Book Crazy: Blog Tour & Giveaway: The Fae King’s Labyrinth [Courts in Conflict 02] by Elisa Rae!

Excerpt!

“We should walk faster,” I informed my elder sister as I eyed the treeline in the fading light.

Mist rose as the evening air cooled around us, and fog gathered around the roots of the trees along the meadow’s edge. Although a field lay between the trees and us, my instincts nagged at me. Something was watching us. Shadows deepened where the setting sun’s golden rays didn’t quite reach into the depths beneath the tightly packed trees. Autumn was upon us, gilding the leaves gold and crimson, but it hadn’t yet stripped the wood’s branches bare.

“We have plenty of time yet,” Mindy protested. She adjusted her grip on the full basket of cut rushes, absentmindedly caressing her slightly rounded belly with her free hand. The child within had only just grown to the point that his or her presence was obvious. Mindy’s wimple slipped, revealing some of her pretty blond tresses. “The sun hasn’t touched Aldin Mountain yet.” She jutted her chin toward the mountain looming on the northwestern horizon, the nearest of the Arista Peaks. “We have less than a mile to go. Stop being such a worrier.”

I eyed the shadows warily. As an adult who never shifted forms, my role in our small, exclusive community of shapeshifters was to protect our secrets, our young, and our community. Truthfully, my dedication to the role did occasionally make me see things that weren’t there. However, this time, my warning was for valid reasons.

“The shadows in the woods are moving.” My gaze followed the flutter of what might have been a wing as a creature moved from treetop to tree trunk just beyond the edge of the mist. “The full moon rises in two days, and the risk of encountering fae grows high.”

“Cautious Callie jumping at shadows.” Mindy rolled her eyes. “The edge of the Wild Woods is miles that way.” She waved toward the northwest. “The fae don’t stir until well after dark, and even then, they don’t stray this far from their borders, except during the moon hunts. By then, we will be safely home. Here, take the basket.” She extended it toward me as we approached the stile.

Juggling my load—a large bundle of rushes—so it was under one arm, I took her basket on my other. I mounted the stile first, climbing over it with ease while balancing my load. Mindy moved more slowly.

“Once we reach home,” she said as she climbed, “you need to clear up the dried rushes so we can lay these out next.” The pair of us wove baskets during the winter evenings. Then in the spring, we sold them at the local market to supplement her husband’s meager earnings as a shepherd.

I eyed the horizon. The sun sank behind Aldin’s peak, and the mountain’s dark shadow crept across the valley toward us.

An animal cry came from the direction of the Wild Woods. I turned toward it, straining my ears for another sound.

Another call came from much closer. I couldn’t place the sound. Was it a magical creature or something common? Did it sound distressed or was it hunting?

A third cry—eerie, haunting, and far too close—rent the air. My latent magic responded with absolute confidence. The creature, whatever it was, was hunting. We needed to reach cover and fast. “Mindy—”

“I hear it,” my sister snapped, already in motion. “The Lindrens’ farm is closest.” I turned toward the farm, only to freeze.

A giant, grotesque horse galloped toward us from the south. On its back rode a monstrously large fae clothed in flowing black livery lined in red; it flashed like blood against the night as he rode. A dark helm covered his features, and his cloak billowed out around him, tattered edges fluttering in the wind. We had no time to run.

I dropped my burdens in the trampled grass and lunged for my sister. Dragging her off the stile, I shoved her down into the tall grasses on our side of the wall. She squawked softly before I told her about the mounted specter bearing down on us.

“Shift,” I ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “Think of the child. Run for home.”

She snapped her mouth shut and shifted. Moments later, a pregnant orange tabby slunk through the tall grasses in the shade of the tumbledown wall. Tail down and body stretched low, she raced for the edge of the meadow.

I stood and climbed over the stile. Horse and rider pounded across the field, hooves kicking up clods of dirt as they plowed toward the wall. At the last possible moment before running me down, the rider yanked back savagely on the reins. The horse reared, screaming his protest at the abuse. I ducked to avoid the flying clumps of dirt from the horse’s pawing hooves.

The horse came down hard on all four legs, shaking the ground.

“Human, straighten up!” the fae ordered, magic lacing his voice. It flooded over the trampled grass, winding around my body and enticing my limbs to obey. But having shapeshifter blood made me invulnerable to compelling magic. It made sense considering the contrariness of Feline nature, my father said.

However, I didn’t want the fae to know that. So, I stood and faced him. “What do you want?” “Silence!” The edges of the fae’s cloak whipped in a nonexistent wind as his magic flared around me. His eyes flashed red beneath the helm. The compelling magic intensified, tightening its grip on me.

The rider looming above me straightened in his saddle, stabilizing himself as though preparing for something. He drew a scroll from beneath his robes. “You have trespassed into the Fae Realm. The penalty is death, but on this day, his great and mighty highness has chosen to show mercy…”

I doubted any plans a fae king made for a captured human would be merciful. For many seasons now, the Unseelie king had run his Wild Hunts over the human lands bordering on the Great Wild Woods. Magical horses laid wreck and ruin over wide swaths of farmland monthly, trampling crops and terrorizing livestock. Plus, at least one child or young maiden disappeared every fortnight. The losses had gotten so bad that our elders were discussing moving the community eastward. Even the unchanged communities were migrating.

I had tuned out the fae’s droning as he continued praising his master, but then the fae stiffened and silenced.

“Weren’t there two of you?”

My heart stuttered against my ribs. “No.” There had been three of us if I counted my unborn niece or nephew. Surely Mindy was halfway home by now. Remember the kit, Calypso, I admonished myself. The longer I kept this fae occupied, the more distance Mindy could cover. Protecting the young was my purpose in the community. If I died, so be it.

The fae scanned the horizon, the golden rays of the fading sunlight glinting off the black metal surface of his helm. “One will have to be enough,” he muttered before sitting back in his saddle. Turning his full attention to me, he extended the hand holding the scroll and uttered a word I didn’t recognize. The air sizzled and the acrid smell of ancient magic burned my sensitive nose. I sneezed, missing whatever other words the fae uttered.

By the time I opened my eyes again, it was to glimpse him thrusting an emphatic finger at me. The scroll was open and glowing, sending another blast of acidic magic in my direction, and I fell helplessly into a violent sneezing attack.

The fae uttered a word that shook the ground beneath my feet. The dirt parted and swallowed me up into darkness.

Someone stole Azulin’s true name. Cursed to ride with the Wild Hunt during each full moon, he is helpless against the Unseelie king’s will. Over the years, the curse’s grip has strengthened, making Azulin’s magic difficult to control. Fighting the curse has exhausted his spirit to the point that he despairs of breaking its hold on him. Then one full moon, the curse places him in a labyrinth, not a hunt. Perhaps this is his chance, or maybe just a new form of torture.

Calypso is a shapeshifter who can’t change form. Living as an unpaid caregiver and laborer in her sister’s household, her presence is barely tolerated in their insular community. When a strange fae threatens her pregnant sister, Calypso sacrifices herself. Perhaps an honorable death would give her life purpose. Instead, she ended up fighting for her life in a pitch-black labyrinth.

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Author bio:

A reader of fairytales and folklore, Elisa Rae loves a happy ending. Noblebright characters, dastardly villains, and chemistry between characters delight her. When she isn’t writing, she loves to watch superhero movies and literary dramas.

Elisa Rae is the pen name of Rachel Rossano.