Chapter One
Sevelle faced her mother, willing herself to stand tall. She focused on the black sun symbol on her mother’s temple to avoid looking directly into the wrath of her gaze.
They stood in the private meeting room—containing only one large wooden table, a set of chairs, and stacks of their most important writings—tucked away behind the thrones of the Day Court, but Sevelle felt more exposed than ever.
The Glorious Shayna, leader of the Day Court, looked back at Sevelle with her hands on her hips. Her blue hair was tied up, her wings open to reveal the brown markings in the shape of eyes in the upper section of each dark blue wing.
Sevelle’s father stood off to the side, dark wings to the wall of shelves housing their writings. A worried expression creased his normally smooth features, his light brown hair was half tied haphazardly, and his arms were crossed over the green skin of his bare chest, just above the cloth of beige wrapped over his lower half. He said nothing, for it was Sevelle’s mother who made decisions concerning the faeries, while he ruled in matters of the land and the life force, the ara, within it.
The symbols on the Telk stones her mother wore on cords around her arms, hands, neck, legs, and over the dark cloth criss-crossing her silver skin flashed as her magic flared.
Sevelle braced herself for the feel of her mother’s spirit power, like icy fingers in her mind sensing for the truth, her intentions, any sign of deceit.
A few moments passed before the violation left Sevelle’s mind.
“A true heir would know her own power,” her mother said.
The words hit Sevelle as if she had been struck by a physical blow.
Why those words? Would she strip me of my right to rule? she thought in panic.
Before she could form words, her mother continued. “So you have let us believe all along that the power of the sun would save us should there be a time of need. Yet the truth is that you cannot wield it and do not even feel it within you.”
I never said I could wield it, only kept quiet that I couldn’t. Maybe I should’ve kept quiet a little longer.
Sevelle didn’t dare say the words aloud, though.
“I—I have tried,” she protested, almost wincing at how weak her voice sounded. “I thought I would be able to wield it before it was needed.”
Her mother’s expression remained cold as ice.
“Well, the time is now, Light of the Day,” her mother went on without mercy. “Those of the court are weakening, cut off from the ara that keeps them alive by this rebel magic. More and more every day fall victim to the blight, doomed to die a very slow death. This leaves the court too weak to fight the rebels behind it.”
And I could save my court if only I could wield my power, Sevelle finished silently, guilt flooding her. I could reconnect them to the ara in the land that sustains faerie life.
“And if you cannot find it within yourself to save them—” Her mother leaned forward, bracing one hand on the wooden table beside them. “Is the position of heir too much for you, Sevelle?”
“No,” Sevelle answered in a rush as her heart pounded. “I wish to remain heir.”
“Faeries without power are as useless as humans, Sevelle.”
Sevelle gave a sharp intake of breath. This can’t possibly be so bad she would banish me to the human world—
“Why is it you think you cannot feel your power, Sevelle?” Her father eased off the wall and stepped forward.
Sevelle turned to him, but glanced nervously back at her mother as she answered, digging one toe into a divet between the stone slabs that made up the floor. “I was so young when I revived that runa. They are such small creatures. And I didn’t even know how I did it then. One moment its life was leaving its body, and the next I had picked it up and the life rushed back in. I—”
“No one knows your power but you, Sevelle,” her mother interrupted. She folded her wings and turned her gaze to the table, as if looking at Sevelle pained her. “You are the only one to show the power of the sun since Analare.”
Frustration rose within Sevelle. “Analare died before I was born,” she shot back before thinking. “And even she might not have been able to save so many from death. She could not survive the Silver Dusk.”
The Glorious’s head snapped back up as a sinking feeling started in Sevelle’s stomach. The Silver Dusk was not something to speak of lightly. It had destroyed the land to the south, killing the faeries that lived there and most of the courts, including her parents’ parents and the previous rulers of the Night—all because a faerie of the Night and one of the Day sought to create a faerie child that was a combination of both energies. When the opposing forces came together, they resulted in a burst of power that was only stopped by the combined magics of The Glorious, Drake, and Kye and Baron of the Night, all relatively young at the time. They then ascended to rule the courts. Society had been rebuilt since then, but the loss was still felt by those that remembered.
Her mother’s gaze grew dark. “You will not speak of my mother—”
“Shayna, we have no right to compare her to Analare.” Her father and mother exchanged a look Sevelle couldn’t quite decipher. Then her father turned to her with a frown. “Though Sevelle should not have spoken so rashly about her beloved ancestor.”
“The rebels may not be so kind as you, Drake,” Sevelle’s mother reminded him curtly.
The sound of the wooden door creaking open broke into the conversation.
“The dawn awaits,” Jae said as she stepped inside, bowing her head respectfully. Sevelle let out a breath in relief at the sight of her guardian, though fear was still alive within her mind.
Jae’s tightly wrapped clothing marked her as one of the guard, the cloth looping over both shoulders and around her middle, down to wrap around her abdomen and thighs in a fashion that allowed her arms, legs, and wings to be free, so that she was ready to defend Sevelle at any moment. The black symbol of the sun, the mark of the Day, stood out against her silver skin and brown hair, tight in a bun. Jae’s spear slung over her shoulder, and she clutched her shimmery dark brown wings firmly to her back.
Sevelle’s mother looked like she wanted to berate Jae, but only gave a dramatic wave of her hand. “We will speak no more of this in the presence of the dawn.” She snapped her wings shut and swept toward the door.
“I will do better,” Sevelle hurried to say. Her mother gave no indication she heard before exiting the room, spreading her wings, and taking off toward one of the many openings carved into the stone walls of the Throne Room.
Sevelle turned pleading eyes to her father.
“Look inward. Find your purpose,” he told her with a gentle yet stern look.
Too frustrated to reply, Sevelle watched him leave, worrying the fabric of her slitted skirt with her hands.
“Don’t speak,” she said as Jae opened her mouth. Then she softened her tone. “And please make sure no one else learns of this.”
Jae inclined her head. “The dawn waits for no one,” she said in an even voice. “Eyes forward.”
The words did nothing to calm Sevelle, but she nodded in gratitude anyway. She gave her wings a slight shake and headed out the door on foot, taking to the air as she entered the Throne Room. Jae followed directly behind her.
Soaring over the twin thrones adorning the dais—the only furniture in the room—Sevelle landed gracefully just inside the opening to the hall that would lead her above. She hurried forward on foot, joining other courtiers as they made their way to the top deck of the Day Court.
Faeries of all colors adorned in Telk stones on cords and wrapped fabrics sought coveted places near the edge, where they would be the first to see the rays of the sun, the great life-giver, peeking over the horizon. As the crowd grew thicker, Sevelle tried to make her way through without jostling anyone. Several with paler skin and a slight sickeningly sweet odor denoting them as being affected by the blight shrank away from her, causing guilt to jolt through her, though she didn’t cause their hardship.
There is still time, she reminded herself, looking forward with determination borne of guilt, fear, and hope.
Jae’s silver arm came into view as she helped part the crowd, and Sevelle moved forward to take her place at her mother’s side. Both her parents faced the horizon, with Morlan, leader of the guard, to their right. Other guards stood on the stone ledge surrounding the deck, spears at the ready, as the courtiers were open and vulnerable to the sky. But they left the space in front of the ruling family clear so they would receive the first rays of the sun.
The lush greenery of Faerie stretched out before them. Despite the mixed emotions coursing through her, Sevelle’s heart swelled with pride as it always did at the sight. Though she frowned as she noticed more shriveled areas among the masses of trees and plants. A reminder that their Nym—the caretakers of ara in the land, air, water, light, and beasts—that were not affected by the blight were stretched thin, unable to prevent the imbalance as they should. Sevelle’s eyes were drawn to a particular rough patch that revealed a normally hidden view of the Great Divide, the river that separated the territories of the two courts of Faerie: the Day and the Night.
The breeze picked up, whipping through Sevelle’s flowing lavender-colored hair. As she brushed it out of her face and attempted to secure it behind her ears, she heard the courtiers murmur in distress.
The Winds will be upon us soon, Sevelle thought in dismay. Why so many problems at once?
Soon they would be forced to take shelter in the lower levels of the court, the sky no longer safe for travel for a few weeks’ time, as a phenomenon they called the Winds whipped through Faerie, originating from the barren lands of the south.
But she inhaled, forcing her negative thoughts away, and looked to the horizon with hope. Sevelle focused as the sun began to reveal itself, bathing the court in an orange glow. The courtiers gasped or sighed in relief, some murmuring wishes and intentions for the day. Sevelle’s skin began to warm even before the full force of the light hit her.
I can feel it. Why can’t I wield it?
As she wrestled with her thoughts and the courtiers quieted down, her mother’s voice rang out, “May the light guide us through the day.”
Please.
Sevelle placed her hands on the stone ledge and leaned forward, squinting against the brightness and willing the ara within her to connect with that of the great power source.
“May the light heal us from this blight,” her mother continued.
Give me your secrets.
Sevelle closed her eyes this time and tried to feel the radiance.
“And carry us into tomorrow,” her mother finished.
The warmth remained on Sevelle’s skin, never sinking further into her being. She opened her eyes as the courtiers around her murmured their own thanks to the sun.
Her mother turned suddenly then, giving Sevelle a critical look out of the corner of her eye.
Sevelle plastered a serene look onto her face to hide the coldness she felt inside, the absence of any sort of awakening power.
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