The Crown of Oaths and Curses (The Mortal Fates #1)

by J. Bree

I wonder who attended the princess’s previous birth and if they knew how to do such things.

Physically, I'm not worried about any of the high fae. I can hold my own in hand-to-hand combat; I was a soldier in the Sol Army after all. But they’re not an enemy to take lightly.

I know what it means to stand my ground and defend it.

They look at their own prince and heir to the throne as though he’s a problem, one that needs to be dealt with viciously and swiftly.

Kharl’s army has broken the spirit of these people—broken the high fae in a way I did not think possible. Starvation, death and the culling of an entire generation…they're on their last legs, and the Fates have decided to test them once more.

The regent looks like his nephew in a physical way, but the longer my eyes spend picking him apart, the more my skin crawls.

There’s something very wrong about him and the farce of him sitting on the Unseelie throne.

The Sol King has never been so disrespectful to his court, never held such that my teeth ache at the sight of it.

Realization settles deep in my gut that this male has no intention of handing over the throne, and the Savage Prince’s loathing toward me makes a little more sense. To be so loyal to the Fates and determined to marry at their command but so viciously set against me had seemed peculiar, and here is why.

Seeing the land is broken as it is and feeling its desperate pull on my power has changed something inside me, despite the ice around my heart.

The rumors my brother heard of Prince Soren while searching for information about Kharl and the war had indicated that the moniker the Savage Prince came from his fighting prowess, that he’d become unbeatable on the battlefield and that his swordsmanship was unlike any other in the Southern Lands.

In the Northern Lands, this was seen as a very promising sign of the ruler to come. It's not hard to see that the Unseelie Court does not feel the same way.

“Treason or not, I have never thought myself wiser or more capable than the Fates themselves. I'm surprised that you would suggest such a thing.” A scandalized buzz spreads around the audience hall. The Unseelie Court watches as the two most powerful males in the kingdom verbally spar, but I’m more careful about marking where the guards are and whether they’re descending upon us.

Whatever façade he’s created for himself, he thinks it's more palatable than the truth of his nephew and, in the end, none of this is truly about me.

I have no sympathy for any of these people. Nothing for the rulers who destroyed the land I once called home, land that still cries out from underneath my feet. That’s where I’ll be focusing the finite reaches of my power.

For all I care, the high fae can destroy each other while I do the real work.

The gazes of the court seem to burn my skin as I stare back at them all, unflinching.

He's the best person to protect her all the way down to the dungeons. He’ll stay there and watch over her until we're sure that the guards won’t make it to the dungeons, slip her poison, or try some other nefarious means to keep my uncle squatting on my father's throne.

He thinks he's won. Only a few short days ago, I was sure he had won as well, but the last of the fae flowers dying reminded me what we're truly here for. This isn’t about whether or not I can stand the sight of the mate the Fates have chosen for me. This is about my kingdom and my people.

This is about who will make the best ruler, and I don’t need to look around the room at the wanton waste of our very finite resources to know that I’m a better choice than my uncle.

The regent is letting the land die. He’s ignoring every last one of the signs that we’re teetering on the edge of survival, and his arrogance—or stupidity—has him truly believing th...

Countless people will die if I do not marry the witch, and I have a handful of months left to come to terms with what that ma...

I don't need to look to know that Airlie is taking note of every last person joining in, preparing a list of families who shall never be trusted again. We can’t afford to lose any more favor, but letting poison into our midst is worse.

Aunt Aura may very well be a pain in the ass, but her loyalty is second to none, a trait she shares with her fierce daughter.

“We'll see how your marriage progresses. With your mate in chains, I'm not so sure how you’ll convince her to take part in the exalted high-fae ceremony, but I look forward to attending such a spectacular event.”

Their marriage is a testament to the Fates knowing better than anyone else who completes us.

The laws of the Unseelie high fae are clear. I must be married to my mate to take the throne. But there's nothing in the laws that says she must sit beside me and rule as an equal.

She’s never figured out that Tyton’s loyalties don’t lie with her, his kind and loyal words a front to keep her from stalking his brother.

Her loyalty is to herself, always. I can't stand any more of it.

They look at him with pity, as though being so close to me is going to ruin his life, but he ignores them all as his hands jerk the iron chains to get me moving faster.

I map out the path. It's a subconscious habit that was trained into me and has become such an integral part of who I am that I don't even notice I do it anymore. I have no intention of escaping from the dungeon and the magic that flows within the dark and cramped space.

The Fates have tied his hands; he just doesn't realize that mine are tied just as tightly.

He hates it down here. The air must feel suffocating to him; unable as he is to tap into his own magic to understand what the earth is crying out for, it must feel like a vise around his chest.

Generations have passed since the high fae stopped practicing their rituals, and even in our isolated home, the Favored Children knew.

If the high fae hadn't lost access to their magic, Kharl’s evil would never have been able to spread the way it has.

He knows my name, and the gall of him to continue to ignore it bites at me. I owe this male nothing, not my truth or my respect, so I simply raise an eyebrow at him.

The absolute nerve of this high fae. To keep me as a prisoner in these dungeons, parade me around the Unseelie Court unbathed and appearing broken, and still he accuses me of misconduct.

I take a slow step backwards into the cell and away from him, then another, and another, until my back hits the cell wall. His eyes narrow as I slowly slide down to sit once more, assuming the same position I’ve been in for the long days I’ve been held here. Ignoring him, I take a deep breath and settle into the dark embrace of the cell and the land beneath it.

“That’s not the way to win my favor. You're our prisoner, you should be trying to convince me not to kill you, not pissing me off even more.” I shrug at him and then let my eyes slip shut, the ultimate dismissal and the only one I have at my disposal.

“It’s not my job to teach you about the ways of the world, prince. You'll have to figure it out for yourself.”

Tell me where you hail from, witch. Convince me to keep you alive.” A smirk stretches across my lips. “I will convince you of nothing, and I've already freely given you my name. You've offered me nothing in return.”

He's as beautiful as the rest of them, but there's a cruelty inside of him. A dark and twisted fire flickers in the pits of his eyes, one that has burned long enough to do lasting damage. He's just as dangerous as the Savage Prince, of that I am sure.

The earth will not let me starve.

“Aren't you a delightful creature? I’m not sure why I was expecting more from a prince of this land. I’ve been nothing but polite and genial to the lot of you, and yet that courtesy has been returned with threats of violence and deprivation. It’s my own fault. I shouldn't have expected better of the Unseelie high fae.”

I’m poking at him, frustrated to be trapped with him instead of his silent and—mostly—harmless brother. Tyton’s questions are intrusive and petulant, but they’re not a useless, never-ending attack with no intention of accepting my answers.

If Tauron is to watch over me for the evening, I’m not going to be able to connec...

You should be grateful. That Savage Prince you’re so loyal to can’t ascend to the throne without me, can he? It seems as though I'm doing you all a favor by sitting here peacefully in this cell, and in typical Unseelie high-fae fashion, you have nothing for me in return, no gratitude or welcome. Nothing but selfish taunts and hollow threats of death. Pathetic, the lot of you.”

It's clear that he's not here to get information from me, merely to guard. Why he could possibly think I would try to escape with the entire Unseelie Court dancing upstairs is beyond me, but I let my head fall back against the stone once more and consider the insights the night has given me.

I feel the ground call to me, asking that I open a vein to bleed directly into it and to give to it so that it might give back to me, but to do so in front of the high-fae prince would only spark his suspicions.

Two hundred years I spent in the Seelie Court, fighting against the Fates themselves to prove to myself that I didn't have to surrender to their whims. I ran because I was scared, but, as I matured and grieved my family and found out who I truly was, I became determined to prove I knew better than the Fates.