Rise of the cinder fae, p.1
Rise of the Cinder Fae, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Whitney Dean
Undying Raven Press
Retailer Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9898388-0-6
Retailer Hardcover ISBN: 979-8-9898388-1-3
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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for my fictional, feisty, and bloodthirsty little witch.
you aren’t even real yet it’s because of you my dreams came true.
Preface
This is a Dark Fantasy Romance.
It contains mature, violent, and graphic situations.
While it is a Slow Burn Romance, it does ignite multiple times with on-page, open door detail.
Content warnings can be found on
whitneydean.com
Playlist
Sand by Dove Cameron
I Remember Everything by Zach Bryan feat. Kacey Musgraves
What Was I Made For? by Billie Eilish
My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski
Lose Control by Teddy Swims
Bad Things by Nation Haven
God’s Game by Dove Cameron
FRAGILE THINGS by Dove Cameron
Make Me (Cry) by Noah Cyrus, Labrinth
Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One - Elora
Chapter Two - Elora
Chapter Three - Elora
Chapter Four - Elora
Chapter Five - Elora
Chapter Six - Elora
Chapter Seven - Finnian
Chapter Eight - Finnian
Chapter Nine - Elora
Chapter Ten - Elora
Chapter Eleven - Elora
Chapter Twelve - Elora
Chapter Thirteen - Finnian
Chapter Fourteen - Elora
Chapter Fifteen - Finnian
Chapter Sixteen - Finnian
Chapter Seventeen - Elora
Chapter Eighteen - Elora
Chapter Nineteen - Elora
Chapter Twenty - Finnian
Chapter Twenty-One - Finnian
Chapter Twenty-Two - Elora
Chapter Twenty-Three - Elora
Chapter Twenty-Four - Elora
Chapter Twenty-Five - Elora
Chapter Twenty-Six - Finnian
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Elora
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Finnian
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Finnian
Chapter Thirty - Elora
Chapter Thirty-One - Elora
Chapter Thirty-Two - Finnian
Chapter Thirty-Three - Elora
Chapter Thirty-Four - Finnian
Chapter Thirty-Five - Elora
Chapter Thirty-Six - Finnian
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Finnian
Chapter Thirty-Eight - Finnian
Chapter Thirty-Nine - Finnian
Chapter Forty - Finnian
Chapter Forty-One - Elora
Chapter Forty-Two - Elora
Chapter Forty-Three - Finnian
Chapter Forty-Four- Finnian
Chapter Forty-Five - Finnian
Chapter Forty-Six - Elora
Chapter Forty-Seven - Elora
Chapter Forty-Eight - Finnian
Chapter Forty-Nine - Finnian
Chapter Fifty - Elora
Chapter Fifty-One - Elora
Chapter Fifty-Two - Finnian
Chapter Fifty-Three - Elora
Chapter Fifty-Four - Finnian
Chapter Fifty-Five - Elora
Chapter Fifty-Six - Elora
Chapter Fifty-Seven - Elora
Chapter Fifty-Eight - Elora
Chapter Fifty-Nine - Elora
“I could recite a poem.”
Chapter Sixty - Finnian
Elora’s Poem
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Elora’s POV
Prologue
Elora
An icy breeze swept my dark blonde locks over my shoulders as it tried to push through the thick and hazy heat pouring over Ashbury from the mountains. Beaded dew clung to every inch of my exposed skin like drops of sweat, causing every movement to be accompanied by discomfort when I tried to shake it off my hands.
I fidgeted with loose threads in the pockets of my knit shawl while looking out over the vast, outstretched dips of the dry and ashy valleys. The once plentiful, once erect kingdom of Ashbury was shrouded in a permanent red—a dark maroon that resembled the color of dried blood, but the dreary shade held memories of bloodshed. But now, the painted sky comes from the insurmountable heat that molded the rocky mountainsides within the valleys into coal.
A process that took hundreds of millions of years was reduced to weeks because of the Cinder Faeries—a powerful species unlike any other and spread throughout lands far beyond. From stories I had heard from the gossipers in our small town, the faeries hold majority authority in other kingdoms but not ours.
Enslaved to a neighboring kingdom, the faeries exchanged coal once a month for the bare minimum in return. Upon the condition of providing warmth for the Kingdom of Pumpkin Hollow, Ashbury received protection from its standing army and not much else.
Keeping the faeries pleased included keeping the inhabitants of Ashbury alive, but that was a generous description. Breathing would be a more proper term if someone were to ask precisely how we benefitted from the bargain sworn many moons ago.
Our forced gratefulness to the King of Pumpkin Hollow while my people lived in rags on the street, begging for coins to purchase a stale loaf of bread, was laughable. My shawl was barely more than threads over a moth-eaten, ripped smock. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fresh garments, the laundered scent of a happier home gone and buried long ago.
The daily comfort of standing on my terrace every morning while listening to the sounds of my forlorn kingdom ironically fulfilled me. From where I stood, distant chatter in town was drowned by the grunts and shouts of the faeries littered amongst the mountains.
From my terrace, I watched the faeries reach the peaks of the mountains to perch on ledges, spirals of smoke coming from their hands as they molded and shaped rock fragments. The crisp air thickened with the smell of fire, drying the chilly air and surrounding me with staunch humidity.
I could not spot the men who guarded them, but I knew they lingered close by, armed with arrows in case a faerie tried to escape. A quarter of a century had passed since the winged creatures arrived in Ashbury, and six had died from attempting to flee. Only forty remained.
Stationed along the inner wall—a stone casing built not long after their arrival—men watched and waited with instructions to pierce the wings of any faerie brave enough to leave, but years had passed since the last male tried. Since that day, the faeries had accepted Ashbury as their home.
The heat radiating from their powers was potent enough to warm Ashbury and keep it in a constant haze of boiling-hot temperatures, combating nature’s elements. Sometimes, it became nearly suffocating to be near the mountains, but it had become a warmth I relied on. With full meals a rarity, I constantly shivered and barely had enough skin to cover my bones. But when the sun rose, their heat became a blanket.
Without the faeries, Ashbury would be useless. The protection given to us by the king would be snatched away, leaving what remained of our town defenseless against attacks—of which there would be.
Tiny and barely a speck on maps, Ashbury wouldn’t be given any attention if it wasn’t for a rumor that left us vulnerable. Somehow, word had spread that within our mountains, a spring awaited, but not just any typical spring.
An enchanted spring.
Only it wasn’t a rumor.
The stigma surrounding Ashbury as a desolate, fallen kingdom eventually stopped wanderers from seeking it out…. Well, anyone who stumbled upon our faeries was shot with arrows and burned. When travelers stopped returning home after visiting, it prevented others from trying.
But I had located the spring.
While exploring the caves within the smallest mountain, I stumbled upon it and nearly into it. Azrea, one of the female faeries and my closest friend, confirmed the water was spelled with vast and ancient magic and needed to be consumed for the spell to work. But when I tried to take a drink, she stopped me. Fae magic was potent and deadly for humans to consume, and while I had plenty to long for, no amount of power seemed worth dying for.
Shielding my eyes with one hand, I used the other to wave at Cedric as he settled on a ledge near the peak of the tallest mountain. But beside him, shoving Cedric behind him and out of my sight, was Dolfe—the unofficial leader of the Cinder Faeries and his brother.
He barely tolerated me on his best day.
My lack of wisdom at twenty-one compared to their hundreds of years of knowledge irritated him. Distracting Azrea from her duties enraged him the most, and he never hesitated to scold me. And perhaps his brother trying to court me since I turned eighteen three years ago didn’t help.
Dolfe reprimanded him each time he found us together, but it didn’t stop Cedric from seeking me out each time I visited. Since Cedric was considered a winged warrior, the ide
But fate could also gift bonds.
Only two males weren’t bonded, and Cedric was one of them. He made no secret of his interest in me, though the idea of giving blood and taking him to mate did not sound appealing. But knowing I would never be deserving of a warrior did not prevent me from genuinely enjoying gawking at Cedric.
Their graceful movements, the strain of their corded muscles, and the sweat glistening on their skin were undoubtedly beautiful and mesmerizing. And since I was one of the only humans allowed near them, I benefitted daily from their unfathomable allure. But much to my dismay, they weren’t allowed to touch me because of my father—the fallen Prince of Ashbury.
Before my birth, King Jasper brought war to Ashbury and overpowered our legion quickly. After disassembling our monarchy, which included my grandfather, he tore down cottages and manors, only leaving ours while the rest of our people were forced to start over. My father remained in the king’s good graces because he betrayed my grandfather. Yes, he was a traitor to his home—his birthright—for reasons that remained unknown, even to me.
Because of his loyalty to the wretched king, my stepsisters and I were invited to the royal ball in Pumpkin Hollow the following evening. I dreaded it immensely and continued to search for a reason not to attend.
No one else in Ashbury was invited—something I wasn’t looking forward to explaining when inquiries inevitably came. Questions would arise when others learned that my stepmother was fitting us for new gowns. I hadn’t asked how she planned to pay for new dresses, aware of our financial state since my father’s death six months ago, and she wasted no time at all spending what remained of our fortune.
I had worn the same dresses for months.
Sometimes, I dreamed of freeing the faeries and escaping with Cedric to find more and live our remaining days amongst them. Cinder Faeries were only a fraction of the others that existed—supposedly. I hadn’t received solid confirmation from Azrea, nor had I ever left Ashbury to learn for myself.
The faeries were annoyingly tight-lipped about their species.
My closeness with Azrea was my only saving grace to being allowed near them. No one else was allowed to cross the valleys, but I had grown up around them as the Keeper’s daughter. And it was nearing time for my daily visit, but first….
One
I tense upon entering the palace manor’s dusty, once-lavish library. My stepmother and stepsisters lounge on the chaise, spaced perfectly enough to not leave a spare inch for me. I roll my eyes and clear my throat, drawing the attention of the more obnoxious stepsister, Dolly, who blanches at the sight of me breathing the same air. “Ellie finally decided to come down from her ivory tower!” she goads, dramatically throwing an arm over her forehead while dangling her head from the worn armrest.
I wonder what would happen if I stomp on it. A swift kick to Dolly’s forehead might make me feel better. I am not at all bitter that if it wasn’t for my traitorous father, I might’ve indeed spent my morning in an ivory tower. Our manor is large and belonged to my grandfather. He didn’t want to erect a castle because he wanted to appear equal to the people he reigned over, but the empty space mocks us now.
As fraternal twins, the stepsisters are foul in personalities and physicalities. Unblessed by Aphrodite, their noses slope downward and are uncentered between their squinted eyes and misshapen brows. And their lips resemble their mother’s—thin and venomous.
“Elora, run along and brew some tea.” My stepmother flicks her wrist toward the kitchen adjacent to the library.
Biting my tongue, I drag my feet from the library to the kitchen. Since my father’s death, I’ve become the wench of the household, performing all the chores needed to keep the manor from crumbling into the dust we breathe.
After my mother’s death fifteen years ago, my father, Harry, wed Regina. I still struggle to understand what he ever saw in her. While my mother was kind and beloved amongst our people, Regina is not.
Newly widowed with two young daughters, Regina wasted no time saddling my father. His proposal sealed my unfortunate fate of being bound to such deplorable women for the rest of my life. To my credit, I did try to get along with them. It wasn’t until my father’s death that I realized my efforts were all for nothing.
Regina loathes me.
I tidy the kitchen while waiting for the tea to brew on the cast iron stove. Teabags aren’t rare in our market, but flavored tea is. Tiny drops of honey suffice well enough to add sweetness to the bland tea, even though it’s nearly gone.
Since I’m the one to cook each meal, I often wait to wash dishes until the pile grows too large. Exhaustion often partnered with my obsessive need to clean the manor to maintain the reputation we no longer have, leaving me to rarely fall asleep before the midnight hour. It doesn’t leave much time for market shopping to replenish simple pleasures like honey for our tea.
“Ellie!” Regina calls.
The snap of her fingers was muffled from the other room but clear enough for me to mutter obscenities at the beckoning. Ellie, the nickname my mother gave me, sounds like poison from the three of them.
After pouring four mugs to the brim and sacrificing honey in my tea, I balance a tray on my hip and return to the library, taking great care not to spill a drop. Regina and the twins haven’t moved, but Regina scowls after noticing the tray.
“Instead of filling our cups to the top and leaving extra, you selfishly poured a mug for yourself.” The worst quality about Regina is she always believes every word that comes out of her mouth. “Dolly and Daffodil spent their morning in the freezing library while you remained in your room. You should think about someone other than yourself.”
My room is the attic, which remains wide open to the elements all year. Regina promptly moved me upstairs upon my father’s passing and gave my former room to Daffodil. And while the attic remains heated from the faeries, it is not immune to the brisk autumn winds in the early mornings and late nights. I consider myself lucky not to have expired from the heat this past summer.
Autumn is the most tolerable of our seasons, but if I continue each day without food, it will be the one to kill me—not that it matters.
I extend the tray to Regina and lower my gaze as she retrieves the three fullest mugs, then place the tray on a nearby table to retrieve the last mug. I would have been satisfied with a quarter’s mug worth. Having a full one is a gift.
I inhale the tea while ignoring the growls of my empty stomach and pretend the cup is filled with nothing but the nectar of bees instead.
“It would be nice if Ellie baked biscuits,” Dolly sighs.
“She can, my sweet.” Regina holds Dolly’s mug while she rises from lying across Daffodil’s stomach. “Ellie—”
“We do not have the ingredients,” I interrupt before Regina can demand I run along again. “Since you dismissed our maids and servants, I haven’t found time to restock our pantries.”
I should have mentioned aloud that it would have been helpful if we had the funds to do so. Our pantries have never overflowed with food, but we always had what was needed. Both pantries remain bare now.
