Page 1

CHAPTER ONE

I PREPARED MYSELF FOR DEATH . Not mine but the soldiers’ who were foolish enough to stand in our way. The heat of my magic pulsed under my skin in the same steady beat it had from the moment I’d broken the last seal. The new gifts bubbled in my veins, still untested in the three weeks since they were unleashed, but I would need to test them tonight.

I sheathed my bloodstone dagger. It felt wrong to leave it behind, even if the mission would be a short one. After all, it was the blade that had restored Elverath’s magic; the blade that had turned my eyes gold. A small weapon, but hardy enough, though my dual blades were stowed between my shoulders for good measure.

The city of Myrelinth boomed with celebrations underneath my feet. I peered down at the Elverin from the treetops as they delighted in the revived magic. Children’s laughter echoed off the spiraling branches of the giant Myram tree. My chest loosened. I was grateful they could indulge in celebration, even if the levity wouldn’t last.

Magic had returned, but the war was not over.

I leaped from my burl. With a flash of light against the tangled vines, I took flight. It was easier to leave the city in my eagle form than walk through the crowds.

I scanned the skies as I flew, searching for signs of mercenaries or spies in the thick wood. Before the seals had broken, the wood was dark enough that any signs of fire were easy to spot. But now the Burning Mountains were aflame with their own inner light.

Leaves of every color glowed beneath my wings, swaying in the wind like luminescent algae caught along the surf. It was breathtaking. I couldn’t blame the Elverin for celebrating the return of magic.

The land was completely new. Just as the rivers of snowmelt washed away the frost each spring, the sealed magic had flooded across Elverath, transforming it almost beyond the point of recognition. I had been too dazed to notice the extent of the changes when we journeyed back to Aralinth the day the last seal broke.

My mind was on everyone we had lost.

Lash.

Maerhal.

Nikolai.

I refused to believe that Damien had killed him. That would be too merciful. All I could picture were the different ways Damien had been torturing my friend. Some things were worse than death.

Dead or not, Nikolai’s absence had fractured us completely. While the rest of the Elverin danced until dawn each night and spent their days rediscovering plants and life they thought had gone extinct, the heart of the rebellion no longer had a pulse.

Syrra refused to speak. She haunted the crypts as if waiting for her sister’s ghost to come and find her there.

Vrail hadn’t left the library. She was determined to find some kind of ancient magic to locate Nikolai, or to at least find out if he was dead or alive.

Their duties plus Nikolai’s had fallen to me. And Killian’s, it seemed.

I kicked the ground as I landed, shoving thoughts of Riven and his deception from my mind. My anger had had three weeks to roast, but it would do no good for me tonight. Riven had fled as he always did. And, as always, it was left to me to make the hard choices.

I took a deep breath, and the scent of honey filled my nostrils. I needed to focus on this mission. Nothing else existed. I looked down. Tiny yellow bells had sprouted from where I disturbed the soil with my boot.

Three weeks had not been enough to calm my newfound magic. My body was electrified, pulsing with life, and I could feel that same pulse everywhere I walked. Magic. That’s what Feron had told me when I came to him with my concerns. I was overflowing with it.

He had told me that my powers would only grow stronger now that I was a niinokwenar . A Faemother. I pulled my hood over my head, covering my golden eyes. I didn’t want more magic. Especially when the Elverin looked at me like a reincarnation of their sacred Faelin.

I would not bring them peace like she and her daughters had.

I had brought a war to their feet, and even with our magic stores returned, I knew that the death toll would spill over with blood soon enough.

Most of it amber.

My magic pulsed as I flattened my palm against the stony peak of the Burning Mountains. I could make out the trail through the thick foliage, but it was best to check for rogue Shades and soldiers before the others arrived. The pulse of life overwhelmed my senses. I winced as I focused my gift to just the trail below. It was clear. I took flight and dove through the glimmering leaves. A flock of faeflies scattered as my arms replaced my wings in a flash of light.

I gawked at the path. It was like walking a winding trail through the stars instead of a woodland. Every place I stepped was an eerie dream, equal parts familiar and new. I had traveled the paths along the western side of the Burning Mountains countless times; I’d patrolled it for half a year after I gained my hood. I would go to sleep with every turn drawn behind my eyelids like a map.

But even the woods in the kingdom were different now. The Elder birch had turned gold just like those in the Faelinth . They shimmered as the first signs of light broke along the horizon.

The others would arrive any minute.

I leaned against one of the massive trees. New plants and shrubs I had never seen sprouted between the white trunks. Tiny berries hung from purple leaves and spouted a tiny tendril of flame each time a faefly buzzed past. At night, the flames flashed so often they looked like stars had fallen from the sky and settled along the tree line.

I pulled the stalk of a thin weed the color of seafoam. The earth swelled around its roots as I lifted the hidden fruit from the dirt. The thrashing power of my magic swelled forward, and water pooled from the air to wash the dirt away. Underneath was a thick, round ball the size of my fist.

I hit the hard skin against the trunk of the birch tree. The sound echoed, and something in the darkness snarled.

I ignored it. I was still the scariest thing in this wood.

The tough, green skin of the fruit gave way to bright pink flesh. My stomach rumbled at the sweet aroma. The flight had exhausted me more than I thought, and I hadn’t packed any sustenance. Nikolai was the one who always made sure to pack extra food.

I set one half of the fruit on the ground and bit into the other. It was one of the plants that had gone temporarily extinct without magic. I knew it was edible because I had watched Darythir pluck one from the ground to feast on, but I had no idea what it was called.

I groaned as I took the first bite. It was deliciously fresh. So much so that I barely looked up when the watery veil between the two Elder birches swirled with auric light.

“You make more mess than a horse.” Gerarda’s lip curled above her teeth in feigned disgust. She looked shorter than normal standing between two tall horses. The top of her short hair was pulled back into a small bun, not long enough for a braid. Her eyes darted in every direction as she scanned the trail.

Gerarda didn’t have it in her to trust my magic to defend us.

She let go of my horse’s reins as it gracefully licked at the fruit before swallowing it whole.

Gerarda might have had a point.

Fyrel and Gwyn slipped through the portal side by side, their horses trailing after them. Fyrel was mid-whisper when her gaze landed on me. “Morning, Keera.” My name came slow and rough on Fyrel’s tongue, like it still caused her pain to call me anything other than “Mistress.”

Gwyn smiled and tossed me a small bag of cured meats.

I launched a piece into my mouth. “I knew there was a reason I let you come on this mission.”

Gwyn’s crimson curls fanned out as her head snapped back to me. “ Let me?” She turned to Gerarda. “You said I earned this.”

Gerarda planted herself right next to the portal. “You have.”

I stuck another piece of meat in my mouth so I didn’t say something foolish. Gerarda and I had been arguing about letting Gwyn accompany us for two days. She was certain that Gwyn’s sword work and combat skills were well past an initiate. I couldn’t deny Gwyn’s skill with a blade, but there was something familiar about her unearned confidence. She was impatient and overzealous just like I had been. Just like Brenna had been.

And that had gotten her killed.

A small smile played at Gerarda’s lips as the veil of water shimmered once more. I didn’t need to see Elaran step through the portal to know it was her. There was only one person on the entire continent who could make Gerarda focus on anything other than a mission.

Elaran slipped off her horse, her big curls loose but pushed back with a golden headband.

I stared at the portal. “Syrra? Vrail?”

Gerarda laced her hand through Elaran’s and shook her head. “Syrra refuses to leave the crypt, and Vrail locked us out of the library before we could ask her.”

“And you didn’t break down the door?”

Gerarda looked at the ground with a guilty expression on her face.

“Feron fixed it,” Elaran said through her laugh. She rested her arm on Gerarda’s shoulder. “Though he insisted Gerrie leave Vrail to her books.”

“And you didn’t try?”

Elaran’s face softened with pity. It made my back tense. “She’s not coming, Keera. We’ll try again next time.”

Next time. What if Vrail never went on another mission? What if losing Nikolai changed her forever and she never held a sword again? I thumbed the scar along my forearm through my tunic. Losing Brenna had changed me. In so many ways—some I was only beginning to understand.

“Did you find Riven at least?” There was a desperate breathiness in my voice that only made me angrier. Riven had left Aralinth hours after we returned from breaking the last seal. All I had gotten was a notebook with a I’m searching for Nikolai scribbled onto the first page.

I hadn’t written him back.

Elaran shook her head. “The four of us are more than capable of handling an extraction.”

“There’s five of us.” Fyrel pointed to each of us, tallying it up on her fingers.

Elaran smirked. She looked as alluring as a fire lion, and just as dangerous. “I’m counting you and your sweetness”—she eyed Gwyn—“as only one. Untested halves, if you will.”

Fyrel’s cheeks flushed red and she had the sudden urge to reorganize her saddlebags. Her braid swayed behind her back as her leg bounced underneath her.

Gwyn’s blue eyes narrowed. “Haven’t we trained enough to be seen as individuals?”

“If that were true then you wouldn’t be serving the same role on this mission.” Elaran’s horse bucked, his ears flicking to something in the forest. She patted its jaw, and it nipped at the grassy trail.

“Keera, what does she mean?” Gwyn crossed her arms, her red strands almost setting themselves aflame with the rage behind her eyes. “Gerarda said that I would play a crucial role.”

Of course Gerarda had said that. I snapped a look at her, but Gerarda just shrugged, leaving me to answer Gwyn’s questions.

“And so you shall.” I lobbed another piece of meat into my mouth. “As lookouts.”

Gwyn groaned. “So you don’t mean for me to do anything at all.”

I stood up from the base of the tree. “This is not some training drill, Gwyn.” My magic flared behind me, and I could sense plant life sprouting from where I had been sitting. I didn’t turn to look; I needed Gwyn to understand this. “These are real people. Real Halflings we are going to save. I would never put their lives in the hands of someone I couldn’t completely trust to do their job.”

I stepped close enough to Gwyn that I could feel her swallow.

“Are you telling me that I shouldn’t trust you with this?” I tucked my hands behind my back and stared down at her just as Hildegard had done to me countless times as an initiate. “If you are not ready for a real mission, say so now.”

Gwyn straightened to her full height. “I am ready.” Her nostrils flared as she spoke.

“Good.”

Gwyn didn’t relax her stance. “Am I meant to be a sentry forever then?”

Elaran stepped around Gwyn and placed her hands on her shoulders. “Patience is the sharpest weapon a warrior can have.”

“And the largest shield one can carry,” I added.

Gwyn turned to Gerarda, as if she couldn’t trust what Elaran and I had said without her approval. I gritted my teeth. Gerarda was an excellent warrior, one of the greatest I had ever seen, but only one of us had been named Blade.

Gerarda nodded. “If we save Victoria and her Halflings, it will be in no small part because you and Fyrel were keeping the path clear.”

“Who is Victoria anyway?” Fyrel said, still next to her horse, her cheeks less red now.

“One of the Halflings in hiding that helped others find refuge,” Elaran said. “She is one of the founding members of the Rose Road.”

My chest tightened with the urge to correct Elaran’s mistake. Victoria was Mortal, not a Halfling. Though I could understand the assumption in a world where so few Mortals were willing to risk their lives to ferry Halflings into safety. But something in her gaze told me that correction was best left until the Halflings were safe and not under threat of siege from Damien’s sellswords.

“Doesn’t explain why we’re rushing to Silstra the moment she sends word.” Gerarda crossed her arms. “Wouldn’t it be safer with more of a plan? I never sent in Shades without at least a week of surveillance.”

I tugged on the new fastener at my neck. The gleaming gemstones and the white stone of the Order that we had reclaimed for ourselves. “We aren’t Shades any longer.”

Gerarda crossed her arms, refusing to move until she had her answer.

I sighed. I had been evading Gerarda’s questions since Dynara sent word of Victoria’s message two days prior. And anyone willing to put their lives on the line for one of my plans deserved an answer.

“Damien’s soldiers are dealing with the chaos that the return of magic unleashed.” There had been reports of new plants destroying dwellings and the waters of the Three Sisters rising up and washing livestock away. “That chaos is a distraction we can use to our advantage.” I swallowed the lump building in my throat. “Giving Damien time to plot is too dangerous. It’s better to move quickly before he has every village under watch.”

If he didn’t already.

Gerarda’s lips were nothing but a thin line across her face. She held my gaze for a long moment then nodded.

Elaran tugged at her partner’s bun. “Glad that’s settled.” She twirled a long, thin blade with two sharpened ends between her fingers. “We should be on our way if we want to make the last portal by dusk.”

I shoveled the remaining contents of the meat pouch into my mouth and swallowed. I grabbed the horn of my saddle, ready to mount, but Gwyn grabbed my arm. Her finger was pressed against her lips, and she pointed up to a gap in the foliage where we could see the lightening sky.

Fyrel and Gerarda grabbed their bows and nocked an arrow in perfect unison. They tracked the target as it flew but did not shoot.

Three beautiful birds soared above the tree line. Their feathers were a deep red near their body and burned bright gold at the ends. They had flown over the Pool of Elvera mere hours after the seal had broken and the survivors of Damien’s troops had fled.

Laethvaraq . That’s what Feron had called them.

He said they were an omen of great prosperity and always flew in a flock of three. Before Aemon had come to Elverath, the laethvaraq were seen as a symbol of luck. Then the king had them killed and they were forgotten by all except those old enough to have seen them for themselves.

But that was not what Gerarda and Fyrel had their arrows pointed at. Soaring high above the birds was a small black shadow. It made no sound at all. The only warning was the sudden silence of the wood.

It lingered in the air and, for a moment, I thought it wouldn’t strike.

But then it dove.

The small shadow grew in size, almost as large as my eagle form. The laethvaraq turned their long necks just in time to see the owl transform into a horrifying beast. Its head slithered from its body like a snake, growing until it was large enough to swallow the lucky birds whole.

We watched in silent horror as its tongue wrapped around the neck of the middle bird. The resounding snap echoed through the forest as the owl swallowed the beautiful creature in a single gulp.

Then as quickly as it had transformed, its head shrunk to its original size, and it looked like a normal owl once more.

Gerarda lowered her bow.

“No wonder Syrra hates them,” I said under my breath.

“The first shapeshifters.” Elaran took a sip from her waterskin. “Many of the Fae who had the gift would take an owl’s form.”

Like Riven’s mother.

I mounted my horse and pushed all thoughts of Riven and his shapeshifting from my mind.

Gwyn’s face was solemn. “Feron told me that the laethvaraq are born as three. If one dies, two more deaths will swiftly follow.”

My chest tightened. I hoped that wasn’t an omen too.

“It’s amazing,” Fyrel said, her arrow still pointed at the sky. “Imagine being able to take whatever form you like.”

She turned to me with wide, pondering eyes.

I huffed a laugh. “No shapeshifter has ever known that power. We have one other form, and that is more than enough.”

I disappeared into a flash of light and soared across the path, whipping Fyrel’s braid with my wing. I perched on my saddle and transformed back to my Fae form with a grin. Fyrel clapped her hands, and Gerarda hit my leg with her shoulder before mounting her own horse.

“Show-off.”