The Torn Wing
Authors: Kiki Hamilton
Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Young Adult, #Historical
The TORN WING
Copyright 2012 © Karen Hamilton
All Rights Reserved.
Cover design by Kiki Hamilton and CreateSpace.
Map by Virginia Allyn
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
ISBN 978 – 1470131432
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9881999-0-3
First Edition: October 2012
This book is dedicated to you, Dear Reader, for sticking with me and caring enough to want to know what happens next with Tiki and her family.
Thank you.
Also by Kiki Hamilton
THE FAERIE RING
Contents
Key to Pronunciation and Meaning of Irish Words
(With thanks to
irishgaelictranslator.com
)
An fáinne sí
(un FAWN-yeh shee)
The faerie ring
Na síochána, aontaímid
(nuh SHEE-uh-khaw-nuh, EEN-tee-mij)
For the sake of peace, we agree
Grá do dhuine básmhar
(Graw duh GGWIN-yeh BAWSS-wur)
Love for a mortal person
Óinseach
(OWN-shukh)
Fool/idiot (for a female)
Nimh Álainn
(niv AW-lin)
Beautiful Poison
Tánaiste
(Tawn-ISH-tah)
Second in command
Cloch na Teamhrach
(klukh nuh TYARR-uh)
Stone of Tara
The TORN WING
Dear Reader,
The story told within
THE FAERIE RING series
is a combination of fact and fiction. Known as ‘historical fantasy’, I like to think of the books as a
‘what if….’
kind of story.
Much of book one, THE FAERIE RING, is grounded in reality:
Queen Victoria and Princes Leopold and Arthur
were real historical figures. In fact, the story was set in the year 1871 because that was the year Prince Leopold was eighteen years old.
Many of the places referenced in the story:
Charing Cross Station, King’s Cross Station, The World’s End Pub, St. James Park, the Birdkeeper’s Cottage, Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park,
and
the Great Ormond Street Hospital
, are real and can be visited today -should you be lucky enough to find yourself in London.
As you read book two, THE TORN WING, you might find it interesting to know
The Wychwood Forest
is also real and located in Oxfordshire, England. The Wychwood was a royal forest for centuries, providing a place for the sovereigns to hunt. It wasn’t until 1988 that a public footpath was created through the Wychwood, though there was evidence of the trails being used by locals for centuries. “Milton Stone”, used to build St. George’s Chapel of Windsor Castle, was quarried from Milton-Under-Wychwood, a town located within the forest. Among the legends associated with the Forest today are tales of hobgoblins and faerie folk as well as witches and more.
Additionally,
Wydryn Tor
, also known as
Glastonbury Tor
, is a hill in England that has been associated with
Gwn Ap Nud
, the King of Faeries. The Tor is also said to be linked to Avalon of Arthurian legend, and is believed by some to represent an entrance to the land of Faerie.
The Hill of Tara
is a significant historical site in Ireland and contains a number of ancient monuments. According to tradition, the Hill of Tara is the seat of the High King of Ireland. There are also stories naming the Hill of Tara as the capital of the
Tuatha Dé Danann
(the Irish race of gods in Irish-Celtic mythology who retreated underground and became known as the
Sidhe
or
Aos Sí
— more commonly known today as Faeries.)
The London Stone
is a real artifact which dates back to the Middle Ages and was stored for many years in the wall of the St. Swithin Church. Today, the London Stone is still displayed and available for viewing on Cannon Street. The myths associated with the stone in this story are the same myths associated with the stone in real life.
Additional information
you might find interesting regarding some of the
people, places and things
mentioned in THE TORN WING are listed in the Author’s Note at the end, though to avoid any spoilers, perhaps best read
after
you finish the book.
Now—on with Tiki’s story…
The Otherworld
T
he killer walked boldly down the corridor of the Summer Court, his steps measured and confident. His fortitude over the years as he’d lain staked and dying a slow, painful death in the depths of the Wychwood Forest would be rewarded tonight.
Floors, the color and texture of brook-fed moss, softened the approach of his booted feet. Vast columns, similar to those that graced the center front of Buckingham Palace, lined the passageway. Entwined with fragrant vines of honeysuckle, passion flower and wisteria, the great stone pillars supported a ceiling as blue and endless as the summer sky.
The killer’s lip curled in disgust. The Seelie fey loved the sunlight and their mortal affectations. The UnSeelie’s love of darkness and blood suited his tastes much better. A true UnSeelie would rather torture a mortal than befriend the thing. He, on the other hand, would prefer to eat its heart.
At the end of the hallway two guards stood at attention in front of a pair of immense arch-topped doors. They gripped a spear in each hand, arms crossed over their red-coated chests, their black eyes alert and wary. Curved backswords hung from their belts, the silver blades glittering in the torch light like deadly adornments. It was common knowledge the razor-sharp blades of their weapons were crafted of cold iron—poison to any fey. What the guards didn’t know was that iron would have no affect on him.
The killer bowed to the guards, the golden tray he carried proffered for their inspection. Upon the tray rested a single golden chalice, the base and rim sparkling with rubies, emeralds and amethysts. “I deliver the King’s nightly libation.”
The taller of the two guards raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “Sionnach, you’ve returned. I didn’t know you were now also a serving wench.”
Sionnach’s lips curved but his eyes remained cold. The magical glamour Donegal had placed upon him provided the illusion of looking similar to the guards, allowing him to fit in.
“There is much you don’t know about me, Olcán.”
The second guard sniffed the concoction within the chalice then placed the tip of his smallest finger in the drink before touching his tongue. His face remained impassive as he tasted the golden liquid. He gave a sharp nod, his expression relaxing.
“As awful as ever, but the drink doesn’t seem to be poisoned.”
Sionnach pulled the tray away from the guard and spoke as though reciting a familiar litany. “King O’Riagáin believes consumption of mortal ale brings a clearer understanding of the human world and the threat they pose.”
The taller guard’s black eyes glittered and he spoke in a derisive tone. “Perhaps he should drink from the UnSeelie cup. It might be they who pose the bigger threat.”