Heart of the Fae

Never trust the fae...especially the queen of the fae.

Tricked into a slippery alliance, Georjie has no choice but to trust the only being with enough power to stop the black witch.

All she has to do is lure Daracha to the right place at the right time using herself as bait, and the formidable queen will do the rest.

Georjie gets a surprise visit she hopes will help her uncover why her father left all those years ago, but uprooting the truth is easier said than done. When her search leads her to unlock a secret message from the fae realm instead, she learns the dark witch's life is inextricably tied to the life of an innocent. If one dies, so does the other.

Faced with an impossible choice and not enough time to make it, can Georjie make the deadline, save the innocent AND outwit the devastating fiend who craves her ashes?

Heart of the Fae is the third book in the thrilling Earth Magic Rises YA contemporary fantasy series. If you like page-turning action, teenage heroes, and sinister plots, then you’ll love A.L. Knorr’s riveting tale, complete with twists and turns you never saw coming.

I stood at the end of a long corridor—the path ahead leading not by stone walls and doors to empty rooms, as it would have done were I in Gavin and Bonnie's version of Blackmouth Castle—but through crowds of fae creatures. 

Rather than antique furniture, paintings, tartan carpet runner, and old-fashioned lamps, the room had the feel of a great hall. Slender windows along the outer wall allowed beams of near-pearlescent sunlight to pour into the room, speckled not with motes of dust, but fairy lights and shimmers of something much smaller, swooping and congealing like tiny mystical flocks of swallows. Colorful silken flags brightened the hall, giving it a festive air.

"Approach." 

The words echoed off the stone buttresses. Queen Elphame half-reclined on the arms of a backless marble seat, wearing a flowing gown so bright it almost hurt to look at. 

Feeling fae eyes on me, I took a steadying breath and released Fyfa's hand.

"Speak plainly," Fyfa whispered. "Be yourself."

I couldn't prevent a smirk from curling my upper lip. If I was supposed to be myself, then why had Fyfa dressed me in a gown of floating green silk? My hair was piled high on my head and festooned with enough blossoms to make my neck ache. Real ivy spiraled my arms from wrist to shoulder and curled across my collarbones and down my back. Broad leaves belted my waist, dripping with spiraling tendrils. My cheekbones and chin had been dusted with pearlescent powder and neroli oil warmed my skin, filling my nose with its bright, green scent. The effect, once Fyfa had finished dolling me up, was enchanting, I had to admit. But now that I was standing here in Elphame's court, I wished I was wearing jeans and a ponytail. The costume and hairstyle made me feel like a fraud.

Fyfa's hand rested on my lower back for a moment before she gave me a small push. My legs moved, bare feet on white warm stone. Ivy tendrils brushed the floor as I walked. Time seemed to slow down as the fae slipped by. Some stood and craned their necks to see who was next to make a request of the queen, while others whispered behind long-nailed, elegant hands. Many sported gossamer wings, impossibly large eyes, and hair creations that reminded me of wedding cakes and sculptures. Some sat around small tables playing games with live beetles and not paying much attention once they'd seen my outfit. Perhaps I wasn't so impressive in Queen Elphame's court with my ivy and neroli-blossomed hair after all.

Swallowing my nerves, I told myself it didn't matter what any of these fae thought, it only mattered that Queen Elphame offered her aid in stopping Daracha. Surely if the Queen of Elfland—as the history book had dubbed her—bent her will to halting the witch, even Daracha’s great power would crumble before Elphame’s magic.

As I approached the throne, the queen’s details came into view. Light glared harshly off the curves of the smooth alabaster throne, finding no corners or square edges. The fae woman clearly favored white. The last time I had seen her, her hair was a white cloud on top of her head. This time, her locks were a shocking raven's wing black, and it was her body which was clad in white. A shimmering strapless gown clung to her long frame. White feathers draped over her shoulders, stretching down her arms and clinging to her skin so tightly they appeared to have grown from her own pores. Shimmery white makeup coated her eyelids and cheekbones and clung to her eyelashes. A teardrop of some sparkling white stone sat to the right of her upper lip. And that hair, piles and piles of it, spirals of it lumped in an impossible updo of proportions that would put Nashville to shame. Long white fingernails glimmered with gloss. She was breathtaking, not just in her beauty but with her presence. I gasped as I realized I'd forgotten to breathe.

The smell of green things, damp soil, flowers, and mulch filled the hall, with the added tang of smoke and soft fruity notes. This was the smell of fae magic, Fyfa had explained, which was strong here where many species came together to mingle, see, and be seen.

Stopping at the front edge of the crowd, I curtsied deeply the way Fyfa had instructed. I was to wait until I was invited to come any closer to the marble dais than this. I straightened but cast my eyes down.

"The Wise who tried to steal from me," Queen Elphame murmured without moving or changing position. She looked supremely relaxed and uninterested. Though her eyes were half-hooded, they glittered sharply, and I thought her cavalier display was artfully contrived to make me feel uncomfortable and inconsequential. 

It was working.

There were low tones of disapproval from the great hall at large, as fae talked and shared gossip quietly among themselves now that Elphame had identified me as a potential enemy. I hung my head further in a sign of what I hoped appeared to be true penitence. There was something dangerous and powerful about the queen, but also something alluring and even maternal. I didn't get the sense she was without feeling or compassion. Thinking of the night I'd tried to steal from her, I wondered what would have happened had Laec instructed me simply to ask.

"I would have said no." Queen Elphame's voice was gentle, sweet even.

My gaze darted to her face in surprise before I could stop myself. Could the queen read my thoughts? An apology surged behind my teeth, but I bit it back, remembering Fyfa's instructions to wait until I was given permission to speak.

"My elixirs are not to be given to lost Wise from without. But when one of my own Wise daughters asks a favor ..." Queen Elphame gave an elegant shrug, a movement I caught in my periphery. 

Surprise jolted through me like a lightning strike for a second time. Fyfa had asked for the elixir; she'd not stolen it, as I had thought. Queen Elphame had given it to her daughter to give to me, in the end. I wished Fyfa had told me Queen Elphame had shown mercy.

"My daughter was instructed to keep her mouth shut on that score," Queen Elphame said. "And payment was made in the end, wasn't it, Laec?"

I swallowed down another lump of shock. I hadn't known Laec was here. I hadn't seen him since he'd agreed to deliver Lachlan's vehicle back to Blackmouth from the forest glen where I'd had to abandon it. The urge to look up and find the fae male was nearly overpowering. What expression would I find on his face?

"Majesty." Laec's voice came from behind me on the right, near the wall. He sounded almost bored, in true Laec form.

Emotions churned in my chest like a dust storm. Shame for how I'd assumed Laec had purposefully led me into danger. Gratitude that he'd helped me so frequently, most times without being asked. Confusion about the queen. Queen Elphame had taken Laec's thumb as payment. It seemed a barbaric thing for a fairy queen purported to have healed humans in the past to do to one of her own people, even if the thumb grew back. Painfully aware that Elphame knew I was having critical thoughts about her yet unable to stop it, I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten. My fingers ached to curl into fists.

"Look at me," Queen Elphame instructed.

Finally, I was able to raise my eyes, and I hoped the steely defiance I felt was not overt on my face. Defiance would get me nowhere, as Fyfa had told me more than once.

Queen Elphame stood, and the room gave a little gasp of delight as they admired her gown. The queen lifted her hands and rested them on her hips. Quite the show-woman, she was. "Why do you trouble my court again, little Wise?"

I lifted my chin, and my pulse quickened. My palms felt clammy, and I pressed them against my thighs. "Majesty, an old dark witch has resurrected to life without. She is a threat not only to my world, but to yours. If she achieves her goals, it could mean that the veil between our worlds could be destroyed. She desires your throne, above all."

The last of my statement echoed through the hall and a thunderous silence descended. Even the game-playing fae had halted their sport to take in the queen’s reaction.

Queen Elphame's amethyst eyes homed in on mine, cool and calculating and glittering with judgment. At first, there was no visible or audible reaction, from the queen or her subjects. But when Queen Elphame gave a light scoff of dry laughter, the room behind me filled with titters and soft chuckles.

I felt like I'd swallowed a stone. Queen Elphame, if she could read minds, knew perfectly well what I came to ask for, and she knew I wasn't lying. So why was she laughing? The hairs on my forearms lifted, and the temperature felt as though it had dropped a few degrees. I suppressed a shiver and the urge to cross my arms protectively.

"The veil cannot be destroyed," Queen Elphame replied with another feminine scoff. "Certainly not by some human witch from without. And if she ever did happen to find the ability to cross over, she'd find I deal with such creatures in my own merciful and generous manner." Her nails pressed into the fabric of her gown, making dimples. "By destroying her the moment she takes a breath of our air, rather than allowing my subjects to torture her."

"Queen Elphame." I took a breath and prayed for the anxiety roiling in my gut to subside. I hoped the news I was about to share would not backfire on me. Stavarjak might have a 'kill the messenger' kind of culture. I trusted that Fyfa would have advised me not to mention Gilbarta if it was a bad idea. "This witch—Daracha Goithra—is responsible for the death of one of your own daughters."