Fey-King: The Faelaw Chronicles, #2

By Autumn Stevens

She's been chosen by prophecy. But can she prevail after coming face-to-face with destiny?

 

Gwen Findlay is no longer on her own. With her half-human-half-orc mentor and their trusted companions, the orphaned young woman is growing more accustomed to the realm of Faelaw and her own magical abilities. And though she still has much to learn, she journeys into a hostile land to find the ruthless Fey-King's crystal heart… and crush it.

 

Determined to destroy the villain's source of power despite the deadly risk, Gwen arrives at an acid lake with no way to get to the other side. And as she and her friends hunt for a way to continue their dangerous quest, she fears endless monstrous obstacles stand between her and any chance at vanquishing the great evil.

 

Can she claim her fate before it demands a lethal price?

 

Fey-King is the atmospheric second book in the Faelaw Chronicles epic fantasy series. If you like strong female characters, mystical worlds, and slow-burning romance, then you'll love Autumn Stevens's wondrous adventure.

 

Buy Fey-King to defeat shadowy forces today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troublemaker Books
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998914029

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Faelaw will be free again!

The words were whispered urgently, passing down from one generation to the next. Their utterance was secret, furtive, awed.

For ancient tales shrouded in the shadows of time told of a prophecy that would one day bring the riven lands of winter and summer into harmony. One day, they said, a hero bearing the Mark would rise up to seal the Divide and free the Faelavian folk once and for all.

No more would the Summerland folk turn away from their Winterland brethren. No more would the deadly lake, known as the Divide, scar the landscape with its acid waters. And no more would Faelaw know the dark, corrupting sprawl of the unseen evil that sought to bleed its life force dry.

And yet . . . centuries went on as the fae realm turned on its magical axis and the prophecy failed to come to pass. No one could tell when it would arise, nor predict who this fabled hero could be.

Instead, the tellings grew more and more complex, with embellishments giving the long-awaited legend more potency with each retelling. Meanwhile, the disbelievers resigned themselves to a life under the yoke of separation from their kith and kin, knowing naught of whence they came from, nor how to find the way to their side again.

In this uncertain time—a time of relative, though incomplete, peace—the Fey-King built his vast hall in northernmost Summerland, from whence he sought to forge an army unlike any the fae world had ever seen. Himself animated by darkling death magic, the Fey-King worked in secret, toiling away behind a facade of supposed harmony with the laws of the realm. Few knew, or even suspected, the malicious plans of this powerful evildoer.

As a first point of priority, the evil king had already traveled to the impassable Bear Isles to the east, swiping its wards aside even as he enslaved the sea bear tribe that dwelled there. For once, they were free and true, keeping to themselves while doing some small measure of good in the land. Now, they were gored by the dark magic of the Fey-King’s skeletal hand, stripped of their powers of speech and magic, instead forced to be his playthings.

It was a small cruelty that would one day grow into a massive war, spreading the Fey-King’s dark influence to all of Faelaw’s people, enslaving them in turn.

But the fates had other plans. For even as this dark force toiled in his hidden hall, with no one knowing and no one believing that there was any threat from the west, a young half-orc was working on his own mission.

For he had heard firsthand about the Fey-King’s schemes and found a hero who bore the Mark of Prophecy. She was a mere human girl of the mortal realm, with little grasp or knowledge of her own wellspring of magic.

But together, they had to try to defeat the malevolent king, because the consequences of inaction were too dire to fathom.

Faelaw must be free!

CHAPTER ONE

Gwen? Leeta’s voice called out from the doorway. They’d sat down to dinner without the girl, assuming she was just outside, practicing still. When some time had passed, and there was no sign of her in the cabin, the remaining three began to worry.

Yuriel and Jag joined Leeta at the door, before all three ventured out into the area surrounding the cabin. A chilly wind picked up, acting as a strange warning and leaving a sense of foreboding with its departure.

Gwen? That’s not funny. Come on out! Yuriel called, worry and a sense of desperation straining his voice.

She is not here, Jag said gravely.

Crap, Yuriel thought, scratching his head. I leave her alone for five minutes and she disappears. He kicked a stone at his feet. Probably teleported back home. Can’t really blame her . . . but why would she up and go without saying bye?

A strangled cry rose up out of the forest ahead of them.

Gwen! Yuriel yelled, running toward the source of the sound. Jag grabbed his ax, and together with Leeta, they followed the orckin into a wooded thicket. Low-hanging tree branches and prickly briars whipped Yuriel’s limbs and torso, but he hardly felt their sting. The strangled cry remained present in his head, pushing him on. Despite his misgivings, he knew in his heart the girl was meant for great things, and he needed her. If something happened to her . . . He shook his head. Thoughts of doom and gloom had to wait. She was in trouble, and there was no time for brooding.

Beside him, Jag pointed at the ground before them as they ran. Tracks, he said simply, between breaths, and sure enough, wispy tendrils of silvery smoke showed the way ahead.

Yuriel gritted his teeth, breathing hard through his nose. A shadow minion. Again. He ran faster.

I brought . . . my powders . . . with me, Leeta panted, breathless, trying to keep up. The orckin was moving at a furious pace, and the two human sidekicks were getting winded . . . but they weren’t about to stop.

Yuriel finally caught sight of the creature. There, in the wan moonlight, he could see the shadow minion’s ghastly form. Its blazing amber eyes were flaming orange-red, and it howled like the hound of the Baskervilles.

All Yuriel saw was red. He charged at the minion, all but tackling it, but it was insubstantial, made of nothing, and though this attack hurt the creature based on the sharp cry it sounded, Yuriel passed clean through it. Jag swung his ax with a battle cry, but that, too, was no use. The demon was not fully of this place, its body straddling the shadow realm just as the physical realm of Faelaw.

It lashed out, clawing at Jag’s animal-skin shirt. Jag didn’t make a sound, though he jumped backward and slapped a hand to his chest to stopper the wound. Blood dripped between his fingers.

Damn demon! Yuriel yelled, raising his arms and powering up a spell. Within seconds, he skewered the shadow minion with an electric bolt, lighting up the forest like a firework.

Moving quickly, and having regained her breath, Leeta pulled a small sack from her waist, yanked the drawstring open, and upended the contents of the sack onto the shadow minion. The indigo-blue powder shimmered in the moonlight, falling like burning ash onto the shadow demon. The powder crackled and hissed as it pierced through the creature, burning it out in a magi-chemical reaction.

The demon screamed and flailed its arms at Leeta, narrowly missing her head, but it was too late. The magic powder corroded the creature until it burnt up with a hiss. The smell of charred fabric and rotten fruit rose up as the demon screamed its swan song. Soon, it disappeared, dissolving entirely into nothingness.

Yuriel stood panting over the burn marks on the ground, his arms aching, his whole body pulsing from the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush. Sweat pooled and cooled his skin at the nape of his neck and between his shoulder blades. He shook his head and swept the back of his hand across his forehead.

Good thinking, Leeta, he said in a low voice. Jag, Yuriel added, looking up at the human clutching his chest. Are you okay? A rush of protectiveness suffused Yuriel’s heart. Maybe these guys aren’t so bad after all . . .

I will be fine, Jag said, grimacing but smiling in spite of the pain. It is only a surface wound.

Leeta rushed to his side and set to tending to his wound.

Yuriel nodded. We showed the demon, didn’t we? But where’s Gwen? He paced around in the dark, holding up his hands and casting a glowing orb to amplify the moon’s glow and light their way further here on land. Don’t tell me it got her, in the end . . .

Not after all that . . . whispered Leeta, her face creased with worry.

Gwen! Yuriel shouted, taking slow steps deeper into the forest. Nothing but the silent wood all around them. Tall trees rose from the earth to brush the sky, and though there were flickering shadows around them, the blasts of light turned black shortly after. No wind rustling through the leaves or the crunch of leaves into the soil. Nothing, and no sign of her. Where could she be?

Leeta pulled Jag’s arm around her shoulders and helped him stand straighter. She looked balefully at Yuriel as he searched, and the two humans called out as well.

Gwen!

Gwen?

Silence. And then . . . a movement from a copse to the far right. Footsteps, jogging, thudding closer and closer. Yuriel swung the orb around, looking for the source of the sound and bracing himself. He’d be damned if he’d let yet another shadow demon try to get the best of him.

Yuri! Gwen called, pushing through the low branches. Jag! Leeta! . . . I’m . . . I’m okay! There were tear marks in her jacket and her hair was mussed up, but otherwise, she was unharmed.

Yuriel left the orb hovering in place and ran to her, his body flooding with relief from head to toe. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Both their hearts beat loud and fast in their chests. She was okay.

Um . . . she said, her face warming into a blush. Hello to you, too!

After a beat, Yuriel gulped and remembered himself. Errr . . . he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away from his body to stand at arm’s length. Did that thing hurt you? He lowered his head, his eyes searching hers.

She shook her head. It tried, she began, taking his hands gently off her shoulders and returning them to his sides. Her right hand lingered on his left hand for a moment, then she let go and rubbed her arm. Thank you for, um, saving me . . . Her gaze grazed over the char marks on the ground.

Leeta and Jag exchanged a knowing glance, then hobbled over to join the two heroes.

You are well, Mistress, Jag said.

Leeta added, But how did you escape its clutches? You were not with it when we found the demon.

Gwen blinked at the moon above, as if seeing it for the first time. Yeah . . . she said slowly, musing. I’m not really sure. Something strange happened. She looked back at the ground and shifted from foot to foot. One minute, this thing was grabbing me and pulling me away . . . the next, I’m like a mile away from it, alone in the middle of the forest. She smiled sheepishly, then shrugged. I almost thought I was back in Toronto . . .

Yuri couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was okay. She was okay! But it had been a close call. Too close.

He nodded. Usually, the way the teleport works is that it moves you between your world and ours. Not many magic-bearers can harness it on a smaller scale. It’s more concentrated, what you did. He smiled. Looks like you’re magic, after all.

She quirked a brow. As if there was any doubt! She giggled. Let’s go home . . . um! She paused. "Your home, Yuriel. Is . . . what I meant."

He patted her on the shoulder and led the company back to his cabin. The moon shone, and the stars burned bright. As they crossed the door’s threshold, Yuriel’s next words were grave. We can’t wait anymore. This demon just forced our hand.

Inside, all of them finally safe and sound, he grabbed the bottle of grog and poured them all shots. We leave for the Fey-King’s hall in the morning.

CHAPTER TWO

Gwen had never seen the Winterland sun before. She hadn’t known it even shone here, on the eastern half of Faelaw. The skies were either a blinding gray-white in the day or a dark, gloomy murk at night. So when a ray of light slanted from the cabin window and roused her from her sleep, she thought she was back home at first. Home in Toronto, in her own bed, in her little house. Her two roomies nearby, with their laughter and craziness, and her coffee shop down the road.

The memory floated up in her mind, bringing with it a yearning for how things used to be. Her life at home was simple and average, measured out in work hours and nonwork hours, the division clear and oddly freeing—although an undercurrent of sadness, Gwen’s oldest friend, was ever-present there.

She blinked her eyes open and heaved a small sigh. Nope. She was still in Yuri’s cabin, wrapped in blankets on his bed while Yuri slept on the floor by the fireplace. Jag and Leeta’s scruffy heads poked out of a pile of animal skins a few feet from the door. Gwen rubbed her eyes and got up, not bothering to make the bed yet.

Slipping on her boots and jacket over her pajamas, she crept outside quietly. She wondered at first if it was wise of her to go outside alone again, when Yuri had just saved her. What if another shadow demon awaited her just outside the cabin? Those things were as dangerous as they were annoying and showed up at the most unexpected times.

Gwen shook her head, dismissing these thoughts. It was morning, so she’d see it coming and would race back inside to warn the others. She wouldn’t go far, just outside the door. She promised herself she’d take every precaution. And she didn’t want to wake her friends yet, even though they all had to get going soon.

Most of all, she just had to see this winter sun. Would it be like the sun in Toronto? Cold and bright white, sharply burning with little warmth to lend? Shaped like a ninja star, while snow and slush covered the streets? Would it be yellow? Orange? Red?

She puffed out a frosty breath and looked toward the horizon. The forest stretched out in all directions beyond the clearing, while what Gwen assumed was the winter sun peeked out above the treetops. Gwen blinked. It was highly unlike the earthly sun: a bright white semicircle, but rimed in blue. The sky was as dull gray-white as ever, but the sun hung beyond the forest like a baby-blue macaroon.

Even though she’d been in the Winterland for a few weeks and had been through some crazy scrapes, nothing could have prepared her for the wondrous sight of the winter sun. She took a breath and stretched out her fingers in front of her, letting the blue sunlight hit them. A milky-blue glow came to her skin, and she marveled at the sensation. It felt like the magic of this world, the magic her late Aunt had grounded in her, was bubbling up to the surface like her own blood. It felt . . . electric, but somehow free-flowing and gentle like a river.

Her cell phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. Absently, she pulled it out and took a glance. Its battery was at nineteen percent and dropping. Just her luck. She shrugged. I haven’t needed it here so far. Yuriel had said to bring it without the charger, so maybe he knows something I don’t. Shrugging, she opened the camera app and took a selfie, sticking her tongue out. Her features, once so familiar to her, seemed ethereally lit by the Winterland sunlight.

She was as pale as ever, possibly paler than back home, and an alien-like milky blue from the