The Fae Prince: (Fae of Ballantine) Read online

  The Fae Prince

  (Fae of Ballantine)

  Serena Meadows

  Copyright ©2019 by Serena Meadows - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This book is intended for adult readers only. Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.

  Contents

  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

  Also By Serena Meadows

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  ***Colin***

  Colin stumbled up the stairs, doing his best not to make noise, but in his inebriated state, it wasn’t an easy task. Even with the deep pile carpet, his heavy steps seemed to echo through the silent castle, and he was sure his parents would come out of their bedroom any second. It was ridiculous that at twenty-five, he was forced to sneak around like a child, but he was in no shape for a confrontation with them just then.

  His head swimming, he made it to the top of the stairs, wincing when his stomach gurgled threateningly, and nausea nearly won. Taking shallow breaths, he made it to his bedroom door, cracked it open, and slipped inside, then collapsed on the floor in a heap. He lay there for what felt like a long time as the alcohol worked its way through his system, wondering why he’d been so stupid.

  There were few things in the human world that could bring the Fae down, and alcohol was one of them. Thanks to one of his so-called friends, he’d gotten his hands on some. What followed was a bit of a blur, but he remembered just enough to know that the whole Following would be talking about it in the morning.

  His stomach lurched again at the thought of what his parents would say; it would take them days and days to wind down, to get tired of badgering him about behaving better.

  It was a tired subject with them, and he just couldn’t understand why they couldn’t see that he was just living a little, having some fun before he was tied to the throne. This latest escapade would hang over his head for a little longer than usual, and he’d have to try to seem really sorry, he decided, his brain beginning to clear as the alcohol finally began to wear off.

  He thought about getting up but decided a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt; then he’d have a nice long bath and come up with a plan. When he finally struggled to his feet, the first thing that greeted him was the huge mess he’d left in his room when he’d dressed for the party. Even the meal he’d eaten before he left was still sitting on the table by the window, the food shriveled and slightly nauseating. His temper flared to life as he looked around the room, and it only took three steps to reach the intercom on his wall.

  “Simon, you’d better be dead!” he screamed into the speaker. “Get your butt up here and explain why my room looks like this.”

  When there was only silence, he pushed the button again and screamed. “Simon, you’d better get up here and fast. I want this mess cleaned up and a hot bath.”

  As the seconds ticked by and the intercom remained deathly silent, Colin felt anger building deep inside him. He punched the wall and strode over to the door, filled with outrage that Simon was ignoring him, that he should be forced to come home to a mess. Throwing the door open, he began screaming Simon’s name as he stomped down the hallway.

  He’d only gone a few steps when doors along the corridor began to open, and his family began to pop their heads out. When he saw his mother, he stomped over to her. “Simon hasn’t cleaned my room; my dinner dishes are still sitting there, and I want a bath,” he spat.

  His father stepped between them. “Have you been drinking?” his father asked, sniffing the air.

  “No, of course not,” he said, stepping back from his father to put some distance between them. “Where the hell is Simon?”

  “Simon is home with his wife and their new baby, a girl, I believe,” his mother said, eyeing him suspiciously. “I told you that at breakfast this morning.”

  “Then why hasn’t someone else cleaned up my room?” he asked, scowling and crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Because if you will recall, your mother told you to take care of yourself,” his father said, stepping closer again, his eyes full of suspicion as well.

  Colin didn’t remember her telling him that and wouldn’t have agreed if he had. “I don’t see why I have to do that. We have plenty of servants around here; just assign me another one until Simon gets back,” he said.

  “Simon won’t be back for a week, and I can’t spare anyone else right now,” his mother said. “Besides, I thought it would be good for you to take care of yourself for a little while.”

  Colin could only stare at his mother. “That’s ridiculous. I’m the prince. I shouldn’t have to lift a finger. I want Simon back, and I want him now; he’s a servant, and he should be serving me,” he finally said.

  His parents exchanged a glance. “I’m sorry you feel that way, son, but I’m afraid Simon will be gone for the next week, and you’re on your own.”

  Colin threw his hands up in the air. “This is stupid,” he said, stalking back to his room and throwing open the door. “When I’m king, things are going different: no more special treatment for the servants, no more treating them like they’re worth more than they are.”

  He slammed the door hard, feeling some satisfaction in the childish gesture, then saw his room and wished he could slam it again. Instead, he walked over to the bed and shoved all the clothes onto the floor, then took his repulsive dinner tray over to the window, slid it open, and dropped it. The satisfying crash it made when it hit the ground below was almost as good as slamming the door.

  ***Darby***

  Darby slid the key in the lock, turned it, and let the door swing open slowly so that the comforting smell of her shop would embrace her gradually. Almost as good as that first sip of coffee in the morning, she loved this moment and always paused to savor it. Turning to look out into harbor, she saw the boats teeming with tourists just beginning to make their way out of the open ocean and towards the docks.

  Looking down the hill toward the pier, she was glad that she’d been able to afford a shop a little farther into the village. Small compared to some of the other businesses on the main street in town, she had just enough room to display her soaps, lotions, and perfumes. Although there was limited space for customers, the intimate feeling it gave the shop pleased them and gave her the opportunity to interact with everyone.

  She was just about to close the door when her assistant and best friend, Fiona, came sliding through. “I thought we deserved a treat today,” she said, thrusting a cup into Darby’s hands.

  The wonderful smell of coffee wafted up from t
he steam escaping from the lid. “I’ve already had three cups this morning,” she said. “Did you see the sunrise? Summer is really here.”

  But she took a sip of the steaming brew, unable to stop herself. Fiona grinned at her. “I knew you couldn’t resist. Besides, we’re going to need it. You know how the first day of the season is.”

  Darby groaned. “We’ll be sold out by lunch,” she said.

  “I don’t know why they always insist on having such big crowds on the first day of the season,” Fiona said, taking a sip of her coffee and switching on the lights.

  “It’s so they can bask in their popularity,” Darby said, heading for the stock room.

  “Oh, yes, the grand parade,” Fiona said, parading around the room with her nose in the air. “The one time of the year their highnesses come out of their lofty perch in the castle.”

  She laughed as Fiona continued to prance around the room. “Oh, they’re not that bad,” she finally said. “And we’d better get to work.”

  “You are no fun,” Fiona said, sticking her tongue out at Darby. “Maybe I’ll go watch the parade this year. I heard that Colin and Jamison are even more handsome than their father.”

  “Fawning over the royalty, are we now?” she asked, laughing.

  “Only when they look like our princes do,” Fiona said, winking at her.

  Darby sighed. “They’re Fae, Fiona; of course, they’re gorgeous.”

  “You really are no fun,” Fiona said, shaking her head. “Would it interest you to know that both Reese and Keaton are here too?”

  That got her attention. “They’re all here together? That must mean that something big is going to happen. Do you think Colin has finally agreed to get married?”

  “That’s the rumor I’ve been hearing,” Fiona said. “I figure if there is a woman, she’ll be in the parade.”

  She was tempted, but she knew that by the time the parade started, her shelves would be empty. “You go and tell me about it,” she said. “There’s going to be too much work to do here for me to get away.”

  “You’re just saying that because Queen Isabella comes to the shop after I’m gone,” Fiona said, pouting. “Are you ever going to let me stay when she comes?”

  “She’s made it perfectly clear that she will only come if I’m here alone,” Darby said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not really all that exciting anyway; she wanders around for a few minutes, orders the same thing she always does, then leaves.”

  “But she has to talk, has to say something,” Fiona protested.

  Darby shrugged her shoulders. “We make polite conversation about the weather and stuff like that, but she doesn’t exactly confide in me.”

  Fiona sighed. “Too bad. I was thinking that she might decide that you were perfect for Colin and sweep you away to the castle,” she said, closing her eyes and swaying. “You know, like Cinderella.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Fiona, you are such a romantic, but I’ve got news for you: even if Queen Isabella fell in love with me herself, they’d never let me into the castle,” she said. “Besides, I like my life the way it is. I wouldn’t even know what to do in the castle. Unlike you, I don’t want to be a part of that world.”

  “Too bad, you’re as close to one of them as I’ll ever get,” Fiona said. “But you never know; maybe I’ll catch the prince’s eye at the parade—you know, love at first sight, and I’ll be the one swept off her feet to the castle.”

  Darby laughed again. “Fiona, I hope someday your handsome prince does come riding up to your door to sweep you off your feet and make you a princess,” she said, bowing to her best friend. “But until then, we have a full morning in front of us, so I’ll need you to act like the commoner that you are and sell some stuff.”

  Fiona bowed back to her. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said, then disappeared through the storeroom door.

  It wasn’t long before she heard the tinkle of the bells on the front door, and the day started in earnest as the first customer came in. For the rest of the morning, a steady stream of women and a few brave men came in, and the shelves soon began to empty just as she’d known they would. But as she smiled at the humans, took their money, and ushered them out the door, Fiona’s little fantasy played over and over in her mind.

  She wondered what it would be like to be swept off her feet, to fall in love, to find that one person who made her feel complete. She thought about it all morning, imagined what it would be like, then, frustrated with herself, pushed those thoughts away. It was all just romantic drivel, the kind of stuff that belonged in novels, nothing like real life where few if any of our dreams ever come true.

  Chapter Two

  ***Colin***

  The sound of someone banging on his door woke Colin the next morning. “Go away and leave me alone,” he shouted, covering his head with the pillow against the morning sunlight.

  “I can’t do that; your dad sent me up to tell you that he wants you down at breakfast in fifteen minutes,” his best friend Keaton called through the door.

  Colin groaned. “Tell him I’m sleeping in.”

  There was silence on the other side of the door, and he closed his eyes to go back to sleep, but the pounding started again, this time louder. “Colin, you’d better get up and fast; your dad isn’t very happy with you,” Keaton yelled, pounding a few more times for emphasis.

  He sat up in bed, his head swimming a little. “Fine, I’m getting up,” he yelled, stumbling to his feet. “Find Simon and tell him I need him.”

  “Simon isn’t back yet,” Keaton said.

  Colin groaned. “Well, find someone else and send them up here. I can’t get dressed by myself,” he yelled.

  “Okay, but you’d better not keep your dad waiting long,” Keaton called.

  When he finally made it to the dining room, he was none too happy, and in no mood to listen to a lecture from his father. He sat down at the table, trying not to let his temper flare when he had to ask one of the servants for coffee, then sat back and prepared himself for the lecture he knew was coming. But his father didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way, and he started to squirm.

  There was still a small gap in his memory from the night before, and he suddenly wished he’d asked Keaton and Reese what they heard. Hoping for some clue from them, he tried to catch their eyes, but they were both concentrating on their breakfast. After a few minutes of trying, he realized that they were both avoiding looking at him, and he turned his attention to his brother.

  He was eating his breakfast with an intensity that he’d never seen before, and his heart sank; he must have done something terrible if even his brother wouldn’t look at him. When his breakfast was set down in front of him, he cleared his throat, hoping his father would at least look at him, but he just continued to read his paper.

  His appetite suddenly gone, he pushed the food around on his plate, then sent it away. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he pushed his chair away from the table and said, “Well, thanks for the interesting conversation. I think I’ll go back to my room now.”

  “Not so fast,” his father said, setting his paper down and looking at him for the first time. “Would you like to explain this?”

  The headline screamed at him, and he sank back down into the chair, the full memory of the night before suddenly flooding his mind. “I... it was supposed to be...”

  “Supposed to be what? Funny?” his father asked, slamming the paper down onto the table. “You think riding your horse down the main street of town in the middle of the night stark naked is funny?”

  Colin did think it was a little funny, especially now that he remembered it. The best part had been the look on people’s faces as they’d come careening through town, down to the docks, and then back up the road again. He tried to suppress the smile that threatened to explode across his face, but the corners of his mouth still turned up.

  His father sighed. “I can see that this is a conversation not even worth h
aving,” he said. “So, I’ll get right to the point. Your mother and I feel that some drastic measures must be undertaken if you are ever going to rule over Ballantine.”

  “Fine, what do you want me to do?” Colin asked, having heard this same speech many times.

  “I want you to go to your room and pack a few things; you’re leaving the castle today,” his father said.

  “And where will I be going?” he asked. “Have you found another relative that thinks they can straighten me out?”

  “No, I’m done trying to help you. We’ve done all we can; you’re on your own. I don’t care where you go as long as it’s away from the castle,” his father said, then got to his feet. “You may take one small bag with you, but no money, jewels, or other valuables.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, thinking his father must be kidding. “Are you kicking me out of the castle? This is my home. I’m the prince.”

  “You may be the prince, but you don’t act like it,” his mother said, pointing to the newspaper still sitting on the table. “For years, we’ve tried to teach you that everyone in Ballantine is important, tried to make you understand that the commoners aren’t our slaves. We’ve tried to teach you to be a wise leader, to govern with compassion, but it clearly hasn’t worked.”

  His father walked behind his mother’s chair and put his hands on her shoulders. “Son, this isn’t easy for us, but you’ve left us little choice. This latest escapade of yours only proves that you aren’t fit to govern. Maybe out there, you’ll learn something, maybe you’ll finally become the man you were supposed to be. If not, your brother will become the king,” he said.