Viciously Yours: Part 1 – Chapter 2

“Can’t you send one of the guards?” Finn asked, looking more annoyed with each passing second.

Rennick shook his head. “I don’t trust anyone but you, and Dad said we can’t tell anyone about her.”

Amelia.

It took months, but his father found Amelia living in an orphanage in the Human Kingdom after receiving a tip from an unexpected source. He petitioned Charlotte, the human queen, to bring Amelia to the Mountain Kingdom palace immediately since she had no family to speak of. The queen refused to let his mate cross the barrier until Rennick took the throne.

When she explained why, his father agreed, but upon finding out the news, Rennick destroyed his father’s study in a fit of uncontrollable rage. He understood she was safest hidden amongst the humans, but he had a duty to her, and he couldn’t protect her from a kingdom away.

Royal fae needed to be at their full power to protect their kingdoms once they took over, and because of this, the gods bound them to their own kingdoms until they took the throne at twenty-five. Fae pulled magic from their lands, and leaving fae lands before they were fully grown would weaken their magic. For normal fae, they came to full power at thirteen, and even if they left before then, it didn’t mean much. For royal fae, the stakes were higher, and because they were stronger, it took longer for their power to fully manifest.

Rennick placed his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Something happened yesterday. I felt it.” He tapped his chest where Amelia’s agony had knocked the air out of him the day before. Her strong emotions resonated in him like his own. He didn’t like it.

He’d been trying to convince Finn to take Amelia a letter for the last hour. Only he, outside of a select few of his father’s inner circle, knew Amelia’s true identity. If anyone caught wind of who she was to him and he wasn’t there to protect her, she would be killed, and he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

His mother’s death hung over their heads like a guillotine. It did not matter that Amelia was only a thirteen-year-old girl, killing her would weaken, if not exterminate, the Mountain Kingdom’s royal bloodline.

“How am I supposed to sneak into an all-girl’s orphanage?” Finn demanded. “I’ll be arrested.”

“You know how to pick locks,” Rennick reminded him, “and you can glamour yourself to be invisible.” All fae possessed the ability to use glamour, a magic allowing them to make any non-fae person or animal see what they wanted them to.

“And if she shows someone your letter or someone snoops around her room and finds it?” Finn looked pointedly at the black envelope in Rennick’s hand. “They’ll think she’s lying, or worse, that she’s telling the truth.”

Rennick knew she wouldn’t tell. He couldn’t explain how, but he had never been more sure of anything in his life. “I won’t tell her who I really am or what kingdom I’m from,” he said, slightly offended his friend thought him that dense. “I won’t even tell her what I look like. And when she finishes reading the letter, use glamour to take it back.”

Finn ran a hand over his short, dark, curly hair with a groan. “Fine, but you owe me big.”

Rennick’s relieved smile faltered. “I need to send her a gift.”

Finn looked ready to strangle him. “Why?”

He motioned for Finn to follow him back toward the palace.

“I missed her birthday.”

Amelia trudged home from the library through the slushy snow, wishing the walk wasn’t so far. In this region of the Human Kingdom, it was cold year-round, and during the snowy season, it became downright miserable.

The coat she currently owned was too snug and thin, doing nothing to block the chilly wind. The orphanage she lived at didn’t have the luxury of buying everyone new clothes and relied on donations. One of the house mothers taught the girls to sew the hems of their dresses shorter to keep them from dragging through the snow because there was nothing worse than a wet dress sticking to your legs.

She could have gone home right after school today when the sun was still high and streaming through the tall evergreens, but she’d read her entire stack of books from the library and needed new ones. Without her books, she’d be bored to tears.

It was her own fault she had no friends. Instead of joining her classmates outside during breaks, she chose to read at her desk, preferring fictional worlds to the real one. It wasn’t that she didn’t want friends. She did more than anything, but their school wasn’t very big, which limited her options. Then the only two girls her age at the orphanage, Ana and Farrah, were awful.

She was well-liked, and she liked most of her classmates, but she had nothing in common with the other girls, and the boys made her nervous. Amelia needed to learn to face her fears if she wanted to live like the characters in her books.

Lately, she’d been reading adventure books with epic romances, and while she’d always wanted to live in the fictional worlds she read about, she longed for a love like in her stories more than anything.

Thirteen was too young to worry about marriage and a family of her own, but Amelia could think of nothing else. She wanted to love someone who loved her back and often wondered what it would be like, since she hadn’t the slightest clue what any type of love felt like.

Almost thirteen years ago, someone left her on the front stoop of the orphanage with nothing but a blanket and a copy of her birth record with no parents listed. While the house mothers she had over the years treated the girls well, stepping into the matronly role they all needed, no one stayed forever.

She sighed and climbed the porch steps, ready to dive into another book.

A dream hovered just out of Amelia’s reach as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. A whisper that she couldn’t make out in her hazy dream state until it fizzled away all together, replaced by the sun’s bright rays assaulting her senses.

She and the other girls were fortunate to have their own rooms, but the spaces were small, leaving her no choice but to position the bed directly across from the window with no spare blankets to hang over the glass.

Rolling over, she grabbed her pillow and smashed it over her head to ward off the morning, but the crinkle of paper against her cheek made her jerk back.

She swiped her long blonde hair out of her face and, after rubbing her eyes to ensure she wasn’t seeing things, stared at the crisp black envelope.

Where had it come from? Had it been there last night, she would have noticed when she fluffed her pillow.

Someone came in my room while I slept.

Tentatively, she reached for the envelope, inspected the fancy-looking paper, and pried it open without grace. A single piece of paper waited inside. With shaky hands, she unfolded it, furrowing her brow at the messy penmanship filling the page.

Amelia read the letter again. And again. And again.

After her tenth read through, she deduced that Nick, whoever he was, had the wrong person. Why would a fae think she was their mate? It wasn’t even addressed to her.

She’d read about soulmates in a few romance books, but she hadn’t thought they were real. Assuming that’s what he meant. Human schools didn’t teach much about the fae. Other than folklore, not much was known about the mysterious people with pointed ears because they rarely crossed the barrier.

A wall reinforced the magical barrier separating the Human Kingdom from the four fae kingdoms. Fae could pass through the barrier by themselves, but humans couldn’t get through the magic without a fae escort, but magic or not, everyone was required to have an official permit to pass through the gates. Amelia didn’t know what happened if they caught someone without a permit.

Jacob, a boy at school, claimed humans were never seen again if caught crossing illegally, but that couldn’t be true. There were no real horror stories about the fae; they stayed on their side of the wall, and humans stayed on theirs.

Glancing toward the window, she noticed a white box with a red bow balancing precariously on the sill. She set the letter aside and crossed the room to inspect the mysterious package.

A heavy object shifted inside as she shook the box. Curious, she untied the bow and wiggled the top free. A scream escaped her upon seeing the horror inside, and she threw the box on reflex.

Her heart raced as she stared at the floor, knowing, without a doubt, that someone had played a cruel joke on her. She’d been stupid to think a fae would… what? Claim her? Pre-love her? The letter hadn’t explained much.

Slowly, she toed the box out of the way and bent over the creepy doll on the ground. It had white porcelain skin with red dots on its cheeks, unmoving blue eyes, and long, dark hair.

She’d never liked dolls and never understood how they didn’t scare other children. Even at thirteen, she wanted nothing more than to set it on fire. Huffing, she stomped to her bed to grab the letter… but it was gone.

Spinning around, she scanned every surface in her room. Where did it go? Letters don’t magically disappear.

Unease slipped down her spine, and her eyes slid back to the doll. Perhaps she’d been half asleep and imagined the letter.

“Were you really sad a few days ago?”

She had been. Earlier that week, while walking home from school, Amelia found a poor rabbit half dead in the snow. Unable to leave it, she’d carried it all the way across Friya, the small village she lived in, to the livestock healer.

He’d taken one look at the helpless creature and said it was cruel to let it live. Its injury was too severe, and it would suffer a slow death.

Amelia cried when the healer carried it away. She’d never liked seeing animals hurt, and while she knew hunting was crucial to survival, when hunters carted their kills through the village, she had to look away.

It was possible Ana or Farrah saw her crying and wrote the letter, but not even their evil could make letters disappear. More proof she’d imagined it. Looking at the doll again, she gritted her teeth because, letter or not, someone snuck into her room.

But if the letter had been from a fae, he might have enchanted it. Taking no chances, she walked to her tiny desk and pulled out a piece of paper, an inkwell, and a quill.

She folded it neatly and set it on her windowsill. If “Nick” came back, she wanted her message received loud and clear.

The first light of dawn filtered through the rainbow leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of colors above Rennick’s head on his morning run. On an average day, he waited until the sun rose completely before running through the dense forest, but he’d been out there most of the night.

Sleeping or sitting still proved to be impossible, and he thought training would help tire him out.

He’d thought wrong.

Another several hours of running, climbing, and any other training he could do alone to help pass the time, droned by slowly. Finn should have returned from the Human Kingdom, and Rennick’s patience wore thin.

They’d decided Finn would leave early enough the night before to arrive at the orphanage by dinner time, then he’d glamour himself to slip in unnoticed and figure out which girl was Amelia because they had no idea what she looked like or which room was hers.

Once Finn gathered the information, he was to stay the night at a local inn and return to the orphanage before dawn to deliver the letter. He’d have to wait for her to wake up and read it before stealing the letter back and heading home, and Rennick hadn’t considered that Amelia may be a late sleeper.

“He’s almost home,” a warm voice said.

Rennick spun around to face his father. “Who?” He couldn’t mean Finn. No one knew of their plan.

His father laughed, the sound deep and comforting. At six foot four with a wide frame, his father looked like a larger, older version of Rennick. His dark hair had hardly any grey, but his eyes showed evidence of his humorous nature.

Those eyes crinkled now, and Rennick knew he’d been caught.

“Did you think my warriors would allow a thirteen-year-old boy across into the Human Kingdom with a permit signed by you and not tell me?”

He should have forged his father’s signature.

“Forging my signature wouldn’t have worked,” his father said knowingly. “A child crossing alone would have raised flags, regardless.”

“Something happened. It hurt,” Rennick said softly, placing his palm against his chest. “Not physically, but she was upset, Dad. I had to do something.”

“I think writing her letters is a good idea.” His father’s words surprised him. “The humans don’t teach much about fae, and it’s a good idea to tell her as much about us as you can.”

“She can’t know who I am.” Rennick raked a hand through his sweaty hair. “If someone found out, she might get hurt.” Like Mom.

The unspoken words hung between them, and his father’s face softened.

“I know, son, and that’s why she cannot write you back. If another fae, even a palace maid, were to see a letter from her in your room, where she calls you her mate, or intercept it somehow, it would put her in danger.”

“I’m not going to write to her again,” Rennick told him. “I can send her a history book on fae.”

His father studied him for a moment. “I think the letters will help keep you two connected. You don’t want to be detached and forget the importance of your bond.”

Rennick pulled himself up to his full height. “I would never forget. I know my duty.”

“And her?” his father asked. “If she never hears from you again, there is nothing stopping her from falling in love with another and marrying them before you can retrieve her.”

He’d not thought of that. What would he do if that happened?

“The royal bloodline would weaken,” his father went on. “We cannot allow that to happen, and I don’t want you to miss out on the joys of marrying your fated mate.”

“Just because she’s my mate doesn’t mean I’ll love her.” Rennick set his jaw stubbornly. “That’s not how the bond works.”

“Even if you do not love her romantically, you will love her deeply. Your souls are one and the same.”

“I can’t stop her from marrying someone else if I’m not there.” Rennick silently implored his father to refute his claim.

He did no such thing. “You’re right. You’ve been dealt a bad hand, son, but that doesn’t mean you roll over. The least you can do is try.” His father’s eyes glazed over briefly before clearing. “We need to head back. Finn and Reyna just arrived.”

“Reyna?” Rennick echoed.

Reyna was his father’s familiar. The snow leopard’s head came to Rennick’s chest, and her teeth looked like rows of triangular ivory razor blades. Her eyes were pitch black against her solid white fur, and had Rennick not grown up with her, he’d be terrified.

“I glamoured her,” his father assured him.

Royals could glamour entire kingdoms if they needed to, and with Amelia’s village being only an hour away from the barrier on horseback, glamouring Reyna that far away was nothing for the king. Only one thing gave Rennick pause.

“You can glamour past the barrier?”

His father looked amused. “The barrier does not affect fae, son.”

Rennick knew that, but it still surprised him. He hadn’t really thought about it.

His father’s eyes glazed over momentarily. “Finn is almost to your rooms.”

Rennick nodded and followed his father home with a new fear. What if his mate fell in love with someone else? What if he did?