A Cage of Crystal

A CAGE OF CRYSTAL PROPHECY OF THE FORGOTTEN FAE BOOK TWO TESSONJA ODETTE Copyright © 2023 by Tessonja Odette All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover design by Covers by Combs Map and header images by Tessonja Odette 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 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 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Free Mareleau short story Also by Tessonja Odette About the Author 1 Aveline Corasande Caelan had been a prisoner before, but never in so lovely a cage. By appearances, she was in a luxurious bedchamber. It was twice as large as her childhood bedroom with white marble floors bedecked with opulent carpets and walls papered in a white and gold rose motif. Despite the room’s comforting display, Cora knew the truth. She was stuck here. The room was certainly an improvement upon the wagon she’d been kept in after she was captured at Centerpointe Rock, but it didn’t change the fact that she was on trial. It was a quiet trial, one of secret conversations and endless questions held behind the closed doors of this gilded prison, but it was a trial nonetheless. And Cora was getting godsdamned tired of it. She strolled from the mahogany bureau to the plush bed, ignoring the quiet company of the ever-present guard who stood before her closed door. With an aggravated sigh, she sat at the edge of the mattress. The comfort of her seat helped take the edge off her restlessness, not to mention the slight throb she felt in her still-recovering ankle. Thankfully, getting trapped under a dead horse had resulted in only a few sprains and not fractures. Almost a month had passed since the battle at Centerpointe Rock. After her injuries had been tended to, nearly every waking moment had been spent trying to prove her identity and the—at least partial—innocence of her brother, King Dimetreus. They’d both been hauled off the battlefield and taken into custody. King Verdian of Selay had become their captor. Nameless men and women had become her inquisitors, asking her to recount everything about Duke Morkai, his magic, her childhood, and her brother while they listened with intimidating silence. She was certain the only reason she and Dimetreus hadn’t been sent to the dungeon upon arriving at Verlot Palace was because Teryn Alante, Prince of Menah, had intervened on her behalf. Thoughts of Teryn did strange things to her heart. She wasn’t sure if he made it sink or flutter. Both perhaps. She was sure of one thing though; she needed to stop thinking of him as a prince. With his father dead, he was king now. Or would be soon. She hadn’t a clue how he’d fared since the battle. When last she’d seen him, he’d been wounded. It hadn’t been the deadliest of wounds, but it didn’t stop her from worrying about him. No matter how many times she’d hounded her captors with inquiries, no one would say a damn word about Teryn’s well-being. Today no one had said a word to her at all. This was the first day she hadn’t been visited by inquisitors at the crack of dawn. She couldn’t help but assume the worst. That King Verdian had made his decision regarding Cora and her brother’s fate. Panic rippled through her, mingling with a flash of anger. Curling her fingers into fists, she pushed off the bed and marched to the nearest window. At least, she intended to march. As her first hard step on her right leg sent a sharp pain through her ankle, she forced herself to slow. Keep her steps even. Careful. She’d only been given the go-ahead to walk on it this week. She supposed she should feel grateful that her wounds had been tended to at all. She reached the velvet-draped window and tugged the curtain aside. Morning sunlight winked back at her, rising over the sprawling mountains in the distance. Her nerves stilled at the sight of those mountains, at the thought of those forests. What she wouldn’t give to be transported straight there, to escape these stifling walls and fill her lungs with early summer air. Can’t I? a small voice inside her asked. Can’t I just…leave? She remembered what she’d done at the battle, how she’d somehow managed to cross time and space, bringing her from beneath the dead horse that had pinned her legs, to the rock where the duke had stood. It had happened in the blink of an eye. And yet, the more time that passed between then and now, the more she began to doubt it had truly happened that way. Surely there was another explanation for it. She’d heard of witches who could astral project and astral travel, but those powers were rare. What were the chances Cora had accomplished such a feat? Besides, even if she could disappear, she knew she couldn’t. She’d made her choice. Now she had to see it through. At least there was one way she could experience what stood outside her prison. Sort of. Pressing her forehead to the cool glass, she closed her eyes and extended her senses outward.