A Dark and Hollow Star

Ashley Shuttleworth

• Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
• Year: 2021
• Print ISBN: 9781534453685
• eBook ISBN: 9781534453692

"Beautifully written and deliciously complex…I couldn't get enough." —Nicki Pau Preto, author of the Crown of Feathers series The Cruel Prince meets City of Bones in this thrilling urban fantasy set in the magical underworld of Toronto that follows a queer cast of characters racing to stop a serial killer whose crimes could expose the hidden world of faeries to humans. Choose your player. The "ironborn" half-fae outcast of her royal fae family.
A tempestuous Fury, exiled to earth from the Immortal Realm and hellbent on revenge.
A dutiful fae prince, determined to earn his place on the throne.
The prince's brooding guardian, burdened with a terrible secret.For centuries, the Eight Courts of Folk have lived among us, concealed by magic and bound by law to do no harm to humans. This arrangement has long kept peace in the Courts—until a series of gruesome and ritualistic murders rocks the city of Toronto and threatens to expose faeries to the human world.Four queer teens, each who hold a key piece of the truth behind these murders, must form a tenuous alliance in their effort to track down the mysterious killer behind these crimes. If they fail, they risk the destruction of the faerie and human worlds alike. If that's not bad enough, there's a war brewing between the Mortal and Immortal Realms, and one of these teens is destined to tip the scales. The only question is: which way? Wish them luck. They're going to need it.

CHAPTER 1 Arlo

Present Day

The Mortal Realm—Toronto Fae Academy, Canada

THE FLOOR THAT ARLO stood on was a glittering sea of white marble flecked with charcoal black. So heavily polished, every flaw and feature had been scrubbed from its surface, and left behind was an icy gloss that nothing—not even the dying sunlight streaming through the glass-dome ceiling—could ever warm.

Unfortunately, the same could be said for the Fae High Council.

Eight proud fae from the Four Courts of Folk made up this panel of judges. One each from the factions of Seelie Winter, Summer, Autumn, and Spring—those folk who drew power from day and most valued the qualities of grace and responsibility in their people. One each from the factions of UnSeelie Winter, Summer, Autumn, and Spring—those folk who drew power from night and were known for their indulgence and their cunning.

And all were staring down at Arlo as if she were a bug beneath their boot.

In Arlo’s opinion, there was no real difference between the Seelie and UnSeelie fae, no matter what each group liked to think. The stony faces before her, for instance, were all the same—as cold and hard as the marble under her feet.

All eight of these representatives had been chosen to uphold the High King’s laws. Not one of them was known for displays of compassion. Facing them now for their judgment drove home that this meeting was little better than a formality: all eight minds had already made their unanimous decision on the matter of Arlo’s “suitability” for the magical world long before she’d come to plead her case.

It was safe to say that her Weighing was not going very well.

“It isn’t a matter of lineage,” said Councillor Sylvain, the Seelie representative of Spring.

Tall and lithe, his numerous years were yet unable to conquer his sinewy strength. His voluminous emerald and turquoise robes, fastened by gleaming gold, did little to soften the severe cut of his glamoured ivory face.

“No one is questioning your bloodline, Miss Jarsdel,” he continued dismissively. “You are Thalo Viridian-Verdell’s daughter; of that there is no dispute. What we question here today is whether or not it matters.”

Arlo already knew the answer to that question.

In the eyes of the High Council, the only thing that mattered was that half of Arlo’s heritage was human. The fact that the other half had come directly from a royal fae family—the royal family, the family that currently sat as head of the magical community above even the heads of all the other Courts—was actually a mark against her. The fae were quite proud of their undiluted bloodlines, and the very long line of the Viridian family comprised only that—fae. There were no faerie relatives—those folk who possessed some animal or natural trait like bark for skin or leaves for hair. The Viridians certainly had no human relatives either, not until Arlo’s mother had married one, and then shortly after had given birth to Arlo. At least Arlo herself looked similar to the fae; she shuddered to think how much worse she’d be treated right now if her magical heritage came from anything else.

Arlo was the first ironborn royal in a family whose “purity” predated the Magical Reform, when the Courts hadn’t even been thought of, let alone formed, and all that had existed were the warring Seelie and UnSeelie factions. Unfortunately, she’d inherited very little of her mother’s side of the family. She was about as magical as a box of lemons and had been so overwhelmed trying to keep up with the others at her local faerie elementary that her mother had taken pity on her and moved her to a human school. The Council cared an awful lot about Arlo’s background—the problem was, it wasn’t in the way that would help her.

Working to conceal her wince, Arlo forced her gaze level with the Council’s collective stare. Her eyes—as bright and hard as jade—were one of the few things about Arlo that made it impossible for anyone to refute her ties to the Viridian family. But in moments like these, she wished she’d inherited her mother’s skill for cutting those green eyes into a glare.

“It… it should matter that I’m a Viridian,” Arlo heard herself say, in a voice made small by nausea and nerves. “My magic might not be very strong, I might have much more of my father’s iron blood than you’d like, but I can still alter and conceal my appearance with a glamour just fine, and I possess enough of the Sight to see through the glamours of other folk as well…”

The speech was something her mother and cousin had helped her prepare. But Arlo knew that it would do no good to try to pretend that she was anything other than terribly unremarkable. The only exception to this was the strength of her ability to sense the magic around her. But this trick was something all fae could do, and however stronger Arlo suspected her command of this ability was, it wasn’t going to win her many points today. Her overall power was woefully weak, but she did have the bare minimum needed to qualify for common magical status in their community. If she kept the Council on the facts, they had to grant her this, at least.

“You possess less talent on the cusp of adulthood than what a goblin infant can perform by instinct,” Councillor Siegel—Seelie representative of Autumn—interposed. Her eyes were hard as amber as they fixed on Arlo, her tone eviscerating. “Furthermore, you have reached eighteen years with only minimal grasp on the rudiments of magic, having spent your education thus far under human tutelage. Tell me, Miss Jarsdel, what is there for you to miss should the Council rule against you?”

Arlo’s throat dried up like the colorful leaves woven into the Councillor’s robes.

They were going to reject her status even though she had enough magic and very much wanted to remain a member of the magical community.

“Councillor Siegel,” she pleaded. “Please, you… you can’t! If you rule against me, if you lock away my powers and erase my memories… my family… my mother, and my cousins… I’d forget them! If you rule against me, I’ll be missing the largest part that makes me me.”

There was so much for Arlo to miss if the Council not only denied her fae citizenship but also inclusion in the magical community as a whole. Fae citizenship, with its isolationist rules and responsibilities, was not something she was sure she even wanted, but she knew without a doubt that she didn’t want to be expelled from magic altogether. She didn’t want to forget the truth about her family any more than she wanted to forget that magic had ever survived the collapse of human memory that it had existed.

Councillor Siegel raised a fine chestnut brow. “Quiet your theatrics, Miss Jarsdel. You would still be you, and you would not forget your family. You’d forget only what is unnecessary for you to remember. Your father remembers you still, does he not?”

Her father.

Marriages between fae and humans had to be approved by the Courts, but in this approval was a caveat: if the marriage ended, the human party had to forfeit what they’d learned of the magical community. It had been Arlo’s father’s decision to file for divorce. He’d given up his memories freely because, as far as Arlo understood, he’d grown a vast contempt for magic and those who had anything to do with it.

Her father remembered who she was, yes.

Arlo wouldn’t say they had a good relationship, though—not with the constant, nagging fear in the back of her head that her own father would hate her too, if he ever remembered why he should. And on top of that was the exhaustion that came with ensuring she never let anything about the magical community slip in front of him or any other human. Arlo didn’t want anyone else in her family to know what that felt like any more than she wanted to give up something that had been a part of her life for a full eighteen years.

And she had to believe the Council couldn’t be that unnecessarily cruel.

“Yes, My Lady, he does remember me, but—”

An air of finality bled from the stands. Arlo’s desperate attempt to explain herself failed with her courage.

“If you have nothing else to say in your defense, Miss Jarsdel, perhaps the Council may now move on with this hearing?” Councillor Siegel said.

Arlo could only stand and stare, distress spreading through her like an anesthetic.

Councillor Sylvain opened his mouth to reclaim the floor and announce his verdict—when the door behind Arlo suddenly burst open. She jumped, spinning around to face the source of this disturbance as the Council rustled in irritation behind her.

“Can you believe Sunday traffic?” the intruder said by way of greeting.

Arlo’s relief was so profound that it nearly dragged her to the floor.

Celadon Cornelius Fleur-Viridian—Arlo’s first cousin, once removed, and youngest of her great-uncle the High King’s three children—was brilliance and mischief in equal measures. In many ways, he was also the worst role model a freshly turned eighteen-year-old girl could find, but he was the closest thing Arlo had to a brother, and even though he was a couple of years older than her, the molasses rate that fae aged meant there was little difference in their maturity.

“High Prince Celadon!” Councillor Sylvain spluttered, both indignant and begrudgingly deferential to his much younger superior. “This hearing is a closed affair, restricted to the Council and Miss Jarsdel only. You are out of line, Your Highness. I must insist, with all due reverence, that you take your leave at once.”

Arlo continued to watch as Celadon crossed the marble sea, striding purposefully toward her.

For all that the High Prince delighted in ruffling the feathers of aristocracy, there wasn’t anyone she knew who could turn more heads.

Of all the races of folk, the fae were the ones who most closely resembled humans in their appearance (though they insisted it was the humans who resembled them). This likeness was exaggerated into absurdity by their overwhelming beauty, but even among the fair folk, Celadon was exceptionally striking. As a full-blooded member of the Court of Spring, he was tall and lean, with fair white skin and features sharp as new-cut glass. As a Viridian, he was recognized by the bowlike curve of his lips, his jade eyes, and russet hair, which curled around his nape and ears almost exactly as his father’s did.

Like all fae of royal blood, there was a glow beneath his skin. Even through his glamour, it shone greenish soft as setting twilight, a color that marked him UnSeelie. If Arlo’s inheritance had been stronger, she’d wear that same glow, but as it were, only their eyes marked their relation.

This was better than nothing, and despite the things Arlo had inherited from her father—her burnt-red hair, her underwhelming height, and the sturdy width of her build—Celadon had never once treated her as anything less than a true Viridian. It filled Arlo with teary relief to see Celadon, blithe as ever, wafting into the room in his tight jeans and crisp sage button-down, as usual looking like he’d just walked off the set of some glamorous photo shoot.

Sylvain was right, though. Even a prince was no exception to the rules.

Turning back to face the Council, Arlo could tell they were deeply unimpressed.

“Of course, I would be happy to remove myself from your affairs,” Celadon chimed, congenial down to the gentle smile that spread across his face. “I’m sure you’d all prefer to get back to discussing more important matters like this”—he raised his wrist and tapped the screen of his Apple Watch—“especially since you’ve already had plenty of time with my cousin’s Weighing.”

From his watch, a sound clip began to play from a video that had gone viral in their community only days ago.

“—Do something, or we will. You will not stamp us out. You will not silence our voice. If the Courts continue to ignore this issue for what it really is, the Assistance will only grow bolder in our attempt to reveal your corruption! Your power comes from your people. I advise you to start showing some care for them instead of just yourselves.”

Arlo stared, hardly daring to breathe as she watched the Council’s reaction to Celadon’s audacity.

The Assistance…

The magical community had invented all sorts of ways to bend human technology to suit their needs, but the Assistance—a growing underground group of vigilantes devoted to the protection of the common folk—was bold in how they used it. In light of growing rumors about a series of ironborn murders throughout the magical world—and the fact that the High King didn’t seem to be doing much about them—the Assistance had taken to posting guerrilla broadcasts about the murders on human sites like YouTube. The UnSeelie Spring Court now had an entire division dedicated to searching out and removing these videos before humans started growing suspicious that they were more than some hoax.

Unnecessary, many in the faerie community whispering behind their hands, and Arlo had to agree. The High King cares more about rooting out the Assistance than he cares about finding who’s killing his folk…

“An ironborn boy was found dead in British Columbia,” said Celadon, with far less amiability than moments prior. “And even though this is still far from Toronto, the situation has now moved right into the High King’s own backyard. I’m certain the Assistance is wrong. Surely you’re as concerned about these murders as the rest of us.”

The Council shifted uncomfortably, both at Celadon’s implication of negligence with the murders and at the reminder that the Assistance wasn’t as easily rooted out as they’d originally hoped when the group first started attracting wider attention. In response, Arlo’s own unease ratcheted higher, fearing what this not-so-subtle accusation would do to her chances of a favorable outcome in this Weighing.

When rumblings of the murders started, the Courts insisted that the victims were human, not ironborn, and therefore not their concern. But when it became clear that the dead had, in fact, been ironborn and the Courts still did nothing, tensions between the ironborn, faerie, and fae communities grew to an all-time high.

If the most recent case had indeed occurred right here in Canada—in territory that belonged to UnSeelie Spring—their government could no longer afford to do nothing. The Fae High Council would be forced into searching out possible culprits; they had enough to keep them occupied without grilling Arlo for what was now twice as long as her Weighing should have taken, but throwing their failures in their faces and rushing them along probably wasn’t the best way to force their meeting’s conclusion—certainly not, given the look on most of the Councillors’ faces.

“No,” Celadon continued on, “I only came to collect my cousin. It is her birthday, after all, and her family wo...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Dedication
• Author’s Note
• Prologue: Alecto
• Chapter 1: Arlo
• Chapter 2: Aurelian
• Chapter 3: Nausicaä
• Chapter 4: Arlo
• Chapter 5: Arlo
• Chapter 6: Nausicaä
• Chapter 7: Arlo
• Chapter 8: Vehan
• Chapter 9: Arlo
• Chapter 10: Aurelian
• Chapter 11: Arlo
• Chapter 12: Nausicaä
• Chapter 13: Arlo
• Chapter 14: Arlo
• Chapter 15: Arlo
• Chapter 16: Vehan
• Chapter 17: Nausicaä
• Chapter 18: Arlo
• Chapter 19: Vehan
• Chapter 20: Arlo
• Chapter 21: Arlo
• Chapter 22: Vehan
• Chapter 23: Arlo
• Chapter 24: Arlo
• Chapter 25: Nausicaä
• Chapter 26: Aurelian
• Chapter 27: Arlo
• Chapter 28: Arlo
• Chapter 29: Arlo
• Chapter 30: Nausicaä
• Chapter 31: Arlo
• Chapter 32: Arlo
• Chapter 33: Aurelian
• Chapter 34: Arlo
• Chapter 35: Arlo
• Epilogue: Riadne
• Acknowledgments
• ‘A Cruel and Fated Light’ Teaser
• About the Author
• Copyright