Between realms a fantasy.., p.1
Between Realms: A Fantasy Why Choose Romance (Fae Hearted Book 1), page 1
BETWEEN REALMS
FAE HEARTED BOOK ONE
YVE VALE
ENTRAVERSE PUBLISHING
Published by Entraverse Publishing
Sedona, AZ 86339, USA
YveVale.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Yve Vale.
Cover Art © 2023 by Yve Vale.
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.
No part of this book may be used to create, feed, or refine artificial intelligence models, for any purpose.
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
1. Summons
2. The Road
3. Oakes
4. Loneliness
5. Crowland
6. Wounds
7. Arrival
8. Ryven Castle
9. Bartering
10. Aftermath
11. The Prince
12. Novelty
13. Warnings
14. Blades
15. Holding Back
16. Trust
17. Scars
18. Mage
19. Traps
20. Secrets
21. Freedom
22. Released
23. Release
24. Morning After
25. Marked
26. Delegation
27. Dress
28. Confrontations
29. Sequestered
30. Crossing
31. Rallied
Thank you for reading!
Acknowledgements
Also by Yve Vale
About the Author
To my husband,
thank you for being my Alpha… reader,
my sounding board, my cheerleader,
and my inspiration for many aspects
of my fictional guys.
For my fellow authors and the book community.
May you find your cinnamon roll monsters
and invite them into your heart.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Fae Hearted series is a fantasy why choose romance with dark themes. It’s set in the same universe as Shadowcraft Academy and Bewitching Monsters series but happens several centuries in the past and is what I call the origin story for the Shadowcraft Universe.
The female main character is a servant and second-class citizen in the fae realm and her personality will reflect this status. Don’t worry, she’s going to end up a badass. The prince is spoiled, but he will figure it out at some point.
If you love characters that have intense growth arcs, this series is for you.
The female main character will end up with more than one of the love interests. Group scenes are on the agenda.
This series also has a bit of MM romance within the group but the focus is on the female main character, and there’s no cheating.
So if this is NOT your jam, then put this book down now and walk away. You won’t be happy with this series, because there’s going to be a ‘sword fight’ or two.
Wink wink nudge nudge. You know what I mean.
If you believe love is love, you like to have some laughs too, and of course, some spicy times, then please charge forward!
PLEASE NOTE:
This series also contains several dark themes that some readers may be sensitive to: what some might consider dub-con by coercion during the first interaction with the prince, abduction, violence, magic curses, and death.
For more information, visit: yvevale.com
1
SUMMONS
WYNSTELLE
Creeping toward the door, I desperately hope my Elven keeper won’t prevent me from sneaking outside. My voluminous skirt conceals my blade as I cradle a small saucer in my palm.
I freeze as Merlara, my Elven guardian, calls out in irritation, “Wyn, I don’t understand why you bother with the little ones. They don’t dare harass the Elven households with their antics. There’s no need to feed them.”
“I like to give them treats.” I shrug noncommittally. “The pixies are fun to watch as they battle over the bounty.”
“Humans.” Merlara shakes her head with a wry grin on her lips. Despite being five centuries older, the beautiful female elf doesn’t appear much older than my twenty years. “Just be back inside before dark. I don’t want to hunt you down. Remember, there are dangers if you go beyond the meadow.”
“I always stay within the perimeter of your territory,” I project as much innocence as possible with my voice and smile. As much as I sometimes wish to explore beyond her small estate, I know I wouldn’t fare well as an unescorted human. The elves haven’t forgotten the wars from twenty years ago. That is only a short while, considering elves can often live a thousand years or more, barring any unforeseen incidents.
Just a few steps beyond the front door, I gaze up and marvel at the evening sky filled with pastel colors of peaches, watermelon, and lavender. I’ve only ever known the glorious skies in Elfhame, but they still take my breath away.
I don’t have to travel far to find the little ones. Their secluded ring is in the forest just behind Merlara’s house and the metal workshop.
After laboring in the foundry all day, my tired limbs feel revitalized being outdoors on my evenings off and the thought of trying out the new poses I studied in Merlara’s sword technique books. My wild, golden-brown hair is plaited back and off my face as I often wear it. Having my hair singed off while working with fire isn’t something I’d like to experience again.
Of course, I enjoy watching the little faeries play, but it isn’t the only reason I sneak off to visit them. I also need to hide in their isolated and secret spot to practice my swordsmanship. It’s forbidden for a human to wield a sword in the fae realm—or, as it’s called by its population, Elfhame. Not even Merlara, my kind keeper, would approve of my illegal hobby.
I’m not sure why I have developed such a forbidden compulsion to master swordplay. Perhaps after crafting and polishing blades all day, I need to know what it feels like to brandish one, to experience the result of all my hard work.
Or perhaps, the more likely reason is that I have a genuine desire to break the rules and the thrill of the secrecy. Maybe I use this time to forget, for only a moment, that I’m nothing more than a lowly servant and imagine I have the freedom to do whatever I desire. I know freedom isn’t an option for me, but it’s lovely to pretend. My daydreams are all I will ever have for a life of my own. I don’t even own the clothes on my back. Fortunately, Merlara often allows me a couple of hours a day to fantasize.
My life consists of working in the foundry—long, grueling days over molten metal and a polishing wheel, sharpening swords and daggers. My respites are reading myself to sleep afterward or having philosophical conversations during meals with Merlara. Still, I need something else to fill my lonely, repetitive life. The forbidden challenge of swordplay is that for me.
As I enter the private field encircled by a grove, the flower faeries accept my meager offering. After they have their fill of milk, they delight in watching me as I practice my moves. I have long since given up worrying that the little ones will turn me over to the authorities. They love our secret playtime just as much as I do.
A pixie, who could fit into my pocket, zips around to distract me.
“Be careful!” I laugh when he dives, tugging my long braid as he flies by. “I’m not that good. I might hurt you.”
The little one laughs. “It’s more likely you’d hurt yourself,” he says with a grin.
“Alright. I suppose I should leave with the scraps of my dignity I have left.”
“See you tomorrow?” a little one asks.
“If I can get my work done early enough.”
“We can help!” they all squeak in unison.
“Oh, no no no, I remember how you helped.” I chuckle, thinking of the mess they made of the foundry. It took the rest of the day to clean up after their assistance.
Merlara greets me when I return home from my excursion. “I have another order for my new Orna blades. A dozen, due next week.”
“That particular design is proving to be popular.” I smile outwardly, but ready myself mentally for the exhausting days to follow. Unfortunately, there will be no time to play in the meadow for a while.
Now that I’m grown, I handle most of the hard labor, while Merlara focuses on detailing the intricate designs. I don’t mind the work, but it’s intense when a large order like this comes in. It means long and grueling days, sweating over a crucible with the bellows, pouring molten metals into their molds, and then chipping away the forms.
The strenuous work is also a dangerous process for a fragile mortal. Unlike me, Merlara seems to avoid any injury with her quick reflexes, keeping her burn-free. Only one of the many blessings of being an elf.
Even though I don’t consider myself a jealous person, I would prefer to have been gifted with the elves’ skills, beauty, and freedom. Since that’s impossib
After the dangerous part of the sword-making is done, I’m tasked with grinding and polishing. I look forward to the meditative process, honing the blade to perfection. The polishing continues until my fingers are numb and my arms are useless. Even though I enjoy trying to make something perfect, the thought makes me tired just thinking about the large order.
“Get some rest tonight. We have a long day ahead of us,” Merlara says. “I know you love reading your books, but we can’t have you getting hurt again because you’re too tired.”
“I’ll get a proper rest,” I grumble, knowing I don’t have the elves’ endurance, which we discovered when I pushed myself to work longer, more grueling hours than my human body is capable of. I still have a faint scar on my arm where I was burned for my efforts. Sometimes, I catch myself rubbing the old wound—the pain is still vivid in my mind. But that is only one of the many injuries I have suffered in the hazardous foundry.
Changing out of my worn work clothes, I slip on my nightgown and sigh as I look around my tiny private personal space. My room is small, just big enough to hold a bunk and a wardrobe cabinet. It doesn’t matter how small and simple the room is. I have all that I truly need. My belly is full. I have a soft, warm bed. Stacks of books are piled in the corner. My mind is engaged with books and conversations with Merlara. Freedom is all that I lack, but even my keeper can’t offer me that. Besides, she has told me stories about how most humans in the mortal realm struggle to have all the blessings I have. They also are not free since their kings and lords demand large tithings and fealty.
Crawling into my narrow bed, I light a candle and promise myself that I will only read one chapter, which turns into two. However, I stop there to ensure I will still be fresh enough for work in the morning.
I wake to Merlara calling to me, alarm ringing in her voice.
I rush out of my room, eyes wide. Whatever rattles my keeper must be terrible. Merlara is never unsettled. I have never seen Merlara cry, not even when the subject of her dead mate comes up.
Merlara closes the front door and leans against it as she collects herself.
“What’s wrong?” I run to Merlara’s side. I check my keeper for injury or some sign of what just happened.
“I had hoped this day wouldn’t come,” my keeper whispers.
“You’re scaring me.” I peek out the window to see if I can catch a glimpse of who or what upset her, but I see nothing.
Turning back, I notice a letter crumpled in Merlara’s graceful hands.
“They have summoned you to the Ryven’s Court,” she says with a grimace.
I stumble back in shock. “For what purpose? Why me?”
Merlara shakes her head. “The summons doesn’t say.”
Surprised by the news, I drop into a nearby chair. I have done my best to fit in among the elves, though, no matter how much I’ve tried to blend in and become part of the background, I’m not fae. I don’t have the glamorous glow of the elves or their elegant, graceful physique. I’m a head shorter than the shortest elf I’ve seen. My aura doesn’t radiate power or magic.
“Duller than a troll,” I’d often say to myself, growing up amongst the beautiful elves.
The summons is ominous. Dread fills me. Have they found out about my illegal sword practice? Will they banish me to the mortal realm? Or worse? I have read stories of humans being executed for less serious transgressions.
Gathering my wits, I read the official royal correspondence myself:
“Wynstelle of House Zaleria, residing in Betonie, is summoned to Ryven Castle, to report on her own and no later than the full moon.”
“By the full moon!” My lungs tighten in my chest. “That’s only three nights from now.”
“You must leave immediately to meet your deadline.”
“Why doesn’t it say why I’m being called?” I ask, desperation in my voice. “Is it because I’m of age now? Are they sending me back to the mortal realm because I’m human?”
Merlara sighs, and her shoulders slump ever so slightly. “It has been known to happen with foundlings. You’re no longer a sick child or need fae magic to survive. I feared this day might come. I had hoped they would let you live out your short life here with me.”
“But you and Elfhame are all I’ve known! They can’t send me back… I have no one there! We don’t even know who my parents are or if they’re still alive.” My nose crinkles in disgust. “I can’t live with humans. I know nothing about them except the awful things you’ve told me!” I wrap my arms around my torso, trying to remain calm. “Is there anything we can do?”
“The Ryven Court once allowed me to heal your illness and be your keeper, but I can’t fight them if they choose to send you back now.” Merlara stares at the letter. “Although, perhaps they want an audience with you to determine your continued future. I will write a letter stating my offer to keep you. I will explain you are a valued assistant. Especially with the loss of Roul, I need someone to work with me in the foundry.”
“Oh, no!” I say, remembering what we were supposed to start today. “How are you going to get your sword order done?”
“Never mind that.” Merlara shakes her head with a sad expression. “Your well-being is more important than making a few blades. Let’s get you prepared for your journey.”
Merlara has a bag of provisions packed for me within the hour.
“Here is my letter of intent,” she says stoically and tucks the envelope into my pack.
I hug her goodbye. “I don’t want to leave.”
Although not usually affectionate, Merlara returns my embrace and kisses my cheek. “And I don’t wish you to leave.”
“What should I expect in Ryven?” I pull away and fiddle with my pack. “Should I brace for the worst outcome?”
“With nobility, speak only when spoken to. Do whatever they ask of you. Royalty has no patience for being denied their… whims,” Merlara explains. “Yet, when you speak, let your intelligence shine. Most elves have had little to no contact with humans. When they have, it was often during the war—which means they might be hostile toward you. They will expect the worst of you because of your race. Show them that not all humans are bad. Show them you are smart and kind.”
“I’ll try.” I frown at the weight of what she’s telling me. How am I supposed to impress the royal courts when I’m just a simple human servant?
“Be careful of the fae in the cities,” Merlara continues. “They are craftier than those out here on the outskirts—the royals, especially.” She opens her mouth as if to add more, but doesn’t.
I shiver. The local elves barely tolerate my presence. My future interactions with distrustful and all-powerful royals won’t likely go well.
Not for the first time, I wonder about the few humans in the Elfhame realm who are servants. Did they have to go through this process? Perhaps they only wish to know what I can offer their kingdom.
Although most are servants, there is one account of a human advisor to royals several centuries ago. Surely, with my sheltered, short life, I couldn’t be an asset such as that.
No. I always assumed I would continue being Merlara’s servant. I had come to terms that I’d never have a life of my choosing, no mate or children of my own, if I remained in the fae realm. But I’d rather have that lonely fate than return to the cruel mortals.
