Faerie Misborn: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel (Titania Academy Book 1) by Samaire Wynne ➱ Book Blitz with Giveaway

 

 

When the magic blood of the fae runs through your veins, they will find you, no matter what.

Faerie Misborn

Titiana Academy Book 1

by Samaire Wynne

Genre: YA Academy Urban Fantasy

Life on the streets of Manhattan was bleak...

...for an orphan with little education.

Would a faerie named Chance change her life?

Holly considered herself "street smart." She had learned to survive, deal with the cold, and ignore the hunger, but at almost 14-years old, she feared life would be one long journey of misery. Then she met him.

Sitting alone on the grass...

...she held a sign hoping for spare change.

It read, "Hungry, please help."

The boy didn't give her money, he took her for a bagel. Holly was too hungry to say "no," and what he told her next was almost hard to believe. He had been sent for her.

She was invited to attend a school for special students.

What awaits Holly at The Faerie Academy?

You'll love this story full of teen angst, magical awakenings, faerie folk, and unbelievable challenges, because we all face tests in life and Holly is someone you'll want to see succeed.

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Excerpt from Chapter 7 of Faerie Misborn

“Through here.” Chance led the way into an indoor mall area made entirely of bricks. “This is a very old market. This gate has been here for over a two-hundred-and-fifty years. The folk have been using it since the days of Benjamin Franklin.”

“Aunt Clare taught me about him.”

“Did she, now? I’ll bet she didn’t tell you he was one of us.” Chance smiled as he turned to open a small wooden door half hidden on the side.

He led me through to a dark passageway, about twenty feet long, which ended at another door. This door was carved with intricate symbols I did not recognize. The door handle was of the lever kind, a round bar that was pushed down to open the door.

“See here?” Chance indicated the different symbols. “These are the various marks of the fae tribes. Most of them are here. The sigil in the middle is actually a spell. No human would even see this door, let alone be able to open it.” He reached for the door latch, which looked like it was carved from bone, and turned it ten degrees down.

The door opened with a soft click, and we stepped through. With the first step, there was a small drop of an inch or two to reach the floor, and the jolt of the drop was startling without being dangerous.

I stood just beyond the doorway and looked out.

It was a huge market, and what a market it was!

The middle walk was paved in old stones, they felt rough through the thin sole of my shoe, but had clearly been worn smooth by tens of thousands of feet walking over them for many, many years.

The walkway was filled with people of all descriptions, exploring various shops on both sides of the center plaza. The buildings that housed them were made of stone with old wooden doors and thick glass storefront windows.

Ribbons of vivid pink, orange, and yellow fluttered above one doorway, beckoning shoppers in. The window alongside it displayed school colors and clothing in every color imaginable for any type of magical being. Among them was the same type of dress Jess had worn, in a brilliant shade of green.

“The ribbon shop was where my mother used to take my little sister. Every birthday and every holiday, she’d come and buy her another ribbon,” said Chance. “She must have dozens by now.”

Another window was filled with brown and green colored shirts and pants. I peered inside, and saw the whole shop was decorated like an enchanted forest, with a tree growing up the outer wall beside the door, from a hole in the paved stone. There were all types of wood boxes and toys in this shops window as well, and I could not stop looking.

I glanced at Chance and then back at the shop. “Did you buy your shirt there?” I asked.

“You bet. They have the best clothes anywhere for blending into the forest,” he said. “You’ll see when we’re on the way, but the Academy is surrounded by a beautiful, dense forest.”

“I can’t wait,” I smiled.

Chance beckoned me on.

A juggler stood in the plaza center, on a raised brick platform, somehow managing to keep a dozen eggs spinning in an arc above his head, all while balanced on stilts several feet high. His pantaloons were brightly striped with metallic greens, blues, oranges, and purples, and his face was painted in yellow and red circles.

I was captivated.

“You know, he’s been doing that here ever since I can remember,” said Chance. “Want to hear something embarrassing?”

I nodded eagerly, grinning.

“When I was nine years old, I was here with my mother and several friends and we were horsing around. …” He stopped.

“Please don’t tell me you tripped the juggler,” I said. “He’s on stilts!”

“I … um … we tripped the juggler,” Chance looked sheepish. “It was an accident!”

I laughed.

There was a shop off to the side, rising several stories high, and in its window was a platform. On this platform crouched a massive lion. An elaborately costumed circus trainer stood next to the great maned beast and held up a large hoop, and the lion jumped through the hoop to another platform, roaring loudly and making the crowd gasp. 

“I can’t believe how close we are to a live lion!” I exclaimed.

“It’s very cool,” Chance admitted.

“And he’s not even on a chain or behind a fence or anything!” I said. Aunt Clare and I had snuck into the NYC zoo at least once a year, and I loved seeing the lions, but they were always so far away, behind chain link fencing …”

“I think the trainer’s got the lion really well disciplined,” said Chance. “She’s got the lion under control.”

“It’s amazing. I never realized how incredible it was to see such a thing so up close.” I stared, my jaw dropped open.

Everything was just so amazing!

A pyramid of acrobats, all dressed in lilac, stood atop one another, and at the apex of their human tower, there was a small, bright green gnome-like creature, balancing on its head. It chattered down at the crowd and giggled madly as if it were insane.

“Oh my God!” I laughed and clapped my hands in delight.

Chance leaned close to my ear. “You wouldn’t be that happy if you knew that thing was a gremlin.”

I turned to look at him. “A what?”

“A mischievous imp that loves to cause trouble,” said Chance. “My friends and I once locked one in a classroom, as a prank. It caused so much destruction we were suspended for a month, had to do community service the whole time, and our parents had to pay for the damage. I lost my allowance for a year.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed.

He nodded knowingly. “Stay away from them, if you can.”

“Whoa!”

Around the next corner there was an illusionist who held a long stick with a slick black ribbon on the end. The stick was maybe ten feet long, and the ribbon was three times that length. He twirled the stick so that the ribbon fluttered in a circle, then he threw a handful of gold glitter into the circle. 

The air inside the ribbon immediately began to darken, then swirl in a smoky clockwise pattern. As the smoke began to clear, the circle of ribbon became a window onto a meadow as it was at night, even as the sun shone all around us. 

The meadow was filled with fireflies and the moon shone brightly down on the meadow. I was mesmerized as I saw a great dance played out on the nighttime meadow within that ribboned circle. It was as if the ribbons had generated a portal through which we could witness a scene from a great celebration playing out.

“Chance? What is that?” I whispered.

He bent low to whisper back. “It’s a spell. Pretty cool, huh?”

“So, it’s not really a portal?” I asked, glancing at him.

He shook his head no.

I shrugged. 

Pretty spectacular for an illusion.

We kept walking.

I saw a virtuoso, dressed in a fabulous dress of iridescent purple. Gold threads were woven in a corkscrew pattern, accenting her deep ebony arms and face. Her voice rang out in a tune that had us gasping with its beauty. She handed out small flowers to any who would place a coin in the basket at her feet.

I had never wished for a coin more in my life. I was entranced.

Chance nudged me. I glanced at him. He was handing me a silver coin; it had strange patterns on it, and was about the size of silver dollar.

I looked at him, questioning.

“It’s a faerie penny. Worth about fifty cents in the human world,” said Chance. He nodded to the singer. “Go on. Go put it in her basket.”

I smiled broadly, and walked over shyly, then plunked the large coin in her basket.

She bestowed the most beautiful smile on me, and for a few seconds, sang her aria just for me. She bent down and handed me a small white flower from the bunch in her hand.

I walked back to Chance, smelling the flower and feeling enchanted.

Chance bent to whisper in my ear again. “That’s a snowdrop. Keep it, it’s valuable. It’s got magical properties you’ll learn about in your first-year classes.”

I glanced at him, my mouth open in surprise, then carefully tucked the little flower into a small pocket in my bag. It would be safe there.

There was a wizard in a brilliant midnight-blue robe, wearing a tall pointed hat, half-moon glasses perched on the end of his nose. His long, flowing white beard was tied with trinkets that dripped of stars and moons and glittering tendrils of a plant I could not recognize. I stared into his eyes, and he met mine with a secret wink, then continued to peruse the wares on a table outside a small shop brilliantly painted in blue and gold, where he was shopping.

I beckoned to Chance, and when he brought his head close, I motioned toward the wizard and asked, “Is that one of the fae?” 

Chance grinned and answered, “Every person at this market is one of the fae. That old man is an elder; he just likes to dress in an olde fashioned manner.” He grinned at me.

I chuckled.

I saw a shop run by an enchanter, who boasted he could bespell any object, and then proceeded to make a lizard obey his command to run up his sleeve and perch atop his head. Then he took a small cup, balanced it on the palm of his hand, and said some mystical words over it. He blew, and the cup transformed into a giant moth, with a five-inch wingspan. He raised his palm, and the moth took flight and fluttered its wings, rising higher and higher until it disappeared above our heads.

“Chance,” I asked. “Is that something I can learn how to do at the school?”

“You can, as an elective,” said Chance, nodding, “But you should know he’s an illusionist, not a transfigurer. And the class to learn that sort of thing is called ‘Trickery and Sot.’ ” Chance winked.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself.

There was a man dressed all in dark greys and browns sitting in the window of his shop, where all manner of crystal balls and divination tools were displayed. He wore dark brown robes with runes appliqued all over them, and he held an urn, and whispered over it. A mist rose out of the urn and took shape in the form of a ghostly face, which the necromancer proceeded to ask questions of its former life. The mist dutifully answered.

I glanced at Chance. “Another Illusionist?”

Chance shook his head, his face serious.

My mouth dropped open.

Chance threw his head back and laughed.

“Ohhh you!” I pushed him playfully, grinning, secretly relieved.

I glanced back at the man and the ghost coming out of the urn as we walked past, and I swear he winked at me.

Something tells me this world is going to keep me on my toes.

We kept walking and looking at everything.

A few paces farther on, we encountered a grey-haired witch in a shop with a window entirely covered in leaves, where dozens of potion bottles were displayed, all with different colored liquids within. She called out to us, beckoning us to come and try her wares, then picked up a vial, seemingly at random, and drank the contents, and her hair changed from long grey and white, to a short cut in a brilliant leaf green color. She blinked her eyes and laughed at us, and we saw her eyes had also changed, from dull blue to piercing and endless black pools that looked like huge pearls.

“That’s amazing!” I said.

“It is, but it only lasts an hour, if that,” said Chance. “Your own hair is rarer and more special than anything she can enchant.

I blushed.

Next to the witch’s shop was a large ring of stone that enclosed a deep pool of water in the ground, surrounded by seaweed and smooth stones gathered from the sea. Inside the pool was a large boulder and sitting on this boulder was a siren. Her hair was wet and the color of the seaweed, greenish-black. Her skin was tinted green, and her piercing eyes followed us as she sat there. The man calling out to me from the side of the pool implored me to throw coins in the water to free the siren, so she could return to her people. At one point, she opened her mouth to sing a few notes, and a shiver ran down my spine at the sound.

“We won’t waste a coin on this. It’s all an act,” Chance whispered.

“I don’t have any coins,” I mumbled.

There was a store selling herbs and tinctures and mushrooms and balms and every type of dried plant you could ever want. It smelled wonderful and enticing, but Chance pulled me away from that as well. I vowed to come back to the shop sometime and investigate what they had to offer.

Then, there was a witch doctor with shrunken heads in his shop window. His hair was gathered in a topknot, and a bone pierced his septum. His dark brown skin was tattooed with dots and spiral patterns everywhere. He smiled as we passed, and we could see his teeth had been filed to points. He beckoned us to come closer, and I saw each of the shrunken heads he was selling had a third eye in the middle of its foreheads, to foretell the future.

“Too weird,” I said.

“Agreed,” said Chance. “That guy always gives me the creeps.”

We hurried past. 

We saw an astrologer whose shop was covered in depictions of the stars and constellations, who promised us she knew of a massive rock that would plummet from the sky and blast through to the ground, wreaking massive destruction. She assured us she had been sent by the king’s top magician to the fae marketplace to warn the people, who were urged to take cover before the next full moon.

I glanced at Chance, who rolled his eyes and whispered, “The king does not employ any magicians.” He shook his head, beckoning me onward.

A dozen more shops sold every type of antique and collectible. Dealers held out objects and called out to shoppers, enticing them to approach. One shop window displayed taxidermied pigs, deer, cows, and goats, and even a huge taxidermied sasquatch that I stared at for a long while before Chance murmured in my ear that we had to move on.

“Was that real?” I asked in a low tone.

Chance glanced back. “You mean the sasquatch?”

I nodded.

He shrugged, then grinned.

I chuckled.

We saw a large shop whose window was devoted to the sale of musical instruments. Inside, several shop musicians were playing. They played in unison, and the result was highly pleasing to the ear. Harps played alongside lyres, and flutes played alongside small drums, all serenading us with music.

“That’s where I got my first flute,” said Chance. “When I was eleven. Wellllll, my first serious flute. I don’t count the toy flutes I had as a child.

I turned to him. “You play the flute?”

He nodded. “Maybe I’ll show you some time.” He smiled.

 

**Don’t miss the rest of the series!**

Find them on Amazon!

Samaire Wynne grew up in a lot of different places, and now happily resides on the East Coast of America, laboring away at writing stories every day. She is an animal lover with far too many pets, yet she still muses how she’d like to add even more. A lover of all things night and gothic, she also loves to read and reread her favorite books. Owned by a cat named Tyrion, she can be found haunting the shadows and mists that hang low over the hills of southern Virginia.

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