The Fae King's Labyrinth - Book Tour and Giveaway

​ Someone stole Azulin’s true name and now he’s trapped in a labyrinth with a human woman to protect.
But could she be more than a hindrance? Could she be the key to his freedom?  

The Fae King’s Labyrinth
Courts in Conflict Book 2
by Elisa Rae
Genre: Light Fantasy Romance  

 Someone stole Azulin’s true name. Cursed to ride with the Wild Hunt during each full moon, he is helpless against the Unseelie king’s will. Over the years, the curse’s grip has strengthened, making Azulin’s magic difficult to control. Fighting the curse has exhausted his spirit to the point that he despairs of breaking its hold on him. Then one full moon, the curse places him in a labyrinth, not a hunt. Perhaps this is his chance, or maybe just a new form of torture.

Calypso is a shapeshifter who can’t change form. Living as an unpaid caregiver and laborer in her sister’s household, her presence is barely tolerated in their insular community. When a strange fae threatens her pregnant sister, Calypso sacrifices herself. Perhaps an honorable death would give her life purpose. Instead, she ended up fighting for her life in a pitch-black labyrinth.

The Fae King’s Labyrinth is a light, fantasy romance novella about a relationship between a Seelie fae and a mortal woman. It features fae, found family, fated mates, and a romance between a noble and a commoner, played out in a perilous maze and an equally dangerous fae court.


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​Calypso

“We should walk faster,” I informed my elder sister as I eyed the treeline in the fading light.

Mist rose as the evening air cooled around us, and fog gathered around the roots of the trees along the meadow’s edge. Although a field lay between the trees and us, my instincts nagged at me. Something was watching us. Shadows deepened where the setting sun’s golden rays didn’t quite reach into the depths beneath the tightly packed trees. Autumn was upon us, gilding the leaves gold and crimson, but it hadn’t yet stripped the wood’s branches bare.

“We have plenty of time yet,” Mindy protested. She adjusted her grip on the full basket of cut rushes, absentmindedly caressing her slightly rounded belly with her free hand. The child within had only just grown to the point that his or her presence was obvious. Mindy’s wimple slipped, revealing some of her pretty blond tresses. “The sun hasn’t touched Aldin Mountain yet.” She jutted her chin toward the mountain looming on the northwestern horizon, the nearest of the Arista Peaks. “We have less than a mile to go. Stop being such a worrier.”

I eyed the shadows warily. As an adult who never shifted forms, my role in our small, exclusive community of shapeshifters was to protect our secrets, our young, and our community. Truthfully, my dedication to the role did occasionally make me see things that weren’t there. However, this time, my warning was for valid reasons.
“The shadows in the woods are moving.” My gaze followed the flutter of what might have been a wing as a creature moved from treetop to tree trunk just beyond the edge of the mist. “The full moon rises in two days, and the risk of encountering fae grows high.”
“Cautious Callie jumping at shadows.” Mindy rolled her eyes. “The edge of the Wild Woods is miles that way.” She waved toward the northwest. “The fae don’t stir until well after dark, and even then, they don’t stray this far from their borders, except during the moon hunts. By then, we will be safely home. Here, take the basket.” She extended it toward me as we approached the stile.
Juggling my load—a large bundle of rushes—so it was under one arm, I took her basket on my other. I mounted the stile first, climbing over it with ease while balancing my load. Mindy moved more slowly.
“Once we reach home,” she said as she climbed, “you need to clear up the dried rushes so we can lay these out next.” The pair of us wove baskets during the winter evenings. Then in the spring, we sold them at the local market to supplement her husband’s meager earnings as a shepherd.
I eyed the horizon. The sun sank behind Aldin’s peak, and the mountain’s dark shadow crept across the valley toward us.
An animal cry came from the direction of the Wild Woods. I turned toward it, straining my ears for another sound.
Another call came from much closer. I couldn’t place the sound. Was it a magical creature or something common? Did it sound distressed or was it hunting?
A third cry—eerie, haunting, and far too close—rent the air. My latent magic responded with absolute confidence. The creature, whatever it was, was hunting. We needed to reach cover and fast. “Mindy—”
“I hear it,” my sister snapped, already in motion. “The Lindrens’ farm is closest.” I turned toward the farm, only to freeze.
A giant, grotesque horse galloped toward us from the south. On its back rode a monstrously large fae clothed in flowing black livery lined in red; it flashed like blood against the night as he rode. A dark helm covered his features, and his cloak billowed out around him, tattered edges fluttering in the wind. We had no time to run.
I dropped my burdens in the trampled grass and lunged for my sister. Dragging her off the stile, I shoved her down into the tall grasses on our side of the wall. She squawked softly before I told her about the mounted specter bearing down on us.
“Shift,” I ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “Think of the child. Run for home.”
She snapped her mouth shut and shifted. Moments later, a pregnant orange tabby slunk through the tall grasses in the shade of the tumbledown wall. Tail down and body stretched low, she raced for the edge of the meadow.
I stood and climbed over the stile. Horse and rider pounded across the field, hooves kicking up clods of dirt as they plowed toward the wall. At the last possible moment before running me down, the rider yanked back savagely on the reins. The horse reared, screaming his protest at the abuse. I ducked to avoid the flying clumps of dirt from the horse’s pawing hooves.
The horse came down hard on all four legs, shaking the ground.
“Human, straighten up!” the fae ordered, magic lacing his voice. It flooded over the trampled grass, winding around my body and enticing my limbs to obey. But having shapeshifter blood made me invulnerable to compelling magic. It made sense considering the contrariness of Feline nature, my father said.
However, I didn’t want the fae to know that. So, I stood and faced him. “What do you want?” “Silence!” The edges of the fae’s cloak whipped in a nonexistent wind as his magic flared around me. His eyes flashed red beneath the helm. The compelling magic intensified, tightening its grip on me.
The rider looming above me straightened in his saddle, stabilizing himself as though preparing for something. He drew a scroll from beneath his robes. “You have trespassed into the Fae Realm. The penalty is death, but on this day, his great and mighty highness has chosen to show mercy…”
I doubted any plans a fae king made for a captured human would be merciful. For many seasons now, the Unseelie king had run his Wild Hunts over the human lands bordering on the Great Wild Woods. Magical horses laid wreck and ruin over wide swaths of farmland monthly, trampling crops and terrorizing livestock. Plus, at least one child or young maiden disappeared every fortnight. The losses had gotten so bad that our elders were discussing moving the community eastward. Even the unchanged communities were migrating.
I had tuned out the fae’s droning as he continued praising his master, but then the fae stiffened and silenced.
“Weren’t there two of you?”
My heart stuttered against my ribs. “No.” There had been three of us if I counted my unborn niece or nephew. Surely Mindy was halfway home by now. Remember the kit, Calypso, I admonished myself. The longer I kept this fae occupied, the more distance Mindy could cover. Protecting the young was my purpose in the community. If I died, so be it.
The fae scanned the horizon, the golden rays of the fading sunlight glinting off the black metal surface of his helm. “One will have to be enough,” he muttered before sitting back in his saddle. Turning his full attention to me, he extended the hand holding the scroll and uttered a word I didn’t recognize. The air sizzled and the acrid smell of ancient magic burned my sensitive nose. I sneezed, missing whatever other words the fae uttered.
By the time I opened my eyes again, it was to glimpse him thrusting an emphatic finger at me. The scroll was open and glowing, sending another blast of acidic magic in my direction, and I fell helplessly into a violent sneezing attack.
The fae uttered a word that shook the ground beneath my feet. The dirt parted and swallowed me up into darkness  
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The Unseelie's Wallflower
Courts in Conflict Book 1

Greyson hides many things from the Unseelie Court when they invade his estate each autumn for the Wild Hunt. During his required appearance as host, he is surprised to find a human among the glittering fae. She can see him even when he is using his stealth magic, which means only one thing—they are soul mates. Can he protect her amidst the swirl of fae politics and a plot against her life?

Lyra has grown up among the fae. She has been trained to be the perfect servant. Then her master brings her to the Unseelie Court event of the year and demands she demonstrate her skills to nobles. With the promise of freedom as a motivator, she willingly agrees. Then she realizes her master’s true plan thanks to the intimidating fae lord hosting the event. Though why he would be invested in her fate is a mystery.

The Unseelie’s Wallflower is a light, fantasy romance novella about a relationship between an Unseelie and a human woman. It features faes, fated mates, and a romance between a noble and a servant, all played out against a backdrop of the peril, politics, and maneuverings of the Unseelie Court.


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​ Greyson

The hot summer air had cooled into autumn in the Great Wild Woods. Spreading north from the edge of human-dominated lands and nestling up against the feet of the Arista peeks where the gargoyles lived in their eyries, this was the region of the fae, of which I was one. Aligned with the Unseelie king, I was bestowed with his favor, probably because my smuggling operations kept him in all the luxury goods he could consume and more. That favor came with a price, though, hosting the annual Wild Hunt at the end of summer.
The guests began arriving at noon, their carriages, horses, and portals filling my front drive with mayhem and chaos as servants, children, and pets crowded for space among the adult fae as they call greetings to each other. My servants directed the guests inside under the lofty roof of my open-sided foyer as even more guests filled the drive once again. I watched the barely organized confusion from the top of the grand stair into the main house. No one approached me, and I liked it that way. The coming week was one to be endured for the greater good. Until the last guest left, I would be on edge. I needed to accept that.
“The king’s attendants have arrived.” Bartle, my majordomo, stepped to my side. A blonde faun, he kept his appearance meticulous, and I appreciated his tactful efficiency. “They presented this list of demands as per usual.” He extended a gilded sheet of thick parchment, which I took.
Silk sheets, perfumed water, unicorn’s milk, solid gold utensils…
“All to be expected.” I handed the list back. “Anything new added since last year?”
“Pomegranate seeds, oranges, and pineapples.” Bartle’s nose wrinkled. “Apparently, he heard about your recent trades with the humans and elves.”
“Or he recalled that I acquired multiple saplings three years ago.”
The Haub family arrived, causing a mild uproar among the clustering fae. As a body, about half of the crowd surged elegantly in the direction of the sprite family as they stepped through their portal. Haub senior, a wizened old sprite, hated me on sight. From the moment he realized that he couldn’t provide what the king wanted and I could, he opposed me at every turn. However, that had recently changed. I hadn’t discovered why as yet, but that didn’t stop me from taking advantage.
“So, you approve the list?” Bartle asked, still standing at my elbow.
“If those are the only changes, then yes, it is approved.”
Bartle bowed and left.
I adjusted the leather gloves covering my hands and shook the edges of my sleeves down over their tops. Now a single inch of skin except my face showed. Gathering my stealth magic, I cloaked. Then, with weary reluctance, I descended the stairs and entered the fray.
Golden light filtered through the turning leaves outside the great expanses of smooth glass in the foyer walls. Arched recesses offered access to the gardens, but most of my guests lingered within the space bound by glass and columns. Designed to meld the gardens, groves, and front drive outside, the great gilt doors with the elegant interior. Marble tile floors, arched ceilings, and eggshell-surfaced columns created the illusion that the room lacked walls. Potted ferns and flowering bushes crowded every nook and clustered about the bases of each column in a vain attempt to decrease the clamor of a multitude of sounds bouncing off the hard surfaces.
And under all the cacophony, the splashing tinkle of the fountains flanking the grand staircase into the house relentlessly added to the pandemonium. I was of the mind to turn them off, but Bartle would be scandalized. Why not show off their engineering?
As I passed through the throng of Unseelie greeting each other, I mentally isolated out different conversations. They varied from gossip, flirting, and chatter to the planning of business negotiations as I passed among the partygoers. Noting who was attempting to speak with whom, I kept moving, relying on my inherent stealth magic to keep out of sight.
Without it, I would’ve been a very noticeable six-and-a-half-foot creature with curly black hair, dusky skin, and gray eyes dressed in all black. When I was uncloaked, most found me intimidating. An impression I tended to use to my advantage. The fact I kept myself aloof and unfailingly kept my appearance impeccable helped as well. Acting as the barely contained beast worked well when dealing with the Unseelie King and fulfilling his excessive tastes in wine, food, and frivolity. Whenever I decided enough was enough, I tapped my inherent intimidating magic and dropped a bit of my façade of culture and control, but this was not the time.
This year’s turn out for my annual gala promised to be the most impressive yet. The inns and rentable rooms for miles around had been sold out for months. Walking through the crowds, I noted almost every Unseelie noble from the king’s court had already arrived. Younglings of multiple species wove through clusters of elegant nymphs, sirens, sprites, goblins, ogres, pixies, and fairies of every size and rank. I began mentally ticking off the attendees from the list of those expected.
Then I noticed her, the singular human. A female, small even for her species, hid among the ferns at the foot of one the massive pillars supporting the soaring ceiling. Dressed simply but adequately, she watched the crowd with wary attention, burrowing deeper into the plants’ accommodating branches whenever a guest wandered near her hiding place.
Curious, I meandered that way. Slipping around the far side of the pillar, I settled in the deepest shadows of the leaves and set my back against the stone. She had chosen a good spot for spying. Most of the foot traffic flowed around this central point, but few of the passersby glanced in our direction. They ignored the greenery that I had ordered placed around the walls and bracketing the windows of my entryway.
“Bored with eavesdropping?” she asked.
I glanced over at her. Fronds framed her features as her bright eyes scanned the mingling crowd. She hadn’t turned my way, but somehow, I was certain she spoke to me. Assessing our surroundings, I noted that no one stood close enough to overhear or be the object of her query.
“Are you speaking to me?” I asked.
“Who else?” She flicked a glance over her shoulder. Blue eyes focusing on my face and the softening of her mouth hinting at a smile left no doubt.
“You see me?” Utter surprise brought a great rush of excitement. No one saw me when I wished to be hidden. Not even my own kind could detect my passing. Yet this slender human, magicless and helpless, could not only see me but didn’t hesitate to speak to me. It could only mean one thing. My breath caught in my chest. She was my soul mate.
“Of course, I see you.” Her mouth deepened into a suppressed smile while hidden laughter brightened her eyes. “You are a bit hard to miss.”
The realization that the day I had equal parts desired and dreaded since reaching my maturity had finally arrived hit me hard. I stiffened as the implications washed over me. She was human, how human I had yet to discover, but her lack of wings, sparkles, horns, or markings hinted strongly of ordinariness. But that couldn’t be. Just the fact she saw me through my shroud of camouflaging magic proved she was anything but ordinary. I took a slight measured step away from her and tucked my gloved hands behind my back. One touch and we would be bound. I couldn’t do that to her, to either of us. I needed time.
“I am sorry if I offended you, Master…” She let the title hang with a tentatively lifted eyebrow. Gone was the hidden laughter from her expression.
“Greyson,” I supplied my surname. I was fae. No fae offered their whole true name. Studying her solemn expression, I already missed her humor. Now she appeared worried. I opened my mouth to assure her that no offense had been taken, but the loud thump of iron boots announced the arrival of a Powrie with his red cap. He had manifested right outside her hiding place, stumbling as he did so in a flurry of loud tapping. The noise brought the nearby lingering guests’ attention around us—well to the Powrie and her.
“Lyra, who are you talking to?” He grabbed her arm. “Come and speak to those I instructed you to. I need more sylvian tears.” The Powrie dragged the woman away, making demands in her ear. The crowd parted to let them through without a word. Once they passed, my guests resumed their conversations as though the whole scene wasn’t worthy of note.
Every part of me protested her going. How dare he touch her so roughly? What was she to him? A wave of possessiveness urged me to pursue, subdue, and demand her attention. With great effort, I resisted the visceral desires that raced through my blood. I was more than my nature, and she was more than just a creature to be claimed. Closing my eyes, I drew my shoulders back. Now wasn’t the time. I had much to accomplish this night that had nothing to do with her, the woman, Lyra.

A reader of fairytales and folklore, Elisa Rae loves a happy ending. Noblebright characters, dastardly villains, and chemistry between characters delight her. When she isn’t writing, she loves to watch superhero movies and literary dramas.

Elisa Rae is the pen name of Rachel Rossano.


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