To Claim A Fae Read online

  To Claim A Fae

  Winter’s Thorn, Book 3

  Mila Young

  To Claim A Fae © Copyright 2020 Mila Young

  Cover art by Covers By Christian

  Editing by Dara Horcasitas of Refined Voice Editing

  Proofreading by Nic Page and Robyn Mather

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

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Contents

  Winter’s Thorn Series

  To Claim A Fae

  Fae Legends

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Shadow Hunters Wolf Series

  Books By Mila Young

  About Mila Young

  Winter’s Thorn Series

  To Seduce A Fae

  To Tame A Fae

  To Claim A Fae

  To Claim A Fae

  The king is dead…

  ...and now my future, as my heart, hangs in the balance.

  With the kingdom in chaos and my powers still fighting me for control, I’m left to wonder if there’s even a place for me among the fae.

  Or among the three men who have been there since the beginning of this journey.

  Because even they feel like they’re slipping away…

  Especially since the court mage hates me and is conspiring against me at every turn.

  But those aren’t my only problems.

  Finding the truth of who I am and what my destiny will be is consuming me and threatening to ruin all that I have and all those I love.

  If I can’t find a way to stop my enemies, we are all doomed and the fae realm will be lost.

  And I can’t let that happen. I won’t. Even if it means a fight to the death...

  Captivating conclusion to the ‘WINTER'S THORN’ saga.

  Fae Legends

  The girl made of ash and shadows.

  Prologue

  19 years ago

  The world smells strange. Smoke. Rotting food. And sorrow. It leaks into the air like pollution. How can these humans live in such decay and filth? I scrunch up my nose.

  These are my first steps on Earth, and I pray they’ll be the last. Trees behind me sway from where I’ve emerged, and before me lays a flat road with lamps lighting the quiet area.

  Soft gurgling sounds draw my attention to my baby in my arms, cradled against my breast. Her eyes are shut, and she sucks on her thumb, her nearly white hair laying across her forehead. So peaceful and perfect. My eyes prick, but I blink the tears away. The time for falling apart has long passed. This is for her. Everything is for her.

  Hurriedly, I cross the road. The wind is vicious tonight, tugging at my cloak, ripping it off my head. I glance back into the silent woods, at the heavy moon that hangs low like a pregnant belly.

  “Please Goddess, protect us,” I whisper under my breath and rush forward. Old, worn buildings like square blocks line the sidewalk, and up ahead I see exactly what I’m after.

  A bright yellow sign with the words Women’s Refuge. The ‘W’ in the first letter flickers like it might snuff out.

  My heart beats fast as my feet slap the ground.

  Relle, my maid, found this place. She came to Earth and said no one would find it. When I glance around to the barren road, the decrepit homes, I have to agree. There is no way they’ll find her here. No one will know.

  She stirs in my arms, and my heart breaks when she looks up at me. Crystal blue eyes akin to mine. She smiles at me, and a tear escapes from the corner of my eye.

  “Oh, little one.” I choke on my words and press her to my chest as I flee toward salvation. The lights are on inside, and I stand in front of the white building. Three steps lead up to the door, but I can’t get my legs to move.

  I stare down at my baby, and tears keep falling. She makes gurgling and cooing sounds, and they have me choking up. If only she knew the truth of why I can’t keep her. Except, she can never find out or it’ll kill her. Here, in this backward world, she stands a chance. In the Wandering Realm, her end is already planned.

  “This is all I can give you.” I move to sit on the steps and hold her on my lap. I draw out a small ribbon from my cloak pocket and wrap it around her tiny ankle. Her skin is so soft and warm against my fingers. I tie the knot loosely, leaving her embroidered name on the fabric. The least I can do is leave her with her nickname to make it a bit harder for her to ever find her way back home.

  Guen.

  Lifting her into my arms, I kiss her brow and inhale her beautiful powdery baby smell. I take in every bit about how she feels against me, the soft sounds she makes; everything I can, I memorize. It’s all I’ll have left of her.

  I wipe my eyes, knowing I need to get going. The longer I’m gone, the more suspicion I’ll raise.

  On my feet, I turn toward the door just as it opens. Bright light beams from the hallway, and a middle-aged woman with the kindest eyes greets me.

  “Hello, do you want to come in?”

  I lick my dry lips, barely able to find my words. My chest is cracking in two, and it takes everything to not fall apart. I can’t fall apart, at least not yet.

  The woman motions with a hand for me to enter the house and steps aside in the doorway. Her aura swims in kindness. There's not a mean bone in her body, and I know now why Relle selected this house for my babe.

  Up until now, I haven't cried, as I was too busy trying to not be caught, but now I can't seem to stop. My arms cling to Guendolyn like somehow I can keep her. The idea of staying here with her plays with me, teases me, but it’s useless. My family will find me—they know my aura, and it'll lead them directly to me. But not my girl. I made sure no one would ever find her. As long as she stays here, the curse put on her should never come to pass. The glint of my magic, which will keep her concealed, still sparks in her. On Earth, she can just be a normal human and live a simple life rather than be hunted down.

  "Is everything alright, ma'am?"

  Startled by the woman’s words, I lift my head and blink. I don't think as I hand my baby to her. "Please, will you hold her for a moment for me while I pull myself together?"

  "Of course." She’s a beautiful soul and scoops up Guendolyn, already cooing her a lullaby, rocking her in her arms.

  My chin trembles, vision blurs with too many damn tears. Empty and barren is how I feel, my arms growing heavy from the loss.

  When she's bus
y looking at the child, I slip away with the speed of the wind and pray I've done the right thing to keep Guendolyn safe.

  When I’m across the road in the shadows of trees, I look back. I can't stop myself. The woman is in the doorway holding her, searching, calling for me. Then I turn and run.

  I love you, my little fairy.

  Chapter 1

  Guendolyn

  "The King of Shadow Court is dead! He’s been murdered!” Ahren’s advisor, Mael, declares from the doorway, his face pale and stricken with grief.

  Silence falls over the bedroom. This has to be a mistake. So this... god no, please no, this has to be a mistake.

  "What are you talking about?" Deimos asks, his voice still croaky from having just recovered from a Bloodcursed’s bite.

  Ahren suddenly bolts out of the room, Luther on his heels, their thumping footfalls fading somewhere in the corridors.

  Just like that, in the span of a few seconds, our world crumbles, and my stomach drops right through me.

  The King of Shadow Court is dead.

  My real father.

  I finally found him, and he’s been swept away. I can barely make sense of it.

  Deimos stumbles from the bed, but the reality of what I heard from Mael collides into me. It crashes over me like powerful waves.

  My whole life I've longed to know who my parents are, and when I find one, he's been murdered.

  What the hell, universe? You hate me that much?

  I had cured Deimos from the Bloodcursed’s bite. Coupled with my memories from my past coming back to me, this should be a time to celebrate.

  Instead, my knees wobble out from under me and they hit the floor, my stomach churning like I'm going to be sick. I can't even cry, because what stirs inside me isn't heavy grief but shock, sorrow and heartache of what’s been ripped away from me. It’s like I looked away for a few seconds and someone went into my room and stole everything I owned.

  To have him ripped away breaks me. I spent one night with him, drinking and listening to his tales about fairies and fae, but it isn’t enough.

  Did he know who I was, or was he as oblivious as me?

  Deimos is kneeling next to me, his arm around my lower back, drawing me toward him. I should be the one helping him, seeing as he was on death's door just a few minutes ago. Instead, I'm falling apart against his side and tucking my cheek to his chest. The moment he embraces me, the tears fall. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. His touch is overwhelmingly warm from being in bed so long, and he smells of perspiration, but I don't care.

  Each breath comes hard. I never asked to be abandoned. Never asked to be born, either. And I hate those old feelings rising through me again. I worked for so many years with counsellors to learn to love myself and accept myself as I am, to convince myself that I’m not ‘less than’ because my parents left me alone in the world. Now, the familiar sensation of being abandoned forever claws through me, unravelling it all.

  "It's going to be alright," Deimos whispers.

  I look up at him, at this perfect man who barged into my blissfully unaware life on Earth and brought me back here to remember how royally screwed my life is. But when I meet his gaze, my heart melts like ice under the summer's sun.

  "What's going on? I didn’t realize the king meant that much to you?" he asks softly.

  "I don't know what to do. Tell me what I should be doing, Deimos." Confusion and agony rip through me again and again until I can't breathe.

  He cups my face, his thumbs rubbing away my tears. "I don't understand, Guendolyn. What do you mean?"

  I can't stop the growing ache in my chest, the one where I miss a man whom I barely knew and who I've searched for my whole life. But I shake my head. "Go see your father." I pull back, desperately wanting to drown in my loneliness, to let myself grieve and fall into the sorrow hacking at my chest. To be left alone as I come to terms with so much that I don't know where to start or end.

  Deimos doesn't know that the king was my biological father. And this isn't the time to mention it, either.

  He climbs to his feet and takes my hand gently. "Come with me to find out what happened."

  I lower my gaze to my hands in my lap. "You go."

  Silence.

  I expect him to heave me to my feet and force me. Instead, the soft thump of his heels against the floorboard fades as he crosses the room. Seconds later, he's gone, and the door shuts behind him.

  Everything happened too fast. I get up onto the couch and curl in on myself, hugging a pillow to my chest.

  Snow drifts in slow motion outside the window against a backdrop of dark clouds. For years, I assumed when I found out who my parents are, I'd have closure. The likelihood of finding they had died was high, I’d told myself this. But at the end of the day, loss is loss, right? And still, it stings.

  I don't remember how long I lay on the couch feeling sorry for myself, and when no one returns, I decide to head out and join the princes.

  This isn't about me, now is it? It's about someone murdering the king. So, I open the door and find two guards swinging around to face me. Tall fae in dark uniforms who keep looking over their shoulders. They look just as worried as the rest about the king’s death, and I don’t blame them. I don’t know enough about fae royal rules, but when a king falls, doesn’t that make a kingdom vulnerable? I should have gone with Deimos in the first place.

  "Can you take me to the princes, please?" I ask.

  They nod, and we start walking fast along the dark hallway. It’s like they'd been waiting for me to finally get my act together.

  We cross the bridge between the princes' mansion and the royal castle. The breeze is icy against my skin. I hug myself, and quick steps bring me to the warmth of indoors. The mood in the castle hangs heavy, and guards run past us frantically. Other fae in silks and embroidered gowns and suits dart into rooms, their faces ashen. Their fear is palpable.

  Moments later, I'm standing outside the doorway to the throne room. I hate this room. It brings back memories of me accidentally opening the portal to the Bloodcursed that hurt Deimos, and then another to the fairies. And now, the king has been killed here.

  I don't move inside, a strange sensation crawling up my spine like I don't belong.

  Luther consoles his crying mother, who buries her face against his chest. Ahren crouches near the body of the king, who’s covered in a white bedsheet. Blood stains the material in large blotches, the red against the white a stark reminder of the loss. Deimos, still in his blue pajama pants and top, stands over the dead king, arms dangling by his side.

  Mages are there too, including Jasion, along with a host of other men I don’t recognize. Maybe close to thirty people are in the throne room, and no one pays me any attention. But all I can do is stare at the body.

  He's the king.

  My father.

  I tell myself I have every right to be there and say my final words, but I can't get my legs to move.

  So much blood.

  Do I really want to remember him this way? I have so few memories of him, and the one night we did spend chatting, I cling to. That’s the father I want in my thoughts.

  I step back and bump into the guard who brought me here. "Please take me back." My voice trembles, but I don't care. This is too much.

  "Follow me."

  And I do just that. Hurried steps carry me away. I take one last look at the room and lock eyes with Jasion, who stands in the doorway to the throne room.

  Did he play a hand in the king's demise? The Ash King's mother asked me about him specifically. There are traitors in this castle, and for all I know, I could be the killer’s next target.

  His stare darkens, and a shiver runs down my spine.

  Jasion must be involved... I know it in my bones, and I'll find a way to prove his guilt.

  Deimos

  “This is a shit show to wake up to.” My attempt at lightening the mood in Ahren’s study fails miserably. Neither he nor Luther respond. Ahren stares
out the window, his back to me, while Luther sits in the middle of the room, his feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles and rocking back in his seat. He’s miles away, staring into oblivion.

  I’m in a strange state of both cheering that I survived the Bloodcursed’s bite and my chest clenching with what we’ve lost. The king was the closest thing we had to a real father. Sure, he often kept his distance from us, but he tried, and it was more than we could ask for. Now, the grief pulsing through me is for a fae’s life taken too soon and the agony my mother faces in losing her husband.

  A knock comes at the door, and I turn. My brothers don’t move, so I stroll over to find a maid in the doorway holding a silver platter with a jug and chalices. The sweet grape and cinnamon aroma finds me instantly. Spiced mead, only served when someone passes. My stomach growls at the smell, as it’s been days since I’ve eaten.

  “Enter,” I instruct.

  Not wasting a moment, she rushes in, places the offering on the table, and retreats.

  Once she’s gone, I serve myself a cup and take a drink, its warmth coating my insides as it slides down my throat. Still in my bedclothes and needing a bath desperately, I flop down into a seat at the head of the table and take my fill of the wine. I don’t recall much from my time when I lingered on death’s door, but I’m grateful the lethargy is gone. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep for a week straight from the energy buzzing in my veins.