Chapter 1 My Exile- Leora

                    For twenty years I've languished on this patch of dirt Humans call a "farm," cast out from Elphame when my aunt's whispers turned the Court against me. I was thirteen then. The wound hasn't scabbed over. Every spring I find myself watching for messengers that never arrive, my foolish hope unfurling like new leaves only to drop and decay when winter comes without word from the Fae Realm. Another year passes. I stand at the property line, eyes fixed on distant hills that aren't the ones I once called home.                                                

If not for Lucinda Baylor, Lady Lucinda, one of the few females of the Wild Hunt, claiming me as her godchild, I'd have been sent far away and forgotten about like some discarded trinket. The Seelie Royal Councilors would have devoured my name and my heart in a single sitting, to ensure no royal heir ever challenged their power. Instead, Lucinda wrapped me in her protection, and I found myself stranded in a realm that tastes of iron and asphalt. She had long left Elphame for the Human Realm, for reasons she didn’t like to discuss. Lucinda was my mom’s best friend, before she was murdered.

Don't get me wrong, this place has its beauty. Some days, when the honeysuckle pours over the boundary fence, and the fireflies flicker so thick they become a net of stars, I can almost forget this is my banishment.

There are plenty of other Fae outcasts here that understand the ache of rejection. The Fae in Elphame are not the kindest to those who are considered “different.” But we have formed a tight family bond here growing up together, a rag tag of misfits. They span from all over Elphame. From the Unsselie to the Seelie Realms, the Witches of the Shiron Forest, the Upir of the Yursa Mountain, the Blood Beast that are from the southern regions, some are mixed with human blood, some orphaned, and then me, a damned,  unwanted Princess. We all arrived at a young age. Some toddlers orphaned, some teenagers like me. Elphame's castoffs found each other here, all of us knowing what it means when your own kind turns their backs on you. We were all so different, but our shared experiences in the Fae and Human Realms have forged something much greater, something unbreakable.  A family.

This is where I found Lane, the closest thing to a sister I've ever known. We became inseparable from the first day. She'd been at the farm since infancy, a Witch Fae abandoned by her own kind, left behind like something broken or wrong. The farm family gathered her up years before I stumbled into their world, just another unwanted creature seeking shelter.

There wasn’t much time to harp on our past at the farm. Each sunrise brought its own demands, goats and sheep begging for feed before the dew burned off, fences sagging after winter frost, berry bushes heavy with fruit that wouldn't wait another day. My hands grew calloused alongside everyone else's. The Sindarin name on my back meant nothing to the dirt under my fingernails or the sweat soaking my collar.

Looking back, those endless days shaped me. My muscles learned efficiency, my mind sharpness. I grew into someone who could solve problems before others even noticed them.

Our education filled every moment not claimed by farm chores. Lucinda taught most lessons, though occasionally one of the elder Fae would take over, their curious eyes watching as we struggled through equations or stumbled over Fae history. We studied the Human Realm like foreign territory, dangerous but necessary to understand. At night, we'd trace constellations with our fingers, and learn of the Ancient Faes powers. But no lesson mattered more than combat training, the unspoken reminder that someday, our lives might depend on protecting one another.

Battle training became as routine as sleep. The farm's isolation served us well, tall pines standing sentinel around our battleground. We'd nock arrows by late morning, the vast fields swallowing our misses while we learned to hit targets at impossible distances. By midday, the clash of practice swords echoed against the weathered barn, our bodies weaving between splintered posts that had endured decades of similar abuse. Horseback lessons followed, where we learned that controlling a thousand-pound beast might someday mean the difference between escape and capture.

After weapons training came magic practice. While the others gathered in the meadow to showcase their gifts, I slipped away to the old willow by the pond. There, under Lucinda's watchful eye, I practiced what we never spoke of openly, my ability to syphon. With just my fingertips against bark, I could draw life from the smallest branch, watching it wither while warmth flooded my veins. "Only when necessary," Lucinda would remind me as I eased suffering from injured rabbits or fading foxes hit by cars passing by.

My other talents, bending water into impossible shapes, weaving darkness into cloaks of shadow, were equally concealed. Such power in one Fae raised too many questions. So while Lane kept my secret, the others assumed I spent afternoons with books or mops, still waiting for my magic to emerge.

Lucinda made sure everyone in the family could earn their own keep. "Financial independence," she'd say, "is freedom." Our acres yielded strawberries in June, blackberries in July, and apples come fall, all sold at roadside stands or the Saturday market downtown. Between harvests, we'd transform the land's bounty into jars of amber honey, crimson and violet preserves, and creamy white soaps that carried the scent of our meadows. Tourists and locals alike would line up at our Fairy Berry Farms booth, cash in hand, while Lucinda worked the crowd like a politician, remembering every customer's name and their children's allergies.

At eighteen, Lucinda presented us with two paths: higher education or vocational training aligned with our talents. Lane chose accounting, vanishing into the ordered world of ledgers and tax law. I chose writing, bending over ancient Fae manuscripts from the farm's library, crafting narratives about the very beings who had cast me out, and selling them to an audience who thought they were mere fantasy.

I had moved away from the farm when I turned twenty, but I still came and helped any chance I could get.

 “LEO!”

   I recognized the voice shouting my name, it was Lucinda's, and her scream was loud enough to wake the dead.

 “Coming!” I shouted back.

              As I ran towards the house, I saw Lucinda's tall figure standing in the doorway, her dark brown skin glistening in the sunlight. Her hair, braided and pulled back, framed her face, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes, the most beautiful golden brown, shimmered.

   As I drew nearer, her smile blossomed across her face. She stood gracefully on the porch of the house, dressed in a breezy, yellow blouse that fluttered. I bounded up the stairs, and she pulled me in a warm embrace.

   "You do realize I'm pretty gross right now, don't you?" I chuckled.

   “My dear, it doesn't bother me one bit. If you believe a bit of sweat will stop me from giving you a hug, you're sadly mistaken. I hardly see you as it is, with you always being busy in the city now." She gazed down at me, gave me one more tight hug. When she spoke, each syllable rang with the unmistakable melody that only those of Fae blood possess. The accent that I had long lost.

  Lucinda stood tall above me, as is typical for most Fae. Practically a giant to my eyes. By the time she relocated here she was already a fully grown Fae. I crossed the threshold into the Human Realm at the awkward age of thirteen, still desperately wishing for a growth spurt that never arrived. It stunted my growth unnaturally and left me trapped in my petite frame. I never exceeded five feet in height. Forever looking upwards, I tried to make peace with my size. I was, at least, grateful to have developed some feminine curves.

  "I'm sorry. I've been really swamped. Becca’s been pushing me to finish up the final chapters of the book. It's almost done. And I promise, once I finish, I'll have a lot more time on my hands.”

  "That's why I brought you up here. Becca has already called three times to check on you. I swear, that Witch never rests."

   Becca, my trusty agent, and I have been collaborating for years. Over the past decade, I've been a best-selling author three times. The anticipation for my next novel's release is exciting. There's an indescribable thrill in spotting my work etched onto the pages of the New York Times best seller list.

  And Becca is indeed a Fae Witch. She said she had grown tired of the Fae Realm and left when she was young. (I didn’t ask many questions. It wasn’t my business.) She went to college in Atlanta and became a well-known literary agent.  Becca is a force to be reckoned with, at least if you are trying to sell books. 

   "I really need to head back home. Jacob and Settie are wrapping up with the horses. They've all been fed and watered.” I began to push the wisps of hair out from my face. When I ran my fingers over my face, I could feel the dust from today's work.

   "So, does that mean you’ll be back soon?" Lucinda smirked, as if she saw right through my fib.

   “Yes ma’am. I will be back in two days. That gives me time to wrap everything up. Then I’m all yours. Tell Lane I’ll call her when I get home.”

  I returned to her embrace. I rose onto my tiptoes to plant a kiss on her cheek.  I pulled at one of her braids, letting the silky texture slip through my fingers. She smelled of honey and creamy soap. I closed my eyes as if trying to bid that scent to memories. As I turned to go, Lucinda fastened my arm in her firm grip, pulling me back to her side. Her eyes, as wise and steady as the phases of the moon, met mine.

"You know I'm proud of you, don't you?" The look in her eyes seized my heartbeats for just a few moments. I had difficulty swallowing. I blinked hard.

   "I do." The words slipped from my lips with ease, carrying the weight of my sincerity.  Lucinda raised me after my parents were killed and I was exiled from the Fae Realm, with nowhere to go. I wanted her to truly grasp my gratitude for everything she had done, even though finding words for that was impossible. 

   She nodded, and I made my way to my car. I had an odd feeling all the way home. My chest felt so heavy. It’s like Lucinda knew something, but didn’t want to tell me. She’s always been very open with me. Even hard topics. My royal standing, which I don’t really care about, the death threats from the Fae Realm, even my love life, or lack thereof.  But, this seemed different.