Nutcracker of Crystalfall: Fae and Crystal Thorns, #0

Books by Kay L. Moody

Fae and Crystal Thorns

1: Flame & Crystal Thorns

2: Shadow & Crystal Thorns

3: Blade & Crystal Thorns

4: Curse & Crystal Thorns

5: Title Coming Soon!

Standalone: Nutcracker of Crystalfall

The Fae of Bitter Thorn

0: Heir of Bitter Thorn

1: Court of Bitter Thorn

2: Castle of Bitter Thorn

3: Crown of Bitter Thorn

4: Queen of Bitter Thorn

The Elements of Kamdaria

1: The Elements of the Crown

2: The Elements of the Gate

3: The Elements of the Storm

Truth Seer Trilogy

1: Truth Seer

2: Healer

3: Truth Changer

To receive special offers, bonus content, and info on new releases, sign up for Kay L. Moody’s email list! You’ll also get this story for FREE. Heir of Bitter Thorn is a prequel to The Fae of Bitter Thorn. It tells the story of how Prince Brannick escaped Fairfrost Palace. Never bargain with a fae.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

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November is not my favorite time of year. Without delving too much into the details, my kind and loving parents were killed in a car accident when I was only 12 years old. As you may have guessed, the accident happened in November—the day before Thanksgiving, in fact.

It hits me every year, but this year (2022) was a little different. This year, I am the exact same age my mom was when she died. For most of the year, I did my best to not think about it. I told myself it’s just an age, and it doesn’t mean anything.

But then November hit.

It’s pretty weird being the age my mom was when she died. It’s weird that I’m now older than she ever was. It’s surreal, painful, and honestly, kind of scary. If I ever needed a distraction, I needed it this November.

That’s how this story was born. I wrote this story to distract myself but also to remind myself that even the scariest, most intense circumstances can still be worked through. No matter what happens in life, eventually, a happy ending can be found.

This story was for me, but most of all, this story is for you. In searching out and creating my own joy, I desperately wanted to share that joy with others.

I hope you’ll consider this story a gift from me to you for whatever holiday/birthday you happen to be celebrating next. I hope this book uplifts you and reminds you happiness can be found even after the most troubling circumstances. I hope this story is a reminder that you have greatness inside you.

Happy holidays and happy reading!

Kay L. Moody

NUTCRACKER OF CRYSTALFALL

Fae and Crystal Thorns, Standalone novella

The annual Christmas party was going just fine... until the trolls showed up.

Clara is a young woman who is wickedly good at puzzles, but she also has a secret her parents have shamed her into hiding. The weight of that secret has ruined nearly every happy moment in her life.

At least this year’s Christmas party gets more interesting once a mysterious stranger shows up. He teaches Clara how to crack nuts, wears a soldier’s uniform she’s never seen, and flashes a smile she’ll never forget.

But then a cruel party guest destroys the only gift that matters to Clara. Even worse, trolls appear and try to kill the handsome stranger she only just met. The fight rages into the night. Soon, Clara has to make a choice.

She could finally escape her unloving parents and the dreadful life they have planned for her. It would only take a promise to join an even greater conflict in the magical and dangerous realm of Faerie—a land she previously didn’t know existed.

If she stays home, her happiness will end forever. If she goes to Faerie, a great adventure awaits her...but it might kill her too.

Publisher’s Note: This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, organizations, or locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business or government establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Nutcracker of Crystalfall

Fae and Crystal Thorns, standalone novella

By Kay L. Moody

Published by Marten Press

3731 W 10400 S, Ste 102 #205

South Jordan, UT 84009

www.MartenPress.com

© 2022 Kay L. Moody

All Rights Reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

help@martenpress.com

Cover by Angel Leya

Edited by Sara Lawson

Fae and Crystal Thorns, standalone novella

NUTCRACKER OF CRYSTALFALL

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Kay L. Moody

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

ONE

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TODAY WAS THE LAST DAY of Clara’s life. Though she’d technically still be alive tomorrow, everything she’d ever loved would be ripped away from her. The few bright spots in her gloomy, seventeen and a half years of life would be snuffed out and replaced with even darker, gloomier things. She had one last day to enjoy herself—one last day before everything changed.

But how could she enjoy herself with such a future looming ahead?

Her fingers twitched over the teacup in her hands. Doing her best to forget the event that would take place the next day, she used a dark cloth to polish the outer surface of the porcelain.

After conspiring with her estate’s baker, she had managed to paint and bake a protective glaze over the cup and saucer that would protect the designs she had spent months creating.

The polishing cloth now helped to make its surface shine. Delicate purple flowers and green leaves stood out against the bright white background of the small cup. She’d even strategically painted lines of gold around the teacup’s edge and handle to give it a luxurious feel. Clara’s lady’s maid, Heidi, would feel like a noble herself whenever she used the cup and saucer.

That thought brought a little smile to Clara’s lips. Maybe her lady’s maid wasn’t allowed to stay with Clara after tomorrow, but at least she’d be able to leave Heidi a gift she’d never forget.

With the polishing finished, Clara’s thumb traced a bundle of the purple flowers she had painted. This particular bundle held a secret only Heidi would recognize. The flowers along the outer edge of the bundle were slightly darker, which created the shape of a ring. Others wouldn’t notice the ring shape easily, but even if they did, they wouldn’t understand the significance.

Only Heidi would know that the ring shape was meant to commemorate a brass ring Heidi had received from her mother as a child and, sadly, had lost recently. But the painted flower ring on the teacup in Clara’s lap was the exact same size and shape as that lost ring. Of course, it would never be the same as the real ring, but at least it gave Heidi a way to remember the special item.

Boisterous laughter rang out near Clara as a young couple floated past her with nearly empty glasses of wine in their hands. They wore silk party clothes, and the woman had her white-blonde hair expertly braided into a bun with soft curls, bright red flowers, and small fruits decorating it further. Judging by the direction the couple walked, they were on their way to refill their glasses.

Nearly all the guests had arrived. If some of them were already on their way to get a second glass of wine, she needed to hurry and place her gift for Heidi under the Christmas tree. Using the brown paper she had nicked from the kitchen, Clara carefully wrapped the teacup and saucer and positioned them inside a small brown box.

Spools of silk ribbon covered the table at her side. She chose a pretty blue ribbon with embroidered purple swirls. After unspooling it a bit, she eyeballed the length and then cut it. Her lips pursed as she examined it. The length would be perfect for Heidi to use as a hair ribbon.

No one else would ever think to use a gift wrap ribbon in their hair. No one else would ever imagine the length would be perfect for such a thing. But Heidi always appreciated Clara’s talent for perfectly estimating the size and shape of things. Her lady’s maid would know without even asking that Clara had cut it that length on purpose.

With the gift finally wrapped, Clara held it gently in both hands and started across the room. The dark walnut hardwood floor creaked under her feet, but with the violins and cello playing nearby, she could barely hear it.

Her gaze drifted to the Christmas tree in the center of the room. Its evergreen branches stretched so high, the tip nearly reached the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A massive circular blanket sat at the base of the tree, catching the wax from the candles above. White candles adorned the needled branches, their little lights flickering with the same delight that filled the rest of the room. The wrapped presents sitting under the tree already piled high.

Dozens of guests crowded the normally-empty spaces of the large room. They ate and drank, danced and laughed. An almost-smile played at her lips at the sight of them. The guests were always her favorite part of her parents’ annual Christmas party. With so many people watching, her parents had always been forced to get her fine and fancy gifts. Otherwise, their neighbors might guess how cruel her parents really were.

It did not fill her with joy to know she now needed assistance from one of them. Her pink silk skirts swished as she ambled through the room. It only took a moment to spot her mother. The woman’s soft brown and gray hair had been braided with ribbon that matched her yellow and red dress. Her voice reverberated through at least one third of the room as she laughed and gossiped with her favorite women in their town.

Judging by the splashes of wine on her hand, she was already past her second glass and well into her third. Better to avoid Mother then. After that much wine, she was more likely to expose Clara’s secret by accident—a secret no one except her father, mother, Heidi, and a few tutors knew.

Clara’s shoulders tensed as she changed direction, heading toward the plushy chairs in front of the large fireplace at one edge of the room. At least her father sat alone as he leaned over the short wooden table in front of him, probably finishing a few last pieces of the paperwork that would spell out Clara’s doom.

She darted toward him, grateful to have found him alone. Coming to his side, she knelt on the rug at his feet and held the gift and a small tag out to him.

After glancing over one shoulder, she leaned in close to whisper. Could you address this for me?

He had completely ignored her until that moment. As soon as the words left her lips, his gaze shot upward to scan the area around them. He found them in complete privacy, just as she had observed a moment ago. That didn’t stop him from snatching the tag from her hand with a glare.

What shall I write? His gruff voice sounded even more gravelly than usual. His recent cough probably attributed to it, but the sound still made her limbs shake.

She gulped. From Clara.

He rolled his eyes, clearly expecting her to say who the gift was for before she said who it was from. But she knew better than to give that away yet.

Despite his eye rolling, he did write the words in his sweeping, beautifully curved handwriting. More than anyone, he didn’t want her secret getting out. So, he’d help begrudgingly as long as it didn’t look suspicious. What else? Even in a whisper, he managed to make the words feel like an ugly shout.

To, she continued, purposefully waiting until he started writing before she said more. When his pen stopped, she took a deep breath. Heidi.

The snarl she expected bloomed across his face even fiercer than she had imagined. He bared his teeth as he leaned closer to her. "You have only one gift to give, and it’s for a servant?"

Clara leaned back as she lifted her palms in a posture of surrender. Heidi already helped me address my other gifts. We did it days ago.

He continued to snarl with his nose now twitching as he scrawled the name onto the tag. It looked far less beautiful than his previous handwriting. At least he had written it.

Just as she reached to pluck the tag from the table, an icy gust of wind shot across the room. Father had to grip the tag a little tighter to be certain it didn’t blow away.

Both of them glanced toward the heavy wooden doors that had just been opened to the world outside. Five people entered the room, all dressed in fine silks and fur coats. Lord Metternich and his wife’s eyes twinkled when they caught sight of the decorated Christmas tree. Their oldest son, Hans, and his wife smiled at the room