Fey Hearted Read online

  Fey Hearted

  N. E. Conneely

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Thank You

  Also by N. E. Conneely

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 N. E. Conneely

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information-storage-and-retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or author. Requests for permission to copy part of this work for use in an educational environment may be directed to the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to historical events, real people, or real locales are made fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To Nana, who wishes I would write stories without magic.

  I couldn’t do that this time,

  but I could show you what a girl would do for her grandmother.

  I love you.

  Prologue

  “What happened next?” Rose bounced excitedly.

  “The dragon swooped out of the sky—” Grandmother paused at the thump of feet on the porch. With a wink, she plucked four-year-old Rose off the floor. Rose stretched out her arms, closed her eyes, and giggled as the air whooshed past her. She could almost pretend she was the dragon flying through the air.

  “—and picked the princess out of the cart, rescuing her from the evil prince.” Grandmother guided Rose through a dive that was close enough to the floor for her to snatch her doll. Clutching it to her chest, Rose gave a happy shout. “The dragon flew the princess all the way back to her kingdom, where he gently dropped her off by the gate.”

  Rose pouted for a moment as she was set on the sofa, but she knew the story was coming to a rapid end. Those footsteps were getting closer, and that always meant the end of story time.

  “The princess thanked the dragon, for he had saved her from a loveless marriage and a life away from all the people she loved. The princess offered the dragon a place to stay, food, and a job guarding her kingdom. The dragon accepted, and together they kept the land safe from all who would do them harm.”

  “Is that the end?” Rose made her best tell-me-more face.

  Grandmother laughed and kissed her cheek. “Next time you can hear more.”

  The front door swung open, and feet scraped against the mat. “Mother, are you telling her stories again?”

  Rose knew what Grandmother was going to say, so she set the doll against the pillow, slipped off the couch, and picked up her teacup. It wobbled on the saucer and Rose bit her lip, walking carefully so she wouldn’t break it. She’d dropped one a few weeks ago, and now Grandmother’s cup was missing its handle.

  “Lily, I’m telling her the same stories I told you when you were her age.”

  The short distance to the kitchen wasn’t enough to muffle their voices, so Rose slowed down and listened carefully.

  “Fairy tales aren’t real. How are they going to help her later in life?”

  Grandmother sighed. “Not everyone sees the world as you do, Lily. Besides, there are lessons to be learned from stories. There was a time when you could see that.”

  “Then stick to the traditional tales.”

  Rose reached the counter and stopped listening as she went up on her toes to slide the cup and saucer onto the counter. This was the hard part, because she had to reach so high to get the cup up there, but Grandmother trusted that she could do it, and this time she wasn’t going to break the cup. It rocked, sliding off to the side, but Rose was able to steady it and slide it away from the edge.

  Heading back into the living room, Rose tried to remember what her grandmother had said, because it had seemed important, but the conversation had moved on. “Fine,” Mom said. “How was she?”

  “Delightful, as always.”

  Mom nodded. “Is Thursday still good?”

  “Yes.” Grandmother spotted Rose and held out her arms. “Can I get a hug before you leave?”

  Rose ran into her arms, resting her hair against Grandmother’s shoulder. Worried that this might be the last time she heard a story, Rose whispered, “Can I hear more about Princess and Dragon’s adventures next time?”

  She felt her grandmother’s smile. The soft words barely made it to her ears. “Of course you can.”

  Ten years later

  Rose glanced out the window. It was green and beautiful—her parents were right about that—but otherwise, she didn’t see what was so fantastic about Ireland. This was day six of a ten-day family vacation, and five days of sightseeing had been more than enough for her. Perhaps she would feel differently if her life were going better, but at the moment, her future was up in the air and she hated it. Her parents were thinking about sending her to boarding school, which would separate her from her grandmother and her friends, and she had a feeling this trip would be a major factor in their decision. After weeks of going back and forth on what she wanted, she simply wished to forget about it for a while.

  Maybe she would get lucky and her parents would let her stay inside the hotel and read for the rest of the day. Her brother would leap at the chance to see another castle, leaving the room they were sharing all to her. Some quiet time to read would be nice.

  Rose opened up the book Grandmother had given her before Rose and the rest of the family had left the States. In this tale, the elves could communicate with animals and plants, and the creatures were helping the elves defeat an evil wizard. One elf had learned how to use magic and could see it in the air. It would be amazing to experience something like that, Rose thought as she turned to the next page. She quickly lost herself in the book, only to startle when the door swung open.

  “Rose, we’re going to—” Mom looked at the book in her hands and frowned. “I didn’t bring you here so you could spend your time reading, especially not books like that. There is a whole country outside this room, just waiting for you to explore.”

  Rose sighed, closed the book, and set it to the side. “Yes, Mom.”

  “We are going to take a tour of a castle. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  “Sure,” Rose said morosely.

  Mom sighed. “We thought you’d like Ireland. It’s one of the most enchanting places on earth! They have a rich history of storytelling, there’s beautiful scenery, and the people are delightful. Why aren’t you enjoying it more?”

  Rose toyed with a pillow.

  “I'd like an answer to that question,” Mom said, her voice firm.

  “Can I please stay here while you tour the castle? I just want to read.” Rose reached for her book.

  Mom snatched it out of her hand. “What is it with you and these books?”

&nbs
p; “They’re just stories,” Rose snapped.

  “Of course they’re just stories. Magic isn’t real. Not in this world, not in this novel.” Mom waved the book in the air. “If you want tales about magic, just look around you. We’re in Ireland.”

  “It’s not the same. These people, they tell the stories to get away from their lives. They don’t want to be working in shops, selling trinkets to people like us. History, those stories that don’t make any sense, that’s all they have.” Rose sighed. “At least in that book the magic is real. Their world actually has magic, and you can see what it does and how it behaves.”

  “Oh, Rose, that doesn’t make it real.” Mom pursed her lips. “Come see the castle. If you must look for magic, this is the best place. And the stories are more than fantasy here. They’re a mix of history, legend, and imagination. I think you’ll be surprised to find it’s just as interesting as that book.”

  Rose shook her head. “You, Dad, even Grandmother—you’ve all spent most of your lives doing things you don’t like just so you can have a few minutes of fun. I don’t want to do that. I want to spend my life surrounded by amazing things every minute, not just now and then. I don’t want to be stuck behind a desk. I want to—”

  “To actually live like they do in the stories, I know,” Mom interrupted. “Your grandmother told me the exact same tales, you know. And there was a time, a very short time, when I wanted to believe them, too. But then I learned the truth. Life is full of hard choices, and if you want to be happy, you have to be more practical than characters in stories. You have to work hard and keep your focus on reality.”

  Rose opened her mouth to protest, but Mom put a hand up. “Not now. You have an hour. Then we’re leaving for the castle. All of us.” The door thumped as Mom closed it behind her, taking Rose’s book with her.

  Rose flopped onto the bed, blinking back tears. It was the same fight they always had, just now it was in a different country. Mom was always pushing her to be “practical,” while her friends’ parents were happy if their children got good grades and stayed out of trouble. But no, Rose needed to be like her brother, Paul, needed to have a plan. He had gotten his college degree and was working in real estate. He was productive and happy. He’d drank the Kool-Aid. And now her mom’s eye was on Rose. And according to Mom, there wasn’t time for frivolous things like fantasy novels and Grandmother’s stories.

  Brushing away tears, Rose dug a thick envelope out of her suitcase. She gently removed the pages and flattened them before she began to read:

  A story to tide you over while you’re gone? This is an odd birthday request, even for you, my Rose, but very well.

  It was a day like any other day. The girl got up, made breakfast, tidied the house, and in the late morning, headed down to the well. They needed more water, and it was her job to fetch it. After all, her parents weren’t young anymore and hauling water was hard work.

  The girl wished someone else could do it because the well was near the woods. Strange things happened in the woods. One time, the boy down the road went missing while collecting firewood.

  She hesitated, looked at the tree line, and when it appeared empty, she carefully made her way to the well. Moments later, as she lowered the bucket down, the feeling that someone was watching her swept through her. A soft snap came from behind, and the rope fell from her hand. She turned around to find a man with pointed ears staring straight at her. She was looking into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, and the next thing she knew, she was following him into the woods, her task forgotten.

  As they walked, time and distance passed without fatigue. When she came back to herself, they were far from home and there was a catlike creature flying past her. The man with the pointed ears tugged her past a unicorn, and away from a mushroom the size of a footstool. He didn’t give her nearly enough time to look at the human-bird woman, as he continued to pull her along into an open-air tent. He set a circlet of roses upon her head, and something sharp dug into her scalp. When he pulled his hands away, a drop of blood dripped from his thumb.

  The roses had thorns.

  Another knock sounded at the door, and Rose hurried to fold the pages. When they were safely under her pillow, she cleared her throat. “Come in!”

  Paul opened the door and then closed it behind him again. He leaned against the wood. “You upset Mom.”

  Rose frowned. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you did.” Paul shook his head. “She picked this place just for you. Dad wanted to go to Germany, and I was pulling for Australia. Mom insisted that you would like this best. What gives?”

  Rose drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I just don’t see what you guys see.”

  After a lengthy pause, Paul raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. You’re going to give me a real explanation.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s pretty here, and I’ve enjoyed the sights, but these people aren’t living any different from anyone else. There is nothing about this island that makes their lives any better or more fulfilling.”

  He studied her. “Maybe you’re looking at the wrong things. What makes you happy?”

  “Grandmother’s stories and the fantasy books Mom hates.” Rose sighed. “But that's not really what you were talking about…”

  “What about gardening and going to the gun range?” Paul asked hopefully.

  “Both are fun, but they aren’t things I would want to do as a job.” Rose frowned.

  “You’re just starting high school. You have plenty of time to figure out what you love and find your place. I’ll even help you. But you have to promise me something.”

  “What?” she asked warily.

  “You’ll make Mom believe she made the right choice when she booked this trip. If you can do that, I’ll even tell Mom that boarding school is the best thing for you.” Paul walked over to the bed and held out his hand.

  “I’m not sure I want to go to boarding school.”

  “Because it means leaving Grams?” Paul asked.

  Rose nodded.

  “That will be hard on you, there’s no denying it. But if you live somewhere else, you can go weeks, maybe months, without an argument about your reading choices or future plans.”

  Rose was torn. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave, and since her parents were still discussing things, there was a chance she could stay. However, this vacation was likely to convince her mother that boarding school was the right choice. The school did have a rifle team and offered gardening as an elective.

  If Rose stayed home, she would end up spending her entire high school career with her mom desperately trying to turn her into a mini-me. Or she could go to boarding school and be away from her grandmother for months at a time. Though, she could still write and call her grandmother. At home there would be no escaping her mother’s watchful eye. When she thought about it like that, there was only one choice.

  Rose looked at Paul and held out her hand. “Deal.”

  He smiled and shook it. “Good. Now, get ready to tour another castle.”

  She groaned.

  “Hey, none of that. This one even has a moat,” he said with a wink.

  Here goes nothing…

  Chapter 1

  Three years later

  Rose dumped her bags on the floor with a thud, as she pushed her bedroom door shut with her foot. She leaned against the door and took a deep breath, dropping her head in her hands. Her visits home were never easy, but family was family and it was Thanksgiving.

  It had been a relief when her father had been the one to pick her up from the airport. He wouldn’t comment on the book in her hand. He had done exactly as expected and had simply given her a hug, welcomed her home, and told her he wished she could be around more often. Boarding school wasn’t her favorite, but it was a place where she could escape her mom’s concerned and disapproving gaze, and that was worth something.

  With a sigh, she pushe
d off the door and lifted her overnight bag onto the mahogany sleigh bed. Wild roses in shades of pink and red twisted across the cream sheets. Even the family tree hanging on the wall, which followed her mother’s side, was depicted as a rose bush.

  Someone else might have found the endless roses frustrating, but Rose loved them. With beautiful flowers, sharp thorns, the ability to survive rugged winters and thrive with just a little care, they were as close to magic as anything she’d found.

  “Rose, can you help me in the kitchen?” Mom called from downstairs just as Rose was unzipping her bag to unpack.

  She dropped the zipper and shouted back. “I’m coming!”

  If the past was any indication, the next hour or two would center around cooking a feast that could feed a small army. Rose fished a hairband out of her pocket, divided her hair into three sections, braided it, and tied it off. She shook her head, sending the rope of black hair swishing across the middle of her back. At least it wouldn’t get in her way now as she slaved over the hot stove.

  Rose opened the bedroom door and trotted down the stairs. Her father, a thin man with salt-and-pepper hair, was lounging on the couch, flipping between two football games. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed from the next room.

  Rose skirted the living room, calling out, “What do you want me to do?” as she walked into the kitchen.

  Her mom looked especially round in her ruffled apron, and the strained smile on her face was typical of a family event. “Could you make the pies? The apples are in the fridge, and the pans, crusts, recipes, and ingredients for the pumpkin pies are over there.” She tipped her head toward the counter behind her.

  “Sure. Let me scoot around you.” Rose maneuvered past her mother to the sink, washed her hands, and started mixing pumpkin pie filling.

  “So how have you been, sweetie?” Mom asked. “We haven’t had time to talk since you arrived.”