This Is Not True Love’s Kiss (Brothers of Fairwitch Isle #4)

Prologue

Castle

Today was the day Aoife the Warrior Queen would either be turned to stone or beheaded.

Castle watched the faerie queen as she paced in its dungeons.

She looked at the vial pinched between her fingers, given to her by the godwitch of stone as a thank you.

Aoife had saved the godwitch’s son from being killed during the Fair Folk uprising.

The godwitch of stone gave this to the warrior queen as a way to save herself from her impending death.

A curse Aoife could place upon herself that would turn her to stone, keep Fairwitch from killing her.

Castle knew she was debating whether she wanted to take this vial and possibly save herself or die the hero queen.

Her thick dark hair hung down her back as she paced in her cell.

She no longer wore her normal garb of leather trousers and a sleeveless tunic, but instead a periwinkle dress of gauzy layers that flowed around a curvy waist, her russet skin cleaned, a crown of flowers on her head, nestled behind her pointed ears.

A mockery, Castle knew. She’d never worn anything so fine, but Fairwitch wanted to make sure their most prized prisoner was well dressed for their execution.

Aoife murmured to herself, and Castle wished it knew what she was thinking as she prowled the small space, too small for such a big personality. Straw crunched under her bare feet, hardened and rough from years of never wearing shoes.

It didn’t like this part of itself, the dark, dank dungeon. It was so confined and dreary down here, certainly not a place for a light as bright as the warrior queen.

Castle had witnessed a lot since Fairwitch brought it to life many, many years ago. It had seen Fairwitch rule with kindness, with anger, with wisdom. It had seen Fairwitch create the Fair Folk, enslave them, and watched them rise up against Fairwitch, led by Aoife.

Fairwitch didn’t think much of Castle. It was just a product of their immense power; it was another tool Fairwitch used, a home, not much else.

What Fairwitch didn’t understand about Castle was that though it was their creation, much like the Fair Folk, it had developed its own wants, needs, opinions.

Castle never approved of Fairwitch’s enslavement of the Fair Folk, and when the day came that Fairwitch decided they and the other godwitches would leave for the Otherworld, Castle knew it would never let someone like Fairwitch rule over it again.

Castle would choose its own rulers from here on out, and it would choose those who would rule with benevolence and grace, someone exactly like Aoife the Warrior Queen.

It didn’t dare make decisions under Fairwitch’s nose, afraid Fairwitch would destroy it before they left for the Otherworld.

But in this moment, Aoife needed its guidance.

It could show Aoife the Warrior Queen her future if she so chose it. It was risky, but Fairwitch was away, preparing for Aoife’s public execution, a punishment for daring to defy Fairwitch and the other godwitches.

Castle had to do this if it wanted to save Aoife, to bring her back as its ruler one day, to save all the Fair Folk, who were not only going to lose their queen but also be cursed by Fairwitch because of her actions.

It was a cruel curse, one that would make them invisible to the entire world, one that would make them fade into obscurity until they eventually all died out.

If anyone could save the Fair Folk from this horrible fate, it would be Aoife. If she didn’t die today.

Decision made, Castle used its magic, the magic granted to it by Fairwitch, to make a golden crown appear over Aoife’s head.

The warrior queen stopped suddenly, staring upward at the crown hovering over her head. “What is this?” she asked, gaze swiveling around the dark dungeon. “A trick, Fairwitch? Really?”

Castle’s stone floors rumbled under her feet, and it sent a gentle wave of emotion around her: peace, love, sympathy.

“This isn’t Fairwitch,” she murmured. “Castle?”

Aoife knew Castle well. She’d been created by Fairwitch in its very halls, had grown up a slave, scrubbing its floors and washing its windows. She knew its magic, and she knew Castle was a friend.

“What is this?” She pointed upward. “I’m not a true queen, Castle. And I don’t know if I want to be turned to stone just for the possibility that one day someone might wake me up. What would I even wake up to? Death might be kinder,” she said.

No. The crown glowed brighter over her head.

You, Castle rumbled with all the force it could muster. Castle had no voice, and it wasn’t easy to convey its thoughts, but this was important. If there was ever a time to make someone understand, now was it.

She pointed to herself. “You want me to be your queen?”

Yes, Castle said, the thought appearing in her mind.

Aoife whirled around, her thick curtain of dark hair whipping behind her. “And what if I don’t awaken?” she asked. “What if I turn to stone and no one ever discovers how to break my curse? What if I’m trapped forever?”

Castle made the crown grow even brighter, so bright Aoife shielded her eyes from the light as the crown lowered until it sat on her head, a real crown instead of the mockery of flowers Fairwitch had placed there.

“You’ll save me one day so I can be your queen?

” she asked, her words hesitant like she didn’t believe it.

Yes.

Castle could not break Aoife’s curse, but it would wait for the one who could. The godwitch of stone hadn’t told Aoife how the curse could be broken, only that it could be, that one day she could be free. Castle knew exactly what needed to happen, but it wouldn’t be for the faint of heart.

Aoife was not an easy woman to get along with.

She was stubborn, had a temper, and always wanted to be in control.

She didn’t trust anyone, not letting many into her heart.

It would take a special person to save Aoife.

One who wouldn’t only break the curse but also break the walls Aoife had put up.

Someone more stubborn, more hardheaded, someone who wouldn’t give up. Someone who was her match in every way.

Castle would find him, and then Castle would set its plan into motion.

Aoife stared at the vial and swallowed thickly. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it. I’ll curse myself and trust that you will find a way to bring me back, to be your queen one day. I’ll finally be free.”

Yes, Castle agreed. Yes.

She gazed at the tonic, lifting it to eye level. “I’ll be in control of my own destiny for the first time in my life.”

Aoife uncorked the vial and drank the liquid in one swift motion, and Castle watched as the faerie queen turned to stone.

Now Castle had to get to work finding the man who would one day break Aoife’s curse.