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Only fools with a death wish left the forest at night.

So it was no surprise that the trees loomed disapprovingly as Tanwen Coslett traded their safety for the open field. Though she had hoped they wouldn’t chastise her so loudly.

A sharp warning cry from an owl mixed with a fox’s high-pitched scolding. Turn back, they all demanded. Too risky.

Thankfully, Tanwen was well practiced in ignoring the prodding advice from those with whom she did not agree. She had not traveled this distance during the full moons to return home empty handed.

Yet still, as Tanwen eyed the glowing jadüri bloom in the center of the tall grass, her pulse quickened when her current vulnerability became clear. Without the woven tangle of trees, she was an easy mark. Foolish prey.

She scanned the night sky once more, pointed ears on alert, as her legs continued to carry her toward the sacred flower.

High above, the twin moon goddesses, Maja and Parvi, tracked her movement, unblinking orbs of white and gold amid their dusting of stars. There was not even a cloud disturbing their brilliance as their moonlight cascaded across the stalks that rustled with Tanwen’s steps.

She remained alone.

See, she silently rebutted to the wildlife who waited, reluctant sentries at the forest’s edge. They had kept her company on her trek here, but their companionship always ended at the tree line. All is fine, she reassured.

For now, their dubious collective thoughts replied.

Despite disagreeing, Tanwen hurried her pace.

Her ability to communicate with animals was an irritant at times. They tended to offer unwanted opinions more readily than eldoth Yffant, the oldest member of her clan.

As she neared the flower, a gentle summer breeze ran encouraging fingers across her back.

Tanwen pulled free her small blade from her thigh holster.

With blood pumping quickly through her veins, she parted the tall grass, coming to kneel before the cerulean bloom. Its warm glow touched her cheeks, caressed her lips.

You found me, she imagined it sighing.

Tanwen carefully dug the plant out by the roots before laying it upon a clean strip of cloth. The petals were like gossamer, more fragile than glass, and within the center of the bud danced nectar of the gods.

Magic.

And it grew right here, on the soil of Cādra, for any Süra to take.

It never ceased to amaze Tanwen, this small gift from Maja and Parvi, the only High Gods who seemed to care for her kind. For it was under their full moonlight that jadüri bloomed.

“Thank you, Goddesses,” Tanwen whispered skyward before she wrapped up the flower, dousing its radiance, and slipped it into the pouch at her hip. It was a bag she had constructed herself, padded and sturdy, made specifically to hold such a fragile find.

As if Tanwen’s ears were stuffed with wax, her surroundings went deadly quiet. No longer did the noise of insects or nightfowl fill the air. And this, more than their earlier shouts, caused Tanwen’s hairs on her neck to rise.

Danger, their stillness announced.

With heartbeat in her throat, Tanwen gave no hesitation as she stood and sprinted back toward the forest.

How? she wondered in her panic, arms swinging, booted feet kicking up soil. I was alone! I swear I was alone!

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish, scolded the animals within the tight cluster of trees, the dark entrance still stretching much too far away.

A whooshing shadow passed overhead.

A heavy whip of wind.

Tanwen refused to look up.

Instead, her lungs burned as she forced herself to pick up speed. Her foraging satchel bounced at her back, her pouches slapping along her hips. Suddenly, obtaining the jadüri felt more than foolish. It appeared suicidal.

Not if I make it to the trees! she pleaded to any High God who might be listening.

But she should have known they turned ears only to their children, for her path became blocked by a great expansion of wings. An eclipsing silhouette fell over her, snuffing out the observing eyes of moonlight.

Tanwen jerked to a halt as her pulse tumbled forward.

His wingspan was as terrifying as it was magnificent. He gave one last push of his feathers, forcing the tall grass to bow with its gale as he planted booted feet on the ground.

Recklessly, Tanwen entertained turning and running the other way. But there lay only more endless field. Her safety was in the past, before she had stepped foot from the forest.

The blood drained from her as she curled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. She lowered her eyes and dropped to one knee.

As she had been taught.

As she was meant to before a child of the High Gods.

She loathed prostrating, but she was not ready to die this night.

“I mean you no harm.” His voice startled her, so deep, a storm thundering over the quiet grassland.

Tanwen kept her gaze down, knowing better than to reply, but internally her galloping heartbeats thumped Lies, lies, lies.

Volari and Süra were not comrades. Celestial beings did not befriend vermin, or so their winged kind liked to say. Any Süra found alone by a Volari rarely returned to their clan to tell the tale, or so her kind liked to say. And if this man knew what Tanwen really was, what mixed blood her Süra appearance masked, well, his knife would not have remained sheathed at his hip.

“I am searching for a man,” he continued as he towered over her. “Rumored to be living with the western clan of the Zomyad Forest. Three ambrü will be given to any who can share sound information about his whereabouts.”

A small fortune, thought Tanwen, her mind racing. Who would be worth so much to find?

“His name is Gabreel Heiro,” the Volari went on. “Though we expect he has not used that name in a very long while. He may appear as one of your own, but his lack of horns and the scars on his back will prove otherwise. For he was once a Volari, but no longer does he have his wings.”

Dread. A cold, unforgiving grip to Tanwen’s spine caused her to look up. A misstep, for she found the piercing blue gaze of the Volari regarding her much too intently.

He was tall. Broad. Light-brown skin flawless over his sharply cut features. The light of the twin moons outlined the crest of his white wings, now tucked in, the color matching his long tied-back hair. His beauty was eclipsing, a consuming spot in her vision that sent shivers through her before a cascading of heat. He was every bit a creature born in the clouds, meant to take up the sky.

Tanwen’s attention was pulled to the four gold stripes and sun insignia decorating his high-collared coat.

A renewed twist of fear filled her gut.

She knelt before a kidar of the royal palace, though perhaps she should be prostrating, for she could not be further from his equal.

“Do you know of such a man?” he inquired again.

Tanwen swallowed past the tightness squeezing her throat as she quickly bowed her head.

“I do not, sir,” she lied, praying now to the Low Gods that he’d believe her.

Because Tanwen did know of such a man.

But unfortunately, that man was her father.