Fae of the South (Court of Crown and Compass Book 3) by E. Hall (good books to read in english TXT) 📗

“The ears are perfect. Maybe a touch more silver to your hair.” She smooths the long locks back.

I smirk. Elves have tipped ears and the ones with the purest blood have almost-silver hair. Hattie always wishes she had a little more of that hue in hers.

“I don’t want to draw too much attention,” I say.

Hattie cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, but you do.”

She has a point. I aim to win the tournament and my aim has always been true.

We step into the night. The moon spills milky light and the stars sparkle bright. It’s usually comforting because it’s the same sky under which my mother once lived and my aunt—who I hope is still alive, but something feels off. Like the winds are shifting. The snowflake necklace feels especially cold against my neck, like the way ice can burn the skin. I shiver. It was a gift from my mother and I’ve never taken it off.

“Do you see something?” Hattie asks, referring to my special ability—the one that only she and the king know about.

“No,” I reply. “Just a grim night.”

“Aren’t they all.”

Elves aren’t particularly family-oriented, but Hattie lost her father to the mines when her mother was still pregnant. Elves typically live especially long lives, but years later, her mother drowned. This is another thing that brought us closer—we’re both orphans.

In the case of Hattie’s mother, I think it was partly the clumsiness they shared as well as heartbreak. I felt pieces of her shattered heart drifting away in the water when we found her.

My second sight isn’t so much actual vision, though I have seen scenes of what could be. It’s more often a sensation—the best way I can explain it is I feel intentions. And right now I sense of the winds of war brisk against my skin. Then again, I’m sneaking into Skelling Hall on the eve of the Thunder Tournament.

We skulk past the murkast dwellings—the poor fae who’ve been oppressed during my lifetime. It wasn’t always like this. The current king’s father took a grim turn and laid siege to the Court of Bronze and Blade. Then his sons took over, ruling with yet grimmer power. They closed the Eastlands off from the rest of the realm. And the ruling elves grew in wealth, renown, and power as demonstrated by the splendor of Skelling Hall.

Lanterns flicker, leading up the long winding path to the fortified sandstone building. By day it’s golden, but in the dim light, it’s chestnut, almost bloody looking. Elven metal and crystals mined from the earth form fanciful flourishes, winding like vines around the exterior along with actual vines also blooming with bold flowers.

Elven guards stand with seeker spears along the footpath and drawbridge.

I take a deep breath and press my shoulders back, feeling the fighter in me coming forth. My magic surges under my skin, but I reinforce my glamour because there’s no way they’d let a fae pass through their esteemed gates, reserved solely for elven gentry and warriors.

Hattie poses as my attendant and a thin sheen of sweat pierces her brow. Even if she were skilled in the tasks of the tournament, our roles could never be reversed. The murkast are forbidden access to Skelling Hall. Even though my cousins crowed for weeks about their invitations, they’ll be watching from the distant stands along the farthest reaches of the amphitheater. The corners of my lips lift because with any luck, they’ll be watching me. I can’t deny that even if they don’t realize who I really am under the glamour, the fact that I’m skilled enough to compete against the greatest elven warriors brings me a deep level of satisfaction.

Hattie’s jaw drops a measure at the sight of the rainbow tapestry woven around a larger-than-life portrait of the king.

I won’t lie, the sight of him with his strong jaw, piercing gray eyes, and proud brow is both awe and fear-inspiring. But it’s nothing to the man who stands regally only a measure away. He wears the bronze cloak of the king and the elven metal sword that’s a mercurial shade of silver hangs at his waist. That’s all I let myself see as he scans the room, ever the tracker. Before his eyes land on me, I turn to Hattie.

She staggers back. With quick reflexes, I catch her before she careens into another warrior who looks like not only would she rip someone’s throat out, but likely she has.

There’s no way King Asher would recognize me, but my heart hammers in my chest. I shuffle us forward, past the gigantic statues of former elven kings cast in stone and asleep on their thrones. There’s a legend that they can be woken up by the current king if threatened by war. I wonder if they’d want to leave the Sea of Dreams and return to battle.

As it is, this is the one time a year the king opens the castle gates to the people. I can’t get distracted, intimidated, or fall off my game. I have to find my aunt...and maybe that will bring me closer to getting answers to the questions I’ve finally gotten courageous enough to ask.

Skelling Hall was like my second home for many years. I was supposed to shadow Aunt Ella in her work and someday take her place. Instead, I’d sneak off and pose as an elf, following their lessons, learning their history, and training as a warrior. There’s no way she didn’t realize what I was doing but never asked me where I was or what I was doing. It’s like she wanted me to learn their ways. I regret not helping her more.

The night she disappeared, she told me I had to save us from the king. Then she was gone.

Lost in thoughts of that horrible memory, lightning crackles