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“Let’s bring the beast inside, shall we?

” Marek opened the door. “I have some exciting introductions to make!” Marek ushered in the guards holding Rook, then my mother, Lottie, and me.

The den was extra crowded, with two more visitors waiting there.

I recognized the first, for she was my very own cousin, Bronwyn, who was taken to serve the queen so many years ago.

Her curls were wrangled into tight braids that pulled back into a sweeping ponytail.

Bronwyn smiled when she saw me, and I struggled to return the gesture.

Beside her was someone I didn’t recognize from memory but from rumours.

Wearing a black cloth over their face—a provision of anonymity—was the queen’s advisor.

Whom we only called advisor because we weren’t allowed to use the true word.

Executioner.

But why were they here? Shouldn’t they be with…

In a dim corner of the cottage, the shadows shifted.

Like a rippling waterfall, the darkness fell away.

The shadows pooled along the floor, creeping out like a wave of smoke.

An individual hidden beneath an amethyst cloak remained in their wake.

When they drew back their hood, a great length of raven hair tumbled out.

My breath caught, and everyone in the room bowed.

Bringer of storms and wielder of shadows.

Queen Aenor.

Focusing entirely on me, Queen Aenor jerked her chin. Marek pulled me forward. Nerves got the better of me, and I stared at the queen’s boots peeking from beneath her cloak. Behind me, my mother cleared her throat. Lottie reached out and tapped my arm.

Reminding me they were there.

“I’m told it was you who captured the Hound,” Queen Aenor said. I was so stunned by the softness in her voice that I didn’t immediately respond.

Marek squeezed me. “Yes!” he cried. “Our dear Liliwen discovered the beast’s identity and transfiguration abilities! It was her cunning bravery that brought the Hound to our doorstep!” Resisting the urge to shoot Marek through the neck, I leaned away.

Queen Aenor watched the strange exchange but left it unacknowledged.

She waved and said, “As promised.” The advisor approached; they held a bag of purple velvet.

Rather than hand over the bag, the advisor turned their clothed face on Marek.

It wasn’t until Marek stepped away that the advisor handed over the pouch.

It was the heaviest thing I’d ever held.

The advisor returned to their spot behind the queen, who said, “I’ve been informed your brother is ill?”

“Uh—” I floundered. No, Lysander was no longer ill, because Rook helped him. But…I couldn’t admit that, couldn’t put my family in danger for working with the Hound. My thoughts came quick; how could I explain Lysander’s sudden recovery?!

“Yes!” Marek interjected, the first time his interrupting me might have been a boon. Returning his arm to my shoulders, Marek cried, “The boy was attacked”—he swept his arm toward Rook—“by the beast!”

Giving little attention to Marek’s theatrics, the queen said, “To reward your courage, I will grant him the supervision of my physician.”

When I’d set out so many mornings ago, this was all I ever wanted. The Hound captured, and my brother cared for. Now, I couldn’t help but look at Rook. The gag cut into his cheeks like wire. Manacles and chains clanked as he swayed.

I’d never felt so wicked.

My eyes stung. It would look terrible if I’d been handed a bag of gold, and told my brother would be attended to, only for me to weep. I tried to muster a smile.

I could not.

Queen Aenor frowned.

“She’s grateful, my queen!” Marek blurted. “Just in shock, I think.” Marek squeezed me and snarled, “Liliwen, thank the queen.”

“Uh…” I swallowed. “Thank—” The queen crossed the space between us, silencing me.

I found myself looking down again. She brought her hand to rest beneath my chin, commanding me back to her.

Lavender eyes, passed down over many generations, arrested me.

Tiny ice crystals kissed my skin where her fingers met it, and a peculiar sensation prodded my temples.

As if she were sifting my very thoughts.

“Strange”—Queen Aenor stared at Marek—“that while the entire guard was hunting the Hound, it was a single girl who managed to capture it.”

“Well…” Marek paled. “She’s quite a unique girl.”

Still addressing Marek, Queen Aenor turned back to me. “She is the one you’ve told me about?”

Eager to direct attention away, Marek shoved me forward. “She is!”

Queen Aenor remained motionless, assessing me. “I’ve heard rumours of you. Your garments, in particular.”

“Oh, no!” I backed away. “There’s nothing exceptional about—”

“Nonsense!” Marek dragged me back. “Our Liliwen is so modest!” He laughed. “With my own eyes, I’ve seen an arrow bounce from a coat of her weaving.”

Circling me like a vulture, Queen Aenor murmured, “Is this true?” As she prowled, the shadows in the cottage crept closer, constricting me.

“Well…” I looked at my family, at Rook. So many helpless faces. The shadows drew closer, and I found difficulty drawing breath. “Yes,” I gasped. “Yes, it’s true.” The queen merely offered an absent nod. She turned to leave, and the command I’d always dreaded came to be.

“You will come reside in the castle.”

The order didn’t shock me, but Lottie blurted a distraught, “What?!”

The queen’s glare silenced her. “Magic is nearly lost. Those who present with the gift must be protected.” Queen Aenor looked at me when she added, “And those with magic must serve the kingdom.”

“It’s an incredible opportunity!” Marek beamed. When I showed no enthusiasm, he shook me and continued as if I hadn’t heard. “Your queen has invited you to stay at the palace.” The word invited was generous. If I refused, I would be taken, or killed, so I might not aid an enemy.

In my moment of distress, I couldn’t help but glance at Rook. I sought comfort, some sign it would be okay.

In his stooped shoulders, I found only despair.

Queen Aenor pointed to the back of the cottage. “Collect a bag.” The advisor pried Marek’s fingers off me and started marching me to the back, toward my room.

“But—but my family is here,” I cried. Down the hall, Lysander peered around the doorframe.

My mother started, “Surely, she can stay here and travel to the castle as the guards do!”

“Stand down,” Marek spat at my mother. He tore me from the advisor, who hissed and raised his fist to strike Marek.

Bronwyn coughed. The advisor froze, their arm suspended in mid-air.

Slowly, they lowered their hand. Marek clicked his tongue and ducked his chin at Bronwyn, shooing the advisor away.

In my ear, Marek whispered, “You will go.” The grip on my arm ached, and cold severity twisted Marek’s features.

He wanted me gone. Out of this cottage and away from my mother.

Without me, Lottie and Lysander would be unprotected.

Lysander stood in our way. Though he swayed on unsteady feet, he would not let Marek pass. “Step aside,” Marek ordered. Lysander needn’t respond; he simply loomed above Marek.

“Captain,” Queen Aenor’s voice floated behind us.

She looked upon Lysander with a slight, sympathetic tilt of her head.

To me, she said, “You may spend the night here.” Marek huffed, but his grip didn’t loosen.

“In the morning, I will send an escort to collect you. My physician will accompany them.” She turned to my mother.

“On behalf of myself and the kingdom, I thank you for your loyalty. Without your sacrifices, we would be nothing.”

My mother bowed but failed to respond. In her silence, I often feared her most. That was as true now as it ever was. The vein that trailed along her temple and disappeared into her hair looked like it might burst.

Queen Aenor’s lavender eyes set on me. “You will be ready at dawn.” She exited the cottage, and Bronwyn and the advisor trailed her. Chains clanked as the guards shoved Rook out the door. I struggled after Rook, but Marek held me back.

Shaking me, he snarled, “What has that beast told you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything!” I shoved Marek.

My mother stepped between us. “You may be the captain of this wicked kingdom, but this is my home.” She pointed a steadfast finger at the door. “Leave it!”

Putting up his palms, Marek soothed, “Calm down.”

My mother’s hand slipped to the hilt of her sword.

Marek weaved around her and embraced me.

I considered ripping the sword from my mother’s side and running him through.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Marek said, loud enough for everyone inside—and outside—to hear.

Lowering his voice, he continued, “I know the Hound might not look dangerous presently, and I imagine a young woman might be swayed by its appearance but…”

I wanted Marek dead. I wanted to string him up and shoot him right in the—

“You of all people know what it’s capable of,” Marek finished.

How dare he allude to my father, to Lysander, to all the harm he’d brought us? I ripped my arm free. Seething, I asked, “What’s going to happen to R—the Hound?”

“The beast will be executed. Publicly. The queen wants this dealt with immediately; I imagine the creature will be dead within the week.” Marek clapped my shoulder. “Brilliant work, Liliwen.” Marek turned a hopeful smile on my mother.

She swept her hand toward the door, like one might shoo a rat.

The door closed behind Marek, and I rushed to the window. At the end of the path, Rook resisted the wagon. He struggled, and the advisor punched him in the jaw. Unable to balance, Rook fell back. I ran, yanking the door open.

Lottie caught me and growled, “Do you want to lose your head for conspiring?” Lysander and my mother joined us, ready to grab me should I do anything foolish.

The advisor climbed on Rook, landing another blow.

Rook couldn’t do anything but let his head smash against the stony path. The advisor struck again.