Restless slumber fortuna.., p.1
Restless Slumber (Fortuna Sworn Book 2), page 1
Praise for K.J. Sutton’s Fortuna Sworn
“Fortuna Sworn is a lush, action-packed fantasy with an ending you won’t see coming!” —Jessi Elliott, author of Twisted Fate
“K.J. Sutton has created a world that is equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying… for fantasy readers who are looking for a little fresh and a lot fantastic!” —Tome Tender Book Blog
“I absolutely adored this book.” —SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews
“Prepare to delve into a dark and twisted world!” —Perspective of a Writer
“[K.J. Sutton] has got me hooked.” —Mindy Lou's Book Review
“Sutton… managed to create a spin on not only the fae but other supernatural creatures that will fascinate you [and] leave you turning the pages as fast as you possibly can!” —My Guilty Obsession
“The romance tantalizes and teases… leaving the reader begging for more.” —This Girl Reads a Lot
“A captivating, fast-paced paranormal fantasy that is sure to sweep you away to a world unlike any other.” —Lovely Loveday
“Fortuna Sworn created a die-hard fan in me.” —BookedMercy
Copyright © 2019 by K.J. Sutton
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
ISBN 978-1-733-46167-2 (Paperback Edition)
ISBN 978-1-733-46168-9 (eBook Edition)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Front cover image by Gwenn Danae
Typography by Jesse Green
Published in the United States of America
“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.”
― William Shakespeare
Preface
A boxelder bug writhed on its back.
I stood in front of the window and watched it die. The bug was a frantic, mindless thing. Its wings were two blurs as it struggled against the inevitable. As I observed the creature’s final moments, waiting for dusk, it emitted a high sound that no one else cared to hear but me. Then, all at once, it went silent. Its legs, which had been wriggling, no longer moved.
Night was finally drawing near. Multiple people had come and gone since I got back, attempting to talk to me about getting some sleep or stepping in the shower. I probably looked like an extra from a horror movie. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered but that darkening horizon.
A clock on the wall counted into the stillness. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was almost time.
Thinking this, I turned around to face the body on the kitchen table.
Chapter One
Some call him Laurie.
Like a flock of birds, my mind burst into a dozen different directions, a chaos of feathers and flapping wings. King? The faerie who I’d trusted, befriended, and depended upon… was sovereign of the Seelie Court?
The werewolf at my side probably felt the turmoil roiling inside me; he shifted restlessly and made a sound deep in his throat. Something halfway between a whine and a growl. I looked at him, not really seeing him. My memory was flying backward, halting at every interaction with the faerie I’d known as Laurie. His comments and behavior were just as bewildering, despite this new knowledge.
What’s with these goddamn kings taking such an interest in me? I couldn’t begin to guess at Laurie’s motives. Had he been here to keep tabs on Collith? Did he hope to use me against him?
A second later, I realized that Viessa might be able to answer some of these questions. Just as I gripped the bars tighter, opening my mouth to ask, Lyari chose that moment to reappear.
She didn’t announce her presence, though; Viessa’s blue-white gaze shifted past me. It was so subtle that, normally, I would’ve missed it. But I’d already sensed Lyari coming somehow. I wasn’t ready to explore the implications of this. Instead, I turned my head to acknowledge her. She was a tall, stiff figure in my peripheral vision. “Sorry to interrupt,” the Guardian said, sounding anything but apologetic. “I figured you’d want to know that someone just tried to kill your brother.”
At this, I jerked toward her. “What? Is he okay?” Don’t tell me he’s hurt. Don’t tell me he’s dying.
In facing Lyari, I’d consequently put my back to Viessa. A split second later, I realized the foolishness of this, and stepped away from the cell. Lyari smirked. The werewolf didn’t like that—his lip curled. Her gaze flicked to him and she touched the hilt of her sword. “My brother, Guardian,” I said coldly, resting my hand on the wolf again. Strangely, I found it as comforting as he seemed to. “Is Damon alive?”
Lines deepened around Lyari’s mouth. I couldn’t tell if they were made of distaste or regret. Then I decided I didn’t give a rat’s ass. “He was cut, but the healer is with him now, thanks to His Majesty,” she answered.
Relief shot through my veins, more overwhelming than any drug. I nearly sagged. It was never far from my mind, though, that I had to keep up a facade of power around these creatures. So I just allowed myself a curt nod and moved toward the stairs. The wolf instantly followed, keeping his large body between me and Lyari. Ironic, considering she was my personal guard. “Good. Please take me to him.”
“I look forward to our next meeting,” Viessa called after me. Her voice sounded stronger than it had when I’d first arrived. I wasn’t sure what that meant—I already regretted offering her a boon, however intriguing her information had been—but her words were a reminder of my original purpose in coming down to this dank, foul place.
“Wait.” I rushed back to the cell. Viessa had begun retreating into the darkness. I could only see her ragged skirt as she turned. My mind was struggling to gather itself, think ahead, see every angle as a faerie would. It took all the discipline I had; every instinct and urge was with Damon. “One last question. Is there a place, here in court, where I won’t be overheard? No cameras, no guards.”
After I’d finished, only silence came from the gloom of her cell. I bit my tongue to avoid saying anything that would get me in trouble later. One boon was enough, and pissing off an assassin was the last thing I needed to do right now. Perhaps that meant I was growing.
The three of us stood there, in the belly of the Unseelie Court, unmoving and unspeaking. That didn’t mean nothing was happening, though. I felt power in the air, more substantial than smoke or fog. We were testing each other. Tasting each other. I didn’t know what these females had been through, but I knew what I had survived, and I was more powerful. Without a doubt. There wasn’t anything more motivating than protecting someone you loved. The blood of multiple innocents and guilty monsters already covered my hands. A little more hardly felt like an obstacle now.
Maybe Viessa saw the truth of this in my eyes. After nearly a minute of silence, she said at last, “Tell your entourage you’d like to pay a visit to Nym.”
Thank you. I swallowed the automatic reply, nodded again, and backed away. She watched me go, her expression fathomless, unnaturally still. I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d just made a deal with the devil. After another thick, stilted moment, I forced myself to turn. Viessa didn’t call out again, but as I rushed up the narrow stairs, she began to hum. It was an amused, happy sound. It followed us even after we’d reached the upper passageway.
One question haunted me now, filling my ears like a spirit’s whisper, floating after us no matter how much I quickened the pace.
What have I done?
Chapter Two
Damon was sleeping by the time I arrived at his rooms. Jassin’s rooms. I hurried to my brother’s side, knelt, and examined him from head to toe. He rested in the middle of that gigantic bed, so silent and pale. When I took his hand, it rested limply in mine. Behind me, the werewolf padded to a corner of the room and sat. It was unnerving how something so big could move without a sound.
The court’s healer, Zara, stood on the other side of the bed. I arched my neck to see her face. Firelight flickered over her flawless skin. I’d never noticed her clothing before, but now I had no idea how that could be. She wore colors so bright that they felt like a shout in the stillness. Her hijab rivaled a sunflower, and she wore a button-up shirt with blue and yellow stripes. “It was a shallow wound,” Zara said by way of greeting. Her gaze flicked to the enormous werewolf. I waited for a reaction. Surprise, wariness, disdain. But the faerie revealed nothing. She focused on me again to add, “Tomorrow morning it will be nothing more than a scab.”
Though Zara’s expression was distant as always, I recognized that she was being kind. After the way I’d treated her, she was trying to offer me comfort. Was it genuine? Or just another faerie trick?
I realized that I was glaring at her, but she hadn’t noticed it yet, thankfully. I refocused on Damon, still frowning. My time at court had proven that some faeries were more than beings of cruel instincts and basest desires. And yet my prejudice had been well-earned; it was not so easily forgotten.
“Do we know anything about who did it?” was all I said in response.
Zara shook her head. “His Majesty had assigned a Guardian to this room. ”
&n
“She saw a cloaked figure slip inside,” Zara continued. “When you brother started shouting for help, she entered. The would-be killer fought his way out and ran.”
“He was probably hired,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. Zara and I both turned toward Collith Sylvyre, King of the Unseelie Court. Tall, bright, and beautiful, he was every inch of him a faerie, a race that I was supposed to despise. He had a voice made of chocolate and eyes full of sin. His body invited anyone to touch, with its hard planes and sharp ridges, but there was a price. Oh, was there a price.
He was also my mate.
I wanted to blame that magic between us for how Collith’s appearance made my stomach flutter, but it would be a lie. We hadn’t laid eyes on each other since my coronation; he’d been mysteriously absent. He hadn’t even slept in the bed we currently shared. I took in the sight of him, feeling as though I were seeing Collith for the first time all over again. He was dressed as a human today, wearing tight-fitting jeans and a button-up shirt. His brown hair was artfully gelled and the pale, smooth angles of his face looked ethereal in the fire’s glow. In this moment, his hazel eyes looked brown.
“Has someone checked the cameras?” I asked, striving to seem unaffected by his appearance. Too much time had passed since his comment, but thankfully, no one acknowledged this.
“Nuvian is watching them as we speak,” Collith answered. His expression was neutral and the bond between us curiously still. Almost as though he were trying to hide from me. “Thank you, Zara.”
The healer took it for the dismissal it was. She inclined her head in a fluid, graceful movement, and started toward the door.
“Zara,” I blurted. She paused at the threshold and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. I hesitated, the battle within me raging on. Faerie. Cruel. Untrustworthy. “I… appreciate what you’ve done for my brother.”
“You’re welcome,” she said simply. Strangely enough, I liked that she didn’t tack on any titles or formalities. She didn’t mean it as an insult; she was simply acting as though we were equals. For someone that had gone from prisoner to queen in a matter of days, it was refreshing. Zara’s face softened, somehow, probably responding to something she saw in mine. Before either of us could get uncomfortable, she nodded and left.
Leaving me alone with Collith.
Even now, after spending several nights together, my pulse quickened at the realization. But I’d be damned if I let it show and betray everything life had taught me about faeries. Pretending to be absorbed in Damon—although at least half of my mind was painfully aware of every shift and breath Collith made—I brushed Damon’s bangs out of his eyes. His facial muscles twitched. I wondered what Damon Sworn dreamed about. “Arcaena was probably the one who put out the hit,” I said without turning. I should’ve killed that bitch when I had the chance. “What are we going to do about it?”
Collith went to the fire. There was a dull sound, then the room brightened and faded. He must’ve shifted a log with the poker. “I’ve already made inquiries into that, as well,” my mate replied. “She is still recovering from performing the Rites of Thogon. She hasn’t uttered a word since then.”
“What about her creepy twin?” I demanded, finally twisting to look at Collith. “Did you ‘make inquiries’ about him?”
“Have you eaten today?” he asked abruptly, approaching the bed on soundless feet. He said nothing about the werewolf, though there was no way he hadn’t seen him. “The food in our room was untouched.”
Our room. Something fluttered in my chest. Why should those two words affect me?
“Not yet,” I answered. I didn’t miss that he’d changed the subject, but right now, I was more resigned than annoyed. I was starting to understand this evasive faerie, despite so many unknowns haunting the space between us. His refusal to say anything spoke volumes—I’d asked a question he didn’t want to answer, which meant I was probably right about the twin. If the king wouldn’t do something about Arcaena’s brother, then I would. There was probably a solution in one of the dusty volumes still awaiting me.
Collith was moving toward the rope now. He pulled on the fraying strands. I realized that he was going to order something. “You don’t need to—”
“Please stop talking, Fortuna.”
I was so startled at his interruption that the rest died in my throat. Collith raised his brows in a silent challenge, as though he wanted me to argue. I was about to comply, quite happily, when there was a timid knock. Breaking our stare, Collith went to the door and poked his head out. He murmured to whatever servant stood in the passageway.
After that, he spent the next few seconds dragging chairs across the room. One of them Collith placed next to me. I slipped onto the faded cushion and observed without comment, thinking that it was annoyingly likable that he did things himself, rather than relying on the slaves all around us.
Despite the noise and movement, Damon didn’t stir. I longed for and dreaded the moment he did—I knew that hatred would burn in his eyes, just as it had during our last conversation.
Once he was finished with his rearranging, Collith situated himself in the chair opposite me. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at Damon. His gaze lingered as though he’d never truly seen my brother before. The fire crackled into the stillness. For a few minutes, we just sat like that, neither of us speaking. I held Damon’s frail hand and came to the realization that I couldn’t just write a handful of letters and leave him like this, injured and alone and grieving. Which meant that I couldn’t stay here. Would I be breaking my promises to Collith by returning to Granby?
“When Jassin brought him to court two years ago, I noticed him immediately. Such is the nature of a Nightmare,” the king said suddenly.
I focused on him, unable to hide the surprise I knew was drifting down our bond. Though Collith’s gaze didn’t move from Damon’s face, it was obvious he was speaking to me. I didn’t dare respond, for fear he would see my interest and stop talking.
Thankfully, Collith seemed to be lost in a memory. “But it was more than that,” he added. “I felt a pull toward him. An… investment, for lack of a better word. I’d seen slaves being mistreated my entire life, yet there was something about Damon Sworn that I couldn’t shrug off.”
“Why didn’t you do something about it, then?” I couldn’t help asking. The question should’ve been biting, sharp as the teeth of the werewolf lying just a few feet away. It came out softly, though.
Now Collith met my gaze. “I did.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but apparently we’d hit one of those walls. It was becoming a pattern—Collith would begin to reveal himself to me, inch closer with a secret or a thought from the mind beneath that crown, and then he’d abruptly construct a barrier of brick and mortar. Effectively keeping us apart and rendering him untouchable.
Instead of my usual burst of frustration, I just studied Collith’s distant expression and wondered what had happened to make him this way. His jagged scar looked deeper in the firelight, and I remembered what he’d told me about it. I wasn’t born with this scar; someone bestowed it upon me. “Trust goes both ways, you know,” I told him. “You claim you want to know me, and yet I’m not allowed to know anything about you.”
At my words, another surge of sensation traveled down the bond, this time from Collith. The feelings were too swift, too numerous for me to catch each individual one and define it, but what I felt strongest was… pain. Collith’s mask had fallen away, revealing the weary king I’d met once before.
I opened my mouth to speak again—without any idea of what was about to come out—when he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair.”
He’d surprised me again. “So let’s start with something small,” I suggested, hoping I didn’t sound as eager as I felt. “What did you do to help Damon?”
