Fae of the South (Court of Crown and Compass Book 3) by E. Hall (libby ebook reader .txt) 📕

Fae of the South

Court of Crown and Compass

Book III

by

E. Hall

Fae of the South

Copyright© 2020 E. Hall

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author/publisher except where permitted by law.

This 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, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover art and design by Mihaela Voicu

Website: http://www.ehallauthor.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ehallauthor

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/EhallNL

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

Let’s Connect

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by E. Hall

Demons shadow thieve,

while the fae court grieve.

Four sisters to find.

One compass to bind.

Four crowns to take.

One curse to break.

Before twelve moons turn,

else the realm will burn.

Chapter 1

Leajka

Cameras flash and the roar of the crowd fades as Lucas slips his arm around my shoulders. I tingle at the press of his palm against my back. Still sweaty from the basketball game, heat pours off of him. From nearby, my friends cheer me on, winking, smiling, and wearing expressions that say see, told you so.

Teammates knock him on the shoulder, offering congratulations for winning the game and a date to senior prom.

Lucas bites his lip in that irresistible way and leans into my ear. “Someone else already asked me. I’m sorry, Lea.”

Saundra Perkins aka Miss Popularity, wearing a high ponytail and a tight version of our team’s basketball jersey, marches over. “Sorry, weirdo. I asked Lucas first. He’s mine.” Her smile is less sympathetic friend and more mean girl.

My smile falls. My stomach swoops. The last few minutes when I gummed up the courage to walk onto the court with my sign that says Let’s Have a Ball at Prom, with a giant basketball painted on it, and asked him to be my date swarms me with the sting of embarrassment.

The silly poster that all of my friends insisted I make, goading me on, assuring me that he’d say yes, feels like it’ll slip from my fingers and I’ll go with it. Splat. Right onto the court.

I’m not the kind of girl to put myself on the line. But I’ve been sidelined.

I’m also not the kind of girl who wishes to disappear. I do now.

I’m not the kind of girl who does things like ask a boy to prom. This rejection proves that.

I’m not the kind of girl who takes risks when emotions are involved. Never again.

Right then, sadness over the good girl I’m trying to be and fury over the reject that I am rises up inside and go to war.

As Lucas’s mom pumps the air and takes photos of us, the good girl inside tells me to smile. The warmth of a blush colors my cheeks. The bad girl inside urges me to scowl.

What are the odds, that the boy I’ve been flirting with for months in the three classes we share, had said yes to someone between final period and now? Less than three hours have elapsed.

He’d been date-less. We talked about what we’d do before and after prom, where we’d go to eat dinner, we even invented our own prom theme based on our favorite show during lunch. We pretend to do homework during study period when really we just pass notes back and forth. We’d seek each other out at school. We’d laughed. He’d nudged me with his arm. He’d played with the edge of my notebook and our fingers brushed. They’d remained there.

Had he led me on? Did he flirt like that with all of the girls?

If I’d been asked by some popular guy to the prom before solidifying plans with Lucas what would I have said?

Confusion meets the sadness and anger, tearing me up inside.

I look everywhere but at Lucas as though the post-game chaos will provide answers. I’d just recently split with my bad girl ways. I revamped my reputation. I’d brought my grades up, attended classes, and started hanging out with my girlfriends more. Tyrren doesn’t count because we’ve just always vibed. I wish he was here now. He’s practically family. I’d finally come out of a dark period and now here I am, being thrust back there.

My friends rush over, singing their congratulations. The sound is muted, my vision dull. Yet, there is no mistaking the look Lucas gives me. Pity.

He cranes his head, leaning in again, as though to offer another apology.

No. No way.

This is why I hate high school. It’s all fake—the friends, the drama, the pomp. All of it. Why did I bother to try?

Saundra links her arm through his and then pulls away because he’s sweaty. Realization dawns on my friends’ faces. Of course, they didn’t hear the whispered rejection.

I shove past them to the door of the gymnasium and outside. The nighttime air is Brooklyn-electric—an energy all its own. I won’t be having a pity party. No, I’m out of here.

First, I stop at the forge where Tyrren apprentices as a blacksmith. It’s in a warehouse on Franklin and Kent. After I close