momentarily eased my fear. He sounded concerned, as if he were a compassionate fae. Not heartless. “I—I don’t...”

He stepped forward, cutting me off as he brushed his fingers along my forehead. They were calloused but gentle. Heart in my throat, I was too shocked at his forwardness to step away. “I have heard of fevers afflicting mortals, but not deadly cold.” Something flashed in his eyes, and I didn’t like it. It seemed too calculating. “Do you need to sit down?”

I shook my head, wanting him to leave but not quite able to brave saying the words aloud. Instead, I decided that if etiquette didn’t matter to a fae, I wouldn’t let it matter to me, and I turned my back on him to approach the table. As soon as my fingers closed around a glass of water, cold flared through my body. The water frosted over, black as the darkest night.

But the ice didn’t stop. It coated my arm, tracing lacy patterns up my bare skin. It crackled beneath my feet.

And now, everyone was watching me.