Faeted

Faeted - Book Two of Wonderlost

CHAPTER ONE

The purpose of statecraft as it pertains to the Fae is one of a prevention of the unbinding of Nature. Whilst it is certainly true that certain forces must be kept in check lest the balance be upset and a rampant wantonness set loose amongst the world of Men and their ilk...

I jerked awake as my chin drifted to my chest and I started to snore. Despite my combined eagerness and anxiety for the morning to come, not even the phrase "rampant wantonness" could keep me from nodding off while trying to read one of Aisling's Faerie political science books. Aisling was the niece and heir of my fiancé, Oliver, Lord of the Seelie Court and King of Faerie. As his heir, she was boning up on all the statecraft and political texts she could get her hands on. Despite being only eighteen, she took her position very seriously. Though the text was written in the Faerie language, she had cast some sort of charm on my eyes that translated the words for me as I read. I wondered if either the spell was not that great at translation or if the text itself really was this impenetrable. I suspected the latter, and wondered again how she managed to read books like this, and, currently, only books like this. There was not a cozy mystery novel or a lighthearted bodice ripper to be found amongst her collection, though when I had been her English teacher she'd been a great fan of Shakespeare and Dickens, at least.

I needed Aisling to work the spell because I myself, being human-born, had no magic. I had been made one of the Fae by Morag, Oliver's mother, and now had their long lifespan and self-healing abilities, but only true-born Fae had the ability to cast spells and use glamour.

I yawned and ran my fingers through my hair, working out the tangles. It was back to its original dark brown after having been lavishly multicolored for Oliver's coronation ball. I had been hoping to keep it that way for awhile, including for our wedding, but with the dire quest ahead of me, I didn't want to look too festive. I certainly didn't feel festive. I had also cut it to shoulder-length from its former mid-back range to make it easier to manage on the road.

Setting the book aside, I turned off my lamp and went to sit at the window. The moon was a razor thin waning crescent, which I hoped would make it easier for Oliver to hide as he made his way to the border of the Unseelie domain while we set off in pursuit after him.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. We should have been on our honeymoon by now, back on the Faerie-enchanted island where we had first met. Instead, Malcolm, a Fae who had been raised with Oliver and who had been a trusted advisor and compatriot, even if they did disagree on nearly everything, had swapped bodies with him, a type of magic that was thought not to exist, even amongst the dark and mischievous Unseelie Fae. At the very least, it had not been wrought in a thousand years. Malcolm, the one who had betrayed Oliver and switched sides during Oliver's battle for the throne, and who had tried to bring me as a hostage to Oliver's uncle and rival, Ren. Malcolm, the one who was wanted for assaulting me on the night of the coronation ball. Malcolm, who now had Oliver's body, the body of the king, and had glamoured the Court into not questioning any of his distinctly un-Oliver-like behavior. Me he left free of glamour, so that I was aware of exactly what was happening but was powerless to stop it without the Court's support. Oliver was trapped in Malcolm's body, the body of a wanted man. Oliver had wanted to bring Malcolm in for questioning and probably a trial. Malcolm, now in Oliver's body, meant to capture Oliver, force him to watch us be wed, and then execute him. Because that's how Oliver and Malcolm differed. Well, one of the many ways in which they differed.

I wondered how Oliver was faring right now and fought back tears. I hated crying. It was like I admitted defeat, like acknowledging how powerless I was. So far Oliver had managed to elude the kingdom's best trackers, and in the morning I and the alleged king would set out in pursuit ourselves, with the intention of being married on the road as soon as we found him. Morag, Oliver's mother, would be coming with us—much to Malcolm's chagrin—which she had been able to insist upon by insinuating that I was pregnant. I wasn't, but it was a good excuse and it also served to lessen Malcolm's interest in me somewhat. For the moment. Morag was unable to discern that it was Malcolm in Oliver's body, due to the glamour, but she had recognized Oliver was in Malcolm's body at once when she encountered him him. Also accompanying us was Finchley, the king's butler and the only other person besides me unaffected by the glamour, though whether by Malcolm's design or Finchley's own magic—he came from a long line of distinguished magicians—we weren't sure.