Heart of the Raven Prince (Entangled with Fae, #2)

by Tessonja Odette

There is some truth to that, considering the city of Evanston is the only human city within a twenty-mile radius of the unseelie palace, where my inheritance is being held until the day I turn nineteen.

Why would the fortune from her father be held by the fae court vice the human one since he was human? Well, never mind. I believe she did say the fae still rule overall…

It’s not normally the duty of the unseelie ruler to deal in human matters of life and finance, but after the death of Father’s executor earlier this year, his estate was turned over to the crown. His will and finances were moved to the nearest royal vault, which is, of course, at Selene Palace.

Oh. I should have finished the paragraph first…

My stepmother lowers her voice. “Just think. If the late Terrence Montgomery’s executor hadn’t joined him in the grave, we wouldn’t have this chance to visit Selene Palace at all.”

Why does she make her wear a bonnet to hide her fae heritage if she wants nothing more than to hobnob with the fae and wealthy? Why treat her only real ticket “in” with the fae like garbage but expect them to accept her?

chest. My reflection shifts in a flash, leaving…me. Same silver hair, haphazardly parted, drifting just past my jaw in places. Same pointed ears. Same eyes. I crack a smile and find she’s even managed to weave in the elongated tips of my canines.

How can he try on a glamour of his own self? Why would he?

So, aside from the unlikely chance she’s mortally wounded by ash or iron—two materials that are illegal in Faerwyvae—the

Ash? Like ash from a fireplace? Then how do they have fireplaces and Ember have soot on her face?

But there’s something about him that sparks a tempest inside me, one that explodes from my lips before I can stop it. “What are you talking about?”

That’s what she says? After all that build up like she’s about to go off on him?

He scoffs. “Playing coy, I see. That tactic is familiar to me as well. Congratulations, you aren’t special.”

I’m sorry but if he’s the MMC, he’s giving s lot of feminine vibes and I can’t see him as a love interest to Ember or her even being his type, gender-wise…

The sensible part of me screams to swallow my pride and simply walk away. But another part—and I have no doubt it’s my fae side—refuses to be silenced.

But you are because you likely won’t be saying a damn thing to put him in his place or appease your anger… just like the first time. The author must have NEVER won an argument before…

“We’ve been finished for an entire minute at least.”

OMG…

Did he exit through the alley?” For not the first time, I’m grateful I can lie. Only the pureblood fae are plagued by the inability to tell direct untruths. “I did not.”

Why not tell the truth? Does it matter? They still didn’t get to see him. 🤷🏽‍♀️

I don’t think I’ve ever received a letter in three years, much less a parcel.

In three years? That amount of time seems to equal when you made a deal with Ms. Coleman so she might be taking your mail. And why is she called ams. Coleman when your last name is Montgomery and she was married to your father?

“It’s of no one’s concern,” Mrs. Coleman says, whisking my package past the couch and toward her bedroom.

I hope it’s some magic to stop anyone the it’s not intended for from opening it.

“What is the meaning of this? I said it wasn’t for you.” She tries to take it from me

Like you can just say it and make it true and also like she had anything to do with you not being able to hold it. 🙄🙄

Not to mention, my wretched bargain with Mrs. Coleman enforces my obedience.

So choose not to open it right now. Simple.

I find four rectangular cards with gilded edges. Before I can read what they say, Mrs. Coleman tears them from my fingers.

That’s what she was waiting for. Must be invites.

It makes little sense why Imogen would credit her mother when the invitations came in a letter from Gemma Bellefleur to me.

It’s obvious. She impersonated you and wrote to Gemma…

It’s almost as if…as if you hadn’t been the one to pen the last letter to me at all, but…but perhaps Mrs. Coleman? No, that’s just silly, for only the most desperate and repulsive creature would stoop so low as to impersonate one’s stepdaughter for personal gain.

You called it Queen Gemma.

Not that you could ever be clever, but I understand one must always try one’s best. Have a wonderful time at the ball, Ember. Kindest regards, Gemma Bellefleur

Oooh! I like her. Fairy Godmother Queen.

“The nerve,” Mrs. Coleman says, balling the letter in her fist. “She was quite rude,” Clara says. “And why should Ember go to the ball, anyway?”

🤣🤣🤣 The nerve!

“In that plain dress? Please. She doesn’t even have a glamour to wear. She might as well be invisible.”

Did it not occur to anyone that the mask may hold the glamour?

“Ember, please!” Clara shouts. “After everything we’ve done for you, it’s the least you can do for us.”

Oh snap. I feel a gaslight coming on…

Father’s eyes flash before me, so bright and alive as he grins at me over his teacup. In the next moment, they turn empty, hard. His hand clenches over his heart. My voice, rich with song, shifts into a scream—

So this wench made her think her singing caused her father’s heart attack? Wow.

“You’re so selfish,” she mutters coldly.

Lordt. How long is this book! I need some vengeance NOW! These mofos!

I resist breathing in her energy, not wishing to invade her privacy, and claim the empty chair.

Did he breathe in Ember’s energy?

“Our dear Nyxia will never cease trying to auction off my virtue.”

Dude, sounds like that has been long gone…

“Why do you do it, Franco? Why do you let others think you’re some roguish playboy? Why didn’t you just…explain yourself when everything happened?”

Oh, my bad there Franco…

After two decades working through some of Faerwyvae’s most tumultuous times, she’s eager to live a simple life.

If they are immortal like he said, two decades are only a drop in the bucket… it would be significant to a mortal though…

Keeping focused on my tasks, I dare not listen in on my stepsisters’ conversations as they gossip throughout the day, speculating on what tonight’s festivities will bring.

She means tomorrow night’s festivities…

I step out from behind my dressing screen to the cracked mirror propped amongst a pile of boxes, surprised at what I find. Elegance.

But what about her hair though…

She pauses just inside my room and studies me through slitted lids. “The dress will do.” Her words come out clipped.

Like there’s another choice…

It was the singing Mrs. Coleman hated.

Thought so. That’s why she used his death as an excuse to stop you from doing it…

“Do you know why I took back my maiden name for myself and my girls after your father died?”

That’s what I want to know after selling his house and ish.

I focus on them, inviting a whirlwind of rage to overpower my shame, my sorrow.

Your whirlwind of rage has proven to be a slight breeze…

If she hadn’t manipulated me into staying with her, if she hadn’t dragged me to a bargain broker and convinced me to enter a legally binding agreement, I would be exactly where I want to be.

No laws against making contracts with minors?

While half of what she said was true—that I am guilty of my father’s death, bad, and dangerous—her

Oh girl stop… you’re too old to still believe that while seeing through everything else…

After that, I claim my inheritance whether I live with her or not, and the choice to continue paying her falls to me.

That is unless you get it while you’re still under the binding contract with her and she commands you to hand it over.

“When you claim your father’s inheritance, you don’t plan on giving us a single moonstone chip, do you?”

🤣🤣🤣 Broad is delusional…

“Who is it and why is he talking about me? The nerve, really.”

🤣🤣🤣 The only thing that’s come out of his mouth that I liked thus far.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. His energy is calm, but I can’t help wondering if his words hold a veiled threat.

Sounds like it…

“I don’t like him,” he says. “He smells like something…”

Like him already!

“No, not to hurt me. They wanted to waltz, I’m sure. Horizontally. Followed by a marriage proposal.”

Cute.

“She’s outside,” says the male voice. I turn toward it, just in time to glimpse a dark shape falling from the door handle. When it lands, I see it’s a crustacean covered in a cluster of mushrooms. I furrow my brow.

Sebastian? Are you here?

sense a spike of panic and wonder what could have her so alarmed. The way she fiddles with the blanket, ensuring it fully covers her bottom half, makes me think she might be self-conscious about the way she’s dressed.

Is she stuck mid shift?

If she leaves, I’ll be free from the chore of courting her. But that also means I’ll have failed my sister’s expectations before I’ve even begun.

No, you’ll just have to actively try to court someone on your own after this, now that you know why it must be done with haste. Simple. Don’t be dramatic.

I get the sense she’s hiding something,

Yep, that she’s only half shifted. Lol. Shoes prolly just chilling by themselves with no feet in them…

No one sane would say that about a bloodsucker.”

Yeah right…

The fuller the palace comes into view, the more awed I become. I’ve never been to a palace, much less a glamoured ball.

Didn’t she go to the palace that the Queen that sent the tickets lives? Wasn’t that her last and only Ball?

moonstone walls

The walls are made of moonstone and so is the currency? Or were they moonchips or something like that?

Based on his uneven gait and the enormous golden goblet in his hand, he’s already thoroughly drunk.

Must be Auger, the Raccoon Ambassador…

“Yes,” she says with a forced smile, although her tone is unamused, “she’s a rather untamed creature.”

Wow. This bish! At a Unseelie Ball no less!