Ugly Girl Read online

  “I don’t know what I’m doing!” I admitted in a pained whisper, clutching Seven to my chest. “All that stuff Lane and Henri were talking about, is that true? That my status is…” I couldn’t even say it. There was no way I could be above someone like Lot, who’d grown up here, and been bred for ruling his province. “I don’t want to be in charge of a nation I know nothing about. And what if my Compass goes on the fritz? What if I can’t find Roland? What if you guys are putting your hope in me, but I can’t find the Jewels of Good Fortune?”

  Bastien pressed a small kiss to my neck, his voice steady when mine wavered. “You’ve got this,” he assured me. “You’ve got this, and I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to worry about any of that now. All you have to do is go on a little horse ride with me. Do you think you can swing that?”

  I softened, letting my spine curve against his chest. “You’ll stay with me?”

  I felt Bastien’s cheek lift against mine as he smiled. “Boy, are you going to be sorry you asked that. Remind yourself when you get sick of me that you wanted me to stay.” His voice turned husky, pulling a blush from my face. “You want me.”

  I turned bashful, my neck shrinking and my chin turning to the side. “Shut up about it.”

  The others were ready, and turned to me for instruction. Reyn spoke for the group with a kind smile on his sweat-soaked face, as if the sight of Bastien making me squirm gave him peace. “You’re calling the shots, Princess. It’s to you to lead the way toward the Jewels of Good Fortune, and Roland, too.” He shifted Lane in front of where he sat on the horse, his hands at home on her waist.

  Reyn’s unshakeable faith in my abilities made me desperate not to disappoint. I gulped, trying to tune into my churning guts, but they were too nervous to speak clearly and give me any sort of direction. “Let me think for a second.”

  Lane pulled their horse over to me, raising her chin with a calm smile that told me she wasn’t worried at all about me delivering on all the hype. “Know who you are, Rosie. Remember: this is not your big adventure. You are your greatest adventure. This is just another jaunt along the way. No big deal.”

  I shot her a weak grin. “I love when you fancy it all up with words like ‘jaunt’.”

  Lane sniggered, and then composed herself. “You’re the Compass. Listen to your gut. What is it telling you?”

  I guessed that I couldn’t admit that my stomach was more at home barfing right now than doing anything useful. When Bastien’s large hand palmed my stomach, I took in a deep breath, allowing him to steady me when I felt flustered. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Don’t look at the world you see. Find the jewels you can’t see.”

  My roiling guts started to calm, refocusing on the deep voice that was saying all the right words. It was as if the ping-pong balls popping around in my stomach dropped down, and then formed into one ball that tugged me to the right. My finger followed suit, aiming us where my internal GPS insisted the jewels were hiding. “That way.”

  Bayard and Rousseau straightened, their skepticism starting to lift, now that I’d actually claimed my gift and started using it.

  Bastien obeyed, turning the horse and starting us at a walk down a path toward the right. With us in the lead, no one saw his hand snake below the hem of my shirt. No one gasped at the scandal of Bastien’s palm on my bare stomach, except for me. He thumbed my navel, letting loose a dark chuckle at my needy squirm. “Are you ready for it?” Bastien asked, implying too many things with the simple question.

  Instead of overthinking, I leaned back on his chest and let my body relax, allowing his hand to make itself at home on my stomach. He didn’t treat me as if I was the ugly girl (though he’d seen me with my hump, lazy eye and bad skin), but rather the woman with whom he loved to sneak little flirts. I liked being that woman, and clung to the tease he offered with a shy smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for you,” I admitted.

  He buried his face in my neck, and then cracked the reins. He startled the horse, setting us off to lead the way into the unknown. We rode deeper into Avalon, to the childhood home I couldn’t remember, but now knew I could never forget.

  * * *

  Love Ugly Girl? Leave a review!

  (Unless you want me to hex you with a charmed necklace from Lane, which I can totally do)

  Lost Girl

  Here’s a free preview of Lost Girl ,

  book two in the Faîte Falling series.

  1

  The Lost Village

  “Not to be a downer, but I’ve been through the ringer, and I’m playing my Commoner card. I have to sleep, guys. It’s a lousy habit of mine, and I can’t shake it.” My joke fell flat when the identical looks of doom were displayed on Bayard’s and Rousseau’s hairy Chewbacca-like faces. Every mile of distance we put between us and our enemy was another exhale we all desperately clung to. We’d been riding for hours into the night, moving in the opposite direction of the Queen’s Army.

  My mom’s army. Morgan le Fae, the most hated, feared and revered queen Avalon had ever seen was my birth mother – a woman whom I’d thought died while bringing me into the world. Apparently, she took the wicked queen thing to a whole new level, poisoning my dad so he couldn’t overthrow her. King Urien remained sickly and weak, tucked away in her castle like Sleeping Beauty. I’d always pictured having a dad, but he’d been more the Superman variety than the damsel in distress kind of dude.

  Whatever. I now had a dad who hadn’t abandoned me. He may not be Superman, but he wasn’t a deadbeat, either. Bonus, for sure. I kept having these fantasies of me walking into the castle I’d been born into and calling out his name. Somehow, just the sound of my voice would be enough to break the evil queen’s spell, and he’d sit up with new life. My father would know my voice, though he hadn’t heard it since I was a year old, and he’d instructed his sister-in-law, Lane, to take me away from Avalon into a world where Morgan le Fae couldn’t find me. In the words of the immortal Will Smith in Independence Day, “‘Welcome to Earth.’”

  Morgan had been given an enchanted gemstone from the illusive Master Kerdik, just like her eight sisters. Unlike them, she wanted more. She stole enough of their Jewels of Good Fortune to make her province the most bountiful one in Avalon. I guess she wanted like, vats of fruit instead of mere buckets of the stuff. I dunno. All I knew was that some crazy shiz was tied to those gems. The women in the provinces without the gems had a harder time getting pregnant, and the land wasn’t as plentiful. Not cool.

  While I was horrified and ashamed that this was my family tree, the little girl part of me still kind of wanted to meet her, to see her face. I’d never even seen pictures. I wondered if we might have the same heart shape to our faces, the same skin that tanned easily, and if we have the same uphill battle brushing out the tangles from our brown, wavy hair. I wondered if she was dyslexic, or if that struggle was my blight to contribute to the family tree.

  Remy’s unspoken voice wafted into my tired mind. “I wish I had something that could rouse you. I’ve been trying to keep quiet so I don’t exhaust your magic further. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

  “It’s fine, Remy,” I answered him aloud, cluing the others into our psychic conversation. “Not your fault. I like our conversations. It’s normal for me to be tired.”

  Bastien sighed heavily – a sign of his attitude not taking a much-needed vacation. “There’s nowhere to stop, Rosie. Just sleep on me.”

  I was already leaning my back to his chest as he steered the horse we shared. I wasn’t totally stellar at riding horses, only talking with them. It was part of my birth blessing, I guess. I can speak hidden languages (though I got a D+ in Spanish by the skin of my teeth. Go figure). I can also find things easily enough to be called the Compass. The horse I was riding on was named Pierre, though he hated his name. He wanted to be called Fleur-de-lis, which was his favorite flower. Having a flower name myself, I couldn’t begrudge the guy a little happiness. I let my hand
rest on Bastien’s thigh as we galloped through the starlit prairie, a smile teasing my lips at his barely audible intake of breath. Though we’d been connected for hours, each brush of a touch painted a crackle of something new and exciting between us. “As great a pillow as you are, I don’t really think I can fall asleep upright on a horse.”

  “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

  I ran my fingers along his left arm that held the reins, loving how the muscle in his scarred forearm popped out when he tensed up. “That’s only like, the greatest pickup line ever.”

  “Is that so? Is it working on you?”

  “I almost just invited you back to my bed. To keep me cozy while I sleep, of course, but still. It’s a step up from the stables,” I teased him. It was a flirt I couldn’t help but indulge in. We hadn’t even kissed, though I wanted to a thousand times over. “But seriously, folks. I do need to sleep at some point.” Apparently the only reason I required sleep as a Fae was because I used a crap ton of magic when I spoke to animals, or people who had a hidden language. I contemplated cutting back on that, but it really wasn’t an option. I was a foreigner here, and the animals had my back. With Remy having his tongue cut out, as Morgan had done to all the healers long ago, he was overjoyed to be able to speak with anyone. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was falling asleep.

  “I can help with the sleeping problem,” Damond volunteered, guiding his horse to our side with his hand raised, like the proper young lad he was. I mean, he was probably a year or two younger than me, but he seemed so much older and controlled. “You might not like the place, but it’s safe. Safer than anywhere else, but that’s only if we can get you in without announcing you. No one will bother us. The Queen’s Army is clear across Avalon into a new province by now, so they’ve already swept this area looking for Reyn. We need to feed and water the horses. Refuel a little. The princess can rest then.” He cleared his throat. “Duke Henri doesn’t know I come here, though, so this stop needs to be kept secret.” It would be strange to an outsider to hear a son call his own father by his regal title, but it made a little more sense after meeting the pompous and nasty Duke Henri. That my cousin had grown up into such a well-mannered and kind young man was a wonder.

  Bayard nodded curiously that the obedient son had secrets from his old man. “Yep. Fine. Lead the way, kid.”

  Damond bristled at Bayard referring to him as a kid, but he was too polite to correct him. I knew the feeling. In a group of rulers and warriors, we were the young-uns. “When we get to the village, let me do the talking.”

  Bayard caught Damond’s eye and nodded his approval, his horse’s tail swishing back and forth in time with the horse he was riding. Chewbacca never looked so cool. “Look at you, taking charge now that Daddy’s gone. Good for you, kid.” Bayard was slightly less hairy than the shaggy horse he rode.

  “Yes, well. Follow me. The princess looks like she’s barely alive anymore.”

  Rousseau turned his hairy red head to me and winced, letting me know I looked exactly as terrible as I felt. “Oof, you’re right. If sleeping cures that, then let’s get the princess a bed. I’ll take her there myself.” He winked at me, earning my middle finger and a blown kiss. I’d quickly learned that Wildmen were kind of pervy, if Bayard and Rousseau were any indication.

  When no eyes were on us anymore, Bastien placed a kiss to the space between my shoulder and my neck, making me shiver through the chill of the night that nipped at my damp jeans and t-shirt. Lane had Abraham Lincoln (my brown bear cub) tucked closely on her lap, but every now and then he whined that he needed me to hold him. Hamish (my squirrel) was happy to be in the lead with Damond, always seeking out new nuts and adventures. Seven flew overhead, but not too high, staying close to make sure her black, leathered wings weren’t spotted above the trees. She was a fantastic lookout bird, turning traitor from the Queen’s Army to come hang with me.

  We rode for two hours more before the sparse trees lining the prairie started giving way to a hint of civilization in the form of a city’s wall. It had hooks with hanging lanterns shedding light on the perimeter. When we trotted up to the wooden wall made of trees that had been cut in half and stretched several feet higher than our tallest horse, Damond dismounted, motioning for us to do the same and hand him our horses.

  Lane moved to me, gripping my hand that wasn’t in Bastien’s. She had a sixth sense about things sometimes, and I could feel the tension in her grip. “Stay close,” she insisted.

  Reyn held her other hand, looking gaunt and sickly. His dark features were harder to see against the night, but the circles under his eyes were visible even under the flickering lantern’s light. The shadows that danced on his face made him look like he was coming down with the flu – only he wasn’t. This was one of the things I wasn’t allowed to ask Bastien about, because he’d flip his shiz and turn into a sullen brat. He was protective of his bestie, not wanting anyone to know what was obvious – Reyn was a very sick man. He might even be the kind of sick that didn’t get better. It had something to do with his low supply of magic, but if I sniffed any closer to the problem, Bastien’s bark turned painful.

  Damond looked over his shoulder, pausing as he raised his fist to knock on one of the trunks of the great wall. “Um, Lot? You might want to keep your head down. You won’t want to be seen here. Aunt Lane? Rosie? Um, you might want to cover… all of that up.” He motioned to our whole bodies, and like a dummy I looked down.

  Right. I had boobs now. Lane had changed my appearance with some magical object, making me go through life on earth with a hump, a wonky eye and a fair amount of acne. When Bastien ganked my concealment necklace, my skin cleared up, my eye and my posture straightened, and my chest… grew. I looked like Lane more than I ever had before, and wasn’t sure how to gracefully handle going from being the ugly girl no guy wanted to ask out, to attracting attention without meaning to. It was a steep learning curve.

  Lane pulled a sweater out of her backpack and put it on to iron out her obvious curves. Bastien took his flannel off so I could thread my arms through it. It fit me like a dress, but it was the coolest I’d felt in a while. I was finally the cheerleader who got to wear the jock’s letterman jacket. I was the girl the hot guy was looking at. “Thank you. Is this my invisibility cloak? Am I totally incognito now?”

  The corner of Bastien’s mouth tugged upward. “Keep your head down. I wish we had a hat for you or something.”

  “Here,” Lot offered, taking his gray riding cloak from his shoulders.

  Bastien frowned. “You need to keep your presence here hidden, too. Dukes don’t come to places like this.” He looked over me to Damond. He took out another flannel out of his pack and slid it on himself, flipping the collar up to obscure his neck tattoo. “The Lost Village? Really? I don’t want Rosie here, and I can’t imagine Duchess Elaine should be seen in here, either.”

  Seven made her home in my arms, tucking her body inside the cloak Lot fashioned around me. Lot took his time tying the lace at my neck. The hood flipped over my head, and just like that, I was the grim reaper. Or like, a super-fly Hobbit or something. Lot studied Lane, and then tugged the hood of her sweater over her hair. “It’s the best we can do. I’ll sacrifice my reputation for the safety of Avalon.”

  “Thank you for looking out for Rosie,” Lane said, touching his wrist.

  “Of course,” Lot replied with a modest smile. His perfect blond hair wasn’t even windswept from our long ride – dude was just that smooth.

  Damond held his ground against the wariness in the others. “If she doesn’t announce herself, I highly doubt anyone will know it’s her. Keep your heads down, and don’t make eye contact.”

  “Why are we hiding in here?” Lot asked, his brows furrowed. “Only scamps end up in the Lost Village.”

  “Exactly. No one’s going to look for us in here.” Damond moved a stray black hair back to join the others that were slicked back in a wave. He had naturally paler skin than mine, but he looked w
hite as a sheet at what we were about to do. Awesome.

  I whispered comfort and affectionate reassurances to Seven, who remained in my arms under my cloak. Abraham Lincoln let go of Lane’s leg and reached up for me like a toddler, but I was too weak to support myself on my bum leg for too long. Blame it on the in-home surgery I’d had that removed a million snake babies from my calf muscle.

  Bastien took Abraham Lincoln from me, hitching him on his hip like a baby. “There you go, little buddy,” he said quietly, revealing his soft side to me. I couldn’t help but swoon at the cuteness. Bastien looped his arm around me, holding us together. “I know you want your mama, but you’ll have to settle for your dad until we get settled.”

  My heart did a happy little skip that Bastien was playing house with me and our cuddly love child. He leaned down to kiss my cheek when the others were distracted, warming my whole body to his touch. “Stop seducing me,” I admonished him with a blush. “It’s working too well.”

  Bastien leaned his head down with an impish grin. “Never.”

  Damond knocked on the wooden wall, and a single stump opened halfway up the twelve-foot expanse to reveal a sort of window. A scared man’s round face looked out from it. “Who goes there?” He looked out from his window that was about the same height as Damond’s head. “Oh. Hey, kid. You here to see your brother?”

  I heard Lane’s intake of breath and saw her lift onto her toes. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and something that looked like nervous regret.

  Damond stood on his toes to be better seen. “Yeah. I brought him a healer, some new girls, a couple clients and a few horses. He said he needed them. I hired these Wildmen to help me bring them in.” He jerked his thumb to Rousseau, Remy and Bayard, who were right behind Damond, holding the reins of their horses after dismounting.