This is the series starter for my Faerie Rivalry series. It’s a ‘why choose’ Romance series (and yes I put a happy ending or a happy enough for now in every Romance I write. They’re real Romances). They’re often called ‘reverse harem’. The main character has multiple polyandrous (male) relationships throughout the series at the same time.

Don’t go into the woods. When the fae abound, the woods belong to them.

Liadháin prefers boring over exciting. She lives for video games, books, and gardening, in that order. After her beloved grandmother passes, she’s adjusting to living alone with her cat Ruaidhrí, in a medieval smithy by a haunted forest. One of those forests they always tell you stay out of. On her twenty-fifth birthday she decides to explore that forest.

Following Ruaidhrí through a Faerie Portal wasn’t exactly on her to do list. It’s a shock when he shifts into a rather attractive Fae male and informs her she was smuggled out of Faerie as a three-day-old princess, and now she’s the exiled High Queen of a Faerie torn apart by war, famine, and drought. The only way to save it is to end the war.

Mate-bonded and suddenly the daughter of a goddess, Liadháin faces a future like something out of one of her games or novels. But the reality isn’t as fun as reading about it happening to someone else. The Goddess Anu has declared that Liadháin take the throne, whether she wants it or not.

Destined to end a millennia long war, Liadháin must find a way to unite Faerie before every fae is enslaved by the Fomorians or worse.

1

LIADHÁIN

Don’t go into the woods.

That’s what I’ve always been told by everyone older and supposedly wiser than me. But as the last shovel-full of dirt thumped home on the simple pine coffin that held the last person who gave a shit about me—I found I didn’t care anymore. I set aside the shovel, lifted my gaze and looked forlornly into the forest I’d never stepped into. I’d respected Gram too much to buck her rules. But her rules had died with her.

I stood and looked at my adoptive grandmother’s grave dry-eyed and heart sore. At least she wasn’t in pain any longer. She’d held on as long as she could against the pandemic; but in the end, she’d died. Just like so many others. In some ways, the ones who died were lucky. They didn’t have to live out their days broken… like me.

Though it had been measles followed by a bad case of the mumps when I was two years old that had given me post viral syndrome; the most recent pandemic had cursed millions with it. And society seemed determined to utterly ignore the newly disabled people. Anything to pretend to normality.

Straightening my shoulders under the worn, unfashionable black dress I’d owned since forever; I braced myself and bent to gently lay the pretty little nosegay on the freshly turned soil. I’d harvested the narcissus and purple tulips from my flower garden just before the service and wrapped them with dangling ribbons.

Gram had always encouraged my enjoyment of flowers and gardening. It was something my frail body could do. And I usually felt much better outside than in. I just sat while I did it all. Luckily, new and better tools for disabled gardeners existed and made it all so much easier. And my imaginary friends had shared enough knowledge with me that I’d managed to make a small self-sustaining business out of selling rare herbal remedies online.

My sales for beet root powder had skyrocketed in past months as people searched desperately for anything that would help their failing bodies.

My knees folded and without meaning to I knelt at the graveside. Everyone else, the few people who had bothered to come, had disappeared when I’d picked up the shovel. Even the pastor had gone. A low groan of anguish rolled out of me. I already missed her. What would I do now? I had no one.

Moira had taken me in—a strange child who would’ve been called Fae-touched centuries ago—when no one had wanted me. We’d done the best we could for one another. I would certainly have died somewhere lonely without her.

And I’d been able to do nothing to ease her passing. I lifted my work worn hands in front of me and wished in vain that I had magic like all of my fantasy stories and games talked about. Rough, reddened callouses and dry skin greeted my gaze. My nails had torn on the rocks of the new garden area and no amount of scrubbing with an Emory board could truly ease their edges.

Hmm. Maybe some lotion wouldn’t go amiss.

Tears burned my eyes. Gram had always nagged me about making sure I took care of my hands. I let them fall to nestle in my lap and closed my eyes. In the bright sunlight, I’d never be able to see my friends well, though they were there. Cold spots that never shifted surrounded me and they were probably sitting close offering what comfort they could. I hadn’t ever been very good at meditation like they tried to teach it; but the sounds of nature all around me helped. The air rang with the raucous twittering of spring birds looking for mates and the soft sounds of the burbling stream that meandered behind our home. The small family graveyard attached to the old forge smelled of ancient, wet stone, freshly turned earth, and torn grass. Tuning in to it all served to centre me.

I missed her strong, gnarled hand on my shoulder so much already.

I bent my head and let the tears flow. No one could see me now.

The storm of my grief—like so many things—eventually passed leaving me strung out, numb, and with a massive headache.

Not to mention swollen eyes, nose, and a scratchy sound to my voice.

Prrrbt!

The large orange and white cat that had attached himself to me several months ago trit-trotted into the yard—pausing to head-butt me in a gesture of affection. I didn’t even sound like myself as I croaked out his name, “Hey, Ruaidhrí”. Ru-ree. A good old fashioned Irish name that had tickled my grandmother pink. The old lady had religiously left out offerings for the fair-folk. Her belief in them had always bemused me but I went along with it. Like she went along with my imaginary friends. There’d been no harm in either.

Ruaidhrí’s great, fluffy orange tail twitched as he sat down and primly placed his huge white paws just so. His brilliant gold eyes looked up into mine—something I’d never experienced with another cat—then he mewed a bit impatiently.

“Hungry? Huh, puss?”

I levered myself up to my feet with the world spinning around me. I hated this weakness so much. Once I had my balance I turned to go to the house and completely missed the way the cat rolled his eyes.

After filling Ruaidhrí’s bowls I trudged up the stairs to take a shower. It wouldn’t help my heartache, but I could at least be clean if I had to grieve.

I lingered in the steamy air long enough to smooth my skin with moisturizer and gently untangle my blue-black curls into something resembling an orderly style. I smoothed coconut scented hair cream into the locks as I ran my fingers through them. The shea and cocoa of my lotion and the coconut in my hair made me smell like I should be on a Caribbean Island somewhere, but they gave me a little comfort. I was usually too busy outside to take time to pamper myself. Gram had always nagged me about taking time for things I enjoyed.

In honour of her memory, I’d do that tonight.

I shuffled into my room and hung up the towel to let my skin air dry. Once I was dry enough, I slipped into casual lounge clothes and trudged back to the kitchen. I had absolutely no appetite, but Gram would’ve badgered me until I ate, so I did it for her.

I served myself a slice of lasagna a kind neighbor had brought, and when Ruaidhrí demanded some of his own, I nuked a second plate and put it down in front of his eager pink nose. He turned his nose up at kibble and even canned food so much of the time that I’d given up trying to keep from sharing with him.

I set my plate on the table and had almost sat down when I remembered the offering. I quickly heated a third plate of delicious smelling Italian food. Then took it out back near the woods I wasn’t supposed to ever enter and left it on the flat stone Gram had always used for it. I rested the frothy mug of ale there, as well. I could almost hear Gram’s voice and it stabbed me in the heart. “Mustn’t short the good neighbors, me petal. They only stay good so long as you respect them.”

I went back inside and finished putting the plates on the table. In a surge of sadness, I picked Ruaidhrí’s plate up from the floor and set it on the table. He quickly followed. Who even cared if the cat was on the furniture anymore?

Besides… I didn’t want to eat alone.

After I’d sat at the lonely kitchen table long enough to shovel food into my face I stood, rinsed off my dish and filled my water bottle before shuffling into the den. This had been mostly my space since I was a teen, and my gaming computer was set up on the big old desk my Gram had rescued and refurbished when I’d been fourteen.

An over-worn, heavily stuffed chair three times too big for me sat in the corner bracketed by bookshelves full of fantasy novels of every type. A hand-crocheted blanket with purple cabbage roses on it draped the arm and I’d probably have to get both the chair and the ottoman refurbished sometime soon. All our furniture had been second or even third hand. Gram had always valued frugality.

I got myself settled in the worn leather office chair but stood up immediately to open all the windows in the small room. The air was stuffy and though it held a bit of chill, the warm spring day had made it comfy enough outside to refresh the air. I couldn’t stand the choked off breathless experience of feeling confined. Even though I had no reason for it I just couldn’t stand it.

Then I sat down and logged into my current fantasy game obsession.

The old grandfather clock in the hall clanged three a.m. when I finally dragged myself away from the game, yawning fit to crack my jaw. Ruaidhrí had long ago curled up in my lap and sunk into that liquid-boned cat-sleep. If I concentrated, I could even still wiggle my toes. Heavy cat. My movement woke him, and he yawned, splitting his face in half like some sort of demon.

Cats are adorable wee fur beasties, but they tend to look like they’re some sort of monster with their mouths open like that.

I sat petting his back for a time until he deigned to move off his throne, AKA me.

I stretched my arms high and cracked my back. My body ached in every nerve and fibre. Sighing at the necessity, I stood up and made my way around the house turning off lights, closing blinds, and locking doors. We were pretty isolated out here, but Gram had always insisted.

The house was attached to what had originally been a medieval smithy, and the lands around it had stayed with the home through the centuries. Gram had shared her will with me and made sure I was listed as an owner of the property as soon as I’d turned eighteen. It all came to me now she was gone but I’d have happily given it all back to her for just one more hug.

My eyes burning, I brushed my teeth then held a cold wet washcloth over my lids for several seconds.

I let a couple of drops of lavender essential oil fall into my hands, rubbed them together and cupped it in front of my nose. Inhaling, I let the soothing scent of Spanish Lavender ease my emotions.

It’s not like we both hadn’t seen her death coming. But even knowing it was inevitable, the parting still hurt immensely.

I shuffled into my bedroom, went back out into the hall to close Gram’s door then back to my room. I didn’t want to go to the wash in the morning only to see my Gram’s belongings everywhere. Eventually, I’d have to pack it all up but that would wait until I was strong enough to do so.

I kicked off my slippers and let my sweatpants fall to my ankles. I left my tank top and panties on, then climbed between the line dried softness of my sheets. Tucking the handmade quilts over my chest and under my arms, I sighed and stared up at the ceiling. I’d been exhausted downstairs but now that I’d come to bed properly my eyelids were glued open.

“Come on Lia, just sleep. It’s not hard.”

I snorted. Like that had ever helped. Something that was always so easy for so many others had always eluded me.

Ruaidhrí made a brrrping sound as he pushed his head against the loosely closed door and padded over to the bed. He hopped up to settle himself against my right side in his accustomed sleeping spot. He zonked out as quickly as most cats I’d known.

‘Sleepless, Mo leanbh, mo yah-nov?’

I nodded and looked to the window where one of my four imaginary friends sat looking out at the half full moon. They all spoke a weird language that sounded sort of, but not quite, like Old Irish. There was always one of the four of them with me. Translucent, her form glowed around the edges. She’d always dressed oddly in soft medieval-looking gowns of flowing fabric. Her opal-sheened blonde hair hung to the backs of her calves. It was part of what had helped convince me that she, like my other imaginary friends, were indeed just figments of my illness-addled brain.

When I’d been young, I’d not known that others weren’t… well… haunted like me. It had taken some rather uncomfortable social set downs for me to learn and keep it to myself.

But I was alone now. No one to judge me if I talked to myself or to them; it just didn’t matter how it looked anymore.

Brushing aside yet another tear… you’d think I’d run dry already; I sighed and sadly said, “I miss her, Aoibhann. What am I going to do without her?” Ay-van. Another Irish name I must’ve heard somewhere before my child brain conjured her.

She stood and drifted over to me, resting a ghostly glowing hand over my forehead, she leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. My skin tingled at the chill. The liquid, lilting sound of the almost Old Irish—the only thing she ever spoke—soothed me like the sounds of the stream earlier.

‘Rest, little one. That is what you do. Then, in the morning—as we all do when we’ve lost someone we love—we get up and carry on.’

Ruaidhrí’s back rumbled as a deep throbbing purr filled the air around me and I took my ghostly guardian’s advice and curled up around him. I let the loud vibrations soothe me into sleep.

RUAIDHRÍ

Once Liadháin had settled into a restless sleep, I sat up, groomed a paw, then dropped down onto the worn wooden floor with an almost soundless thump.

Time for my rounds.

One of the last times in fact. Liadháin’s twenty-fifth birthday was fourteen days away and then it would be time to take her home. Finally.

Though how exactly I’d manage that I didn’t know. It’s not like I could actually talk or shift on this side of the veil. I could do mental speech if I strained for it and the receiver was both open and of Fae descent, but it took so much energy I only did it for emergencies. Yapping at Liadháin now would likely not be the best choice in any case. She thought I was just a stray cat.

A problem for next fortnight. Tonight, I’d make sure we were safe. We were too close to success for anything to happen now.

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