Forever Fae 1 Read online

  By Force

  Sara Hubbard

  Contents

  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

  About the Author

  Also by Sara Hubbard

  By Force

  Copyright © 2017 Sara Hubbard Published by Sara Hubbard Edited by Kat Gamble & Nancy Cassidy Cover design: © White Rabbit Book Design All rights reserved.

  This book is for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold, given away, copied, transmitted, stored in a retrieval system or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations contained in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The following novel contains strong language and sexual situations. It is recommended for ages 17+.

  1st Edition published 2014 by Etopia Press.

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-988212-10-4

  ISBN Print: 978-1-988212-01-2

  Chapter 1

  I BIT AT my lip as I focused on what I had to do, when what I really wanted to do was run to the ocean and jump off the cliffs. An arranged marriage. I had always known I would be pushed into one sooner or later, but that did not make the current situation easier to accept. It made me want to scream. And, as if my fate wasn’t bad enough, I had to accept the offer in person!

  As much as I didn’t like it, it was the way things were. It wasn’t debatable. So when my parents announced I was to marry Henry Clyde, I nodded and said, “Thank you.” To want more only made me disrespectful and ungrateful. Heaven forbid I announce that I would prefer to travel and marry a man much later in life, a man I could choose myself. Or maybe not even marry at all! I loved my parents, and I didn’t want to disappoint them, especially after they’d already made arrangements with Henry’s father that we should marry. I couldn’t embarrass them like that. So I kept my feelings to myself. Only my siblings knew how upset the thought of marriage made me. They could understand it—sort of. At least in the case of my brother. My little sister couldn’t wait to get married. For her, it couldn’t come soon enough.

  To keep me honest—or so I thought—my mother suggested my sister come to town with me when I left to tell Henry the good news. Fortunately, her easy chatter distracted me. She prattled on about nonsense and about the gossip she’d heard from her good friend Matilda. Apparently, Tomas McCoy had been recruited by the guardians. Lucky him. If only they recruited women. Serving as a knight for the king and queen would have suited me fine, no matter how much criticism I would get for it.

  It took nearly an hour to get to town, trekking through the sky-high forests and then along the dirt road from Brookland to Haevene. I brought a knitted wool sweater but found I didn’t need one. The sun beat down on us and warmed my face. The wind was slight, enough to ruffle the fine strands of my dark brown hair. It was a good day to face my future, I supposed.

  As we approached Henry Clyde’s small blacksmith shop I tried to control my breathing. My heart slammed against my chest and threatened to break free from my body. I stopped dead in my tracks and sighed as I tried to build up my nerve.

  “This is so exciting! I can’t wait until I get engaged.” Lilley smiled up at me and tugged me forward, which was exactly what I needed to take the last few steps toward my future husband. Husband. The very word made me swallow hard.

  Henry swung his hammer up and down on a blade as we approached him, his muscles strained beneath a dirt-stained shirt. He glanced up at me as we stood in the entrance to his long, rectangular hut and his full lips curled into a tiny smile. His eyes were a plain brown but somehow they twinkled at me when they met my gaze. He was handsome, I supposed, even without a bath. I couldn’t deny that. After straightening his back, he stood tall and tossed his hammer onto the wooden desk at his side with a loud thud.

  “Morning, Isame,” he said. His voice was low and gruff, and it quite matched his personality. He walked toward us, stopping a few feet in front of me.

  Lilley beamed at him. I couldn’t count how many times she’d called him “handsome” and “heavenly” in the days before. If only she were older, she could have married him herself. Henry would have definitely found her easier to get along with than me.

  “Good day,” I said in a small voice. I glanced down at my feet, needing to look anywhere but into his eyes.

  “Are you very angry with me?” It was a testament to how well he knew me for him to ask.

  I sighed. “I wish our parents had never arranged our marriage,” I said quickly, focusing my anger on him.

  “If not me, then who? Am I such a bad choice?” His forehead crinkled as a frown touched his whole face. His gaze cast toward the dirt floor.

  Guilt stabbed at my chest. I’d hurt his feelings, and I really hadn’t intended on hurting him. I cared for him—as a friend. I couldn’t allow myself to take my frustrations out on him. I focused on softening my voice and raised my hand to touch his arm. His gaze immediately returned to mine. “No, of course not. But you know I didn’t want to marry. At least not now, or in the immediate future.”

  “I have no choice either, Isame. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have refused to go along with it. If I should marry then I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

  Damn him for saying exactly the right thing to make me feel even worse. He deserved someone as good as he was, someone who would give him everything she had—and then some. “It’s a stupid custom,”

  I murmured, dropping my hand back down at my side.

  “So you’ve come to tell me no, then?”

  He rubbed at the scruff on his chin and turned away from me, walking over to a bench by the edge of the open space. His disappointed face tormented me. Why couldn’t I make myself excited about this marriage? He was a better choice than any other man I knew, I had to admit. But I couldn’t force myself to want him no matter how hard I tried. Perhaps I’d read too many fairy tales, or perhaps I just wasn’t ready.

  Who knew? All I knew was I didn’t want him—I didn’t want this.

  “I’ve come to tell you the opposite, actually.” I forced a smile.

  His head snapped over in my direction, his face hopeful. “Don’t play with me.”

  “Did you think I’d go against my parents’ wishes?”

  “I’m flattered,” Henry said.

  “Oh, Henry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. And I agree with you, if I should marry, then there is no better choice for me than you.”

  In an instant he reached out his hands and closed them around mine. It was a little bit awkward and even a tiny bit comfortable, but not awful. I could do this. Henry was wonderful. Any girl would have been lucky to have him. I supposed it could have been much worse. I could have been promised to the manure farmer’s son. Having to forever come home to a man that smelled like manure was not particularly appealing.

  When Lilley and I left Henry his smile was ear to ear. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him so happy. And Mother and Father too. It made me happy to see them so excited, but at the same time something inside me felt cold and empty. My daydreams, my hopes, s
eemed to fly away from me, like leaves blowing in the breeze. I supposed the dream of living a different life was unrealistic and foolish, but growing up with my nose in books, I couldn’t help but wonder if life had something different to offer.

  If I could be the one who broke the mold.

  “A fortnight,” Lilley sang. “You’ll marry him in a fortnight! What I wouldn’t give to marry a man like him.”

  I could hardly wait. The wind picked up just then and seemed to form thick walls around me, walls that felt like they were closing in. I had to remind myself to breathe in and out as I took my sister’s hand and led her down the town’s cobblestone road toward the square. I couldn’t escape marriage forever. I had to accept it.

  It wasn’t until I reached the town square and my eyes locked onto an old gypsy that I stopped obsessing over my situation. I couldn’t think about anything else but her. It was as if the very sight of the gypsy wiped my memory bare. She stood beside a dilapidated cart, swaying to the music played by the nearby pipers. Her lips curled into a smile and the corners of her eyes crinkled as her unnatural yellow eyes fixed on me. Something about her drew me in, like a whisper in my ear daring me to come closer.

  A nervous ache settled in my belly as I drank in the gypsy. Her colorful clothing, her jeweled neck and fingers, her snow-white skin and the maze of wrinkles on her face and hands. Time seemed to slow and the wind picked up, ruffling the woman’s gray hair.

  “Learn your future for a dagnon,” she said, her voice low but sickly sweet.

  I slowed my pace and my sister shortened her step to match it. We didn’t often see gypsies in Haevene, and that alone made me curious about her and what she would say to me. But I couldn’t afford her fee. A dagnon was nearly a full day’s wage; it was absolutely out of the question. My mother would have had a fit at my senselessness, but I would have been lying if I said I didn’t consider it…

  Disappointed, I shook my head at her, mouthing a “No, thank you.” Placing my hand at the small of my sister’s back, I guided Lilley forward. Lilley frowned at me and resisted before finally taking my lead, but as we continued to browse the other peddlers’ carts, I couldn’t help but glance back at the curious woman. What would she see in my future? I desperately wanted to know. Maybe she would tell me not to worry, and that I wouldn’t have to marry after all, that all of my dreams would come true. I doubted it, but I couldn’t help but hope for it, and I desperately wished for her reassurance.

  “Did you see her sign, Meme?” Lilley asked. “She’s from the fairy island.” Lilley’s warm brown eyes were wide as she looked up at me. Bouncing on her toes, she clapped her hands together and her corkscrew blonde curls bounced right along with her.

  The sign on the gypsy’s cart read FORTUNES FROM FAEMELL. Savages and exiles called the far south island home, as well as fairies and half-breeds.

  “Rumored fairy island,” I whispered. From what I’d read, there was no real proof that fairies actually existed. I’d only seen drawings of them in books.

  “Is that so?” the gypsy said.

  My hair fanned out as I spun around to face the woman, who now stood four or five feet behind me. I had glanced at her only seconds before but, at that time, she’d stood on the other side of the square. How had she moved so quickly?

  As her gaze traveled from the tips of my toes, up the length of my plain linen dress, to my slack-jawed, crimson face, a lump settled in my throat and my chest became tight. I hadn’t meant for her to hear me, and I certainly hadn’t meant to offend her. Not a wise thing to upset a gypsy. For they were nothing more than wandering witches, famed for being loose with hexes. Just last year an albino witch from Northern Copaxa was said to have cursed an entire family with goat hooves after they refused to offer her a night at their inn. I was rather fond of my human feet, thank you very much.

  “Have you been to my fair country?” she asked me, pointing a thin, wrinkled finger in my direction.

  “No,” I said, with a shake of my head. “I wish it were true, honestly I do, but no human has ever seen a fairy, so it seems rather unlikely, does it not?”

  “One doesn’t need to see to believe.”

  “So, it’s true? There are honest to goodness fairies there?” Lilley clapped her hands together. Her excitement radiated from her like a forest fire.

  “Some think so,” the gypsy said. She glided closer, so smoothly I wondered if her feet had touched the ground. The way she moved seemed so unnatural; it caused the fine hairs on my arms to prick and my back to straighten.

  “Do you want to know your future?” The gypsy smiled, showcasing her stained teeth. Her gaze deepened as she tipped her head to the side. Her eyes were like daggers, penetrating my flesh to poke at my bones. I had to take a step back just to breathe.

  “Yes, but I can’t spare a dagnon. Sorry.”

  As we turned to walk away, the gypsy said, “I’m feeling charitable today, my dear.”

  Lilley halted. I collided with her back, propelling her forward. Before Lilley fell onto her face, I reached out to yank her back, hugging her tight against my chest.

  “Let me go, Isame!” Lilley said, smoothing her dress before pushing me away. “I’m fine.”

  After I looked over Lilley, I turned back to the gypsy. She beckoned me to come toward her with a come-hither motion of her fingers. My gut told me to keep walking. It had never once been wrong, but curiosity drove me forward. Nothing good would come of my interaction with the witch, yet I couldn’t walk away. My mother once told me my inquisitiveness would get me into mounds of trouble one day.

  Perhaps this was that day.

  The gypsy fluffed her dress and plunked down on a wooden stool by her cart. She patted the stool beside her and a fit of nausea overcame me as I inched toward it. I closed my eyes and prayed to the gods she would tell me something to give me hope of the life I wanted, and not the one that I seemed destined to live.

  “Give me your hand,” she said, drawing me from my thoughts. She extended her ghostly white hand in waiting. As I looked down at it, I couldn’t help but stare. Her fingers had an extra joint. Instead of three sections there were four.

  “I haven’t got all day,” she told me.

  I shook my head to regain some composure, reminding myself that it was impolite and stupid to stare. After heaving a deep breath I offered my hand. She snatched it and flipped it over, holding my arm at the wrist. She studied my palm for several minutes before brushing the nail of her index finger across the random faint and solid lines that streaked my calloused palm. A tickle ran up my arm, destined for my spine. After a minute or two she tutted and stopped abruptly. She flashed her eyes up at me, and her brows arched toward her hairline. Her jaw dropped a fraction of an inch.

  “How curious,” she began, “that you should not believe in fairies.”

  “Why is that curious?” I stared at the lines on my hands, trying hard to see what she might see.

  “That is not for me to tell, my dear. I’m afraid I cannot help you.” She dropped my hand and stood before packing her things away in a cedar chest decorated with intricate carvings and words in a language I couldn’t identify. Her refusal to continue reading fueled my interest. Peddlers made most of their profit on Saturday afternoons. Papa didn’t even bother setting up on Saturdays until midday. What could she possibly have seen to persuade her to pack up early?

  “Tell her you’ll pay the dagnon, Meme,” Lilley said, tugging at the hip of my dress. “Tell her.”

  Was it a ploy? Had she meant to make me interested only to insist that I pay her? Something deep inside me told me that wasn’t the case, and that the woman had seen something she had not expected to see: a glimpse into my future that I wanted—no, needed—to know. Perhaps a future very different from the one I expected. So, despite my usual level-headedness, I offered her the dagnon, knowing full well I couldn’t pay it without severely disappointing my mother.

  “You insult me!” the woman snapped, her cheeks burning with irrit
ation.

  I froze, waiting for magical sparks to shoot from her fingers and for my feet to morph into hooves.

  “I told you there would be no fee and I meant it. Some futures are cemented. They cannot be changed. But, I can tell you this: you are about to embark on a great journey. It will not be an easy one, but you must persevere. Be careful who you trust. There are those who are not what they seem.”

  “A great journey. Me?” I pointed to my chest, half surprised and half elated.

  Instantly, her demeanor changed. She jerked her eyes from left to right, right to left, and then repeated this a half dozen times over the trees behind me. What was she looking for? It was as if she worried someone watched us, as if she might get in trouble for something. How odd. I tried to follow her gaze, but keeping up with her rapid eye movements threatened to make me dizzy.

  The color in her cheeks faded and she backed away from me with her hands raised. She resumed packing up her cart, mumbling words under her breath that I couldn’t understand.

  “What about me?” Lilley exclaimed. “Can you read my future?”

  “No! I am closed for the day.”

  “Please, madam. Isn’t there something else you can tell me? Anything at all?” After a moment of silence, I added, “Please. I must know!”

  “I am not about to damn myself for a stranger!” she said. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would talking to me damn you?”

  The gypsy whirled around to face me. With intense, penetrating eyes, she said, “Faemell. You will always be safe in Faemell.” I could have sworn her irises pulsated.

  “Now, go!” With a loud bang, she slammed her chest shut and loaded it on her horse-drawn cart. The gray horse whinnied and turned to face me. We made eye contact before the horse shook its head and snorted at me, as if it had understood everything we’d said. Impossible.

  “I have said too much and I will say no more,” the gypsy said before climbing onto her horse.