Forest of Scarlet

Forest of Scarlet COURT OF MIDSUMMER MAYHEM BOOK ONE TARA GRAYCE Forest of Scarlet Court of Midsummer Mayhem Book 1 Copyright © 2022 by Tara Grayce Taragrayce.com Published by Sword & Cross Publishing Grand Rapids, MI Sword & Cross Publishing and the Sword & Cross Publishing logo are trademarks. Absence of TM in connection with Sword & Cross Publishing does not indicate an absence of trademark protection of those marks. Cover by Moorbooks Design www.moorbooksdesign.com Quotes and references are from The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy, as available in the public domain. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in written reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author. This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and settings are the product of the author's over-active imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, events, or settings is purely coincidental or used fictitiously. Soli Deo Gloria. 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 Epilogue Free Book! Don’t Miss the Next Adventure! Don’t Miss the Previous Adventures! Also by Tara Grayce Acknowledgments Chapter One The young human girl hunched on her hands and knees, sobbing as the giggling fae around her forced her to lap like a dog at the cake ground into the moss. The girl licked at the earth, spitting and grimacing as dirt and moss covered her tongue. Her cheeks glistened wet with her tears. Still so innocent, still not hardened to the point where she would become a shell, no longer willing to give her fae captors the pleasure of seeing her tears. At least her eyes remained clear, her mind her own even as she was forced to the degradation of eating dirt. A few yards away, a group of human musicians played a variety of instruments. The harpist strummed her golden harp, a placid smile on her face even as her fingers bled. Nearby, a female violinist sawed her bow back and forth with a vague expression on her face, seemingly uncaring as her fingers blistered from pressing on the strings. These captives had given up. To dull their pain, they’d eaten faerie fruit, willingly falling into the lulling, sweet nothingness that the fruit provided. The faerie fruit would make them pliable to faerie whims, but its addictive qualities made its victims crave the fruit even as it made them more a fae’s plaything. At the side of the boisterous crowd of fae, Brigid swirled the wine in her glass, not taking so much as a sip. Even the scent of the strong faerie wine threatened to lighten her head and turn her vision dizzy. If she drank, she’d become as empty-eyed as those poor souls. As it was, she let some of the headiness of the wine’s scent calm the burning in her chest at the sight of her fellow humans suffering the torments of the Fae Realm. As much as she wished she could rescue them all, she could only save one tonight. And her target had to be the child before she was taken by the lure of the faerie fruit or broken by the torture she’d already suffered. Brigid’s red silk dress swished around her, glinting in the glow of the yellow faerie lights that bobbed near the ceiling of the grand, garden palace. Massive rose arbors arched over the space while hedges outlined a variety of gardens, complete with burbling fountains and statues that might or might not have once been living people. Beyond the gardens, ginormous flowers—nothing but massive buds and blooms plopped directly on the moss with no stem, bush, or leaves—provided rooms amid the folds of their petals for the fae when they stopped their revelry long enough to collapse into sleep. Under the arched ivy arbors that formed the main throne room, the pixie Queen Mab of the Court of Dreams sat on her throne formed of flowers and thorns. The pixies, fauns, naiads, and dryads of her court danced attendance on her, even as the guests from the other courts paid their respects to their host for the lavish party. Brigid sashayed up to a group of fae ladies from a variety of courts, from the autumn fae ladies dressed in shades of orange to the pixies of Queen Mab’s court with their sheer, iridescent wings fluttering at their backs. Even in their full-sized forms, the pixies in the group barely reached Brigid’s shoulders. One of the fae ladies laughed and swigged more wine. “Hippolyta’s Pet!” Several of the other ladies tittered at Brigid’s nickname, whispering to each other behind their hands. The persona of being Queen Hippolyta’s entertaining project was Brigid’s protection—and protection for Hippolyta as well. If everyone dismissed Brigid as the strange human that Queen Hippolyta, ruler of the Court of Swordmaidens, had taken in as a pet, then they wouldn’t realize that Brigid was also the Wild Fae Primrose, the mysterious person stealing away humans from their fae captors. Brigid plastered on her doltish smile—an expression that came almost too easily to her at this point—and raised her glass. “Aren’t I pretty tonight? The dressmaker is commendable.” That wasn’t a lie. Layers of red embroidery in a sparkling, glinting thread weaved patterns over the red silk. Not wild fae primrose, as much as Brigid would have loved that symbolism. Still, the red was enough of a statement, even if only she and her few trusted companions knew its significance. The dress itself was, indeed, splendid, with layers of silk that floated around her. Better yet, the dress had pockets. Not just any pockets, but