The Divine and the Cursed (Fae of Alastríona, #1)

by J.E. Reed

Fate isn’t always kind.

How she yearned to feel her magic again. That rush in her veins that brought life and strength. The power that divided their race from the humans and dark creatures prowling in the mountain forests.

Iron didn’t burn the way humans seemed to think it would. It did far worse, repressing one’s magic with a thick veil that separated a Fae from the natural force that ran through their blood.

Though not as quick as pure-bloods, half-breeds still possessed strength that exceeded a human’s, which was likely another reason they kept the slaves half-starved.

She’d been born with the natural abilities of her country, able to bend water to her will, but it was the second ability, the one that would have enabled her to save this male, that she longed for now.

now all she wanted was the chance to use it freely. To heal those injured in this ridiculous war.

Sandalwood mixed with the sweetness of cinnamon. The scent of those from Brónach.

Come back, she wanted to beg, but he was from Brónach and no one from Brónach would ever help a slave.

Arianna knew now. Knew that no matter how much she hoped, no matter how much she hit her knees in prayer, she’d never see home again.

She’d once possessed elegant, dark locks that flowed past her waist. But that was before she’d crudely cut it to shoulder length, leaving the ends shredded and in disarray. Her skin, once smooth and flawless, now carried the scars and calluses expected from her predicament. And her eyes. She wondered if they shone as they once had, or if they’d dimmed like the female’s, carrying the last year and a half of pain within their depths.

She was a daughter of Móirín. A pureblood. Royalty.

She was eighteen, too close to adulthood to remain in captivity. Any time now she could shift into her full Fae form, forever losing the half-breed disguise of her youth. She’d gain an animal shift instead, something denied to half-breeds as much as magic was.

They spoke of a nightmarish place where Móirín’s people were brutalized and beaten. The very place where The Demon was rumored to reside. He didn’t believe in prisoners. He didn’t believe in mercy, and if he discovered her secret, a quick death would be nothing short of a miracle.

Blood. Spice and blood and flame.

Her throat clenched at the sight of flaming red hair and fear snaked down her spine when those emerald eyes caught the firelight, dancing as if they hadn’t had enough blood to sate an unquenchable thirst.

She’d always been told to avoid The Demon at all costs, to flee as fast as her legs could carry her and pray he didn’t give chase.

Beautiful and deadly, he entered the room like a blade poised to strike. Honed muscles rippled with lethal promise, his steps measured and sure.

His magic was a rare sort, one even those from Brónach tried to eliminate at an early age. He couldn’t bend life, not like the rest of his people. The Demon was cursed to pull from the earth itself, wielding sand and chunks of rock to slaughter his enemies. Rumor claimed he favored the former. A curse from a cruel god no one remembered.

He was a ruthless killer. Brónach’s greatest weapon. History claimed he could tackle over a hundred Fae warriors alone and live to tell the tale. He was brutal and commanding, never took prisoners, and loved what he did so much that he searched for every opportunity with the most bloodshed.

She’d seen plenty of sunrises and sunsets, but seeing the sun rise when one thought they’d never see it again was another experience entirely.

She’d slept beneath the same roof as The Demon and lived to see another day.

But if anyone discovered her ability to heal, she wouldn’t be serving at all. She’d be queen. And not just of those within Móirín. She’d be the queen of every Fae and half-breed on the entire continent of Alastríona.

But if she stood up and united the four countries, would that end the war?

Earn his favor, plot, escape. Earn his favor, plot, escape. Earn his favor, plot, escape.

No one traveled too close to their base for fear of the Dark Fae, but with the Fairy Folk aiding her, Arianna knew she could make it. She could do this. She could go home.

Rion. So normal. A strong name, yes, but somehow she’d been expecting something more … sinister.

He was as dangerous and unpredictable as the flames, and if she wanted to survive, Arianna needed to keep him from burning.

The Fairy Folk. They’d always favored Arianna, bringing her little flowers and forgotten trinkets.

He was a predator, an alpha tried and true. Why others couldn’t accept that, she didn’t understand. It was useless to defy him. He didn’t take demands or prisoners.

Arianna exploded in a ray of light. Her fangs elongated, her ears sharpened, and magic strummed through her veins stronger than ever before.

She’d scented his fear and hated it. Her stomach clenched at the thought of anyone fearing her.

He knew now. Knew who and what she was. Would a demon bow to his would-be queen or would he seek to destroy her?

Arianna, she’d called herself. Arianna, a female from Móirín. Arianna, their rightful queen.

A deep cerulean that somehow reached through to touch some long-forgotten place in his soul. They’d brought forth emotions he’d caged decades ago. For some reason, Rion wanted to erase the emptiness in those eyes. He wanted to make them shine. He wanted to know what they might look like if—

And because everything about him that should’ve sent fear coursing through her body sent thrills of delight instead.

She should have wanted to run screaming. Should have begged for anyone to save her. But the only thing Arianna wanted to beg for was the feel of his lips against her skin.

One touch could leave him incapacitated for the rest of his life. One touch could kill him and yet he wanted her hands all over him.

She’d never felt that way for Talon. Never clung to his scent or craved his touch so much it hurt. She’d honestly never had anyone make her feel the way Rion did, and it was the most electrifying and terrifying thing she’d ever experienced.

She’d fallen into a fantasy where the kindness of her captor had been enough to make her forget she was a captive.

Her heart ached at the thought of him returning to an empty cabin.

He’d sit on the bed with his hands clasped before him, left with nothing and no one.

Alone. That’s exactly what Rion was. Completely alone in the world, a creature starved for another’s affection by a cruel land that’d labeled him a threat.

Something about Rion called to her in a way she didn’t understand.

Home. Or Rion.

His lips parted as she picked one up, speaking to it in hushed tones, and for the first time in his existence, Rion found himself believing in fairytales.

Her own lips parted when the tiny being jumped straight into his outstretched hand. “They’re … not afraid of you either.”

She hadn’t wanted to leave. The very thought hurt so much her heart ached.

Wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Home. Part of her whispered.

“Don’t pity me. I’d rather live without ties than suffer with broken ones.”

“The real suffering begins when we crave those ties but can’t attain them.”