Kingdom of Yesterday's Lies (Royals of Faery Book 1) Read online

  Kingdom

  of

  Yesterday’s Lies

  ROYALS OF FAERY

  BOOK ONE

  Hayley Osborn

  LEXITY INK

  PUBLISHING

  Copyright © 2020 by Hayley Osborn

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Lexity Ink Publishing

  Christchurch, New Zealand

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2020 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design ©2020 Covers by Combs

  Editing by Melissa A Craven

  ISBN 9780-4-735-3256-7

  also available as in print

  Contents

  Dedication

  PART ONE

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  PART TWO

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Get the prequel for FREE

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Hayley Osborn

  About the author

  For Kelly

  The best cheerleader for my work I know

  Part One

  IADRUN

  ONE

  The barking hounds should have sent me rushing up the dirt path and inside our tiny cottage, stopping only to drag the bolt across the door at my back. Our timber walls were thin, but they offered more protection than standing deep in the shadows beneath the only tree in our backyard and waiting for the oversized animals to find me.

  My neighbors had heeded the racket already, and moonlight was all that lit the village of Holbeck now. Every candle was guttered, every person likely hunkered beneath a table or behind a couch, with an axe—or perhaps a poker—gripped in one shaking hand.

  Everyone but me.

  I already knew hiding didn’t work; I’d tried it.

  Tonight, I would fight.

  Ignoring my shaking hand, I tightened my grip on my bow and let my focus rise to the night sky above the woods surrounding two sides of our cottage. The sky was the first place they would come into view.

  “Bria!” Mother’s loud whisper made me jump, and I turned to find her standing in the door of our cottage, not twenty paces away. The waning moon lit her features as bright as if she were holding a candle. She squinted into the shadows beneath the tree, somehow knowing I was here even though no light from the house or the moon touched me.

  The hounds were louder now, though I still couldn’t see them. With a sigh, I slid from my hiding place behind the oak. “Go back inside, Mother. I’ll be there soon.” I kept my voice calm as I cursed to myself. She’d been tucked up in her bed with a headache when I checked on her a few minutes ago, and bed was where I wanted her to stay. The terror in her eyes told me she didn’t want me out here right now, but no matter what she said, she wouldn’t talk me out of this. I would protect us both this time.

  As I opened my mouth to tell her so, her body stilled. I knew what it meant without following her gaze. They were nearly here. Mother had seen them. In the light from the moon, I was certain she’d turned paler than the apron hooked over the back of the dining chair behind her. She took a step back into the cottage.

  I nodded. “Go, Mother. Lock yourself in your room and sprinkle salt across the threshold. Or…” I almost couldn’t speak for the memories the words brought with them. “Or crawl into the space beneath the cottage.”

  Her lips hardly moved as she spoke. “You’ll come soon?”

  “Soon,” I repeated, watching her sink back inside the house as she searched the sky. A rogue thought skittered through my mind. Depending on how the next few minutes went, that might have been our final conversation. I shoved the thought away, focusing on them. Thinking like that was the fastest way to make it a premonition.

  The hounds led the raucous procession, beasts almost as tall as a small horse. Their wiry coats were black, brindle, white and anything in between, and their lips curled back showing off their sharp fangs every time they barked. But it wasn’t the hounds I feared. It was the mask-clad riders that followed in their wake, sitting high on the backs of their galloping steeds.

  The Wild Hunt.

  They came from Faery, and they passed by on their horses at least once a month, but sometimes as often as nightly, fae criminals employed by the Unseelie King. They dragged innocent people from their homes to become slaves to the King, or a soldier fighting for him in the years-long war between the Faery Kingdoms of Seelie and Unseelie.

  It was my fault they had Holbeck in their sights tonight. I’d lost myself in my work this morning and hadn’t realized I was singing. I’d been loud enough for Selina to hear, which meant I was loud enough for them to hear, too. If they didn’t take me as punishment for breaking the only law they policed in the human lands, they’d take the newborn next door because I’d led them straight to him. The Wild Hunt stole newborns almost as often as they kidnapped adults.

  No one in Holbeck expected them to pass us by tonight, though. Not after my singing and the recent birth of the baby just a few weeks ago. Tonight, there were too many reasons for them to stop.

  Like the rest of the town, before darkness came tonight, I’d sprinkled a line of salt at both doors into our cottage and across all the windows. I flexed my grip on my bow, searching for the leader amongst the riders on horseback. If I found his heart with my arrow, we’d get a reprieve. They’d have to return to Faery to find a replacement, and with any luck, that replacement would be less intent on taking infants from their mother’s arms. Or girls who sung by mistake.

  Of course, if I missed, I’d likely end up a slave.

  I readied my bow and gave a last glance over my shoulder at our cottage.

  My heart stilled. The door was ajar.

  In Mother’s haste to hide—and probably because of the fog from her headache—she’d left our home open to the Wild Hunt. I glanced between the door and the hunters. Did I run to close it and hope they didn’t see me, or did I trust my arrow would hit their leader before any of them reached my home?

  It wasn’t the loss of my own life or my possible Faerie enslavement that kept my feet planted on the ground. It was Tobias, the baby next door. That child had fought hard against the coughing sickness that almost stole him from his family. Now he was getting better, he deserved the chance at a normal life. If I didn’t stop the hunters, they’d steal the child. Then again, if I didn’t shut and bolt that door, they might steal Mother.

  I cursed beneath my breath. No matter how much I wanted to keep Tobias safe, my first responsibility was to Mother, and she wasn’t safe with that door open. I’d check she was hidde
n and make my stand from inside the house—we lived close enough to our neighbors that I could make a killing shot from our kitchen window.

  Clutching my bow and one arrow in one hand and lifting my skirts in the other, I sprinted for the cottage. My hands were so slick with sweat, my arrow almost slid from my fingers. I gripped it tighter, my eyes on the cottage door.

  The hound’s barking grew frantic.

  They’d seen me.

  One of the hunters shouted a command, his voice a low growl above the din of the dogs. The air moved, and I knew without looking that the rest of the hunters were urging their horses to move faster. Now they had someone to chase, they wouldn’t stop until the hunt was over.

  My boots smacked against our dirt path. I was no longer worried about stealth, only speed. I could barely catch my breath and the running was only partially responsible. The hunter’s voice had sent a jolt of terror through me that constricted my lungs.

  The chase was on. For me.

  The light from the moon disappeared as a cloud, or perhaps the hunters, drifted in front of it. It didn’t matter. I’d lived in this cottage most of my life. I could find my way around these grounds in pitch darkness if I had to.

  I risked a glance over my shoulder. The first of the hounds was on the ground now, close enough I could hear his claws scratching on the dirt path as he raced toward me. I leapt up the steps and sprinted through the back door, careful not to break the line of salt at the threshold—salt hadn’t worked last time, but I wasn’t too cynical to try again. “Mother. Hide and do not come out!” Wherever Mother was, she remained silent. I’d never been so grateful.

  I grabbed the handle and pushed the door to shut it, just as a wild-eyed snarling hound stuck its head through the gap. Using my shoulder and all my weight, I leaned on the door, but the hound was stronger than me. It pushed back until the door was wide enough to sneak through the gap, where it stopped, nostrils flickering as it sniffed the air. The hound was even larger up close than it seemed in the sky, its back so tall I could ride it and not have my feet touch the ground.

  Its cinnamon fur was wet around its gaping maw, showing off canines that could easily tear a chunk from my arm or leg. A low growl rumbled from the back of its throat as it took in the living area of our cottage.

  I pressed my back against the wall, my breathing ragged while I fumbled with my bow. If I didn’t shoot the hound, I’d have no chance of turning and making a killing shot out my kitchen window at its master as he came for the baby next door.

  The hound bent into a crouch. Ready to attack.

  With shaking hands, I fired off my shot.

  The animal yelped, the arrow nicking its front leg. Blood blossomed, running in a thin line through its shaggy fur.

  I pulled another arrow from my quiver. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears, I could no longer tell what was happening outside.

  A noise in the door made me turn.

  Upon the back of his black horse and unbothered by the salt sprinkled across the doorway that should have stopped him, Xion Starguard, the leader of the Wild Hunt, rode into our cottage.

  TWO

  Xion Starguard was everything my nightmares were made of. Like the rest of the Wild Hunt, he wore a mask fitted so perfectly to his face it portrayed the facial expressions it should have hidden. Magic, no doubt. Xion’s mask was a perpetually smiling skull, the openings for eyes, nostrils and mouth yawning pits of nothingness. His fae ears were long and pointed—the tips protruding from the long strands of his inky dark hair. He wore clothing of black, from the knee-high boots over his pants to the cloak thrown over his shoulders and a sword strapped to his waist.

  I have no idea how he and his horse fitted through our door—probably magic—but he ducked low as he crossed the threshold, keeping his head bowed so as not to hit the ceiling once inside. He and his horse took up most of the space in our tiny cottage. I could touch his mount’s nose if I took a step forward.

  He met my eyes, and the mask creased into something disdainful. “Salt doesn’t work.” From upon his horse—its color so deep it could have disappeared into the night—his gaze fell on his barely injured hound. “How dare you!” His deep monotone boomed around our cottage, echoing and otherworldly, angrier now than it had been a moment ago.

  I didn’t care if he was upset about his dog. It wasn’t dead, and his kind possessed healing magic that would have made my job as assistant town healer infinitely easier could I access it. I tried to nock my bow, my shaking hands making it impossible. At Xion’s command, my slippery palms allowed the arrow to slide from my grip and float toward him. It stopped halfway between us and the point slowly turned until it angled back toward me. The threat was clear, and though I didn’t know how he would make that arrow fly fast enough to hurt me without a bow, I had no doubt he could—and would. My imagination also suggested he’d likely have some fun hurting me first.

  With nothing to lose, I met his eyes and drew another arrow from my quiver.

  Xion raised one eyebrow, his question clear. Was I certain I wanted to do that? He slid from his horse, his feet making a hollow thud on our floor. His eyes never left me, and he waited.

  Of course, I was certain. Certain I wanted to do everything I could to keep from dying or having him drag me to Faery as a slave. He didn’t know much about humans if he thought his presence was enough to make us give up and give in. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps when faced with the leader of the Wild Hunt, most people did exactly that.

  All these thoughts flew through my mind in less than a second as I again nocked an arrow, my hand suddenly steadier. I danced on my toes, ready to duck out of the way the moment the arrow he controlled began to fly.

  As I pulled the string back, something moved behind Xion—Mother, sneaking out of her bedroom.

  He must have seen my eyes move and turned just as Mother slammed a vase into his temple. The blow was hard enough to rock his head back. Tiny rivulets of blood flowed from somewhere in his hairline to make a slow trail down over the white surface of his mask.

  I released my arrow. We had him. Between the two of us, we’d saved the baby and ourselves.

  Before the arrow could reach his heart, a wind whipped up inside our home. Like a miniature tornado, it picked up our chairs and table, cutlery and plates from the bench, the candle and candleholder. And my arrows. All of it whirled in a circle around the three of us and Xion’s horse and hound—neither of whom seemed bothered in the least. A second later, a burst of blue light lit the cottage so brightly I had to close my eyes. By the time I opened them again, every piece of furniture we owned was flying toward Mother.

  Like a doll in the ocean, she stumbled backward in the current of furniture. Xion sent a coffee table crashing into her skull, followed by a chair striking her leg, which hit with a sickening crack. She slammed into the wall and slid slowly down, the rest of the furniture stopping at her feet.

  I thought she was dead, but she opened her eyes and, using her hand on the wall for balance, Mother dragged herself back up. She took a step around the furniture, pulled a long-bladed knife from her sleeve and lunged at Xion.

  Before the knife could even scrape his skin, the room again exploded in bright blue light and Mother dropped like a stone, falling heavily onto the coffee table that had hit her head moments ago.

  “No!” I reached for another arrow, but there were none left. I couldn’t recall if I’d used them all, or if Xion Starguard had taken them from me as part of his living room tornado. It didn’t matter. Mother was lying on the floor with blood dripping from her nose and her head lolled to one side. And there was an angry and powerful fae standing between us.

  Outside, the hounds barked again, and hooves thundered across the ground. Xion’s mount whinnied and stomped her feet. He glanced out the open back door, his lips tightening. The rest of the hunt—the ones who had come nowhere near me—were ready to move on. It was as if it called to him. To both of them.

&
nbsp; With a curl of his lip, he scooped up his hound as if it were no bigger or heavier than a rat and hoisted himself up onto his mount.

  A butter knife glinted on the ground in front of me. I lunged for it, wrapping my fingers tightly around the shaft.

  Xion Starguard looked down at me in disgust. “Your mother will die for attacking me. Do you want the same fate, little human? Or do you prefer to return to Faery with me?”

  I wanted not to react, but the menace in his voice made me step away, my back hitting the wall behind me. I shook my head. I didn’t want to go to Faery, but I didn’t want Mother to die, either. “Please,” I whispered. “You can’t let her…”

  “It’s already done. Think yourself lucky I don’t drag her back to Faery with me. Had you not injured my hound, I could carry you instead of her.” He glanced at the enormous dog laying across his lap.

  “Then, I’m glad I did,” I spat, braver now I was two steps farther from him. Losing one parent to Faery was bad enough. I wasn’t losing the other that way.

  The skeleton mouth on his mask fell open, before abruptly returning to that never ending smile. The leader of the Wild Hunt wasn’t used to people standing up to him. A deep growl came from the back of his throat that made the hair on my arms stand up. “You are lucky, human, that it is only the child we require tonight, or I would have great pleasure in dragging you to Faery with us. You may not fare so well next time we meet.” With another quick glance over his shoulder at Mother, he rode out the door.

  My hands clenched, and I started after him as if I could keep up with his horse that was faster than the wind. He’d hurt Mother. He should pay.

  “Bria.” Mother’s voice stopped me on the spot. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved as she called my name. “Bria. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  She was right. We were alive, and that was all that mattered. I ran to her, pushing the furniture aside and dropping to my knees beside her.