Bad Fae | romantasy | Bad Fae #1

Chapter One

It was said that arrogance in a sidhe is a birthright, where arrogance in a mortal is a flaw most oft fatal.

And it was arrogance – sheer fucking arrogance – that saw me riding through the Darkrealm Forrest like my life depended on it.

Because my life did depend on it.

My horse under me was close to faltering, but I lay my hand on his neck and urged him on. "Just a little more," I begged. "Just a little further..."

Like he was renewed, Legacy's whole body bunched, and his speed increased as we raced along the twisting path through the wych elms and alders. In this forest, the foliage was almost unrecognisable. All the green was marked, tinged, streaked with deep red as though everything within these borders bled.

My pursuers jeered in displeasure, the thundering of their mounts' hooves not breaking stride as they urged them faster as well. I dared not look back and see how little space remained between us. I'd stayed ahead this far. If I could make it to the next river, then I was across the border and into human rule again.

If I made it that far, I was a princess.

Technically.

If I made it that far, they couldn't touch me.

Technically.

All this for a trinket. A bauble. By their standards. By my father's standards. One could argue I didn't need it. One could argue that, if I'd wanted to steal from the rich and give to the poor, then I could have just done it from my father's own coffers and maintained my façade of innocence.

But no.

Fucking arrogance.

It was burnt into the fabric of who I was.

It saw me stealing through the northernmost borders of Aclad, avoiding any and all people through Hosta as I kept making my way north to Febren. It had taken me weeks to make the journey, but my mission had been clear in my head; get the Frozen Vow and get home. For no other reason than it was supposed to protect against illusion and trickery, against the glamour. I doubted the fae would be foolish enough to create something that gave the stupid humans a fighting chance, but I also wanted every advantage I could get.

I'd snuck into the Febren stronghold in the freezing depths of the north mountains, meeting very little resistance at all.

Arrogance, indeed.

Who in their right mind would steal from the frozen bastards of Febren?

Hi, yep, that would be me.

But then, no one had ever claimed I was in my right mind. My father had gone to pains my entire life making sure everyone on the continent believed I was totally mad. That the blood in my veins, a mingling of heritage that was anathema to each other at such a simple level, had stripped me of my wits.

He hadn't been quite so wrong since that night, but there were worse ways to live one's life than in the pursuit of revenge, even if it would only serve to send me to join those I'd lost. There were worse fates. For example, if I failed to get over the river in time.

But I was almost there. My luck looked like it was about to hold. For once.

I should have known it wouldn't.

Because, of course, just as I was about to reach the river, one of their riders appeared in front of my horse. Legacy reared in surprise and, in my surprise, I slid off the saddle, my head thudding on the wet ground beneath it. I groaned as the wind was knocked out of me and I cursed the hand that had let go of the strap of my satchel.