Page 36

Wynter

T he first thing I’m aware of is suffocating warmth. The second is the low hum of magic clinging to my skin, hot and itchy. I grunt and fling my arm out, hitting Ivor curled up beside me, snoring like a wild boar.

“Fuck, no.” I sit bolt upright, holding my throbbing head. “ No .”

The room is familiar. Too familiar. I’m surrounded by dark blue walls decorated with threads of shining copper that ray out from central discs, like beams in the Merit Sun Throne.

Heavy velvet curtains are only part-drawn to let in a slice of bright morning light.

This is the room I always sleep in when I visit Merri, which means…

I’m in the Merit Palace.

And I was supposed to be in the fucking Shade Court.

I throw off the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the goblet on the nightstand.

The door opens.

Merri, my betrayer, enters .

Ivor jumps off the bed and trots toward her, hankering for pats—the traitorous lapdog.

“Don’t start,” she says, holding up a hand. The same hand that used to tug me out of trouble when we were young. “Please take a moment and listen before you bury me in the rubble of my own home.”

Crossing my arms, I take a slow, deep breath through my nose. “What did you do?”

She has the decency to look vaguely guilty. This morning, her crown and finery are gone, and her red waves are half-fallen from their braids. She looks disheveled. Worried. Just as she fucking-well should.

“Wyn, you needed rest,” she says calmly. “You looked like you hadn’t slept in days, and I wasn’t about to send you into the Shade Court like that. They’d eat you alive.”

I return her fierce scowl. “How long ?” I ask, raking my hands through my hair.

“Three nights.”

I freeze, knuckle-deep in knots. “You put a sleep spell on me—your own brother—for three whole nights?”

She nods, silver eyes resting serenely on mine. “I couldn’t wake you. The spell keeps you asleep for as long as necessary. You clearly needed the rest.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m your older sister. And you’ve long been impulsive and unpredictable. It’s not in my job description to let my foolish brother fling himself into the Raven Realm without at least a decent nap and a change of proper clothes. You arrived wearing only a glamour after shifting, didn’t you?”

“Who cares what I was wearing? Summer could be—”

“Alive. And waiting. If Landolin wanted her dead, he would have killed her eight years ago.”

My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.

There’s so much I want to say, all of it a tangled mess of guilt and fear.

I’m so afraid I’ve already failed Summer and that she’s dead.

Or maybe worse… She might be being tortured as I sit here in comfort and luxury—suffering terribly.

Or dancing like a puppet again until her feet bleed and she collapses on hard stone, breaking bones and spirit.

“How was she?” Merri asks, blinking back tears. “Before Landolin got to her.”

“She’s missing a year of memories. Thinks she killed her own parents. Take a wild fucking guess how she’s doing.”

“Likely traumatized.”

“Yeah. She’s a beautiful mess.”

“The poor girl. When you see her, give her a hug from me.”

“I will.” I pause, then arch a brow. “Well then… do I have your permission to leave now, Your Majesty?” I ask.

Merri gestures to the side table. A fresh tunic, clean leathers, and a cloak folded neatly beside a satchel packed with supplies.

“If you’ve finished your tantrum, Wynter, get dressed. I’ll take you to Chancellor Mareous who will help us open the portal.”

Mareous—the sea witch whose wise counsel and formidable magic have been a pillar of Merit power for centuries—has always had it in for me.

“Must you?” I ask, ungratefully. “I don’t think she likes me. Why isn’t Riven helping us?”

“Meerade’s hatchlings are learning to fly. He’s supporting her. And Mareous has always liked you too much, if you know what I mean. ”

What? Does that explain her narrowed-eyed glares across the dining hall over the years? I thought she was picturing gutting me with her claws, not imagining her thighs wrapped around my waist.

After I’ve tugged on clothes, Merri enfolds me in a warm embrace. “Ready?”

Not really. Merit transfers hurt like seven hells, but I nod anyway and say, “Just promise you’ll put me back together in the right order. You’ve only been doing this whole transmuting thing for seven years.”

Merri’s laugh tickles my neck. “I’ll do my best. At least your wolf trusts me. Come on, Ivor, join us.”

Ivor barks as he squeezes between us, then a wave of nausea hits me, violent and sudden, and my body dissolves in the magic.

We land on the beach, and the scent of an incoming storm wraps around me, fresh and briny, smelling a lot like Merri and her air magic. I take a moment to steady myself, let the nausea settle, then scan the rugged coastline.

Across the bay, black-and-white towers rise from the ocean, piercing the sky like twin spears. A single footbridge spans the water between them, narrow and impossibly long, connecting the sea to land with a ribbon of dark metal.

When Merri followed the Merit King to this city—after nursing him back to health when she found him wounded in our land—he wasn’t exactly pleased to see her.

Still, he settled her into the White Tower, the same place the old king (his asshole father) had bound Riven’s mother’s soul to the chambers.

A test to see whether my sister would be approved by the queen who came before her.

Of course, good-natured Merri passed with dignity and grace .

Rows of waves crash in slow arcs, rolling onto the black sand as they’ve been doing since time began. A circle of merfolk wait in the shallows, their wet hair glittering with tiny white shells, eyes opaque and distant.

Merri stands beside me, her face turned to the horizon as Ivor leans against my side. She takes my hand and squeezes hard. Then, the song begins.

It rises from the sea like the tide itself. Low and lilting, then sharp and sweet, notes coiling through the air like ribbons of magic.

Then Counselor Mareous glides in over the water. A fearsome goddess of the ocean. But not one I’d ever dare pray to.

Her hair is kelp green and silver, threaded with pearls that glow brightly in the sunlight. Long strands writhe around her as if her hair has a mind of its own, entwining like sea serpents down her back. Her skin is silvered, kissed with scales, and her eyes are the color of a stormy ocean.

She steps onto the shore barefoot, a train of water trailing behind her like a skein of translucent silk.

Merri moves forward, and I follow, my breath hitching hard in my throat. Mareous bows her head, and the merfolk do the same.

“Queen Merrin, everything has been arranged as requested,” she says, her voice resonating with the rhythm of the sea. Steady, deep, and impossible to ignore. “The gate awaits.”

Then her gaze settles on my face, trails to my boots, then back up again. “Prince Wynter, it has been too long.”

“Several moon turns at least,” I reply as I bow in greeting .

“You and Ivor do not drift this way often enough,” she says with a slow smile. “Your presence always brings me great pleasure. If I could, I would see you more frequently, Prince of the Fertile Earth.”

At least Mareous doesn’t call me Prince of the Barren Earth, like the air mage who cursed me does. But judging by the way she’s grinning at me now, I might feel more comfortable if she did.

The merfolk wade from the water and begin to chant, voices rising and falling like the swell of the ocean. Silver light winds around them, linking their arms, their hearts, their power as they form a large circle.

Mareous lifts her hands. “Merri, Wynter, Ivor, take your places in the center.”

We do as she bids, and Mareous stands across from us, her fingers weaving invisible threads of magic through the air. Wild, ancient power builds in the boundary of the circle.

We join hands, Ivor standing between us, and my sister’s air magic weaves around our bodies, bright and volatile, tugging at our cloaks and hair, eager to carry the spell forward.

My earth magic has no place in this ritual, even so, the base of my spine thrums, pressure building like stone shifting beneath the ground, aching to burst free.

Mareous throws her head back, her jaw slack. Frothing water pours from her mouth and the outstretched cups of her hands, churning around our feet and rising to lap around our calves.

Silver light explodes in the sky above, wind and magic colliding in a deafening fury.

Merri whispers something, but I can’t make out the words. She blows me a kiss, and then I’m thrown into the air. I must black out because it only seems like seconds pass before I land on hard ground, sand crunching beneath me.

Fuck, this feels wrong.

I look up. The sky is the color of brushed iron. The sun’s nowhere to be seen. Just gray sand stretching in every direction, broken by jagged outcrops of stone and the twisted skeletons of fire-ravaged trees.

Not the Shade Court. Not one obsidian glass wall of the City of Dorthadas in sight.

“Of course,” I mutter. “Of course we fucking missed the mark.”

Ivor whines beside me, and I wrap my arms around his neck as he licks my face.

I pull myself up, brush sand off my tunic, and focus.

The sand is dry and coarse, clinging to my fingers as I gather a handful, feeling for the pulse of the land in each grain.

It’s faint, buried deep, but the magic is definitely there.

Northward, where a golden light shimmers. That’s it—that’s where Summer is.

With a long breath, I let go of my fae form.

The shift is quick. Skin to fur, thoughts to instinct. Pain, heat, then a full-bodied feeling of rightness.

I drop to all fours. Ivor pads up slow, chest heaving, eyes bright. We meet nose to nose as always. He huffs once, tail brushing mine as he moves beside me, then nudges behind my ear. Yeah. We should get moving.

I send him an image of the gate at the rear of Dorthadas—only used by traders and merchants—that I remember from visiting the city in my seventeenth year.

Then we run .

The gray-sand desert gives way to ghostly forests with pale trees twisted like stooped court elders, branches rattling in the warm wind. The ground is parched and cracked, scattered with bones and gnarled roots clawing through the dirt.

I wish I had thought to test the strength of my power in the Raven Realm before I shifted.

While in wolf form, I can’t summon so much as a single spray of dirt.

But thank Dana, my senses are as sharp as ever, tuned to every shift in wind and approaching magic.

It’s not spell work, but it’s enough to keep me alive out here and help me find Summer.

The air shifts.

Magic pulses ahead. Distant, but familiar. Shadow magic.

I nudge Ivor, and we run harder.

By my best estimate, we’ll need to travel overnight to reach the Shade Court.

To get to Summer.

My mate is still alive. Thank fuck. I can feel her in my blood, in my bones, every strike of my paws upon the earth driving me closer. And this time, nothing and no one will stop me from keeping her safe.

Hold on, little sun.

I’m coming for you.