Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3) by Katerina Martinez (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

and delicious. Before I knew it, I was grabbing another piece, and then another. I tried to keep as much decorum as I could, but it didn’t look like Ashera cared, so bit by bit, I stopped caring too.

“Eat the skin,” she said.

I glanced at a piece of chicken breast covered in a crispy, browned skin, and instantly the glands in my mouth screamed at me to do it. I reached for the chicken, held it down with one hand, and pulled the entire breast off with my other hand. After I’d set it on my plate, I took the skin off the chicken and ate it.

It was crispy, and hot, and packed with flavor like I’d never tasted before. The food back at the castle had been delicious too, but this was different. The food and the service there had been Michelin Star worthy. The food here was heavy, and flavorful, and comforting, and messy, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

I licked my fingers clean before grabbing a pitcher of hot apple cider and pouring some into a mug that was black, and hand made. Steam rose from the mug as it filled, and when I brought it to my lips and drank, the kick of cinnamon reminded me of home, of my mothers, of our Yuletide feasts with all the cookies and the roaring fireplace.

“And your pixie?” Ashera said, “Does she not need to eat?”

“I could eat…” Gullie whispered.

“Oh, sorry…” I said, “I forgot the world existed for a moment.”

Gullie zipped out of my hair and settled near my plate, where she delicately started picking off pieces of chicken to eat.

“Thank you,” I said, “For all this hospitality. For a moment I thought you were just going to kill us all.”

“Let’s not talk of death at the dinner table,” Ashera said.

I nodded. “I don’t know anything about this place, or about your people. I’ve only heard stories.”

“And likely, they are not good stories.”

“I don’t know about that. Your people are more like myths and legends to the other fae… why is that?”

“We prefer to live apart from the rest of them, because we are nothing like them, and that scares them.”

“Because you change shape and they don’t?”

“Indeed.” She paused. “And you say you, as if you are not one of us. You clearly have the gift.”

I shook my head. “I guess I just don’t believe it yet.”

“Why? The evidence of your breeding is clear, and whether you are the white wolf or not, you are still a Moon Child.”

The word breeding grated against my ears. “Up until about a month ago, I thought I was…” I shook my head. “You probably know already, but I don’t exactly smell like all the other fae.”

“No. When I first caught your scent, I picked up three distinct odors. Fae, pixie, and human. The pixie lives in your hair, which means you are a half-breed, but your fae side is obviously the dominant one, otherwise you would not be able to shapeshift.”

“Is it a problem that I’m part human?”

“That depends. I do not understand why a half-breed would inherit the burden of the white wolf and not someone more… pure, but here we are.”

I shook my head. “Wow, there are… a lot of things you just said that need unpacking—also, I’m not sure what’s in this apple drink, but it is strong as hell.”

“You do not like it?”

“No, I love it. But it’s going to knock me under the table if I’m not careful. Why is fae alcohol so powerful?”

“It’s not that powerful to us.”

I frowned, then took another sip. Somehow, the cider remained hot even over time. It should’ve started cooling by now, but it hadn’t. I looked at the mark on my hand, that shimmering, silvery tattoo, then glanced up at Ashera. I wanted answers, and I knew that meant I had to feed her some truths that could potentially lead to questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

They may have not recognized the Prince, but they must’ve heard of the Royal Selection. Windhelm had stood for ten thousand years, and there had been eight Royal Selections. Even these people who literally lived under a rock must’ve heard of it. I didn’t really want to have to explain all of that, but I still needed to find a way to get answers, so I decided to focus on asking questions instead.

I thought I would tackle the more pressing one first.

“Why do you think I’m a false prophet?” I asked.

“Have you heard the story of the white wolf?” she asked, “The prophecy?”

“I have, yes.”

“Could you tell me what you have heard?”

I took a deep breath. “When the snow turns black and red, and brother turns against brother, upon the light of the full moon shall come the tath isia to bring light into the darkness.”

“I see…” she paused. “What about the second part?”

“Second part?”

Ashera nodded. “It is typical for the second part of that same prophecy to be left out as it does not shine a positive light on the people of Windhelm.”

“Why is that?”

“And from that darkness, turned to light, shall the moon children rise once more to take that which was stolen from them, and with their teeth lay low both castle and fortress, and restore the seat of winter.”

A cold wash pulsed through me, sending a shiver up my spine. The whole time we had discussed the prophecy and what it meant, we had never known there was a second part to the prophecy. And if Melina did, she hadn’t told us, but I didn’t think she was hiding anything from us. She wouldn’t.

“I have not heard that,” I said.

“I’m not surprised,” Ashera said, “The castle fae like to keep that part out of their stories because it spells the fall of their oppressive empire, the end of their reign.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they don’t like the world remembering what they did to our people. It is destiny that we will one day bring the fight to