Fae Tempted: Finishing School for Faery Brides, #2

By Lidiya Foxglove

'm a grown-ass woman, I don't need any more school days, but I got myself into this situation. At this school, all the teachers are our future husbands.

But my situation is a little more complicated. Everyone else has one future husband...and I have three.

There's my tasty peasant snack Orson, and then there are Cyrus and Larkin—competitive cousins battling for my favor. Cyrus is a cold-as-ice mind reader and Larkin is a chivalrous war hero who is arrogant as hell but knows how to treat a lady. I'm supposed to choose between them, but what if I want them all?

But Lord Larkin also has a shadow on his past. He went missing in battle and came back two years later. Does this have something to do with the demons that keep attacking? If the faery queen is killed, all of this might come tumbling down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lidiya Foxglove
• Release date: Dec 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201004408

Book preview

Chapter One

Daisy

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It’s pretty awkward when you’re marrying one very tasty man, and then it turns out you’re also expected to marry a second man who is clearly wildly attracted to you but trying to hide it, but then a third guy shows up and everyone is like, oh actually maybe you need to marry this dude instead.

Now I had two men competing for my favor.

And don’t get me wrong. Two men competing over me? That feels like Daisy Pendleton’s brand. At least, what my brand should be.

It’s just…

You miss Lord Cyrus already, don’t you? Cash said, sitting on my bed while I puzzled over what to wear for my first solo date with Lord Larkin.

No. Whatever. I don’t care. Maybe, I said, as Cash stared at me with his golden, unblinking cat eyes. By the way, in human form he didn’t blink enough either. I tried to throw it back on him. What about you and Squire Finn?

There is no ‘me and…’, Cash said, narrowing his eyes. Stop trying to make it happen.

I think you should come out in human form, I said. And then, ya know, just see if Finn checks you out.

He won’t.

Bet he will.

Why would he?

Because you’re a hot cup of Earl Grey.

I think you’re avoiding your own problems. Maybe you should stop just standing there in your bra trashing the room with clothes you’ve rejected. That orange dress looked fine.

I chewed on my lip. Cyrus bought me all these clothes, and they made me think of that day when we were arguing because I was trying to pretend I didn’t want to be here. The more I thought about this Cyrus vs. Larkin situation, the more I just felt awkward about it.

Sure, it was possible I might enjoy Larkin’s company. He was handsome and he was a war hero and he had an eye patch, which honestly I was kinda into as long as he never took it off because eye injuries, ew. Best of all, he couldn’t read my mind, and he seemed to have better social graces than Cyrus. Cyrus didn’t know how to treat a queen. I mean, besides the actual queen of the fae, who loved him.

You’re doing it again, Cash said.

What? I’m not!

You know you’re doing it. You don’t want to hurt Cyrus.

I groaned. No. Nooo. Daisy gonna do what’s best for Daisy. It’s just a date.

He waved a languid tail at me. You’re right. It would be terrible if you actually admitted you care about others.

I care about others! I am deeply benevolent. I’m trying to help Polly and Rowena fall in love with their husbands and if that isn’t a good deed I don’t know what is. If you don’t be careful I am going to snuggle you aggressively.

I had just a few outfits that had been provided by Madame Yami, the court dressmaker, instead of buying them from shops in La Serenissima with Cyrus, and I grabbed one of those. Just in case Cyrus saw me. It already had to be killing him that he had to battle for my favor with his cousin, so I didn’t want to rub it in.

I put on a gold gown with Cleopatra disco vibes. How did Yami know that Cleopatra disco was one of my most frequent moods? That weird old swamp faery was pretty smart. My only complaint was that it had a full skirt with zero slits in it. I picked up my scissors.

Oh god, don’t do it, Cash said. The hems will be unfinished.

What, so I’m just supposed to walk around without showing any leg like I’m Amish? I made a slice up to my thigh and put on some dangling earrings. I put my hair up and then decided it was better down. Then I put on some blue metallic eyeshadow. As one does, when one is working some pyramid-building-slut realness.

I’m late, I said, as the bells of St. Mark’s Tower rang the hour outside. So I’ll report back later. I still took my sweet time strapping on my heels and walking down the stairs.

Lord Larkin was waiting for me at the entrance of the conservatory. This was usually the music school for the faeries but while they were out of class for their seasonal vacation, it was being used as a training school to mold human witches into faery brides.

Lord Larkin was a hot dish, no denying that. I knew he would clean up well, and he had. Oh boy.

He was Cyrus’ cousin, but they didn’t resemble each other much at all. They had a similar aquiline nose and that was about it. Larkin was a bit of a pretty boy, with thick auburn hair and kissable red lips. And let me just say, I don’t really like pretty boys that much, but I guess that was why I liked the eyepatch. It made him look much more dangerous, along with a certain haggard air that suggested he had been through the horrors of war and barely survived. He was the kind of man who gets better and better with age, every gray hair and wrinkle only adding to the handsome dignity.

(Shit, men are so lucky, as long as they don’t bald, I swear. I mean, thanks to my grandmother, I knew how to age. It involved a crapton of jewelry and attitude. But still.)

You have rendered me nearly speechless, he said, after pausing over my appearance. I have been working my way back home, mostly on foot, for weeks, looking forward to seeing La Serenissima and Queen Morgana again, but I certainly never expected to find a beautiful woman here as well. Of course, you were promised to Cyrus, so…this may be strange for you.

And Lord Orson, I said. Before anything else, I was betrothed to Lord Orson. So, just to be clear, you will have to share with him, if you win me. Orson mentioned that when he came back, but I wasn’t sure it had sunk in.

Yes…I don’t know him well, but a lover of yours will be a lover of mine.

Oh— I blinked. I didn’t think he would go that far. I don’t think Orson expects that. I couldn’t help a little mischievous smile.

Well, sweet lady, I suppose we will just have to experiment until we find a…comfortable arrangement. He sounded utterly confident in his own skin—and his own bedroom prowess. Ooh, damn.

I should also mention that he was wearing some kind of faery military uniform with a dark green coat with a band of tartan worn like a sash that had some medals pinned to it that no doubt signified all the demon ass this dude had kicked. He also wore a sword and had a walking stick with a wolf’s head, because he had a slight limp, but it was totally a sexy limp that just added to the mystique. It didn’t slow down his walking speed. Maybe he couldn’t run marathons, but that was okay. Neither could I.

He offered me his arm. The queen suggested you had not yet had time for a tour of the churches and museums of La Serenissima. Of course, that is just an excuse for me to take you down narrow, romantic paths and buy your favor at my favorite patisserie. Does this meet your favor?

I suppose I find that tolerable, I said, giving him a flirtatious smile.

I was really feeling this date. So far the score was Larkin= 1, Cyrus = 0, and I was already not so sure my broody mind-reader in black was going to live up to this. Whenever he did anything date-like with me we just ended up arguing.

Then again, Cash and I spent a lot of our time arguing and I loved him more than anyone.

His arm, linked with mine, felt strong and right. We strolled at a comfortable pace down cobblestone alleys, crossing bridges over the canals, until we reached the basilica. I remembered Cyrus telling me that when the city of Venice split and become a parallel city, the fae maintained the basilica as a church, unlike some of the other churches. There was one across from Cyrus’ palazzo that had fallen into ruin.

The door was already open and other faeries were strolling the interior in quiet awe.

Do you have faery tourists? I asked. For some reason I never thought of faeries as being into tourism.

You are quite right, he said. Some of the fae can get very rooted to their dwellings, to the point where they fall ill if they leave. But others are travellers by nature. We don’t call it ‘tourism’, simply traveling or roving. I have been a rover, I daresay.

‘And he won the heart of a lady’… I had learned songs like the Gypsy Rover in the ballad class that I totally hated, but for some reason when I was with Lord Larkin I suddenly didn’t hate it as much. What the hell was he doing to me? We’d been walking for fifteen minutes and I was quoting ballads.

I hope so. He chuckled. It is strange to be back here and know that my days a-fighting are over. I suppose I shall rove no more, but there is a time in every life when a man yearns for the pleasures of the hearth. Particularly to share with such a lively wife.

His voice had this romantic tone, a cadence that made every word sound like poetry, and I don’t mean in a nerdy way because I actually hated poetry, with apologies to my dad, who was always saying ‘Miles to go before I sleep’ when we would ask him what he was up to, to the point where I would roll my eyes so hard. Boy, I could just listen to you talk all day.

I’m glad to hear that, as I am a talker once you get me on a subject. But I don’t know much about you, except what I can see and sense of you, which is far from nothing.

I’m just a witch from Chicago, I said. I wasn’t handing out my life story.

Chicago. Where is the land of Chicago?

America.

The New World, he said, nodding.

I snorted. Sure.

We walked down the center aisle of the basilica and took some side detours to admire stained glass windows. A small, knobby-kneed faery was sitting cross-legged by the nave playing a song on a lute, apparently inspired on the spot. Faeries were strange that way.

Why did it take you so long to get back here from wherever you were? I asked. Did you really have amnesia?

I know no other word for it, he said. It was not that I had no memories at all of my home or family, but it was too hazy for me to find my way back. That’s how it is in the magical world, as you may know. Paths only exist if we are ready to find them. For some time, there was no path home. I would hear Queen Morgana’s name at the village tavern and I would feel a desperate pull to her, knowing she was my queen, but I simply could not go to serve her. I wasn’t ready.

So you and Cyrus do have that much in common, I said. Loyalty to Morgana. Do you think you’ll ever love me more than the queen? Because I need to be first.

Treasonous, he said, but his eye had a spark of humor.

Orson told me not to trust this guy because he lost his memories and all under suspicious circumstances. And like, I hear that. I do. But dang is he easy to talk to.

Speaking on treason, can I ask you a sensitive question? I asked. I felt like if I asked Cyrus about this, he would take it personally, while Orson wouldn’t take it seriously at all.

Always. There is no question you cannot ask me.

Why do you love Queen Morgana so much? Because from my perspective, she hides behind a veil and her health is bad and she doesn’t seem like she knows how to work a room. She’s the queen. If the queen is always sick and hiding away, well, why are so devoted to her? What is there to be devoted to?

She is the last of the old ones. The very last. Perhaps that means nothing to you. Humans, even witches, value what is fresh and youthful and quick more than what is old and slow. It is partly why we of the fae adore you so much, and have missed your presence here.

Ooh, blatant flattery. How dare you.

To us, Morgana is precious, and she need not make a great noise. In fact, most fae don’t want anything to change. Her beauty, her steadiness, is like a mountain guarding the city. On the day she dies, the court will mourn like never before, because we will never see her like again.

How did she get to be the last one? Why aren’t other faeries from the House of Coral ‘old ones’?

It all depends on the humans, he said. We know the great high fae when they are born because of their beauty and serenity. They are never troubled by fleeting matters. Even as children, they seem wise. When Morgana was born, most fae born were like me, or Cyrus—more possessed by mortal matters. But she was the last of the group high-born. The humans must have had a time, one hundred and thirty or forty years ago, where their belief in the fae was strongly revived for a short time.

Oh sure. The Victorians, I said. In fact, I bet what really did it was the Cottingley fairy hoax.

What is this?

These two young witches wanted to try and convince humans to believe in faeries again, so they used photography and a little enchantment and claimed to have taken photographs of faeries. Little ones, sprites. People got really into it and thought it was real, but then the humans figured out it was a hoax. Of course the girls couldn’t say a damn thing about it, so that was that. It probably just made humans more cynical than ever. But—wait—so Morgana is already a hundred and thirty years old?

Oh yes, he said. And she could live to five hundred if her health was good. It would assure a good future for us and our children.

Would it? Is it good to have the same person in charge for five hundred years?

For a high fae, yes. They are wise rulers because of their deep connection to nature and their inability to be moved by immediate matters. A true high fae is incapable of being motivated by selfishness or pettiness. The rest of us, I can’t say the same for. We can only try. Imagine knowing that the mother of your people will not die in your lifetime, nor your children’s, that she will always be a steady presence—like that mountain guarding the city.

Oh…

I got it, all of a sudden. I mean, I still felt like I didn’t know Morgana at all. But maybe she was the glue of the city and I just hadn’t realized. What I did understand was how it would feel if your mother never died. I had grown up without my mom, and with the threat of my grandmother dying hanging over me. If she died, it was all on me. I would be the Diviner and everyone in the entire magical world would look to me to solve a lot of problems for them, and they wouldn’t care how I felt about it.

But what if my grandmother never died? What if I could just trust her to handle it?

I might have stayed in the world I knew.

I can see I’ve turned the conversation in a heavier direction, Lord Larkin said. And this is my first outing with you. Perhaps the basilica is no place for romance after all. Too somber. Are you hungry yet?

Oh, yeah, especially for a patisserie. I can eat my weight in custard.

You will be very well pleased with this place, then.

He strolled me a long way around, pointing out little gems here and there, statues and fountains, houses where interesting people lived, ornately worked doorknobs.

I hope I’m not boring you, pretty girl. Sometimes I am too much the romantic and it’s been so long…

I think it’s cute, I said. You have an artist’s eye, don’t you?

"I loved to paint,