A Kingdom of Exiles Read online

  Viola laughed. “Don't be silly. It’s your birthday. If there was ever a time when you’re allowed to indulge, it’s now. Besides, you know John loves it when people appreciate his food.”

  At the mention of his name, John appeared in the doorway that joined the bakery to the house. I got a heavenly whiff of that warm deliciousness before he shut the door and held his arms out for me. I straightened, a muffin clenched between my teeth, and gave him a quick hug. As I broke away and sat to resume my feast, John clapped a hand on my shoulder. “So good to see you enjoying my baking.”

  “How could I not?” I mumbled through a mouthful.

  John flashed me a quick wink. “Viola, d’you want to give it to her now?” he asked, turning to his wife. “Or should I?”

  My attention piqued. I set the muffin aside and took a sip of tea to wash it down before asking, “Give me what?”

  Viola’s blue eyes sparkled. Bustling over to the mantelpiece, she picked up a small silver box and placed it in front of me with a faint smile.

  My brow wrinkled. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything. I don’t want you spending your money.”

  “I didn’t,” Viola breathed. “It’s an heirloom of your mother’s family. She gifted it in her will with instructions to pass it on to you—when the time was right.”

  My frown deepened. As far as I knew, my mother had no other family. “Why didn’t she leave it to my father?”

  Viola’s expression flickered. “We don’t know, darling.”

  I paused. “Why didn’t you pass it on when I came of age?”

  Sixteen marked the rite of passage into adulthood. Not eighteen.

  “I wanted to; I knew how much it’d mean to you,” Viola said, an apology welling behind her eyes. “But your mother never specified the age I was to give it to you. And I thought Elain might steal it once she discovered where it had come from.”

  I blinked. Viola knew exactly how cruel my stepmother could be.

  “Then, you should keep it.” I pushed the box back across the table. Each word quieter than the last, I added, “Until I’m free of her—if I ever am.”

  I gulped down the raw emotion clawing at my throat and stared at the table, unable to meet their stares. The only way to be free was to marry, and since the village boys had largely shunned me, it seemed like a remote possibility.

  Viola sat and cupped my chin; my eyes had nowhere to go but to meet with hers. I knew that look—pity. “Open your present, Serena.”

  John took the seat to my left and when I didn’t move, he pushed the box under my nose. His mouth tugged upward. “Choppers, choppers,” he urged. “I’ve got a bakery to run.”

  A tremor claimed my hand as I reached out and unhinged the clasp. Inside was a delicate silver chain joined by sculpted leaves and flowers with a pale blue gem dangling from the center link, and when I held it up to the light, something moved within. A droplet.

  “There’s water inside this gemstone.” My hands lowered as I asked Viola, “Do you know why it’s there?”

  Viola smiled weakly. “No. The only instructions left in your mother’s will were that the necklace must go to you and that it’d protect you in times of great danger.”

  “Danger,” I echoed and put the chain back in the box, suddenly wary. “Is this about those kids who’ve gone missing? Is that why you’re handing it over now?”

  Everyone in the village had heard about the disappearances. They’d started over three months ago with twelve-year-old Annie Tanner, and every month since then a child had just up and vanished.

  “Those kids were all younger than me. They weren’t even of age—”

  Viola exchanged a furtive look with John. She was scared. They both were. “We know,” she said heavily. “But to the fae, you are still a child. I don’t know what age those immortal fiends mark the end of childhood, but it won’t be eighteen.”

  All of Tunnock’s inhabitants knew the fae were taking them. The tales the village bard had spun were clear—long ago we’d welcomed the fae into our lands and paid the price. After years of peace, they’d turned on us and thrown collars around our necks. In a desperate move, the royal line of Undover ordered our High Priests to call down the gods and throw a lock on the bridge between our realms, exiling the fae to the lands in the north. In the fae’s absence, the southern lands grew fat and rich. That was until the Undover line fell into ruin as son murdered father and brother slaughtered brother to seize the crown. The High Priests used the corruption as an excuse to steal away to their towers among the stars, banning all others from practicing magic and taking their knowledge with them. For centuries, remote villages like ours had been left defenseless. Yet we’d endured, scratching out a living from the earth, forever in the shadow of the monsters across the bridge. Now, every person living above the Estari Lake had heard the rumors—the fae had returned. Rumors of sightings and disappearances stretched back ten years. Until now, our village had remained unscathed, but no longer …

  Viola continued. “I don’t know how a necklace is meant to help, but I’ll feel better with you wearing it.”

  I closed the box. Thinking of my stepmother, I shook my head lightly. “She’ll notice if I wear something like this.” I faced Viola to see her sad eyes fixed on me. “I’ll have to find somewhere to hide it before I can take it home with me.”

  She wavered, then nodded once. “Even with the necklace, I doubt you’d be safe until those ruthless sprites are driven from our lands—your father knows it too. That’s why he’s signed up to be part of the watch tonight, along with John,” she said, disapproval marking her face.

  I stilled. The watch had been reinstated by the elders the minute Annie vanished. But with wild animals roaming the forest, not to mention the risk involved in meeting an actual fae, it wasn’t surprising that few villagers wanted the job. So far, my father and John hadn’t served because their work sucked up every spare minute. No one had complained since the village couldn’t afford to lose a blacksmith or a baker.

  “Ach!” John scowled and waved her concern away. “Don’t scold me, Vi. I’m not a child. This is important. We can’t let the fae bastards take our children—our future.”

  “They’re not our children, John.” Viola had steel in her voice, but I detected the quiet sadness underneath.

  “No lass, they’re not ours,” John said gruffly. “But Serena is as good as.”

  I glowed at that remark.

  Viola’s anger seemed to vanish with a sigh. “I know … I’m just worried.”

  I looked to John. “D’you think you’ll be in danger tonight?”

  “I might’ve handled more bread than weapons, but I can look after myself. So can your father. He’s as strong as a bull, that one.” He braced his hands on the table and stretched up. “Besides, it’s two weeks until the full moon, and that’s when the fae have been most active. We’re not expecting trouble tonight.”

  He gave me a pat on the back before moving to give his wife a swift kiss on the cheek. “Got to get back to work, but I don’t want either of my girls worrying.”

  A warning and a plea.

  Viola mumbled something noncommittal. I opened my mouth and then closed it. I wanted to beg him not to go, but it wasn’t my place so I said nothing as he walked back into the bakery. No matter the reassurances he’d given, a rising panic turned my mouth dry and set my heart moving apace. Against fae warriors, they’d be helpless.

  John’s revelation put a serious dampener on my birthday tea. I spent most of the time afterward watching the clock and pretending to read books while Viola bustled around. I waited until Father would’ve dismissed Gus for the afternoon and then struck out for his forge determined to make him reconsider signing up.

  Due to his obligation to the watch he had to finish early, so I kept up a steady stream of desperate pleas the entire walk home. I didn’t let up all through dinner, thanks to Elain’s unusual silence.

  “Why now? You said there’ll be more of you go
ing tomorrow—can’t you go then? The watch can wait for one night. It’s my birthday …”

  “I won’t say no again, Ena.” My mother’s nickname for me, and a punch to the stomach every time I heard it. “I’ll be fine,” he said, his face softening at my fear. “By the smith’s fire, even Gus has volunteered for tonight’s watch. I can’t let him wander the woods alone.”

  “He won’t be alone—”

  “Ena.” He cut me off with a little growl. “I’ve already told you. Only five of them signed up for tonight and they need at least six to patrol the forest.” Again, his features thawed at my open mouth and pleading eyes. “My place is with them. Both as a man of this village … and as a father,” he finished quietly—soberly.

  I stilled as his warm eyes met mine. That familiar steady stare wore me down. We both had iron wills, but he so rarely showed affection nowadays. Perhaps, he knew that. Maybe this was his way of showing he still cared.

  Father’s eyes flitted to my open palms on the table as if he wanted to reach out, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to Elain and said, “Now, where’s that delicious blueberry tart I can smell? I’m ravenous.”

  Or maybe, he’d just wanted to stop me nagging.

  Elain simpered and sat on his lap, practically purring.

  Feeling embittered, I slipped off to my room upstairs. The door shut behind me and I fell against it, closing my eyes and breathing heavily. I forced calm into my veins and with one great effort, straightened and looked around my sanctuary. It was all I had: this small room with its single bed pushed up into the corner, the chest of drawers that doubled as a bedside table, and a few shelves where I placed my most prized possessions. I’d stacked these with the books my mother had taught me to read by; a bow and a quiver of arrows, which remained the only weapon my father had let me train with; and most importantly, several shells from my mother, which she’d claimed to have picked off the beach. Every night since she gave them to me and whenever I closed my eyes I saw the ocean—a breathing, living beast that roared at me to join and swim and play among its waves.

  I pushed myself away from the door and walked over to sit on my quilted bedspread. The light was failing, so I lit a candle on the bedside table and waited.

  Twenty minutes later and with a stiff back, I watched through my window as my father left the house. His hood was up and his lantern guided the way as he strode to the tree line. He stopped and turned in the growing velvety dark. My throat bobbed when he raised a hand in farewell. For once, I knew it was for me. Not Elain. I lifted my arm and forced myself to give him a little wave. It came out as more of nervous twitch but he seemed to appreciate it, because he waved back before wheeling around and disappearing into the shadows.

  I stayed awake, staring out the window until all I could see was my face and the candle flame reflected in the glass. I scowled and stuck my tongue out at those angular cheekbones, pale skin, and the smudges of violet under my eyes that darkened as the night deepened.

  Hours later, my eyelids dropping and the candle sputtering and dying beside me, I breathed onto the windowpanes, making little clouds of mist and idly drawing shapes in their wake. While tracing a star and a crescent moon, I saw it. A lantern in the distance. I jumped and ran for the door. Racing down the stairs, taking two at a time, I clattered into the living space. Cursing at the dark, I felt my way to the door. I knew this cottage inside out, so it didn’t take long before I was feeling for the iron handle. Wrenching the door open, a light blinded me. My father cursed and lowered his lantern. But when I dared another peek, blinking between the fingers of my outstretched hand, a shape came into view. Too short and wide to be my father.

  “Who’s there?” I asked warily.

  “Serena,” replied a familiar voice.

  “John? Where’s Father?”

  “I’m so sorry, Serena.” His voice stumbled.

  “What’s going on?” Elain appeared from my father’s room—or should I say “their” room. Wrapping a robe around herself, she scowled into the light. “Hal? Is that you?”

  “No, it’s John Baker. I came … I came to tell you both that Halvard’s gone—he’s dead. Gus dragged his body back from the forest on his own. I took him to Martha; she thinks it was a heart attack. Dr. Fagan insisted on seeing him as well, and he’s agreed on the cause.”

  The world tilted; the ground slipped out from under my feet. Just before darkness claimed me, I heard someone scream.

  There was a soft slide accompanied by the grind and grunts of men lowering the casket. That coffin contained my father. The sounds of people weeping freely beside me, the keening laments and the smells of the damp graveyard dirt—I tasted bile as I realized why this felt so familiar.

  I didn’t cry.

  The grief and despair didn’t burn and twist and shred the way it had with my mother. I didn’t know what that meant about me—more importantly, I didn’t want to know.

  The funeral blurred past while I continued to be absent in spirit. Then, a hand appeared on each of my shoulders. Viola and John stood, flanking me. They muttered something, and I felt myself being steered away.

  They soon had me bundled into their cottage. Viola marched me over to the couch and swaddled me in blankets until I could scarcely move. Not that I had any intention of doing so.

  After they’d tried and failed to get me to speak, they whispered to each other in the corner of the kitchen.

  “John, she’s in shock. She has to stay. I’d sooner die than let that woman near her.”

  “Vi—we can’t keep Elain from her forever. Serena might be of age, but she’s still her daughter by law. You know she won’t let this go.”

  “I don’t care,” she hissed. “She’s not going back. Mark my words, there’s a sickness in that woman, and if the will doesn’t name Serena as his heir, there’s no telling what she might do—”

  John cut across her. “Vi, don’t say such things.”

  I felt their eyes on me then. But I’d barely registered their words, preferring to disappear into the bleak landscape that was my mind.

  Minutes later, or perhaps hours, someone pushed a mug of tea into my hands. I held it there with no intention to drink it, not even feeling the warmth. Nothing felt real, my body least of all. My mind detached and played with the idea it wasn’t me, Serena, sitting on their couch, but a corpse instead. Staying as still as possible, I held my breath and watched the flames dance in the hearth, willing its heat to bring me back to life. There was only ice coating my bones, and even in this baker’s cottage with a fire blazing, it wouldn’t melt.

  Chapter 2

  The Evil Stepmother

  I spent every moment curled up on John and Viola’s sofa in the week that followed. The only exception occurred on the sixth day when the reading of the will took place. John accompanied me to the Village Hall; Viola stayed behind. I didn’t ask why, but I suspected she was afraid of what she might say if my father had left everything to my stepmother.

  Baird, the Chief Elder, ushered us into his office in the back of the Hall. Elain was already there waiting and didn’t even bother to look up as we entered. Then, my father’s last wishes were read out to us.

  The cabin had been left for Elain and me to share until I got married, at which time the house would transfer to my husband. The forge was to be divided between me, Elain, and Gus who would manage the business.

  My stepmother struggled to conceal her fury, and even risked provoking Baird by insisting she read the will for herself. I seized the opportunity to slip out with John and make it back to the bakery without her following. Once we’d caught Viola up, she was more stunned than anyone. It seemed we’d both sold my father short. He’d not only secured an income for me through the forge, but a house and a dowry. My prospects of making a good match had increased tenfold overnight. Despite a touch of relief that I wasn’t suddenly a pauper, I knew in my heart that nothing good could come of provoking Elain. The next morning, my stepmother turned up on the doorstep. r />
  “She can’t stay here for the rest of her life. She’s my daughter!” Elain yelled at Viola, as she blocked the doorway.

  “Why do you even want her back, Elain?” Viola asked, crossing her arms, refusing to budge.

  I watched the scene unfold with an odd mixture of dread and premonition. Somehow, this felt inevitable.

  Elain pushed past Viola, leaving her fumbling for balance, and stormed over to my spot by the fire. “Enough of this moping,” she sneered, her brown eyes crinkling with disgust. “We have a house to run. I can’t do it alone.”

  Maybe it was the aching emptiness inside my gut, or perhaps I’d just had enough, because I snapped, “I’m not going anywhere with you. Chop your own damn wood.”

  I didn’t have time to react. She bent down and slapped me across the face. My cheek stung, and Viola roared loud enough for John to come racing in from the side door. Flour stained his hands—he’d been baking. “Vi … what’s going on?” he stammered, his gaze flitting between the three of us.

  Slamming the front door behind her, Viola marched over to Elain, hair askew, wide-eyed, and pointing a damning finger. “This bitch hit our girl!”

  Elain let out a sharp bark, “She’s not yours.”

  John turned to Elain, the end of his squashed nose reddening. “She’s every bit ours, just as we’re hers. And if you ever hit her again, I’ll get you exiled from this village,” he said, his chest swelling with emotion.

  I thought that might be the end of it. John had more standing and power and she knew it, but it seemed losing my father had caused her to forget herself. Elain was unmasked. “You wouldn’t dare,” she drawled. Facing me, she continued. “We’re meant to live together. That was Hal’s wish.” Her eyes shuttered as if the idea pained her. “If you don’t come back with me, I’ll go before the elders. Nowhere in his will did it say you could leave me alone with the upkeep of the cabin. Carry on this way, and I’ll see you disinherited.”