Page 2 of Fae Trials

My sister’s fingers grazed mine. “We could search for Dad on Google.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

Sicily was the dreamer, not me. Despite the peacekeepers and the curfews, dark fae still lured humans into the Mound and enslaved them for ninety-nine years. Dad had probably made a bad bargain or angered a light fae. Just because King Oberon had teamed up with the UN to banish his mother to the Otherworld, it didn’t mean he was a good monarch. The fae king was just intelligent enough to recognize the dangers the outsiders posed to the fae.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. Faeries had occupied the Isle of Fae since the beginning of history. Over the centuries, Viking invaders, shipwrecks, and all manner of hapless human travelers got washed up on these shitty shores. We became their slaves, their concubines, their food until the outside world discovered us. It was only in recent generations with the development of modern warfare that other humans stepped in to ensure we weren’t suffering.

It was a pity they didn’t let us out, though. Then no negotiations would be necessary with the blasted faeries.

Four ogres jumped down to the unloading dock. They hauled the container onto the metal platform and wrenched its door open with a crowbar. Silence stretched out across the morning as we waited to see what lay inside.

Then the ogre pulled out a box with an apple silhouette on its exterior, and I held my breath.

Sicily rushed forward. “There it is!”

“Wait—” I tried to grab her arm, but a large figure from behind knocked me aside. One foot stumbled over the other, but I managed to right myself before someone else knocked me onto my hands and knees. “Shit!”

With excited roars, everyone else rushed forward, placing dozens of people, human and fae alike, between my sister and me. I couldn’t find her anywhere. The peacekeepers fired warning flares into the sky, but the throng continued toward the dock.

My pulse throbbed in my ears as I scrambled to my feet and shoved my way through the crowd. But with everyone packed so tightly, there were no convenient gaps.

“Bloody hell!” I ran around the side of the mass of people, toward the peacekeepers, who huddled around their captain, presumably working out what to do next.

A scream pierced the air, followed by the loud splash of someone falling into the saltwater, which made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. All kinds of monsters dwelled in this part of the Irish Sea—sirens, merfolk, kelpies. That scream couldn’t have been Sicily. She knew better than to brave the water’s edge.

Picking up my pace, I rushed forward, but a short peacekeeper intercepted me with his arm outstretched. “It’s dangerous over there, Miss.”

I side-stepped, but he blocked my path. A frustrated growl stuck in my throat. “Aren’t you going to save the person who fell?”

Behind the visor of his helmet, his brows drew together. “What? The ogre?”

“Make way for the Royal Guard!” boomed a voice from the sky.

“Wha—” I spun around, a breath catching in the back of my throat.

A white carriage flew toward us from the direction of the Mound, pulled by a quartet of winged horses whose white coats sparkled in the morning sun. Above iridescent hair that shimmered like silk, the horses wore crowns of crystal.

Everyone, including the peacekeepers, fell to their knees and bowed their heads. King Oberon or Queen Titania usually rode in those carriages. And no one, not even the United Nations, would dare risk the wrath of the fae royals.

Ignoring the cobblestones digging into my shins, I glanced across the dock for signs of Sicily but couldn’t find her in the crowd of kneeling and bowing people.

The clip-clop of silver horseshoes hitting the ground told me that the first of the vehicles had landed, and the zing of power making my skin tingle told me that its passenger was definitely a member of the royal family.

Sicily crawled to my side. “Who do you think is in there?”

“Where did you come from?” I asked.

“I heard the splash and wanted to make sure it wasn’t you in the sea.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed her arm.

A pair of guardsmen in pristine, white livery scurried out from behind the carriage and straightened their tall hats. One of them opened the door, letting out a male faerie with blond hair as dazzling as the afternoon sun. He wore the uniform of the Royal Fae Academy of a burgundy blazer and black pants. I would have wondered who he was, but I couldn’t help staring at his full, kissable lips.

“Oh, my lord,” whispered Sicily. “It’s Prince August.”

I gulped. Tall, tanned, and beautifully built under that uniform, this was the heir to the Summer Court and reportedly the most handsome of the four princes. At this distance, it wasn’t difficult to see why with those high cheekbones, strong jaw, and eyes as green as key limes.

Behind him stepped Prince Caulden, heir to the Winter Court. Both brothers were the same age as me—eighteen—but looked older. Their features were identical except the Winter prince’s skin was as pale as alabaster, and his hair was cotton-candy blue. Prince Caulden turned in our direction and fixed us with eyes as hard as steel.