Fae Fair: A young adult portal fantasy: Lost Princess of Starlight, #1

By Clarissa Gosling

A magical world.
A bewitching fair.
An impossible promise.

Zoe longs to escape her bullying foster brother, but when she takes her horse for a ride and accidentally crosses into faery, all she wants is to return home. That is until she is hailed as a long-lost princess.

But in faery, the forest is constantly changing and dangers lurk around every corner. When Zoe's curiosity leads to the capture of the one friend she has made—the enigmatic Guardian of the Gates—she becomes bound by an unwinnable bargain to the Queen of Dawnlight.

Then there's Prince Florian. Aloof and scornful, but irresistible, he knows more about Zoe's past than she does. He may be the only one who can help her fulfil her promise to the Queen—if she can persuade him to help.

The magical fair in the centre of the forest may hold the answers Zoe seeks. But as with everything in faery, the fair may not be quite all it seems...

Fae Fair is the first in a new clean series for lovers of fae, epic fantasy, and magical bargains.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prinsenhof Publications
• Release date: Apr 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393222828

Clarissa Gosling

Clarissa has always lived more in the world of daydream and fiction than in reality. In her writing she explores purpose and belonging across worlds. Having never found an actual portal to faeryland, she creates her own fantastical worlds where dragons, fae and other magical creatures rule. She now lives in the Netherlands with her family, where she writes as much as they will let her. When not reading or writing, she drinks too much tea and has a burgeoning obsession with Bundt cakes. Clarissa is the author of the "Dragons of Kaitstud" and "Lost Princess of Starlight" YA fantasy series, and the "Expat Life" series of non-fiction guides for families moving, and living, abroad. She is an admin for the 365 Writing Challenge, an international group that supports people to build the habit of writing. And she is one of the co-hosts of the Reading Queens podcast, which discusses mainly young adult fantasy books and their major tropes. Find out more about her at clarissagosling.com

Book preview

Chapter One: The worst brother in the world

Footsteps thumped up the stairs. Zoe slumped over her homework, listening for which way they went. Hoping they went to his room, or any way but hers. She couldn’t deal with him right now, not when she had exams to revise for.

Something about the way her foster brother stomped that told her he’d had a bad day. She glanced at the chest of drawers. That would take too long to move. The last time she’d barricaded the door, he’d broken through anyway, even more pissed at her. And their foster parents had blamed her for the damage. It just wasn’t fair.

She grimaced. What had happened this time?

It was Wednesday. He had rugby training after school. As the centre back he was one of the stars of the team. The way he told it he was the only player who knew what he was doing. Not that Zoe ever watched him play. Shivering on the touchlines was not her idea of a fun Saturday. Not when her horse, Rascal, was in the field waiting for her to take him into the woods.

The door smashed open, bouncing off the wall.

Ross sneered. What did you say to Lucy to put her off me? She was all keen on me yesterday. I saw you poking your nose in and now she’s all over Thomas.

He closed the distance between them in three strides and stood over her, hands on hips. His school tie, which was the only school uniform he was required to wear in the sixth form, poked out of his trouser pockets. His untucked navy shirt hung over his prized Wasps RFC belt.

Zoe smiled. Maybe she just saw through your joyful exterior to the pettiness you keep hidden inside.

What did you talk to her about? He shook his head to remove the lock of blond hair that fell into his eyes.

Zoe picked up a pen, and continued to work on her maths’ questions. She wanted my advice on the English homework. We’re studying ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. She was struggling to understand the language. Zoe looked up at him, keeping her gaze steady. That was partly true. She had long ago learnt that she couldn’t say an outright lie, but she was skilled at bending the truth.

Why was he so worried about Lucy? He always had a gaggle of interchangeable girls following him. Though what they saw in her foster brother was beyond Zoe’s understanding. But then she found very few of the boys at school attractive. Most of them seemed to feel the same way about her too. Which was good, as far as she was concerned. All she wanted was to finish her GCSE exams, and consider her options.

Ross studied her, uncertainty mirrored in his darkened eyes and furrowed brow.

She put the cap on her pen and placed it on the open exercise book to mark where she’d stopped. Then she swivelled round in her chair to face him. I’m trying to finish my homework. Don’t you have enough of your own to do?

He swaggered over to her bed under the eaves and flopped onto it. Hiding something, are you?

His muddy boots swung onto her pristine white bedspread. She winced.

I’ll get it out of you. He lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. Tell me about this homework Lucy wanted help with. She doesn’t normally stoop so low as to hang about with you.

Zoe sighed. This is my room. She pointed at the door. You don’t let me come into your room, so why do you come into mine and wipe your dirty boots all over my bed.

The colour-coded revision calendar pinned above her desk mocked her. As did the collection of fairy stories waiting for her to finish her revision for the day.

He shrugged. Tell me what Lucy wanted with your English homework. He settled deeper into her pillow. Or I’m staying.

Zoe huffed. I already said. We talked about language and iambic pentameter.

Don’t believe you. Ross closed his eyes. His breathing deepened. I’m sure your bed is comfier than mine. We should swap.

Grr. Zoe grabbed hold of his feet and pulled them off. They are exactly the same. Come on. Get off.

His head banged against the wall. She grabbed his foot again, trying to upend him onto the floor. But he kicked out, and she ended up with his foot in her stomach. The wind knocked out of her, she fell to the floor and stared at him, fists clenched.

Ross laughed and settled himself back down onto her bed. This bed is definitely more comfortable. I’m staying.

She growled, but all that did was to make him laugh. With her teeth gritted, she stood. If you’re having this one, then I’m going to yours.

She paused outside the door, expecting him to follow and stop her, but he hadn’t moved. So she carried on round the top of the stairs towards his bedroom. Not that she wanted his stinky bed or any of his stinky things. She wanted her own room back to herself.

She swung open his door, finding him lying on his bed smirking and covered in dust. Junk covered the floor. Damn the cupboard under the eaves between their rooms. He must have cleared it all out earlier that day, for whatever reason. As young children it had been great fun having secret access between their rooms. But he’d filled his end up with so much stuff, it hadn’t been usable for years. Until today, of course.

While she stood in the doorway fuming at him, their foster mother appeared behind her. Why are you bothering Ross, darling? Let him be.

Zoe spun round to face her. He stormed into my room and refused to leave my bed.

Soria raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. That’s not what it looks like. Her eyes swept the room. Now, why don’t you help him tidy up. You seem to have made a real mess between the two of you. She stood in her postbox red skirt suit and matching court shoes, as always looking out of place in the country farmhouse where they lived.

That’s not fair. I had nothing to do with this. Zoe waved at the mess, her jaw clenched.

Their foster mother just stared back, her golden curls framing her heart-shaped face.

Come on, Zo. Ross called from the bed. Pick up these things from my floor. Just like mother says.

She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. Seriously?

Ross sat up and grinned.

Zoe had held her own against him for most of their childhood, but he’d bulked up through puberty and increased rugby training. Why did she try? She’d never beat him. She’d end up bruised and sore. Again.

Still, when a glint filled his eyes Zoe prepared herself half-heartedly. She balanced her weight over the balls of her feet, watching for his approach. If she could preempt his first move, she might have a chance. His feet moved deftly, and he caught hold of her before she could dodge. They moved backward and forward a bit, grappling. She tripped over the junk on the floor and Ross swung her round into a spin turn, ending with a drop.

Her body hurtled towards the floor. Zoe grabbed at him as she fell. His arm swooped under her shoulders, stopping her before she hit the floor. She glared at him, her heart racing.

He laid her on the floor and sat back on his heels. Getting slow, Zo.

She stared at him. Trust her brother to turn their fight into a way to demonstrate his superiority at dancing too. A skill he’d never admit to possessing at school. But their foster parents had insisted they both took lessons since they started at school.

Their mother pointed at the floor. You must stay aware of your surroundings while you dance, so you know where the obstacles are. But above all, follow your partner’s lead. Trust them to catch you. She smiled at Ross. Well done. I’ll tell Xander; I’m sure he’ll be sad to have missed it. She paused. Maybe we should re-stage this for him later. He would like that.

Zoe glowered at them both and stood. I’m so done with all of you. She pushed past their foster mother and bashed down the stairs. She knew better than to argue with them.

Chapter Two: Unintended destination

Zoe crossed the garden towards the stables, kicking at stones in the path as she walked. Rascal munched grass, unconcerned about anything else. The white blaze down his nose shone in the late afternoon light, and patches of mud covered his bay coat. Trust him to have found the muddiest patches of field to roll in.

The horse snuffed at her as she approached, then lowered his head again to continue eating. She put her arms round his neck and leant against his side, listening to him breathe. His every breath drained away a bit of her anger.

Ross was only a year ahead of her, but he felt he could boss her around. They weren’t that far apart in age, but since their birthdays were listed as being either side of the summer holiday, the school had insisted that he went a year in front of her. Despite it being her who was already looking after the house.

How their foster parents were awarded the two of them, or why they were never inspected befuddled Zoe. She had read enough books about the fostering process to know it was strict and well-managed. But she saw no evidence of that in their lives.

She forced her shoulders down. They weren’t always so awful. In a few months, after her exams, they’d promised to arrange driving lessons for both her and Ross. Then she’d be more independent and able to go into the local town to shop or whatever else. After her exams, things would be different. That was what she dreamed of. She’d promised to study hard for her exams. Which she should be doing now.

Zoe sighed. She couldn’t go back in yet. That would be like them winning. Instead, she would take Rascal out. A ride would clear her head, and no doubt when she returned no one would remember the fight. She hoped. There were still a couple of hours before her foster father returned home for dinner. Yes, she’d take Rascal into the woods.

In the tack room, she considered her jeans. They weren’t the most comfortable to ride in, but it would have to do as she wouldn’t be out for long. She wasn’t returning to the house for her jodhpurs. She hesitated about going out without her mobile, but even that wasn’t worth venturing back inside.

She found the halter and lead rope. Returning to her horse, she slipped the halter over his head.

Rascal protested a moment before following, the lure of the new grass difficult to overcome.

She tied him up in the yard and gave him a good brush before tacking him up. Out of habit she grabbed her water bottle and clipped it to the D ring under the pommel of her saddle. Ready to ride, she led Rascal out of the yard and through the back gate onto the lane past the house.

There she mounted up and set off. She crossed the lane and took the bridle-path opposite, bending down over Rascal’s neck to pass through the hedge. The spring growth had yet to be cut back, so the opening was smaller than normal. Then they were out into the field. She followed the path diagonally to the gate on the other side. No crops grew on the line of the path, though the sprouts in the rest of the field looked like oilseed rape. She made a mental note not to go that way once they were in flower, because of her hay fever.

In no rush, she let the horse amble, the reins lose against his neck. She lost herself in trying to figure out how to cope for a few more months in her house. Her disinterested foster parents were tolerable, but her brother took every opportunity to make her life difficult. Ever since he started being interested in girls, he had turned increasingly antagonistic.

Rascal followed the path out of the open gate onto the lane out of the village. Hardly used, tufts of grass grew down the centre, poking their way through the tarmac. The horse slowed and tried to grab a mouthful, but Zoe urged him forward. He walked on, content to saunter in the late afternoon sunlight.

The road turned right, but Zoe and Rascal continued straight on up the track into Sprite’s Wood. The track dipped and then rose out of what was always a muddy bog in the autumn. It had just about dried out now, so she didn’t worry about finding the best path and let her horse choose.

As they entered the wood proper, the trees closed over their heads. They seemed to enclose them in another world, where family arguments and frustrations didn’t exist. Zoe’s shoulders relaxed. She enjoyed the soft warm breeze and fluttering of leaves.

She pushed Rascal forward into a trot, and soon they headed down the other side of the crest towards the valley road. A smaller path, only wide enough for a single horse and rider, it wound its way round trees. On the other side of the wood, the chestnut trees had been coppiced the year before, but here they were straight and tall. Their multiple trunks reaching over her head. In a month or two bluebells would carpet the ground between the trees, and would earn the area’s title of the Garden of England. For now, piles of last year’s leaves blanketed the ground, interspersed with ferns uncurling their first new fronds.

This was where Zoe came to unwind and forget about her troubles, but that argument with Ross kept circling round her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she should have said, or done, that would have stopped him. Why didn’t he ever listen to her? Why did he always do what he wanted despite her protests? She clenched her fists round the reins. If only she could find where she belonged, where she could make a difference and be appreciated.

She closed her eyes, trusting Rascal to follow the path. With a sigh, she tried to release the tension inside her with a strong exhale. She swayed with his movement and imagined the forest around them. The trees shook leafy hands above her head. Dappled sunlight filtering through to the ground. Her mental vision solidified. She tipped her head back to catch the warmth of the spring sun.

A bright flash pulsed through her closed eyelids. The temperature dropped.

Her eyes snapped open. This wasn’t the forest that she knew. The trees were taller, darker, more twisty. The light was starker and the shadows deeper. The birds sang stridently, calling to each other as they circled their prey.

She turned round in her saddle, looking back the way they’d come. They couldn’t have gone that far off the normal path. She needed to find a place to turn round and head back til she found where they’d gone wrong. Her hand reached into her pocket to check the map on her phone.

Zoe groaned. Her mobile lay on her desk where she’d left it before her argument with Ross. She bit her lip as she looked at the path ahead, searching for a familiar landmark.

The trees were too close together for her to turn Rascal safely. Their roots rose high above the ground, and the horse had to pick his way over them. They were no longer the coppiced chestnuts of a moment before, but gnarled, ancient trees with trunks covered in patches of moss.

In the corner of her eye something moved. She spun to face it, but found only tree roots and leaves. Sweat trickled down her spine. Her breathing sped up, barely reaching her lungs. Something unfamiliar chittered in the distance.

Rascal’s head was up. His ears whirled in all directions. She patted his neck, trying to calm him. Though she needed to quell the sense of panic rising inside herself, before that would happen.

She closed her eyes long enough to take a calming breath, hoping when she opened them the unfamiliarity would be a mistake or a trick of the light. But that wasn’t to be. Behind her, she saw no sign of Sprite’s Wood. They had ridden that path so many times before and encountered nothing like this. What was different today?

The chitterings were closer now, a rustling almost overhead. Zoe felt the horse’s unease, so she dismounted and moved to stand by his head. She held the leather reins with one hand and stroked his nose with the other. Letting him smell her familiar scent, so whatever new one he was worried about was no longer the most prominent.

When he was calmer, she looked about