A GLAMOUR OF SMOKE AND SHADOW

  THE CURSED FAE

  HEATHER HILDENBRAND

  A Glamour of Smoke & Shadow

  A Cursed Fae prequel

  ©2024 Heather Hildenbrand

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

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

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

  Edited by Danielle Fine & Dawn Y.

  www.heatherhildenbrand.com

  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

  About the Author

  Also By Heather Hildenbrand

  1

  The eyes of the Fates are fixed on me.

  I don’t look over at them to acknowledge their presence though every ounce of protocol requires me to do so. To ignore the Fates is to insult the goddesses of creation. But today’s an exception to formality. Besides, I’ve trained my whole life for this chance. I refuse to let manners ruin it for me. So, I concentrate instead on winning this fight.

  Late afternoon sun trickles in between the leafy branches overhead. The warm, humid air of summer has already made my skin sticky, though some of that is probably nerves. Beneath my feet, the ground has been cleared down to nothing but dirt. The space here is dubbed the warrior’s circle. Surrounding it, fae and forest alike press in at the edges.

  Everyone has come to watch us, but I shut them out easily enough. The Fates’ presence is the only distraction for me.

  Crouched in the center of the circle, my opponent, Heliconia, shows none of the conflict I feel at ignoring the three deities watching from the sidelines. Instead, she glares at me with the fires of Hel burning in her dark gaze. If I hadn’t lived and sparred with Heliconia for the last six months, I’d worry she had Furiosity blood running through those fae veins.

  Her temper never wanes. Her strength is unmatched. She’s a fae warrior from the strongest bloodlines, a formidable foe, but I’m determined to beat her today.

  My future is riding on my victory. All I’ve ever wanted is to become one of the Aine. Now, the only thing standing in my way is Heliconia Kucera.

  “A moment please.” The three Fates—willowy figures that depict the maiden, mother, and crone—speak as one. Their combined voice is an ethereal blend of the three goddesses.

  I’ve only seen them once in my life before this moment.

  The day they selected me to compete is still imprinted in my mind like a fever dream. My family comes from warriors, sure, but this is an honor few have received. My parents cried for days afterward, and my village threw me a parade before I left for training just outside our realm’s capital city. At the time, all the attention embarrassed me, but the memory of my people’s pride has carried me through the most brutal training I’ve ever endured.

  Six months later, the Fates have come to Sevanwinds, the summer kingdom, to preside over our final competition. Those who make it will be divided into four groups. Three of us will remain in Sevanwinds to serve the crown here. The other three groups will be sent to the remaining kingdoms—fall, winter, spring—and pledge themselves to a king or queen there. The Aine have kept peace among the kingdoms for centuries this way. My generation will be no different.

  My two best friends, Lesha and Amanti, have already won their rounds and secured their place as an Aine. There’s only one spot left, and it’s down to me and Heliconia. Twelve Aine—timeless, immortal warriors. Female fae of the highest honor. When our transformation is finished, we’ll be full-blooded Fairies. Chosen by the Fates themselves to protect this world.

  I want that twelfth spot more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  Right now, the Fates’ sudden interruption grates against my already taut nerves, but I respectfully turn to them as they continue their announcement. “Before we begin the last round, the Furiosities wish to join us and observe this sacred rite of selection.”

  Their voices are pleasant, but shock and dread shoot through me.

  Heliconia and I exchange a look.

  “Are they serious?” she whispers, eyes wide.

  “I don’t think they’d lie,” I say, just as surprised.

  Murmurs erupt from the crowd that’s gathered to witness this last battle. The Fates don’t bother to shush them. A moment later, behind the circle of onlookers, smoke rises, thick and dark, from the earth.

  Heliconia and I step back, shoulder to shoulder, allies now should we need to be. She’s a warrior fae like me. A sister. Or she might’ve been if we hadn’t been brought to this moment—forced to become opponents.

  Inside the black smoke, a trio of figures appear. They stand close until their forms solidify. Then, out of the smoke, three males emerge. I have no idea what the protocol is for looking directly at a Furiosity. They are demon-gods. The kings of Hel. No living fae has seen them, though tales of their wrath and cruelty are legendary. In villages, stories of the Furiosities keep children from misbehaving. I’d always thought them closer to fantasy than reality. Yet, here they are.

  According to legend, they’ve never attended an Aine selection.

  Until now.

  They turn to face the Fates, offering a short bow and exchanging words in a language I don’t recognize. The Furiosities’ voices are low and deep, sending shudders through me that conjure images of black flames and eternal torture. And power. Pure, limitless power.

  Then, they stride over to Heliconia and me.

  The crowd parts for them in utter silence.

  My breath catches, sticking in my lungs under the weight of their dark stares.

  “You are the remaining contenders?” one of them demands roughly. He’s an old man, though his shoulders are broad and his posture strong.

  “Yes,” Heliconia says, saving me from a response.

  “I am Age,” he says, a nasty glint in his murky eyes.

  The male beside him is middle-aged with brown skin and a cruel snarl. “I am Eld.” He glances from Heliconia to me, and it takes all my courage not to shrink away.

  The third male is younger than the others. In fact, he appears to be in his mid-twenties like me. He studies me with an intensity that makes my palms sweat. His hair is dark and messy, falling carelessly over his ears. He is handsome, though it’s more than that—a magnetism that has me staring far longer than I should.

  “I am Ire.” His voice is low, his full mouth mesmerizing as it moves.

  A nasty scar runs down his jawline near his ear. Before I realize what I’m doing, I lift my hand and press a finger to the jagged mark.

  The crowd gasps.

  I yank my hand back, coming to my senses with utter and total horror. “My apologies, I… I have no idea why I did that.”

  Beside me, Heliconia shifts her weight, and I know she’s celebrating her victory. I can’t blame her. I’m already dead. She won’t even have to fight me. The demon-god will destroy me for her.

  “What is your name, little warrior?” the one called Ire asks.

  “Sonoma Eko,” I whisper, still bracing for certain death.

  They say Furiosities can kill with a single blow. Hopefully, that means it’ll be painless.

  “Sonoma,” he repeats, the sound of my name in his voice sending trembles through me that have nothing to do with fear. I lower my face, hiding the flush spreading over my cheeks. “You shouldn’t bother being envious of my scars. From the looks of that one, you’ll have your own soon enough.”

  My eyes jerk back to his.

  Beside me, Heliconia grins smugly.

  He chuckles. They all do. Then, they step back, retreating to the edge of the circle where the Fates wait.

  I watch in disbelief, still not quite ready to accept he isn’t going to kill me where I stand.

  “Are both warriors ready?” the Fates ask.

  Heliconia backs away from me so she can take up her previous stance. Her eyes glint with determination. “Ready,” she calls.

  I’m still regaining my focus when the Fates say, “Begin!”

  Heliconia is a tornado, arms and legs moving faster than I can block. She sees my hesitation and exploits it mercilessly.

  From the sidelines, the crowd screams, cheering for their favorite. Their voices become a roar as Heliconia’s fist slams into my jaw, and I’m driven backward.

  My feet stumble. Panic rises in me. My distraction has cost me. And we’ve only just begun.

  2

  Pain radiates through my body, but I ignore it, shuttering my mind t
o the sensations as I force myself to focus. My warrior’s training isn’t just physical; it’s mental too. Being able to take a beating, to close yourself off from the pain that might slow or distract you, is a skill few can master.

  Concentrating only on the movements of my opponent, I find my rhythm. A block then a counterstrike. I hit her in the chin, driving her jaw upward. She dances out of reach, blinking and shaking it off.

  Then she comes again. Fast. Lethal.

  I duck then shove her hard, but she uses her momentum to spin and recover. When she rounds back to face me, she lands a hard kick to my middle.

  I grunt as my body absorbs the pain. The air is knocked out of me, but I can manage without it for now. I return the blow with a fist to her nose and am rewarded by a crack that sends her reeling.

  She stumbles, pressing her palm to her face. When she pulls it away, blood coats her pale nose and pink lip. Her eyes narrow, her determination renewed.

  Great. I’ve managed to piss her off more.

  When she comes again, she’s faster, if that’s even possible. But I’ve recovered from my earlier mistake, and I meet her with a speed and force of my own.

  Back and forth, we trade blows.

  She leans in close, trying to wind her arm around my neck, and I manage to yank her to the dirt, falling on her and scrambling for a leg around her throat. She sinks her nails into my thigh. Even through my leathers, the sting is sharp.

  I release my grip, rolling away quickly.

  When I jump up, I barely have time to whirl away from her before she slams into me.

  I use her momentum to shove her off balance, and she stumbles.

  I don’t waste my opening.

  The crowd roars as I knock her to the ground face-first. Her bloodied nose lands in the dirt, and I shove her head down as hard as I can until she can no longer breathe without taking in a mouthful of dust and earth. I listen as it clogs her throat and she gags.

  She kicks and bucks, but I don’t let up.

  My victory is only a few moments away when something glints in her hand. At first, I think it’s her fingernails again, but when she stabs it blindly into my leg, I realize with hot, startling clarity that it’s a blade.

  And not just any blade. The burn of the poisoned magic hits me a second later, followed by horror. Poisons aren’t my forte, but I’m guessing I have about five seconds left before whatever this is renders me immobile and she wins.

  “You cheated,” I hiss, furious and desperate. I’m about to lose my dream.

  The crowd is deafening, but I can hear Heliconia snarling at me.

  “You don’t deserve this if you’re not willing to do whatever it takes.”

  Weapons and magic are forbidden here, but apparently, not even the Fates’ rules mean more than Heliconia’s thirst for victory.

  My leg tingles. The poison spreads, paralyzing me as it goes.

  Fear grips me. I’m going to lose this.

  I’m going to lose everything.

  No, a sudden voice inside me insists. I refuse to let that happen.

  With a guttural scream, I release Heliconia. After pushing to my feet, using my good leg, I lift my tingling foot and bring my boot down on her face just as she begins to roll over. My heel slams into her temple, and she goes limp.

  I stare down at her hands, which are now empty. The blade is gone, vanished into some veil before the Fates could see her crime.

  There’s a beat of silence from the crowd before it erupts into wild cheers.

  My leg gives out, and I go down on my knees.

  Lesha and Amanti appear, grabbing me and pulling me to my feet. They scream happily as they hug me and lift my arms in victory before the crowd.

  Heliconia groans, slowly coming to. She lifts her chin off the ground and takes it all in. Finally, she rolls onto her back, and her gaze locks with mine. Her rage is evident, boiling so close to the surface that I brace myself for her attack.

  Then, the Fates are speaking, and a hush falls over the crowd.

  “The twelfth Aine has been chosen. Sonoma Eko of the Emerald Forest fae, you have been found worthy by the Fates. Tonight, the chosen will take vows before the king and queen. Tonight, you will receive the sacred power of the Fairies.”

  More cheers.

  Amanti grins at me, but my own smile dims as my gaze is drawn to someone over her shoulder. Ire, the third Furiosity, watches me with an intensity that steals my breath. He is unnaturally still among a crowd set in motion. And every cell in his body seems trained on me.

  Something passes between us, and my heart squeezes as I try to decipher what it is. Then Lesha steps in front of me, blocking my view of the handsome demon-king. The moment I lose sight of him, my leg buckles again, and I nearly drop before Lesha catches me.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I glance down at where Heliconia had been scowling up at me, but she’s gone. “Just…”

  “You’re bleeding.” Lesha gestures to the blood staining my leathers. I sag against her. “Amanti,” she calls sharply. “Help me.”

  Without a single question, Amanti slides her arm around my waist, bracing my other side.

  Lesha looks at me with concern lining her usually smooth features. “What happened?”

  “Heliconia caught me with her nails,” I lie.

  Amanti frowns. “It looks like something much sharper than a nail. Deeper too. Are you sure⁠—?”

  “I’m sure,” I say quickly as I catch sight of the Fates heading this way.

  Lesha looks like she wants to press it, but Amanti grabs her and spins her around. When she sees the Fates approaching, she goes abruptly silent. The crowd quiets, everyone wanting to hear what the goddesses have to say.

  When they get close, it’s the crone who opens her mouth, but the voice that comes out is still a blend of the three. It’s unsettling, but I focus on what they’re saying rather than who is or isn’t saying it.

  “You did well, young fae,” they say, all three of them looking at me.

  I bow my head in reverence and respect. “Thank you. It’s an honor to serve.”

  “Your opponent was willing to do anything to win,” they add, and my head comes up sharply.

  I search their blank gazes for some clue as to how much they saw, but their expressions give nothing away.

  “Would you punish her if you were us?” they ask.

  “I…” I note the absolute hush that’s fallen over the crowd.

  I glance around, searching for Heliconia among the faces of my sisters. Instead, I find Ire watching me intently. His brothers stand farther back where a plume of smoke is rising. They glance at him impatiently, clearly ready to be done with this place. But he doesn’t move. His dark eyes are locked on mine as if he’s hanging on my answer.

  Amanti elbows me hard, and I swiftly return my gaze to the crone. “I am one of the Aine, sworn to protect our people even from themselves. She has my mercy, and I ask that she may have yours too.”

  The crone tilts her head, studying me, and I swallow hard, hoping my answer wasn’t wrong. “You would show mercy to one who betrays our sacred rules?”

  “I would put my vow above even my own desire for vengeance,” I say.

  Another pause. The Fates share a look that leaves my heart pounding. When they look back at me, it’s the maiden whose mouth moves as their next words echo around me. “Self-restraint is often harder than self-defense. A lesson well learned, Aine. We will see you tonight.”

  As one, the Fates turn and make their way toward their tent. The crowd waits until they’ve made it beyond the edges of the circle before the murmuring picks up again.

  Amanti groans, and Lesha squeaks her relief.

  “We need to get you to the healer,” Amanti says, but I don’t answer as I search for Ire.

  He’s no longer standing where he was before. I crane my neck, straining to see over Lesha’s shoulder. There. He’s walking away from me. He joins his brothers near the trees, and a second later, all three of them vanish into the thick plume of smoke.