Of Starlight and Shadows: Book 3

By Mary Ann Hinrichs

“Love is an illusion that gets people to do the impossible.”
-Ro McBay

Can….
-one half-blood princess without magic,
-one fae princeling without scruples,
-one human warrioress without compassion, and
-one vampire lord without willpower
team up to find an artifact that can save the human and fae realms from shadow demons and not destroy each other.

In this enemies-to-lovers final installment of Roisin McBay’s journey into darkness, the half-blood princess of Spring must choose to either damn herself or damn the realms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798369400180

Book preview

Copyright © 2023 by Mary Ann Hinrichs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/07/2023

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Author’s Note:

Every Ending Begins Somewhere…

Thresholds

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Enemies and Allies

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Quests of a Deadly Sort

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Return of Stars

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

To the readers:

Glossary of Terms

For my sisters of blood and soul -

Linda - You taught me kindness, showed

me compassion, and gave me love.

You are proof angels exist.

T - My imagination blossomed with you

first. We are fae sisters at our core.

You are proof magic exist.

Char - The sister of my soul. Your faith has been

my strength. We are eternally bound.

You are proof miracles exist.

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Illustration designed by: Shaun Donovan

Author’s Note:

-There’s a glossary in the back of the book. :)

Warning: Mature Language

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Every Ending Begins

Somewhere…

All legends start with a spark of truth, a truth so unimaginable, so inconceivable, it can only be a lie.

For most, legends begin from a piece of childish whimsy.

But for others, legends are most often born from whispers in the night and shadows curled into corners; from creaks along the floorboards and spine-climbing shivers. Legends so monstrous they are rendered lies else there would be no survivors to spread the unspeakable tales, no harbingers to announce the unthinkable terrors to come.

Such Legends are turned into tales; lies for those who seek to find comfort within their own terrible stories.

Fables started as wishes only to end in devastation.

Sagas stirred from shattered promises and unreliable goodwill.

Epics conceived of desperate choices and unbearable consequences.

Myths built upon honor, loyalty, and hope, only to crumble into piles of eternal disappointment.

Of all the lies ever told, the greatest is the legend of man. Of earthly hearts tethered to forgiving souls. Of mortal compassion and its merciful benevolence. Of humankind’s preference to love others as they might love themselves.

From this Truth, mankind has been rendered an unmatchable power. A power so consuming Light scurries into shadows and Darkness hides amongst the starlight, leaving only the gods to walk amongst the many legends of man.

Thresholds

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"There is nothing more difficult to take in hand,

more perilous to conduct,

or more uncertain in its success,

than to take the lead in the introduction

of a new order of things."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

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"...to be free with fairies, or to disbelieve in them altogether,

is as foolish a thing as man, woman, or child can do."

- Crofton

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Chapter One

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Spring Court of Faery

Over a month had passed since Ro had lost her soul, her very self.

Yet, she had never felt more herself.

More comfortable in her own skin, her new immortal skin. Skin that never aged, wrinkled, or died. And in this new, enduring skin, Ro had stopped being the fool. Stopped believing in fairy tales, happily-ever-afters, and love. Stopped believing immortals were gods who lived forever. Stopped believing humans were the lesser beasts, the kinder monsters.

And Ro’s reborn self, wrapped in soulless skin, had learned a few important lessons.

She had learned truth was closer to misery than it was to freedom.

She had learned loyalty came at a price.

She had learned friendship was an earned occupation.

She had learned love was more about lies.

She had learned a soul blinded, made its owner weak and stupidly careless with its other half - the heart.

And most of all, Ro had learned living without a soul was essential if one was to survive ruling a fae kingdom.

During her first week as the newest sovereign of the flowery Spring Court, Ro realized governing immortals was definitely no fairy tale. The court Eriu, the Queen of Faery, had forced upon Ro was nothing short of organized chaos. From the moment she had stepped foot into the fiefdom’s blossoming horizons, it had been anarchy.

If it wasn’t water sprites causing tavern brawls over whose wings attracted the most suitors, then it was forest pixies trapping will-o-the-wisps in glass jars and using the tiny, delicate fae to light up their treetop homes. Or it was the mossy winged faeries, otherwise known as greenies, whose only occupation seemed to be consuming barrels of sweet wine and pulling pranks on unsuspecting gnomes merrily digging in their gardens. Or it was the nixies, the persuasive river sirens who called to fishermen on the human side of the veil, luring them into Spring only to feast on their flesh after days of bedsport. And if that wasn’t enough, Ro had to deal with selkies and mermaids fighting over oceanfront property lines.

It was constant mayhem.

It was exhausting.

It was mind-numbing.

It was immortal torture.

With a bit of creative negotiating, Ro might have been able to handle most of the disorder running rampant in her court, but the narcissistic fae beings who considered Ro an usurper to Spring’s throne, who believed Ro was nothing more than an unworthy half-blood made immortal by their spiteful queen, road blocked her every move.

The fae of Spring didn’t want equity amongst their kind. Nor did they believe in order, transparency, or efficiency. And they especially despised accountability. Most fae ignored Ro’s attempt at democracy and went on with their pranking and fighting. While some flipped her off with their exquisitely painted middle fingers and sauntered casually away as if Ro had suggested nothing at all, a few of the more daring fae went as far as leaving Ro threatening gifts - a crown of iron spikes and a choke collar fashioned out of daggers - in hopes she would simply run away or, at the very least, shut-up.

Hate was too mild of a word to describe how these otherworldly beings looked upon their newest princess. Hostility, abhorrence, loathing, disgust were far better descriptors. And so the fae of Spring simply bided their everlasting time, waiting for the opportunity to plunge an iron stake through Ro’s heart.

But Ro was not discouraged. Not yet. She knew exactly how stubborn the fae were, how absolutely vile and pigheaded and self-absorbed.

And to survive this new level of hell, Ro was going to need to be just as vile, just as ruthless. The question was - could she?

On the Winter Solstice, the night Ro had given her soul to the Queen of Faery, her life had become the living definition of Murphy’s Law - anything that could go wrong did go wrong - and then some. On that night, Ro had lost not only her mortal soul, but any power Ro possessed had also fled her new, immortal body. She had nothing, not a spark of magic or an inkling of power in which to save her mother from eternal banishment or her father from being deported to the Winter Court. Ro had nothing in which to fight the powerful fae queen, nothing to use against her own, bloody grandmother - absolutely nothing.

Evidently, one human soul equaled one powerless, but immortal life.

It had been a devastating lesson in fae politics because now, well now, Ro was simply soulless. Without a mother, a father, a best friend, a horse, or a cat, Ro was nothing but the magicless, soulless, half-blooded princess of Spring who sucked at her job.

If Eriu hadn’t forced Ash, the former commander of Autumn’s legions, and Quinci, Finbar’s elfin sister with an attitude, to be Ro’s sidekicks, ruling Spring would have been impossible. And it had been comically evident Eriu had ordered the two females to accompany Ro to her new court out of sheer, queenly resentment, knowing the two immortals would resent each and every moment saddled to Ro and her court of chaos.

While Ash had stood stoically in front of the queen and accepted her new duties as the Commander of Spring’s army, the warrior’s fists had curled and her jaw had ticked, making it clear she was anything but pleased about leaving Kai and the Court of Autumn.

Quinci, on the other hand, hadn’t been nearly as calm or as subtle when receiving her new commission. A split second after hearing of her deployment to the Spring Court, the she-elf had told Eriu to feck the hell off. The queen had smiled enchantingly all the while literally zipping up Quinci’s rather depraved mouth.

But Ro quickly realized how fortunate she had been in acquiring the two females. Not only were they extremely skilled warriors, but they were also unstoppable, arrogant, and all-together badasses at getting fae to follow rules. Although most of the court still hadn’t warmed up to Ro or her leadership, they were no longer trying to sabotage her every decision - all thanks to Ash and Quinci.

Ro respected Ash and her straightforward mannerisms, which favored less talking and more doing. And now, it would seem those same traits worked on Spring’s pretentious warriors as well. Since early winter, Ash had spent her days disciplining Spring’s military troops - most of which thought shooting a bow was mainly for wagering drinking bets and wielding a spear had more to do with male genitalia than protecting Spring’s borders.

What had these warriors been doing in Spring all this time? Drinking and shagging?

The idea wasn’t so far-fetched. It certainly matched the description in the book Ro’s grandfather had given her about the legendary race and their rather indulgent tendencies.

It had taken weeks to train Spring’s reluctant battalions of fae archers and spear infantry, but only a single day of one-on-one combat in the ring against their new commander for Ash to earn their respect.

As for Quinci, the transition from a free-roaming elf to Ro’s underling hadn’t gone so well. Since the she-elf’s attitude resembled a deadly blade, cutting and dangerous, there weren’t many who were patient enough to handle the sharp-tongued immortal. When Ro had asked Quinci what she would like to be in charge of, the elf had answered plainly, "My own, fecking life."

Ro had only nodded, understanding the trap Eriu had led each of them into with her manipulating abuse of power.

After a long week exploring Spring’s taverns and finding herself the center of one-too-many brawls, Quinci had decided her talents ran more towards solitary occupations - like hunting and border patrol. And since the elf knew a bit about herbs and healing, she also lent a hand in helping Spring’s two resident healers with the apothecary as well. In the end, it had been an ironic choice, for Quinci might be a warrior-elf, but she behaved more like a smart-assed witch.

Six weeks later, Ash now had Spring’s warriors wielding spears and shooting bows while racing through thick, sweeping forests like a legion of samurai. Meanwhile, Quinci kept the kingdom’s kitchens overflowing with meat, the borders somewhat controlled, and the apothecary stocked with mandrake, henbane, feverfew, and any other useful herbs she found on her excursions around the kingdom.

Even with these notable improvements, most of Spring’s subjects continued to look upon Ro as a fallacy, a joke Eriu had cast upon them for her own amusement. And they were not happy about it, not in the least.

And if running a kingdom of egocentric deviants wasn’t difficult enough, in less than an hour, Ro had to be on Queen’s Isle for Imbolc, the obligatory fae celebration in the deep of winter, honoring the goddess Brigid for her gift of fertility - a gift most fae did not possess.

At the moment, Ro stood in front of her wardrobe in nothing but her underwear agonizing over what to wear to the festivity. Gowns of every color were scattered across her chamber floor, discarded into glittering piles of frill.

Ro sighed, caught her reflection in the mirror, and started to laugh. In seconds, tears were running down her face and she was holding her stomach, collapsing into a heap of glamorous frocks in a bout of frantic hysteria.

It was in those same seconds Ash and Quinci strolled into Ro’s chambers. Both females glanced at the princess who was rolling about layers of silk and gossamer laughing like a hyena with a rabies affliction.

Shit, Ash and Quinci said at once before chancing a step closer to Ro.

Princess, Ash called out.

When Ro’s laughter only increased with the sound of her commander’s voice, the two warriors quickly realized there were but a few ways in which to deal with such a situation. The princess had to be on Queen’s Isle within the hour and the half-blood was basically naked, curled in a ball, convulsing in fits of hysteria.

Quinci gave Ash a speared lift of her brow and the commander returned the look with a shoulder shrug, completely dumbfounded.

Fine, Quinci huffed, I’ll handle her. Kneeling into a puff of shimmering tulle, the elf grabbed Ro’s shoulders and shook the princess like a rag doll.

Consequently, Ro’s laughter only increased to a level one would describe as manic.

Sighing loudly, Quinci spared Ash another glance before straddling the princess and slapping her soundly across the face.

The laughter stopped.

Ro’s body stiffened and her stunned gaze met Quinci’s. The two stared at each other as if seeing one another for the first time. After a long, few seconds, Ro finally spoke. That hurt, she frowned, rubbing her cheek.

Quinci dipped her chin once and huffed, Well, then, you’re fecking welcome. With that, the she-elf rolled off of Ro and into a standing position, one hand held out in an offer of peace.

Ro grimaced, reaching for Quinci’s hand, and was swiftly pulled to her feet.

The three stood knee-deep in gowns, each with edgy frowns scoring their brows.

I couldn’t find anything to wear, Ro said in answer to their confused expressions.

Obviously, Quinci replied.

Ash pushed through a sea of silk to stand in front of Ro. If you are to arrive at the Queen’s Isle on time, we have to get you dressed. Now.

But what do I wear? I’ve never been to Imbolc.

Quinci shrugged. It’s just another reason for fae to drink and shag. You don’t have to wear anything at all.

Ro’s stomach clenched. This was to be her life…forever.

Not so, Ash inserted. Ro will be with the other court rulers attending The Convocation.

Another stomach clench. The other rulers…her father, Kai, Damara, Eriu. Shit. All together. In the same room. Shit.

Well, then, Quinci glanced at her feet, picked up a strapless gown of champagne silk, and held it out toward Ro. What about this one?

Too flashy, Ash replied, shuffling her legs through an arsenal of dresses to stand in front of an opened wardrobe. "Ro needs to exert power. She needs to look and feel powerful."

Quinci’s gaze dropped to the floor once more, searching for power in a gown. A shimmery red number caught her eye. She pinched the fabric between her fingertips and pulled it up from the deluge of castoffs. Here we go, the elf smiled, holding the dress up against her body. Now this screams power.

Rummaging through the wardrobe, Ash glanced over her shoulder and scoffed. The princess is trying to gain the council’s respect, not get laid.

Ro sunk back into the dresses gathered about her ankles and moaned. So, what do you suggest I wear?

Turning, Ash held out a leathered fighting gown of the deepest green. This is power.

It looks medieval, Ro complained. Like something a warrior priestess would wear into battle.

Quinci let the red silk slip from her fingers. It’s perfect.

What? Ro frowned. I’m not wearing armor to a meeting.

Ignoring her ruler’s comment, Ash brought the fighting leathers over to Ro and explained, When you walk into that room you’ll not only project power, you’ll intimidate. Running her gaze over the outfit, the commander grinned. Quinci is right. It’s perfect.

Ash unclasped three buckles in the back and held the garment out to Ro. Let’s go, princess, you’re running out of time.

Ro exhaled, her lips tight, and pushed to her feet. She stepped into the gown, shoving her arms into its tapered sleeves, the material clinging to her every curve and slope. Ash moved behind Ro and fastened the straps across her shoulder blades and waistline, leaving a fair bit of her back uncovered.

The commander returned to stand in front of the princess once more, tightening the belt at Ro’s hips before standing back to inspect her work. It’s missing something, she said, returning to the wardrobe.

Like material, Ro answered as she brushed her hands over the skirted slits that ran up her thighs.

They’re for added movement in battle, Quinci replied, eyeing the gown’s gaps.

Ro rolled her eyes. Oh, well then, no problem. What’s a little skin in a political forum? A hand went to her cleavage, to the severe dip in the gown’s bodice, grazing the mark she had received when Kai had eternally bound himself to Ro. I guess this is for movement as well?

Quinci grinned. No, that’s for style.

Style? Ro repeated.

Found them, Ash interrupted as she held up a pair of boots and Ro’s dirk.

This is a meeting, not a battlefield, Ro said to Ash.

The commander grinned. Wrong, princess. Tonight will be nothing if not a battle.

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"How can I be sincere if I am constantly changing my mind to

conform with the shadow of what I think others expect of me?"

- Thomas Merton

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Chapter Two

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Queen’s Isle - Imbolc Celebration

Since Ro had no powers at all, Ash had to shift the princess of Spring to the island where Eriu spent the majority of her endless time.

It was humiliating.

Quinci tagged along as well, eager to attend the celebration of Imbolc where Torin had promised to be waiting.

Appearing within the heart of the festivities, the three females stood back, taking in the evening’s revelry. Beneath a midnight sky, the moon as stark as glacial ice, the fae frolicked around endless bonfires, looking like a rainbow of stars while undulating to the beat of invisible drums and seductive fiddles.

The heavy tang of magic in the air brushed against Ro’s skin like warm silk. Any second, Ro feared she might break out in a chorus of sighs. Even immortal, Ro found she was never quite prepared for the fae and their indulgences.

Don’t wait for me, Quinci told them, her gaze firmly planted on the black-haired assassin leaning against an ancient tree, sipping ale while drinking in the she-elf as if it were her skin moving across his lips and not the beer.

So much for my wingman, Ash sighed, watching Quinci walk into Torin’s arms, the mug forgotten on the grass by his boots as he pulled the elf tightly against his corded body, his mouth claiming hers.

Ro’s gaze followed her commander’s. I’ll trade you. You can take my place at Eriu’s stupid meeting and I’ll stay here and…watch.

Ash frowned and pointed a finger at Ro. "The Convocation is an opportunity to fight for all the shit Spring needs. If I could, I’d totally switch places with you, but that’s not how it works. Court. Rulers. Only. So get your ass to that meeting and convince Eriu she needs to give us more armorers, bowyers, and fletchers, so we can defend our boundaries properly."

One brow raised, Ro asked, And how do I convince her again?

Crossing her arms over her chest, Ash grinned. Charm the bitch.

Ro laughed. Oh, is that all? Charm the most powerful queen…ever? No problem.

Ash leaned in, voice low. Look, fucking fake it. Sometimes, a little flattery or a small compromise will get you places bitching can’t.

So, you want me to kiss Eriu’s royal ass?

Before Kai came along and did a bit of his own ass-kissing, the Autumn Court was a shithole, a freaking nightmare full of horny satyrs who couldn’t grow a field of weeds on a good day and forest hags whose idea of a good time was enchanting river sprites into biting harpies in their private bits. And those were the good ones. Don’t get me started on the drow and goblins. But my point here, Ash paused, held onto Ro’s gaze for an intense second, and added, ‘’Not everything has to be a fight."

Okay, geez, I get your point. I’ll try and play nice, Ro answered and received a scowl from her commander in return. All right, already, I’ll do it, she agreed, rolling her eyes at Ash.

Brilliant, the commander replied and turned Ro towards a pathway of crushed pearls. Now, move your ass. You’re late.

With a shove, Ro stumbled towards an architectural masterpiece of crystal and glass, her stomach on the ground with the mangled gems littering the pathway.

If hell was a real place, Ro imagined she was in it.

The narrow lane wound its way up a tapered canyon formed entirely of quartz and lit by a sprinkling of torches anchored into the walls. Several breathless moments later, she found herself standing in front of a pair of golden doors framed by a set of monstrous columns, two guards on either side. It was then Ro remembered she was, most definitely, screwed.

Inside The Chamber of Quatere, more commonly known as The Hall of Striking, were fae Ro had either betrayed or disappointed. Her only hope, her only ally within the room would be her father, Rinn, the once prince of Faery, now demoted to Lord of the Winter Court for demanding his mother, the queen, be decent, or at the very least,