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My heart sank for the fae I did not know. I had never met my mother, and to hear my old master tell it, my father was nowhere to be found when, twenty-one turns ago, his soldiers had found my mother, dead in the woods near the border of the Winter Court. She’d been dead in a snow drift, a bundled up two-year-old baby—me—in her arms. Lord Aldéric’s soldiers had taken me to his estate, and there, he’d claimed me and given me my name. Every so often I thought about my past and of course my loss hurt, but it had to be worse to know your family and then lose them.

Then the other part of what Frode said caught my attention. “What do you mean by the blight?”

Frode stretched out his stunted wings. “A sickness that’s been sweeping our kingdom for a long time. It’s why my wings stopped growin’. Ye don’t have it in your court?”

I wracked my brain. Had I read about this affliction? Vampires certainly wouldn’t care to gossip about it. Not unless a slave was affected, and I’d never met one that was.

“Not that I’ve encountered,” I settled on.

“Yer a lucky lass.”

Not for most of my life, but things seemed to be changing. I hoped luck stayed with me long enough to retrieve Anna.

We chatted about other small matters, mostly pertaining to Frode and his work, until we crested a hill and a city appeared in the valley. Snow covered the roofs of small homes, and a castle rose in the backdrop. It didn’t appear as large as the Laurents’ castle, but it was nothing to sneeze at either.

“Beautiful,” I said as Frode directed the cart down the hill toward a stone wall that surrounded the town.

“Had a fresh snow the other night, we did. Guldtown always looks pretty in white.”

She did, and I admired the city as we rode up to the wall. Two male fae stood watch. Their eyes widened at our approach.

“Who’s this, Frode?” one asked, studying me more than the product he needed to check.

“Neve. She’s from the Autumn Court. I found her lost on the road.”

“That’s a long way away.” The guard grunted. “The warden will want to know.”

“It’s a good thing I’m goin’ to the castle then, eh?” He arched an eyebrow.

The fae gave Frode a look that plainly said that he had better do as he promised and opened the gates.

We drove through. Frode stayed quiet until the gate closed again and then turned to me. “Ye don’t mind if I stop at the castle first before I take ye to the shopping district for a cloak? I really was supposed to have this wood here earlier but got delayed.”

“Not a problem,” I assured him.

How I’d purchase a new cloak, food, and a room was anyone’s guess, but I’d figure it out. Perhaps an innkeeper would have garments they needed mended or dishes to do? No matter the task, I’d do whatever it took for a soft bed to sleep in and another layer.

Perhaps I’d get new shoes too. My toes wiggled in my boots. They’d been worn down before, but after walking in the snow, the soles felt as thin as parchment. I had a long way to travel and blisters and sores wouldn’t make that easier.

Frode wound through the city, and for the first time, I was surrounded by those of my own magical order. All types of fae bustled in the streets, working, gossiping, generally going about their days. I recognized a dryad with his bark-like skin and vivid green hair, hauling a basket of brooms on his back. A circle of nymphs, all dressed provocatively and giggling, watched a duo of male faeries stride down the street. Pixies zoomed through the air so fast I could barely catch their faces, and a trio of leprechauns fought in front of a building that, judging by its luxurious exterior, I thought must be a coinary.

Many fae were dressed in thick fur cloaks, some of them even embroidered, and everyone appeared clean and healthy. The dominant industry of the city had to have been lucrative for such fine clothing to be commonplace. I opened my mouth to ask what the city was known for, when we turned a corner and the castle appeared at the end of a short road. In face of the majesty of the castle, the question flitted away.

While lovely from far away, up close, it became more stunning. The gold-capped towers sprung from white stone, and the red doors and ice roses pictured in stained glass windows made for a beautiful contrast.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Frode asked, catching the awe that I wore clearly on my face.

“Indeed. Is that tower genuine gold? Or painted?”

“’Tis gold. Comes from the mines nearby. The Lisika family is so rich they fill their toilets with gold.”

I snorted out a surprised laugh at Frode’s indelicacy. “I see.”

Well, that explained the well-kept appearance of the rest of the town. A mine of that sort would maintain the area’s wealth.

We reached the castle gates and after a brief conversation with a castle steward, Frode drove around the building to the area where he needed to drop off his wares. He stopped the cart, jumped into the snow, and offered me a hand.

“Thank you.” I took his hand and stepped down. “I—hey!” The moment my feet touched the ground, the fae pulled the dagger from my sheath, and threw it aside as he scooped me up, and tossed me over his shoulder. “What are you doing?!”