Queen of Sorrows (The Immortal Fae King #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Deirdre

My mother told me one day I would have the power to save the world… but any belief she had in me vanished the moment she abandoned me to a bunch of strangers.

She left me at the temple doorsteps at the age of five, handing me over to a group of aged priests and priestesses to train me to be the perfect bride for when the time came for me to marry the Deathless One.

I still remember how her hands trembled as she hugged me one last time, leaving me to a fate I couldn’t yet understand.

Sixteen years later, and no immortal fae king had ever come to claim me, and all those years spent away from my family were pointless.

Sinking just below the river’s surface, I glanced at the bright afternoon sun twinkling through the scattered trees, wondering if the peace of this place would ever settle the wave of sadness constantly battering my heart.

Today was worse than yesterday.

Because today was my birthday.

Dragonflies skimmed across the water’s surface, dancing between the cattails, oblivious to my dour mood.

Today was a day I should celebrate with my family and instead, no one but my grandfather and Crispin even knew where I was… or that I was alive.

Floating, I closed my eyes, letting the gentle waves of the lazy river massage the worry out of my thoughts. It wasn’t just the fear beating against my heart, but longing for a life I would never see again.

When my grandfather snuck me out of the temple that stormy night, I had a choice: stay and await my fate as the bride of an evil fae king or be free with the best friend I had fallen for.

This secluded valley had been my grandfather’s doing. A home hidden from the rest of the world with enough food and fresh water that Crispin and I would never have to leave.

Grandfather never believed in the prophecy surrounding my birth—hogwash is what he called it—and Crispin was inclined to think the same. But part of me wondered if I really was destined for more, and if running away had been selfish of me.

No one else seemed to think so, though. If they did, surely they’d have tried to track me down.

Yet, Crispin and I had been in this valley for almost a year, and no one had come looking. Not my parents or the siblings I barely saw while living at the temple. Not even the priests who swore I was humanity’s solution to restoring the balance of power between humans and fae.

Didn’t anyone wonder what happened to me?

Another reminder that being a “child of prophecy” means nothing when that prophecy turns out to be a curse instead.

She’s ugly; that’s why he hasn’t come.

It’s that horrible star birthmark on her face–she’s probably a witch.

She’s doomed us all!

The crops died this season; it’s her fault.

Childhood taunts shouldn’t bother me anymore, and yet anytime I believed I deserved this freedom, those vicious thoughts dragged me back under the never-ending cyclone of shame, told me I deserved even less than the horrible fate that had been prophesied over me.

If I hadn’t been good enough for an evil fae king, how could I be good enough for someone as amazing as Crispin? One day, he’d give up on me. Just like everyone else.

I wanted to at least enjoy today for myself, but I had this strange fluttering deep within my soul, warning me to be anything but relaxed.

Crispin's promises from breakfast flickered through my thoughts. My dear husband had hidden my birthday presents in all our favorite places in the valley. A treasure hunt crafted just for me.

I moved closer to the riverbank until my feet touched the rocky bottom.

Boots, our donkey and my most trusted companion, moved from nibbling a fern to grabbing my dress.

“You put that down right now, mister,” I said, wading out of the water. “I’m not about to go walking naked through the woods.”

Of course, Boots ignored my request and swished his head to the side, my dress in his mouth.

“Give it here.” Scratching behind his ear, I distracted him long enough to yank my outfit away from him.

He brayed, and I leaned over to smooch his big head. Out of all the gifts my grandfather had bestowed on me, Boots was my biggest treasure.

After slipping into the dress, I tied the laces in the front, and tugged on my old worn boots. “I wonder why Crispin didn’t meet us at the river?”

My thoughts trailed as I remembered he was supposed to meet me here after he hid all my birthday presents.

What was taking him so long?

Even though we had never seen another human, fae, or even a dwarf in these parts, Crispin didn’t like me venturing out alone. Our first night in the cottage here, he got down on one knee and vowed to be mine forever and to never leave my side, literally.

I patted my donkey’s side, ushering him away from the river. “Let’s go back home.”

A shrill cry cracked through the quiet afternoon.

Everything in me went rigid.

Another cry until all my guinea hens were raising an alarm.

Oh, no.

Boots nudged me with his head, hee-hawing.

“It's okay,” I said, giving his neck and side a quick pat. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The hens screamed louder than I’d ever heard them, forcing me to run. It could be a beast or a bear coming out of hibernation. Spring had just arrived, and we were right near the mountain, so it wasn't uncommon.

Or maybe it was some other monster.

It could be a darkthing.

I shuddered. Those shadow monsters continued to haunt our lands even though the magi had closed the Rift to the Shadow Realm over a hundred years ago.

Clearly some of them had been left trapped in, instead of locked out.

Closing the Rift to the Never should have stopped the encroaching darkness, yet those creatures still hadn’t disappeared.

I shouldn’t let my mind go there. There could be many logical explanations for my guinea hens being in such an upheaval.

Branches scraped against my skin, and I pushed out my hands to both sides, calling my magic forth and forcing all the nearby foliage to bend away from me, giving me a straight path back to the cottage.

For once, I was grateful to have my boots on, helping me move quicker. I never wore them, preferring skin to grass, but Crispin insisted I wear them when going to the river because of all the slippery mossy stones.

Faster I ran, Boots keeping pace.

The woods thinned out as I reached the valley with our little cottage puffing a plume of smoke through the stone chimney.

A few of the hens ran near the woods and two more by the rhododendron in front of our cottage.

Nothing else seemed out of place. No trampled flowers by the garden. No scary animal crawling around spooking the alpacas or our one llama.

But where was the woodpecker that tortured us with its pecking every day at noon or the group of blue jays that loved the old oak by the beehive?

Gone were the usual, familiar sounds that made this place home.

Holding out my hand, I ordered the nearby maple to release one of her older branches. The small limb cracked and fell. I picked it up, holding it just in case I needed to whack another wild boar in the head.

I'd spent many nights training with Crispin, honing my magic until a simple thought could turn a twig into a sharpened dagger. Grueling and tedious, but necessary.

Boots trampled forward, making his way toward the pen.

A tingle started at the base of my neck, my senses on high alert.

“Crispin?” I called, panicking that my husband wasn’t out corralling the hens and telling them to be quiet.

The front door was open. Something we never did, otherwise Boots would come inside and make a mess of the kitchen.

“Crispin?” I yelled again, running into our home.

The rest of our breakfast still covered the table: half-eaten bread and jam and butter melted from the afternoon heat. After stepping around the table, I opened the door to our yard in the back where we kept all the firewood.

“Deirdre.”

I glanced to my left. Crispin sat on the ground, leaning against the cottage, holding his stomach, an angry glare on his face. Blood seeped out around his hand, staining his shirt.

“You’re bleeding!” This wasn’t a slight cut, either.

Stumbling to his side, I reached out to apply pressure to the wound. “What happened? Why didn’t you yell for me?”

“No time to panic.” Crispin pulled himself up, wincing as he grabbed the sword by his side. His legs shook with each movement. “It's time for us to leave.”

I shook my head. “What? No. Why?”

“The Deathless One is here.” Crispin groaned as he stood to full height, towering over me and shading me from the sun.

“Are you sure it’s him? It could be one of the scepter knights from the temple. We knew King Henry might send knights after us. Going into hiding could have been considered treason. We may not answer to the King of the Fae, but our own king would certainly not be happy that I ran away.”

“I don’t think a scepter knight would ask where his human bride is. Remember the plan.”

How could I forget? Crispin forced us to practice every full moon to make sure that if we needed to escape, we would both be ready. But that was if.

If…

I shook my head again. No.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Crispin glanced toward the shadows near the side of the mountain, no more than a hundred feet from our location. There stood the King of the Fae, a blade of shadows in his right hand, the top drenched in blood. Crispin’s blood.

The day I had convinced myself would never come had arrived.

The Deathless One was here.

Crispin stepped forward, both of us side by side. He looked at me, a silent understanding passing between us.

“We can do this,” I said, and he nodded, his blue gaze filling me with strength.

Kane sauntered closer, wearing nothing but boots and black pants, a thin silver rope belt the only dash of color on him.

Shadows curled around his body, ending in a dark spikey crown on his head.

Even from this distance, the heat of his magic pulled the air taut between us.

A pulsating intensity that made my power want to rebel back.