Page 6 of The Fallen Fae King

Ciara doesn’t say anything.

She lost her parents to the pandemic this year. She knows as well as I do that all of us are standing on our own graves, burying ourselves in blossoms and sweet-smelling but self-deceiving hope.

“Why don’t we escape?” She simply says at last. “The ceremony isn’t for hours. Let’s go climbing in Thorn Wilds, or we can explore the Circle Labyrinth. Once you’re made crown prince, we won’t see you as much. One final adventure?”

My stomach swoops.

Is she saying goodbye?

Did my parents insist on this? The elders?

Is this what happens every time a fae reaches his Crowning?

I clench my jaw. “Then we’re taking Wren with us.”

I glance across the Mound to the cluster of Druids with shaved heads, who are dressed in white tunics and plaid cloaks. They are hanging around on the edge of the festivities.

The Druids are the sorcerers, healers, and mediators.

They are watching but not joining in with the fun, just like normal.

Wren is decades younger than any of the other Druids.

The Omega is only a couple of years older than I am. An orphan, however, Wren displayed magical skills more powerful than any in the kingdom, and so was taken in by the elders.

I’ve been tutored alongside Wren. Most of the time, he’s my rival, pain in the arse, and the reason that I’m beaten by the elders.

He probably snitched on me about playing truant the other week.

Yet he has no one apart from me. He lives alone amongst the grim Druids. He has no family or friends.

He may think that I’m an idiot, and I believe that he’s an arrogant arsehole, but even my enemies deserve to enjoy today.

I pull Elatha up with me.

Ciara leaps up, grimacing. “Do we have to? Wren is handsome, brilliant, magically talented⁠—”

I frown. “Are you getting to your point? Or is Wren your soulmate?”

Ciara blushes. “Fuck off.”

“Treason.”

“Despite all that, Wren wouldn’t know fun if it hit him in his⁠—”

“Handsome face?” Elatha teases.

“How about we stuff his handsome face with food? This is meant to be a feast.” I perk up. “Ma promised honeyed oatcakes.”

Ciara rolls her eyes. “Are you sure that you’re a raven, rather than a bee? Anything with honey in it and you’re obsessed.”

“Wouldn’t that make me a bear?” I stroll away from the tree, waving at my ravens to follow me. “I’m smuggling an oatcake for Wren, before we steal him away on our adventure. The elders never allow him to eat anything nice. Have you noticed how thin he’s become? Why do the bastards only talk to him about duty and responsibility, forcing him to act like them just because his magic is so powerful? Why didn’t he get to choose what he wanted to do with his life?”

“Are you sure that you’re not talking about yourself?” Ciara asks, quietly.

I stumble.

I don’t know.