Faerest: Coventry Chronicles, #2

By Brianna Bennett

Mystery has surrounded Sydney White for as long as she can remember. Her mother's death puzzled even the hardiest of investigators, but eventually, they just stopped trying. So, when Syd is presented with the opportunity to finish a degree in faery anthropology that her mother began over twenty years ago, she leaps at the chance to learn the truth. However, truth is often stranger than fiction, especially when the lines between faery and human are eroding each day. Syd will have to navigate unthinkable deals, a prince in peril she swore she would never speak to again, and an organization only known as Coventry.

 

In this special anniversary edition, you'll get a preview of Book 2 and a behind the scenes look at the road to Faerest's publication!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brianna Bennett
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735699493

Brianna Bennett

Brianna Bennett has been fascinated with fairy tales since her early childhood. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Professional Writing from Kutztown University and will have her Double Masters Degree in Creative Writing (MFA) and Publishing (MA) by May 2021. She lives and writes in the Philadelphia area. When she isn’t writing, she’s procrastinating by watching YouTube and TikTok videos or browsing through Medium.com, where she writes about mental health, feminism, life with her rare learning disability, and much more. 

Book preview

Prologue

S tories that begin in death seldom end well, Deacon Timothy Smythe intoned quietly from the pulpit. He wore a black collared t-shirt and khaki trousers, the symbol of the Gaian faith sown over his right breast.

According to the Word of Gaia, two Blades, one of Origin and one of Power, worked together to create life. Though they were the same size, the Blade of Origin was shaped with delicate curves, and in comparison, the Blade of Power was straightforward, coming to a defined point. Gaia, the goddess of Earth, the First Bearer of Both Blades, and the namesake of the religion, had been carved in exquisite detail on the lectern, head turned upward and arms raised toward her counterpart, Atlas, the god of the sky.

Funeral attendees bowed their heads respectfully toward the deacon and Gaia, whom believers referred to as the Matriarch. In the center of the altar sat an infant-sized casket that measured 12¼ inches wide and 15½ inches tall from base to curved top. Glossy, bone-white paint worked with customized silver trimmings that spelled a name in fanciful calligraphy on the lip:

Skylar Rose White

Sunlight streamed from above, cut into fractals by the crisscrossing diamonds of the skylight. Underfoot, soft grass tickled the feet of all in attendance, as Gaia had wished for her devotees to be as connected to the Earth as possible.

From the front of the crowd gathered, an infant loudly cooed, and her mother, Adelaide, shushed her, meeting the reverend’s gaze apologetically. The reverend nodded once in recognition of the mother’s embarrassment.

The infant’s father, Quentin, reached over and lovingly took the baby into his arms, cradling and shushing her. The baby quieted, her eyelids dragging downward over brown pupils as her father carefully rocked her.

The young parents were each extraordinarily handsome in their own right; though the mother carried an air of superiority that all true-blood faerys had, while the father appeared far more hybrid to the casual observer. The sharper angles of Adelaide’s bone structure set them apart.

We ask that Gaia, our blessed Matriarch who works in mysterious ways, safely guide this child to Her welcoming arms. The deacon continued as if he had not been interrupted, sweeping his hand toward the casket with his palm facing the few clouds over them.

This we do ask of our Matriarch, the crowd responded, their heads tilting upward reverently.

We ask that the Matriarch also watch over Skylar’s living family, her mother, father, and twin sister Sydney. In an ideal world, Skylar and Sydney would both be at the beginning of prosperous life journeys, but alas, only one will continue in Gaia’s image.

This we do ask of our Matriarch, the crowd responded once more. Deacon Smythe descended the steps from the pulpit and beckoned the grieving family forward, where he brushed each of their foreheads with Gaia’s Blessing, a crossing river of pure water. The baby wrinkled her nose but did not otherwise stir. Deacon Smythe returned to the lectern.

We most especially wish that Mrs. Adelaide Beaumont-White and her husband Quentin be given the strength to continue on in spite of this great and terrible loss. May Gaia protect you and allow no more suffering to cross your threshold.

This we do ask of our Matriarch, the crowd repeated for the third time.

This concludes the funerary services for Skylar Rose White. The family has requested a private burial, so I wish you all well and encourage you to drive safely. Love each other as Gaia would ask you too.

Adelaide, Quentin, and Sydney received the mourners, thanked them for their condolences, and for attending the ceremony. Once everyone had departed, funeral home staff retrieved Skylar’s casket, and the small procession drove to Sophia’s Sanctuary, the cemetery of Rivers Crossing, Pennsylvania.

Tears silently fell down Adelaide’s cheeks as the casket was lowered into the ground. She mouthed an apology as it disappeared out of sight. Quentin, still cradling Sydney in his left arm, curled the fingers of his right hand around Adelaide’s waist, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Sydney continued to sleep peacefully.

We’ll get through this, Addie. Quentin told his wife, who sighed heavily.

Let’s just…go home.

Wilhelmina Strauss pressed a bundle of blankets to her chest, high heels pressing into mud piles with each step. Walking quickly, she struggled to see through the permanently misty forest. As this small, mostly-hybrid populated town existed on a ley line and its woods hid the only portal to Faerhaven, home of the faerys, some power collision (the heat of hybrids and the cold of faer folk) should be expected. Still, Wilhelmina did not have time for such inconveniences.

From the pocket of her suit jacket, Wilhelmina produced a vial of crimson liquid. She popped the cork from the top and downed the vial’s contents in a single delicate swallow. Briefly, her pupils glowed purple and her ears sharpened, the blood’s power taking immediate effect. After discarding the vial, she waved her hand to create a miniscule air twister, which then collected the air droplets in front of her, successfully dispelling the obstruction.

Gaia’s wrath immediately carved a new crevice into Wilhelmina’s already marred skin. The painful incision lanced up her arm, forcing her to jostle the bundle in her arms.

Spelled to sleep peacefully, Skylar Rose was the reward of a successful transaction between Wilhelmina and Adelaide, orchestrated by Coventry. Wilhelmina did not know much about this company or its intentions, but as long as they didn’t get in the way of her ambitions, there would not be any issues.

At that moment, Wilhelmina came to the Great Nexus, the X of two rivers marking the spot where Faerhaven and Earth split. Peering into the center of the X, water that did not reflect stared back at her. Wilhelmina waved her arm over the small pool as one would swipe all objects from a crowded table. The pool of water shimmered in response, growing to the size of a large saucer, the water solidifying for a few precious seconds. Glancing around to ensure she wasn’t being followed, Wilhelmina stepped onto the ice-like surface, dropped through the portal and vanished with the baby still tucked safely in her arms.

She dropped directly into the throne room of Faerhaven, which was a medium-sized stone enclosure with an intricate throne made of tawny colored roots and bright green vines in its center.

Behind her back, she used Aetherfae magic to compel obedience from the guards assembled, her magic invading their souls and turning them into her slaves.

I am Wilhelmina Strauss. I come to declare myself as the Queen of Faerhaven. It would behoove you to not resist me, as I carry the Faerest in my arms.

The king, an imposing male faery with a floor-length charcoal beard and more wrinkles than a dying tree got to his feet with the clear intention to fight. Wilhelmina did not say a word, but she drew from the blood she’d drunk and strangled him without touch until he fell to the floor in a heap.

1

Twenty Years Later

Syd glanced toward Jamie, who tapped the START button on his phone’s timer. With a steadying breath, she began to pace through their bedroom, socked feet silent on the hardwood floors.

She wore faded gym shorts and a tank top, her treated butter-yellow hair in a high ponytail that swished as she moved.

Jamie sat on his bed opposite her, wearing jean shorts and a green t-shirt with a pocket over his right breast, leaning most of his weight on his hands as he watched Syd practice her speech for at least the dozenth time. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose ever so slightly, and sweat clung to his armpits like dew to grass.

Good morning, esteemed faculty. My name is Sydney White, and I am here today to present my Intention to Enroll. It has been my dream to attend Grimm State University since my mother told me about how much she treasured the memories she made here. My goal is to ultimately graduate with a Bachelor of Arts in Faery Anthropology with a minor in supernatural studies.

Nervous butterflies in her stomach caused her to hesitate, but she took a deep breath and continued on. Faerys and their tales are not a secret; they never have been. In fact, there was a time when they were worshipped as the next coming of Gaia, feared for their unknown powers. Jamie nodded at her encouragingly.

As time has gone on, faerys have immersed themselves in the lives of hybrids, becoming less like mythical beings and more like slightly-advanced versions of us. This process was expedited by the god Atlas’s curse on the faer folk, which was done to punish his sister Gaia for creating creatures with so much power and no moral compass with which to control them. Faerys cannot reproduce with each other and create another pure faery; rather, they create sterile dwarves, which serve no purpose beyond evidence of intercourse.

Jamie raised one finger to let her know a minute had passed.

Faerys had two choices: mate with humans or go extinct. The arrogance that we commonly associate with faerys would did not allow extinction to happen, so, many faerys put humans under their spells, while others actually courted each other. Either way, the successful coitus of a human and a faery created hybrids. For the record, the population of the United States is roughly split into two: the first are true-blooded faerys, those who descend from faerys who mated before the curse, and the second are hybrids, those who descend from faerys who mated after the curse. Faery magic has become a part of the hybrid genetic makeup, but it is unknown how each element (Aether, Magma, Aqua, Oxygen, and Terra) mutates during conception. Investigating that goes beyond the scope of my research and is better left to biologists and chemists. So, an organization named Coventry was established in the 1980s with the goal to monitor these unpredictable powers. To do this, the Coventry CEO at the time created a treaty with the ruling monarch of Faerhaven that decreed all infants born on either side of the Great Nexus must be subjected to a test once the umbilical cord was is cut. The H.Y.B.R.I.D. test shows the level of faery magic that is present in the infant at birth, and that in turn influences a doctor’s predictions on how that magic will present itself. This presentation can be malignant or benign, much like certain types of tumors.

For example, my best friend Jamie… She paused once again to take a breath. …has heterochromia, which means that his pupils are different colors. It’s an exceptionally rare condition for hybrids, yet my preliminary research indicates that it’s quite common amongst faerys. She stopped herself, reading over the notecard and cursing under her breath. Wait a second. I need to include what H.Y.B.R.I.D. stands for.

Jamie paused the timer, and Syd scribbled down a note.

Okay, go again.

Jamie resumed the timer and gave Syd a thumbs- up.

"Once this test became common practice in the 1980s, the law was later amended in the 1990s to include a clause wherein an infant could be traded with the faer folk if the infant’s magic proved to be too unstable for hybrid parents to care for. Once the H.Y.B.R.I.D. test comes back with a rough estimate regarding the newborn’s percentage of magic, an obstetrician will sit down with the parents to discuss options. Some parents choose to take the risk of raising a hybrid with heightened power, while others recognize that their child would be happier away from hybrid influence, so they sign away their rights to let the faerys raise that hybrid.

On rare occasions, parents would elect to have a faux funeral for the traded baby, but that has only happened a few times in history. In addition, the fact that the only known portal between Earth and Faerhaven exists in our very own woods is a curious coincidence that may be relevant to the high population of faerys and hybrids in this town and area. Much of the faer folk’s intentions are shrouded in secrecy, so we may never have the answers we seek.

Pausing for a moment, she took a drink of water for her parched throat, and then came to her conclusion.

I intend to investigate the culture of Rivers Crossing, one of the smaller towns that has not dropped the old ways of reverence. Grimm State University’s Anthropology Department has long held the top spot among other institutions, beating out Harvard, Yale, and others by a significant margin. It is my ultimate intention to use the information I learn here at GSU to understand our past so that we may alter the oncoming future.

Jamie tapped ‘stop’ on the timer and clapped enthusiastically, causing Syd to roll her eyes and sit down next to him, grabbing her phone to check her time.

Two minutes and thirty-three seconds. Not bad when it used to be over ten minutes long and you stopped in the middle, said Jamie as Syd put her notecards to the side. Tell me again: Why are you worried about not getting in?

Because GSU is the best for a reason, Jamie! What if I missed something in my research? she fretted. "I should have listened to the counselor in high school; GSU is too challenging for me."

She shot to her feet and yanked out her ponytail so that she could run a hand through her messy hair. Then, as if remembering the summer heat, she combed her fingers through it so she could corral it into a topknot.

You realize that being accepted as a student at GSU, even as an undecided peasant like myself, completely negates the theory that it’s too challenging for you, right?

Anyone can get into college, especially since Coventry did away with the SATs, ACTs, and other standardized tests when we were in elementary school. she shot back. Not everyone can get into the best anthropology program in a two-hundred-mile radius! Jamie got to his feet and grabbed Syd’s wrists, stopping her movements.

"Listen to me. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and any anthropology department, GSU or not, would be lucky to have you."

Jamie released her wrists, and she inhaled carefully through her nose, exhaling slowly in a meditative sigh.

I know. You’re right. Syd’s stomach grumbled, announcing its presence to their partially-unpacked bedroom. Didn’t your mom send you here with enough food to feed a small village? She made her way to the door as she asked the question, and Jamie followed.

Outside their room, there was a square-shaped stair landing with two other bedrooms and one large bathroom. The living area took up much of the first level, though it did open into a recently-upgraded kitchen. Another, smaller door led into a powder room.

"Not a village, but maybe a football team. Her headaches have been getting worse lately.