The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Read online

  I knew why Father was eager to call me into the sitting room when Jhaeros was present. He wanted to remind the handsome elf which of his daughters was the beauty, the grace, the family jewel.

  As though Jhaeros needed reminding.

  He’d sweep Shalendra off her slippered feet in a heartbeat if she let him.

  And me, I’d be left behind to sweep up the mess Mother’s death had made of our fortunes.

  After changing into a dry cotton gown and braiding my hair, I went to the kitchen to make up a small pot of gruel. My youngest sister, Melarue, stood on a stool in front of the teakettle. Her long red hair was tangled, making her appear younger than her fifteen years. When she turned her head to smile at me, bright green eyes beamed at me.

  “Would you like some rose petal tea?” Mel asked.

  I laughed. “Sure, I’d love some rose petal tea.” I didn’t point out that it would taste better if she let the petals dry out first.

  “It’s very fancy, you know,” Mel said as she tossed rose petals into a mug.

  “A rare delicacy, I know,” I replied.

  Mel grinned and poured steaming water from the kettle into the mug.

  “Now, you must let it steep first.”

  While we waited, I finger-combed Mel’s hair gently then plaited it like mine. She squirmed for the finger-combing but held still for the braiding.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  Mel pursed her lips. “What are you making?”

  “Gruel.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Mel, you have to eat.”

  “Oh, I’ll eat—later.” A mischievous grin twitched over Mel’s lips.

  My heart puddled into my stomach knowing what she meant by that. Mother would be devastated if she could see us now: her oldest up at the crack of dawn hunting down our next meal, her youngest a thief, and her prized possessions sold off. After Mother’s death, her parents, my grandparents, had said they were finished with Father and his lazy ways. Too bad my sisters and I had to suffer the consequences alongside him.

  A loud pounding on the front door jolted me out of my thoughts.

  Mel and I looked at one another wide-eyed. No one besides Jhaeros ever came calling anymore, and he was already here.

  The pounding continued.

  “Aerith!” Father hollered.

  I ground my teeth and counted slowly to three inside my head.

  More pounding.

  “Aerith, get the door.”

  He was closer, but Father would never lower himself to answering the door. No, that lowly duty was only fit for a butler—or a daughter, one in particular.

  Mel hopped down from the stool. “I’ll get it,” she said to me.

  “No. No way.” That got me hustling out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  As I passed the sitting room, I caught Jhaeros’s glower as though I was a disobedient servant. He was only two years older than me, but he acted like a crusty old elf far superior. He would be the perfect son-in-law for my father—if Shalendra accepted him. From a young age she’d had her heart set on leaving Pinemist for the rich and vibrant town of Sweetbell. Jhaeros was well off, but not that well off.

  The pounding continued with every footstep. I forgot the pompous elf in the sitting room, fear creeping up my spine. What if it was collectors? Our family would be shamed in broad daylight.

  I opened the door only to find two of the most beautiful males I’d ever laid eyes upon. One had long silvery white hair and the other, blond. From behind slanted, steely blue-gray eyes, they regarded me with amused grins. I felt the magic gliding off them as though it were heat radiating off cobblestones beneath the sun. They couldn’t be much older than me, and their ears were pointed, but these weren’t elves—they were Fae. Their fur-trimmed cloaks, pristine leather boots, and jeweled clasps marked them as more than civilian Fae.

  “Yes?” I asked, hating that my voice squeaked.

  “I am Prince Cirrus, eldest son of Merith Elmray, King of Dahlquist,” the blond Fae announced, placing his hand on his chest. Gold bands and jewels winked from his fingers. “And this is my younger brother, Liri.” He flicked his wrist in his brother’s direction.

  The Fae with the long silvery white hair pursed his lips. In the blink of an eye, his lips returned to their amused grin.

  Cirrus continued to speak, to share a quick geography and history of their realm. I could only half-listen. I gaped at them, not in wonder, but confusion. Kingdoms, titles, and riches were plentiful in Faerie. They should have everything they needed, so what were they doing in Pinemist? At our house?

  A shiver of unease crawled up my toes and spread from my ankles to my legs and up into my arms where the goose pimples returned.

  This wasn’t the first time the Fae had come to Pinemist. Six years ago, a Fae prince from Orisis had arrived seeking a bride. They weren’t allowed to spirit elves away without consent, though there were rumors that the same courtesy wasn’t extended to humans in the mortal world. The prince from six years ago had been fifth in line to his father’s throne. I’d never heard of a firstborn prince seeking a bride outside of Faerie. Perhaps he was here to find a bride for his younger brother.

  I glanced at Liri, who raised his long, slender eyebrows.

  “We wish to speak to the master of the house,” Cirrus said.

  I looked from the silvery-haired Fae to Cirrus with hair so blond it was nearly white and a perfectly symmetrical face with a strong jaw, proud nose, and sensual lips. His steely eyes held me in their grip. My mouth gaped open, but no sound emerged, making me feel as though he’d put me under a spell.

  “Yes? I am the master of the house.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of my father’s voice directly behind me as though he’d materialized there. Father bumped me aside. Cirrus’s lips twitched.

  “Mister—?”

  “Heiris. Elred Heiris,” Father announced proudly, puffing up his chest as though he were a high elf. “Would you care for refreshment?” he asked, sweeping an arm grandly into the foyer.

  Father missed my glare. What did he expect us to serve these royal Fae? Rose petal tea? Gruel? The last of the deer jerky?

  I folded my arms across my chest. Liri caught the movement and winked at me.

  “A generous offer, which we must decline,” Cirrus said. “We are on a tight schedule, you see.”

  “Oh?” Father asked, leaning forward.

  “I have come from Faerie seeking a bride,” Cirrus said. “All eligible and willing maidens are invited to compete in a tournament in the town glade tomorrow afternoon. The family of the elf I choose will be richly rewarded and sent a monthly stipend for the remainder of the union.”

  My stomach tightened. Father moistened his lips and leaned forward.

  Cirrus smiled smugly. “Are there any eligible maidens in your household?”

  Without pause, Father said, “Yes. Aerith. My eldest.” He stepped back only so he could push me forward.

  I leaned away, shoving my weight in the opposite direction.

  Cirrus looked me up and down with renewed consideration.

  Liri folded his arms over his chest. “She looks haggard.”

  I might have scowled into his gorgeous face if I weren’t so relieved. Haggard, yes, certainly not fit for a Fae prince.

  “That is not of importance,” Cirrus said in a clipped tone. His expression softened a moment later. “Besides, appearances can be easily improved.” His eyes zeroed in on mine. “Very good, Aerith Heiris. I will expect you tomorrow noon at the town glade. Bring your weapon of choice.” When he smiled, his teeth gleamed.

  Chapter Two

  “Please, Father. Don’t make me go.”

  “You are the eldest. It is your duty.”

  And what of his duty as a father?

  He’d never cared before. It wasn’t about to change now.

  We sat around a small wood table with our steaming bowls of gruel. Shortly after the Fae departe
d, Jhaeros took his leave, but not until Father assured him I would be the only Heiris daughter to compete for the prince of Dahlquist—wherever the heck that was. If I’d known there was a chance I’d be taken from my home, I would have paid closer attention when Cirrus first spoke.

  “Why are you bellyaching? He’s a prince,” Shalendra said, narrowing her eyes on me.

  “He’s Fae,” I said.

  He lived in Faerie. If he selected me, I wouldn’t just be leaving my home—I’d be leaving this realm. It was easy enough for fairies to travel through portals from one world to the next, but I didn’t have that kind of power. I was a simple elfin female. What if he didn’t want me seeing my family again? I wouldn’t shed tears for Father or Shalendra, but leaving Melarue would break my heart.

  “At least he’s not a vampire or a werewolf.” Shalendra flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t see what you have to complain about. He’s gorgeous, rich, and he’s royalty.”

  “Then why don’t you compete for his hand?” I snapped.

  Father sucked in a breath and glared at me.

  “You would send your younger sister in your stead?” he demanded. “I suppose you think Melarue ought to compete as well.”

  I set my spoon down with a clink, starving, yet unable to eat.

  “Of course not,” I said. “I don’t think any of us should compete.”

  “How else are we to survive?” Father asked. “Do you want to see your sisters out on the streets? Begging? They’re not as strong as you.”

  Mel huffed indignantly, but a stern look from Father silenced her. Her lower lip pouted and she fisted her spoon, using it to stab at the gruel inside her bowl.

  Father pushed his arms onto the table and leaned forward.

  “What other options are there? What do we have left to sell?”

  He raised his thick eyebrows and stared into my eyes without a hint of warmth.

  Me, I thought bitterly.

  Shalendra fingered the pendant resting between her plump breasts. Instinctively, my hand went to my neck, confirming, once again, that my pendant no longer rested there. I lowered my hand to the table.

  Green eyes gazed at me. I stared right back into Shalendra’s eyes, refusing to be the first to blink. Her eyes flicked down my torso and back up to my face.

  “He probably won’t pick you, anyway. You’re not exactly princess material.”

  If only that were the case.

  What we were about to discover was that Prince Cirrus, eldest son of Merith Elmray, King of Dahlquist, didn’t seek a princess. He wanted protection. He wanted a mate he could trust. Someone to watch his back and keep a close eye on his brother, Liri, next in line to be king of Dahlquist—after himself.

  All this would be explained to me at the end of the tournament.

  I thought maybe I had a chance of escaping Cirrus’s notice. The next afternoon, the blacksmith’s daughter, Faylen, showed up at the glade wielding a sleek steel blade with a leather hilt and raven at the end of the pommel. More stunning than the sword, Faylen’s layered light brown hair cascaded down her body like a waterfall. A white blouse slipped past her shoulders and was cinched around her slender waist by a leather corset. Matching leather cuffs encased her arms from her elbow to her wrists and a long brown skirt billowed at her ankles. Blue feathered earrings dangled from her earlobes.

  Keerla, from the nearby village of Bluespark, arrived with both a longbow and a sword. Every male eye was upon her as she’d strode into the clearing scantily dressed in tight leathers that hugged every curve and left her legs bare where her tall boots didn’t cover. The thick brown hair at the top of her head had been swept back and braided. A silver headband across her forehead completed the image of an elfin warrior princess.

  I thought for sure Cirrus would choose Keerla at the end of the tournament. And good luck to her!

  I stood, shoulders slumped, in a thin light blue muslin gown with my hair woven into a long, simple braid. Father had insisted I make an effort, only to throw his hands up in exasperation when he saw what was left of my wardrobe. And there was no fixing the gauntness of my limbs or the dark hollows beneath my eyes. Liri’s observation had been cruel but correct. I looked haggard.

  I just wanted to get this tournament over with then see if Devdan had fetched any coin for yesterday’s early morning kill.

  Maybe it was time for my family to move into a smaller cottage on the south side. It would be a rough adjustment, but it would be a lifestyle we could maintain. Father was right. There was nothing left to sell, and all the deer in Brightwhisk Forest wouldn’t change our situation.

  A trumpet sounded and the families gathered at the glade quieted down.

  Cirrus and Liri strode forward, flanked by six Fae guards. They stopped in the middle of the clearing.

  “Gather ’round, fine elf folk of Pinemist and Bluespark,” Cirrus announced in a melodic voice. The group moved in closer. When I hesitated, Father narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin for me to move forward.

  Shalendra hung back beneath a tree wrapped in her favorite crochet shawl—one we’d sold months ago. Jhaeros must have bought it back, like the pendant. He stood at her side, arms folded, scowling at anyone who looked in my sister’s direction. Her benefactor. Her protector. Her doting admirer.

  I could feel Jhaeros’s scowl creeping over my own lips.

  Why was my family’s fate left entirely up to me? If Shalendra really wanted, she could be taken care of by an affluent male who would treat her well. It would mean one less elf to feed and clothe—an expensive one at that.

  “This is not a tournament so much as a skills demonstration,” Cirrus continued.

  Several groans of disappointment went up. A portion of the crowd had arrived to watch the females battle for the Fae prince’s hand.

  “Pitberries,” a boy not much older than Melarue grumbled from a few feet away. “I thought the Fae would make them fight.”

  Liri looked over at the boy and grinned wickedly as though he agreed and would have done things differently if it were he, and not his older brother, choosing an elfin bride.

  I shuddered and returned my attention to Cirrus. He nodded to his guards. Three of them moved in tandem to the edge of the glade then returned, each hauling a straw dummy and wood stake to the center of the clearing.

  The Fae guards slammed the stakes into the earth then attached a dummy to each.

  “Faylen, show us your skills with a sword,” Cirrus commanded.

  He and his entourage stepped back, and the crowd moved with them like an ocean wave. A soft breeze whispered through the clearing, blowing Faylen’s hair back as she walked forward, sword at her side. She moved regally, her attention fully focused on the dummies as though she were entering a battlefield about to face off against her enemies.

  Faylen stabbed the first dummy through his chest, where the heart would have resided had it been a living creature. Her blade went straight through and the crowd applauded. She took the head clean off the second dummy, causing the crowd to cheer. At the third dummy, Faylen lifted her sword over its head and brought down the blade, splitting it down the middle. The gathered crowd roared.

  Cirrus’s eyes lit up and a grin crept up his cheeks.

  “Very impressive,” he said, sounding pleased.

  The massacred dummies were removed from the clearing and replaced with fresh ones. Two more contestants were announced before Keerla. Strapped in her tight leathers, Keerla charged into the clearing, hair whipping behind her. She kicked the first dummy off its wooden prop with her long booted leg before bringing her sword down over its gut. From her crouched position, Keerla grabbed her bow from her back, nocked an arrow, and let it loose at the next dummy, hitting it between the eyes. She left her bow on the ground, charged the last dummy, stopped six feet from it, and launched her sword. The blade sailed through the air, as though it were one of her arrows, before sinking into the dummy’s chest.

  Applause and cheers thundered throug
h the glade. Keerla retrieved her sword and bow and lifted them into the air. The roar of the crowd increased.

  Cirrus’s eyes alighted on Keerla and my breath steadied. Maybe he’d claim her as his bride now rather than waste unnecessary time commanding the last of the elfin females to follow up such an impressive performance.

  But it wasn’t to be.

  Two more elves showed off skills before I was called forth—the last of the elves to take the field. Without flourish, I walked up to each straw dummy, one by one, and fired an arrow into the place where the heart would rest. Once finished, I heard the weak, polite clapping from the audience. My heart felt much lighter now that I’d gotten this charade over with. Cirrus could announce the winner and spirit Keerla or Faylen off to Faerie. All my best to them! I’d wasted enough time with this nonsense.

  Cirrus’s guards moved forward again to clear the field, and Cirrus stepped away from the crowd, presumably to make his announcement. Keerla stood tall and proud, chin lifted as though she had already been crowned the winner. Faylen had a quiet grace and patience about her as she stood poised with her sword at her side.

  “Thank you for demonstrating such impressive skills,” Cirrus began, looking into the faces of all the elfin females who had competed. “Unfortunately, I can only choose one of you to be my bride and a princess of Dahlquist.”

  While the contestants and crowd listened to Cirrus with rapt attention, my eyes wandered around the glade, eager to be dismissed. Father would want to march me straight home afterward and lecture me for not making a better effort. I couldn’t avoid his censure, but I could put it off. I planned to disappear into the crowd the moment it dispersed. I’d go see Devdan—tell him I needed coin sooner rather than later. Maybe it would help lessen the blow of not snagging a Fae prince with his promises of riches beyond anything we’d ever known.