Page 25 of Fae Trials

Power equivalent to that of the monsters I had encountered in the bargain circle made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My mind flashed back to the faerie with the serrated wings who had cursed my human life out of existence.

Gladiolus glanced over his shoulder and gasped. “Good lord!”

Holding my breath and bracing myself for a vision as terrifying as the one I had seen in the bargain circle, I turned around.

Standing in the doorway were Princes August, Caulden, and Rory, with an equally powerful fae with hair the exact cerise as cherry blossoms. I could only guess this was the fourth brother, Prince Bradwell of the Spring Court, as his features were similar to that of Prince Rory’s.

But their handsome looks weren’t the most striking aspect of their appearance. Each of the princes’ wings protruded from their backs and glowed as brightly as the afternoon sun.

And all four of them were glowering at my glowing wings.

Chapter 8

I watched a DVD of Survivor a few years ago, the show where a bunch of people get stranded in a remote location and have to live off the land and survive all kinds of ridiculous challenges. I hated it.

The show reminded me too much of life here on the Isle of Fae, so I swapped our stash of Survivor DVDs for jars of honey and asked Elijah to see if he could find The Bachelor instead.

Anyway, one of the contestants was explaining the fight-or-flight response, the body’s physical reactions in the face of a threat like a predator. It’s something that happens to humans as well as animals. There was also a third response—to freeze. It was when the mind recognized a no-hope situation, and the animal remained still or played dead in the hope that the predator would lose interest and walk away.

That’s how I felt, locked in the gazes of four fae princes. Like a mouse about to be devoured by four ridiculously handsome tomcats.

Prince Bradwell’s amber eyes narrowed, and his glowing, cerise wings expanded as though ready for battle. “What is the meaning of this?” he said in a voice cold enough to freeze my insides. “Some kind of prank?”

I turned to Gladiolus, hoping he would speak up for me like he had when I had first met the fated, but the older faerie continued gaping from my wings to those of the four princes.

Prince Caulden, the heir to the Winter Court, stepped forward. His wings were as white as freshly fallen snow with the tips glowing like the morning sky. “Who are you?”

“Unity,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “My name is Unity Quayle.”

“A halfling?” asked Prince August, whose lime-green eyes bore into mine. The Summer Prince’s wings reminded me of the sun shining on buttercups, with their incandescent tips.

“The outsiders found Unity last night in Hope Woods with her memories erased,” said Gladiolus, finally finding his voice. He launched into his explanation of some high fae lord deciding to disassociate himself from me to find my own way in life.

Throughout the older faerie’s monologue, Prince Rory stared at me with calculating eyes. The kind of contemplation market traders made when trying to work out the best way to run a scam. He was the heir to the Autumn Court and Lady Gala’s fated mate.

Of all the four princes, his reaction quickened my pulse the most. I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth he was planning.

“I will not accept this halfling,” said Prince Caulden. “And neither will my brothers.”

Princes August and Bradwell nodded, but Prince Rory swept his gaze up and down my form, assessing me for reasons I couldn’t yet fathom.

My throat dried, and I gulped several mouthfuls of air. This had to be a mistake. Fated mates were rare, and always one male matching one female. I was no expert in faeries, but I was pretty sure that a female didn’t get matched to four males who already had mates of their own.

Chatter broke out across the dining hall, and the students left their tables and gathered around us to gape. Even the pixies flew above us, straining to listen. My skin itched with all the attention. I was used to interacting with the lower fae in Doolish, but this many high faeries so close gave me palpitations.

“Out of my way!” screeched a female voice from beyond the throng.

Gladiolus stopped talking, and the crowd parted to reveal Lady Gala leading the three other Fated. I gulped. This was like one of those montages from an American high school movie, where the Queen Bee led her cohort of beauties through the hallway. Except there was no snappy theme music, this wasn’t in slow motion, and I wasn’t watching from the comfort of my sofa.

Fury blazed in each girl’s eyes, making my heart gallop faster than a centaur. I snatched my gaze away and stared at my feet.

“This is treason,” said Lady Gala. “An attack against the princes and punishable by death!” She prodded me hard in the chest, her slender finger freezing my rib.

Cold spread across my chest, warmed by the fury exploding through my veins. I’d bet my entire DVD collection that Lady Gala had been responsible for my cold response at seeing Pokeweed, along with the shuddering.

My head snapped up, and my wings flapped so hard, her platinum hair blew off her arrogant face. She couldn’t treat me like the lowly human she’d tried to bury in drake shit the day before. The wards had accepted me, and even if this was all a terrible mistake, I wasn’t going to let her push me around.

I shoved her hand away. “Get off!”