The Fall of the Fairy Queen: The Fairy Queen Trilogy, #2

By Gemma Perfect

• Elsie succeeded in her quest. Her step parents are dead and she's the new queen. •

But before she even gets the crown on her head, she is devastated by a shocking betrayal. 

How can she rule a peaceful Kingdom when in her life is in danger?

★ Can she defeat the odds and reign supreme or will the traitor in the castle destroy her? ★ 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Perfect
• Release date: Sep 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393580096

Gemma Perfect

Thank you for reading The Kingmaker – I hope you enjoyed it. I started writing it in 2011. I was watching Junior Apprentice on the BBC, and one of the female contestants had to choose which of the two boys in her team would be team leader. She said, “I’m like the Kingmaker,” or words to that effect and something in my brain just sparked. I wrote about 30, 000 words but then, for some reason I can’t even remember, I ignored it until the summer of 2015. In the mean time I wrote and self-published a set of three children’s books, an adult romance, which was also traditionally published, before coming back to The Kingmaker. I was struggling to write another romance, and questioning whether I should stop writing altogether when I picked The Kingmaker up again. Within four weeks I had written another 40, 000 words. That’s when I realised that I was finally writing what I should be writing – not what I thought I should be writing or what I believed people would want to read. Suddenly it was easy to do and, more importantly, enjoyable again. I finished the book and sent it off to publishers and agents, hoping that someone would want it. They didn’t. I decided to have faith in myself and my writing and self-publish again, but I waited until I had written the whole trilogy first. If readers liked it, I wanted the whole trilogy complete so they wouldn’t have to wait. I know how impatient I am when I read a book I love and want to read the next one straight away. So on that note, if you enjoyed The Kingmaker, then book two – Seize The Crown and book three – Born to Rule, are both written and available to buy now. For updates and excerpts as I write my new book - The Cursed Princess - please subscribe to my monthly newsletter, via my website – www.gemmaperfect.com There are two things readers can do for authors they like once they’ve read their book: Review and Recommend. Reviews really do help books become more visible to other readers and a good review can make an author’s day. Recommendations are what make a book take on a life of its own, finding new readers and fans and there’s nothing like word of mouth for spreading the word about books we love.  You can get in touch with me via fb.me/gemmalperfect or you can visit my website www.gemmaperfect.com and I really hope that you do. xxx

Book preview

1

Her breathing is laboured , and she’s not sure if she’s going to be sick or faint. Hardy killed Meg. It’s what Bella alluded to, but she never believed it. How could he have known that arguing with her would make her run away? How could he have known the clippers would be out at that specific time? Unless they weren’t clippers?

She shakes her head. She doesn’t have time to think about this right now. She flies up and sees that Hardy has left Bella for dead. Is she dead? She has to check. 

She lands in front of her, feeling broken. Why did she believe Hardy? Because he’s so handsome, so kind to her, so believable? 

Bella. Elsie touches her, feeling for a pulse. She can feel it, it’s so faint, but it’s there. 

With difficulty, she lifts her; they are the same size and it’s difficult, but Elsie knows the castle better than anyone and knows a shortcut to her room. 

She flies Bella there quickly and carefully. If she comes face to face with Hardy now, he will kill her. If she comes face to face with any guard or clipper, they will kill her. She cannot fight and rescue Bella at the same time. 

She pauses inside her childhood bedroom, taking in the soft pink bedding, the toys and games still littered around the floor as though she has just slipped out of the room and will be back any minute. It’s unsettling to see it, but she hasn’t the time to stop. Between her room and her sister’s room is a secret passage and a room. It’s where they would go to play and hide from the grownups. Sometimes they would fall asleep there and cause a panic while everyone looked for them.

She smiles. She misses her old life so much. Who thought she would set foot in this castle again? With her sister dead, her parents dead, and now her step parents dead. She is queen of Allaire, and Hardy killed Meg. She cannot process it; she just has to get Bella somewhere safe. She thinks Aster might help her – if anybody can – but amid a battle she has no idea if she’ll find her and if it’ll be too late for Bella when she does. As long as she tries. 

Her old things are waiting for her in the secret room. Blankets and pillows from when she and Isla would make dens. Toys and clothes. Her baby doll. She makes a bed for Bella and lies her down. She checks her body for wounds and finds two. One isn’t bleeding at all, the other is. She tears a blanket and wads it against the bleeding, and then, as best she can considering she has no idea what she’s doing, she wraps another piece of blanket around Bella’s body, over the wound, hopefully stopping the bleeding or at least slowing it. She shakes her head. Why wasn’t she born a super healer, like Aster? She’s no help. 

I’m going to get help, she whispers to Bella, who is unresponsive, but breathing. 

Elsie pauses for only a moment in her bedroom, closing the door to the secret corridor and covering it with a trunk. This room was her haven. She cannot help but feel tearful and nostalgic. Strange. 

She holds her sword and leaves the room; she was lucky to get Bella to safety without being hurt; she’s not sure she’ll be so lucky again. She’s also sure if she meets anybody who wants to hurt her, she won’t remember a bit of her training. You probably have to be fighting for a long time for it to become innate. 

The corridors are quiet. 

The battle over.

She hopes. 

She flies to the courtyard and sees several fairies she vaguely recognises. They all look as unsure as she is. There are too many dead bodies – guards, clippers and fairies. Some she recognises as castle servants, others are fairies who came to fight for her cause, for Hardy’s cause.  

Follow me, she calls out and as a group they all troop through the castle. We’ll go to the hall.

The great hall was the hub of the castle – where they ate, where they had dances and plays – before her parents died. Now it’s just an empty shell, filled with the echoes of a happy past. 

As they weave through the castle, other fairies join them, and she sees Bronwen – alive but limping, a smile of pure joy on her face. That was epic! she says when she catches up with Elsie. I killed so many guards.

Well done. Have you seen Aster?

Bronwen turns. Yes, I spotted her just now. All fine. She takes in Elsie’s worried expression. I know we lost some lives here, Elsie, but we won. It’s okay to celebrate that.

I know, and I will. 

She’s distracted though, scanning the battle-weary faces for Aster, hoping she doesn’t see Hardy. She can see blood and bruises and broken hearts as people realise who they’ve lost, and she feels helpless. What should a queen do to help them?

Bronwen, are you able to get some fairies to fly to the troupe with you and pick up as many lotions and tonics or whatever magical things you might have to hand there? I think we need to help those of us who made it through.

Bronwen beams again. Even better. I’ve been making up little packs for everyone and yesterday we brought them up in some canvas bags and hid them outside. Give me five minutes.

Elsie smiles. This is the help she needs. She flies up on the dais which holds the thrones for the royal family and clears her throat. Nobody hears her over the din. Hey. Hey! Slowly the noise stops, and the fairies turn to her. She hates to see the fatigue and the sadness in their eyes. Thank you. I know it might not feel like it now, but this is a victory. The king and queen are dead. We clipped them before I killed them. 

A small murmur of appreciation emanates from the crowd. Before I killed them, I told them I’d hang their wings in the village square so everyone could see that they were dead. And that I’d done to them what they did to so many of us.

There’s a slight cheer. 

I know you’re exhausted and hurt, and we lost too many fairies, but it’s done. I promise as queen to give you a better home, a better version of Allaire. A Kingdom where everyone is safe, and everything grows. Bronwen is going to give you all some medicine to make you feel better. If we can help the fairies who are truly injured over to one end of the hall, please, so we know who needs help. Thank you.

There’s a smattering of applause, hardly the grand victory celebration Elsie might have been hoping for, and then someone shouts out, long live the queen, which brings tears to her eyes and a humbleness to her heart.

That so many fairies risked their lives to help her here today, unplanned and off the cuff, is a testament to something. She’s not fully sure what, but she’s happy. 

Then she sees Hardy, and she’s miserable again.

He weaves through the crowd like the showman he is. He shakes hands; he hugs people; he smiles and grins, and comforts and rallies, even now, and she watches him with a strange sense of envy. He probably would make a better leader than her. Why did he have to be so duplicitous? She needs help and advisors, and he could have been that for her, anyway. It’s not like she knows hundreds of people who could step into the role. 

He finally comes to her side and gathers her into his arms. He holds her and hugs her and kisses her cheeks, forehead and then lips. She feels nothing but venom towards him, but when she looks around the room at the hurt and injured fairies, she knows that not one of them would raise a hand against him. She cannot call him out now. Not yet. She has to gather a team. She has to get people on her side. 

And in a Kingdom where her only true friend is dead; she knows it won’t be easy.

She has some idea that Bronwen, Gwenna and Aster will help her. There’s a definite divide between the troupe and the rest of the Kingdom. She has no idea how deep that divide runs, but she knows it exists. She thinks Norah might help her, but it’s a guess, really. 

She doesn’t know anyone well enough to know who she can trust. And Hardy knows everyone. He’s the real figurehead of this whole rebellion. Even though he said it was her, he really was just keeping her on side. There isn’t a fairy here, right now, who would stand against Hardy. And there isn’t a fairy here who would take her side. 

She will have to bide her time and be clever, despite how disgusting it felt to have his mouth on hers. She cannot imagine how these days will unfold, but she is wise enough to know her hands are tied for now.

He pulls back and stares at her, as though he’s trying to read her mind. Queen?

There’s a question in his word, which she doesn’t like. What else is she but queen? 

She nods and takes a step back, looking at the fairies. He’s clever and organised and she can use him to clean up the mess they have made in the castle. 

I saw Bronwen on the way in. She’s doling out her little care packages. I’ve instructed the younger lads to clear away the bodies. It’s not a pleasant job, but the older men will find it back breaking.

What will we do with them?

I know the troupe like to bury people, but it’s not practical. I’ve instructed them to separate the bodies. We’ll burn the guards and clippers on the far jousting field. The castle servants on the side garden, downwind of the vegetable patch, and we’ll burn the fairies on the front lawn. He brushes a thumb over her cheek. I can see from your face it’s not what you want. But we have hundreds dead, Elsie. We have to be efficient in this clean up. You don’t want to be ruling over a graveyard full of rotting bodies, do you?

She shakes her head. No, it’s good. It’s a good call. Do we know if Aster and Norah and... the others are safe? She cannot bring herself to mention Bella’s name. She watches his expression with interest. Now she knows, everything she perceives about him is different. His eyes cloud over with sadness and he drops his head, unable to meet her eyes. He reaches for her hand and rubs his fingers over her skin. 

I’m so sorry. I saw Bella. She’s dead. A guard or clipper must have got her.

Must have, Elsie almost chokes on the words. 

I wish I could have saved her. The regret in his voice sounds so genuine that Elsie searches his face, his eyes, his body language. How can he lie so easily? How could she have been taken in so completely?

I want to find Aster and Norah. I’m going to look.

Be careful.

He doesn’t offer to go with her or help her. He has less reason to want her alive now. A chill runs through her, and she looks back at him as she winds her way through the crowd. He smiles and raises a hand. If he has less reason to keep her alive now, will he? Is her life in danger from him? If she were to die during this battle, she knows that the fairies would look to him for answers, for guidance, for leadership.

She grips onto her sword. She will have to keep her wits about her and find out quickly who she can trust. 

She can see lots of fairies, but not Aster. She directs the ones able to move to the hall and sends help for the ones who cannot. She spots Norah kneeling next to an old man. She hunkers down beside her, putting an arm around her. Norah jumps and then leans into Elsie, crying on her shoulder. This is James. He lived by my grandparents. I can’t let him die alone, Elsie.

No, you can’t. I’m sorry.

I am too. Her voice is small, and her tone measured; so different to how she usually speaks, running excited sentence together with excited sentence. Her eyes have lost their shine and her shoulders are slumped.

I’m sorry, Elsie says. I talked you into this fight.

Norah shakes her head. I didn’t take much talking. I wanted to fight, and we won. She smiles. Someone said we won. Is that right?

Elsie nods. We did. Her voice is just a whisper. Have you seen Aster? The chances of Bella being alive when she gets Aster to her are dropping with every minute that passes.

She was just around there. Norah points but then turns her attention to the old man. He’s dying. His thready breathing and low moans are testament to that. Elsie hugs Norah fiercely and then flies in the direction she pointed, looking for Aster.

She eventually sees her, huddled with two young fairies. She’s healing them, touching their injuries and passing around potions. Elsie’s heart leaps. If there is hope for Bella, it will come from Aster. She has magic in her fingertips, Elsie can see it. But will she tell Hardy? How do you test to see if you can trust someone? How can you know who is loyal to you? For Bella’s sake, she cannot even worry. If she hesitates she might die. She will take Aster to her and tell her the truth. If Aster tells Hardy, then the world will turn on its head again. It always does.

Aster, Elsie calls out, beckoning her away from the fairies so they’re alone. I need you.

Are you hurt? We won. Aster gives Elsie’s arm a squeeze. Are there many hurt?

There are, but one more than most. Will you come with me?

I heard we’re taking the injured fairies to the hall. At least that’s where I’ve been sending them.

That’s right. We’re not going there, though.

Aster pauses, her expression confused. Where then?

I’ll show you. They fly through the aftermath of a bloody battle, both quiet and saddened by what they see. 

Elsie! Aster calls out and Elsie turns. Anya is dead on the floor, in a pool of blood. A shiver turns Elsie cold. The work of a guard or a clipper or Hardy?

Elsie pulls Aster away. We can’t help her.

I don’t like this. I knew we’d have injured fairies, but this is monstrous.

I’m sorry.

It isn’t your fault. It’s the legacy of war.

Elsie pushes open the door to her childhood bedroom, so different to the prison they held her in from the age of ten to sixteen. Aster follows her in. 

There’s nobody here.

Elsie pulls the trunk away from the wall and opens the door. They have to crouch to climb in, but then they can stand. The room is lit from above by a skylight in the castle walls. The light falls on Bella’s face and Elsie shudders at the colour of her skin. 

Aster rushes to her side. Oh, Elsie, what happened?

She was stabbed. Twice.

Aster folds Bella’s top up, exposing the wounds on her stomach that Elsie tried to dress. The blood has soaked through, making her bandages useless. Aster pulls all the material away so she can look at the wounds properly. She sighs.

Someone wanted her dead.

Did they succeed?

She’s not long for this world. I might be able to save her.

She pulls some vials and bottles out of her pocket, a small pair of scissors and some fine thread. This is from the wings I’ve been repairing, she says, holding it up so Elsie can see it. I can stitch with it. I tried to bring anything I thought I might need. I know Bronwen brought a load of stuff up yesterday.

Elsie kneels the other side of Bella, not wanting to get in the way. Aster’s expression is worrying her. She doesn’t look hopeful.

She places her hands on the wounds, one at a time, oblivious to the blood and gore. Her eyes closed, she whispers words Elsie can’t hear, and Elsie can feel the room get warmer. The light gets brighter. Aster opens a small bottle and dabs some green ointment onto the wounds and then pours another concoction into Bella’s mouth.

Bella still hasn’t moved. Elsie can see she’s breathing. But barely. 

It was somebody strong, Aster says. These wounds are deep.

Can you save her?

Aster meets her eyes. If anybody can, it’ll be me.

Elsie nods. She knows it’s true. She hopes it’s true. 

She watches in silence, and it’s fascinating. Aster works intuitively, her fingers dancing over Bella’s skin, adding this potion and that lotion, stopping the bleeding and stitching her skin together. Elsie can see the air change when Aster puts her hands on Bella; it shimmers and pulses. It’s captivating to watch. 

And you don’t know who did it to her? Just a guard or clipper? Aster asks.

Elsie shrugs.

Sometimes knowing the intent helps.

I think they intended to kill her.

Aster nods. I meant... She shakes her head. It’s not relevant here, but usually I would heal differently depending on who hurt a person.

Elsie takes a deep breath. 

It was Hardy.

2

Aster pales and snatches her hands away from Bella’s body, clasping them together.

Hardy did this to her? Are you sure?

Elsie nods, wishing it wasn’t so.

Aster roots through her little bag and pulls out a flower. She tucks it into Bella’s hand, closing her fingers around it, and then sprays a fine mist over her from a bottle. 

What’s that?

Hardy and Bella were lovers.

Elsie closes her eyes, thankful that things between her and Hardy never got that far. 

And that makes a difference?

Absolutely. Like I said, how I heal depends on who did the harm. Harm is different when it’s passionate, different when it’s indifferent or indiscriminate. It’s something I’m figuring out with my wing healing. The clippers don’t care which fairy they hurt, and so although they make a mess when they cut the wings away from the body – they are cack-handed and use rusty and blunt instruments, there isn’t the rage you might see in a different murder. It’s easier to heal. They don’t care about who they kill, they kill on demand. Or else they did. A murderer filled with hatred and passion will kill differently.

Elsie thinks about how she killed her step parents. She wasn’t in a mist of rage, but she still killed them. 

Why did he want her dead? Do we know?

Elsie nods and holds a vial Aster passes her. 

She knew something, and he didn’t want her to tell me.

Elsie breathes a little easier. She’s not laying blame or asking Aster to take sides; she’s just giving her the information. 

Didn’t want her to tell you? Aster holds her hand out for the vial and Elsie passes it to her. 

He killed Meg. The words sound so flat as she says them. Meg already feels like a character from another lifetime. She hasn’t been gone long and Elsie is forgetting what she looked like and sounded like. 

Hardy killed Meg. Aster pauses, her face ashen. Her voice is quiet. I thought the clippers did it.

They did. At least I think they were clippers. I heard him say it, Aster. He didn’t know I was there. He killed Meg.

Aster is silent and busies herself with tending to Bella. Elsie is desperate for her to say something, but the air is thick with the tension of unspoken words. 

Now we wait. Aster sits back, watching Bella carefully, feeling her forehead and touching her wounds. 

Elsie nods and then stares at Aster, utter helplessness in her expression. 

Elsie. You’re in grave danger. If Hardy killed Meg. And he killed Bella – or thinks he has – then who might he target next?

Elsie takes a deep breath and then shakes her head. She cannot say it, and she doesn’t have to. She knows they are both thinking the