Fallada's Faerie Tales (A Lost Kingdom of Fallada Anthology)

Fallada’s Faerie Tales:

A Lost Kingdom of Fallada Anthology

Alicia Michaels

Fallada’s Faerie tales

Alicia Michaels

Copyright 2015 Marion Press

All rights reserved.

Edited by Melissa Ringsted (There for You Editing Service)

Cover Art by K.C. Designs

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

Contents

Part One: A King Named Magnus

The Huntsman and I

The Nymph Queen

Fallada’s Last Stand: The Fall of King Magnus

Epilogue

Enter to Win!!

More in the Lost Kingdom of Fallada Series

Part One: A King Named Magnus

The Queen of the Fae, Adrah Everstar, has no choice but to marry the man her father chose for her now that she has taken the throne. Can their arranged marriage become a love match despite their differences? 

Adrah Everstar, heir to the throne of the Fae realm of Goldun, studied her reflection in the gilt mirror and tried not to show anxiety to those present in the room. Despite nearing her five hundredth year, she felt like a young girl again. Her ladies-in-waiting flanked her, making adjustments to the ensemble they fitted her for ... for what surely had to be the hundredth time.

Stop fussing, Nanette, she murmured, turning her cool, icy green gaze onto one of the maids. If the gown isn’t perfect by now, it likely never will be.

Yes, my lady, she mumbled.

The two maids stopped fretting over her and folded their hands in front of themselves demurely.

She could see them reflected in the mirror behind her—while their gazes were trained back on her. Like all Faeries, she possessed blonde hair and green eyes—though, the exact shade always varied from Fae to Fae. Her hair was almost white, with a silvery cast. Characteristic of all the royals of Goldun, her eyes changed hues according to her mood. Just now they were as turbulent as the sea, and as dark as emeralds. The pinpoints of iridescent light that usually danced across the surface of her irises when she was happy or amused were decidedly muted this day.

Perhaps it was because this marked the last day of freedom for Adrah. Her mother had gone into the world beyond this one—where the dead dwelled in peace with the gods—leaving her alone.

Oh, she was not truly alone. In Osbel tower, home of the Fae royals, she was surrounded by cousins and friends, the royal court, and more servants than she could count. Yet, since losing her dear mother, she had begun to experience a deep and profound loneliness.

However, with her mother’s death, she had been elevated to Queen of Goldun, of all the Fae. It was a daunting burden, as the Fae Queen did not just rule Goldun, but aided in giving wise counsel to the High King of the realm of Fallada, of which Goldun was an important part. The keepers of fate and destiny, her people were often consulted by those wishing to know what path to take. As the only being in the entire realm who had access to the past and present, as well as the future, it was now her responsibility to ensure that what should come to pass did so without incident. She’d watched her mother act in this capacity her entire life, yet could never truly prepare herself for the day when she would ascend to the throne.

Her coronation had occurred a fortnight past—an evening of feasting, music, and dancing, all in her honor. With each passing day, her confidence in her own ability to govern grew, and she hoped that in time she could live up to the fine example that her parents had set.

Her father was long gone, and her mother had only survived a century without him before following him in death. Rumor abounded that she had lost her will to live without him—for the heart of a Faerie is a fickle and thorny thing, but when given freely to another, it becomes as fragile as glass. Once broken, the heart of a Faerie can rarely be mended, and without her father, Adrah’s mother had lost her desire to live.

Losing them had hurt, but she’d always known the day would arrive when it became her turn to sit upon the throne with a king by her side.

A king.

Why, by the gods, did Goldun need a king, anyhow? Adrah felt more than capable of governing alone. It was ridiculous, this notion that a queen needed a king to rule by her side.

Besides, remaining solitary would ensure that she could never lose herself to despair as her mother had. She never could abide weakness, especially in her own self, and the thought of withering away because someone else had died unnerved her.

Nevertheless, the laws of Goldun were clear and the marriage had already been arranged. She had been betrothed to her future king since she was a babe, though she had never laid eyes upon him. Or, if she had, she had no notion that he was the man chosen by her father to wed her and become King of Goldun. That had been her father’s idea—keeping them apart. He’d wanted her to have her youth free of care, including the evidence of her impending marriage. She couldn’t help but wonder if her father had truly known best in that regard. She felt as if she walked into the next phase of her life blindfolded and weakened for not knowing what sort of partner she would have to live with for the rest of her life—which, for an immortal, happened to be a very long time.

Leave me, she commanded without sparing the ladies-in-waiting a glance.

Their bare feet fell silent against the marble floors as they exited, leaving Adrah blessedly alone. She confronted her reflection once more, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. Meeting her own stare with a boldness she did not quite feel, she willed herself to come to terms with her future.

You must marry, she reminded herself. ’Tis your duty to take a husband and sire an heir.

Still, she could not forget that the betrothal feast would be held tomorrow evening, and her affianced had yet to show his face at Osbel Tower. She’d been assured that he had been summoned and would be present for the festivities. That he did not see fit to arrive early so that he could get to know his future bride left a bitter taste in Adrah’s mouth.

She knew not to hope for romantic love from a marriage of convenience. The royals of Fallada married because it was their duty, not for love. If one came to feel affection for one’s spouse, well that was a fortunate gratuity. That her parents had been in love should not have colored her perception. As a young princess she’d been taught that duty came before all else. As a queen, she would uphold those teachings. Her father would be proud.

Yet, what sort of bridegroom avoids his bride until the last possible moment?

One who held no interest in getting to know his spouse. One who is disdainful of her, as well as the duty he would gain along with his bride.

Her reflection remained impassive, yet within she bristled with annoyance. How dare he, whoever he happened to be? She was a princess ... no, she’d become a queen! Whoever he was, he should consider himself fortunate that her father had thought him worthy of her.

She knew only one thing about him: his name. Magnus Lockmoore.

She’d already decided that aside from his name, he also must possess several other less than desirable traits. He was likely hideous ... and arrogant ... and obtuse ... and a great, boring lout.

Magnus Lockmoore. They hadn’t even met and already he was the bane of her existence.

With a huff, she turned away from her reflection. As beautiful as her ensemble for the betrothal ceremony was, it only reminded her that in just a few days she would marry someone she hardly knew—someone she already did not hold in high regard.

Loosening the laces of the gown’s bodice, she took it off, careful to hang it in the wardrobe where it belonged. Nanette would fly into a fit of the vapors if she found it carelessly tossed onto the bed. Beneath it she wore only a simple linen shift, which she covered with a damask bedrobe embroidered in shades of pink and gold. Abandoning the slippers which matched her gown, she passed barefoot to her balcony.

Closing her eyes, she called for her best friend silently, projecting her thoughts at her.

Come to me, Grimka!

A few seconds later, a rushing current of air blasted against her face and a flash of brown feathers filled her vision.

Adrah managed a smile for the massive owl alighting on the edge of her balcony, flapping her wings and crying her happiness to be reunited with her master. She strode forward, fingers brushing over the owl’s soft feathers as she stepped up onto the balcony’s stone rail.

Come, let us fly, Grimka, and forget our troubles for a time.

The owl allowed Adrah to climb onto her back and the lightweight, leather saddle she wore for just such a purpose. Holding on tight, Adrah set her eyes on the stars blanketing the dark sky. A soft smile curved her lips as the bird carried her away from Osbel Tower and into the night, higher and higher, then farther and farther away, until even Goldun was a distant memory behind them.

One thing Adrah had forgotten during her inner tirade against her betrothed was that there did not exist a single Faerie that was not pleasant to look upon. While it was true that the royals possessed a beauty above that of other Fae, their entire race boasted the splendor of inner light.

This truth applied to Magnus Lockmoore as it did any other Faerie ... perhaps even more so. He was, after all, a distant relation of the Everstars, a third cousin on his mother’s side. He was impossibly tall and broad, with golden locks that hung to his shoulders and eyes the color of the moss clinging to the trees of Fallada’s forests.

It was in these woods the future king could be found, his footfalls silent over the bramble as he walked alone. There was a full quiver of arrows at his back and a longbow in his hand, yet he did not hunt. It had been his intent, but even once the opportunity for solitude and prey to stalk were found, he found himself desiring only silence in which to muddle through his own thoughts.

Tomorrow he would journey to Osbel Tower to meet Adrah Everstar, the newly crowned Queen of Goldun. Despite the fact that she was a distant relation, he had never laid eyes on her before in his life—mainly because as a Warrior Fae, he spent a lot of his time away from home. It was the warriors’ job to ensure that the entire realm of Fallada remained safe from threats, both internal and external. The humans they shared a world with seemed determined to disrupt the peace their high king had continually strove for. This meant the warriors were always hard at work, patrolling the realm and its borders, ever alert for signs of trouble.

He enjoyed being a captain in the Fae army. The time spent away from Goldun was not a burden. Far from it. Magnus could not imagine being forced to remain within the walls of the Fae realm perpetually. Exploring Fallada and all the wonders it had to offer gave his life excitement and a sense of adventure.

By marrying the Fae queen and becoming king, he would lose that excitement, the adventure. Goldun would need him in a capacity far greater than the one in which he now served. There would be no more patrols for him, no more fights or explorations. His life would become about the mundane and tedious tasks that accompanied ruling a kingdom. As keepers of destiny and fate, the Fae royals had a greater responsibility over the other rulers from the southern, western, and eastern corners of the kingdom.

He’d heard rumors of Adrah Everstar’s beauty. Some said her eyes ranged in color, touching upon every shade of green within the spectrum depending upon her mood. They said her hair rivaled the moon in luminescence and her smile was like the breaking of the sun over the horizon. He was intrigued, but hardly thought having a beautiful wife would take the sting out of losing his freedom ... even if her laugh sounded like music or her lips were as pink as the petals of a rose.

With a sigh, he slung his bow across his body and gave up all pretense of hunting. He just wasn’t in the mood. Sinking to the ground beneath a great oak, he rested his back against the trunk and closed his eyes. As a Faerie, he possessed a close bond with nature, which now caused the forest to come alive around him. He could hear the trees whispering to each other with the rustles of their leaves, and the hum of the earth, vibrating with life and promise. The flowers chimed when the wind tickled their petals, and he could feel the music of it down in his soul. In the midst of it all, tiny, golden Pixies frolicked and played, jumping from flower to flower, alighting on mushroom caps, and resting in the boughs of the trees. At least, when he was trapped in Goldun there would still be this spirit of Morgis, the Goddess of Nature, to commune with. Her presence was strongest here in the woods, as she gave all living things their essence, allowing a thriving connection with those who served her.

A new sound caught his attention, and he opened his eyes to find the source. The flap of wings and a rushing of wind, he realized. Craning his neck upward, he watched as a large owl swooped down into the clearing with a rider on its back. It was one of his people, a female. She must be of the Undays’e, also known as keepers of the winged creatures. The Undays’e were blessed to find one bird in the entire universe whose spirit was one with their own. This owl was one with its mistress, sinking to the ground and lowering its wings without the hint of a command from her.

Magnus backed away from the owl and its rider. She had yet to notice his presence. Just as he did not wish his solitude disturbed, he had no desire to disrupt hers. Grasping a low-hanging tree limb, he swung himself up onto it before climbing a bit higher. Finding a sturdy branch, he straddled it and rested his back against the tree.

His eyes followed her progress while she walked the perimeter of the clearing, arms outstretched as a cloud of golden pixies drifted toward her. Magnus smirked as several of them alighted onto her head and shoulders, setting her ablaze with a golden glow. She must be one of the most beautiful Faerie women he’d ever seen—fair of skin and hair, with a