Chapter 1
ONE
ALLERIA
Today, I get to hunt a fae.
I’ve been awake for hours, lying here watching the light creep across the ceiling, too restless to sleep any longer. Nella will scold me for the shadows under my eyes, but I don’t care. I’ve waited weeks for this, and now that the day is finally here, I can barely keep still.
I push back the covers and swing my legs out of bed. Clothes have already been laid out for me—leather breeches, a fitted tunic, and boots that have been broken in on a dozen rides through the royal forests.
Practical clothes for moving through the woods, not the silks and velvets I have to wear at court.
There’s a knock at the door, and Nella slips in before I can answer.
“You’re awake!” She sounds suspicious. “You’re never awake before dawn.”
“I’m excited.” I can’t hold back my grin.
“You were excited for the summer hunt last year, and I still had to drag you out of bed.” She pulls back the curtains, and gray morning light floods the room. “You must be very excited.”
I am. My sister got a ball for her twenty-first birthday. Three days of dancing and flowers and an endless parade of eligible lords fawning over her. Exactly what Merina wanted, and something that would bore me to tears. Our father knows me better than that.
Today, I get a fae!
I’ve hunted before, of course. Rabbits and pheasants, and once a young buck that wandered too close to our party.
But those were small game. Safe game. This is the real thing!
The kind of hunt Lord Vessen brags about after enough wine.
A chase through the forest, cornering the quarry, and making the kill.
Lady Harwick has a set of tusks mounted above her hearth that she claims came from a particularly vicious specimen.
Even my father has trophies in his study.
Soon, I’ll have my own.
Nella helps me into my clothes, laughing as I twist and turn, trying to catch my reflection in the long mirror leaning against the wall.
“Hold still.” Nella tugs at the laces of my tunic. “You’re fidgeting.”
“I’m not fidgeting.”
“You absolutely are.” She finishes with the laces and moves to braid my hair.
We’ve known each other since we were eight, when she came to the palace as a kitchen girl and somehow ended up assigned to me.
She knows me better than anyone, even Merina, who loves me but has never understood why I’d rather spend my days in the stables than the sewing room. “Are you nervous?”
“A little.” I turn to face her. “It’s bigger than anything I’ve hunted before.”
“It’s a fae.” She ties off the braid. “They’re very dangerous.”
“No more dangerous than a boar. Anyway, Father is sending Brennan and Wil along. It’ll be fine. It’ll be better than fine. It’ll be wonderful!”
Nella doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she smiles anyway.
My father is waiting in the courtyard when I come down.
“There she is.” He crosses to me and cups my face in his hands, the way he used to when I was small. His palms are warm and strong. He presses a kiss to my forehead.
“My little huntress.”
“I’m twenty-one, Father. Hardly little.”
“You’ll always be little to me.” He lets me go and steps back, looking me over. “You look so much like your mother.”
That catches me off guard. He doesn’t mention my mother often. She died when I was six, and the grief has never quite left him.
He clears his throat. “Wil and Brennan will take care of you. And the Dell has an excellent reputation. I made sure of that.” He pauses, then smiles. “Bring back your trophy. I chose the modifications with you in mind. I want to hear everything over dinner tonight.”
“I will.” I rise on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
The carriage waits by the gate, its polished wood gleaming in the early morning sun. It’s one of the smaller ones from the royal stable, built for travel rather than show, with sturdy wheels and thick curtains to keep out the dust. Brennan and Wil wait on their horses nearby.
Nella climbs inside first, settling onto the cushioned bench.
I follow, pulling the door shut behind me.
The driver clicks his tongue, and the carriage lurches forward.
Through the window, my father raises a hand in farewell, then we’re through the gates and onto the road, the palace shrinking behind us.
The city is just waking up as we ride through—bakers hauling trays of bread, merchants opening their shutters, a cat streaking across the cobblestones.
Then the buildings thin and fall away, replaced by open fields.
The wheels find the packed-earth road that leads east, and the rhythm of the carriage settles into a steady, rocking motion.
Nella and I share bread, cheese, and watered-down wine from a basket the kitchen packed.
The bread is crusty, and the cheese sharp on my tongue.
We talk about nothing important. The kitchen boy who keeps leaving flowers outside her door, the new mare in the stables that I’m determined to ride, and whether Lord Vessen’s hunting stories are half as impressive as he thinks they are.
Outside, the landscape shifts. The road climbs a gentle rise, and when we reach the top of a particularly high hill, I can see for miles through the window.
As the morning moves on, the fields give way to forest. At first, the trees are spaced wide enough that sunlight dapples the undergrowth, but the deeper we travel, the older the forest becomes.
The trunks grow wider, gnarled with age, their branches weaving together overhead until the light turns green and dim.
Moss hangs from the limbs like tattered curtains.
The air coming through the window smells different.
Richer, damper, thick with the scent of rotting leaves.
“It’s so quiet.” Nella peers through the glass.
She’s right. The birdsong that accompanied us through the fields has faded to nothing. No insects hum, and no animals rustle in the brush. The only sounds are the creak of the carriage and the steady clop of hooves.
“Maybe it’s old magic. Isn’t that what the stories say? That the fae hunted in this forest before the Sealing.”
Nella shivers and pulls back from the window, wrapping her arms around herself. “Hopefully, it’s only because we’ve scared the animals and birds away.”
I don’t tell her that I love it. There’s something thrilling about being somewhere so wild, so untouched by human hands. My heart beats faster with every mile we travel.
Then, without warning, the trees fall away.
Huntsman Dell sits in a clearing carved from the forest. A wooden lodge hunkers at its center, smoke curling from its chimney.
Outbuildings cluster around it—stables, a smithy, a long, low structure that could be kennels.
Men move between them, hauling wood and leading horses, their voices carrying in the still air.
The carriage rolls to a stop, and before we can climb out, a man emerges from the lodge.
“Lady Alleria.” He opens the carriage door and offers his hand. “Welcome to the Dell. I’m Huntmaster Cowen. Come inside.”
I take his hand and step down. Nella follows, staying close to my elbow, eyes wide as she looks around. Brennan and Wil dismount, handing their horses off to the stable hands. Brennan catches my eye and nods.
The lodge is larger than it looked from the outside. A fire crackles in the hearth, throwing heat across the room. Trophy heads line the walls—antlers and tusks and horns mounted on dark wood, brass plates beneath each one. I count them while we wait for a serving girl to bring mulled wine.
There are forty-three.
“Are these the trophies for all the hunts that happen here?” I smile at the serving girl as she hands me a goblet.
“Not all. These are the ones taken by the hunters who work here. We like our men to keep their skills honed so they can make sure patrons get the best experience.”
“I see.” I take a sip of wine. It’s good. Warm and spiced, chasing the chill from my bones. Nella cups her hands around hers, while Brennan and Wil lean against the wall, their own drinks in hand.
Once our goblets are empty, Huntmaster Cowen stands. “Whenever you’re ready, my lady. I’ll show you the fae we’ve prepared for your afternoon.”
I set down my goblet, excitement stirring like butterflies in my stomach. “I’m ready now.”
“Then come.” He leads us around the side of the lodge to a fenced enclosure, reinforced with iron bars. Inside, chained to a post, is the fae.
My breath catches. All my life, I’ve heard stories about the fae. I’ve seen the trophies mounted on walls, listened to hunters boast about their kills over wine and roasted meat. But I’ve never seen one before. I’ve never been this close to one of the creatures from legend.
It’s standing with its back to us and doesn’t turn when we approach. Its head is bowed, face hidden, but I’m certain it knows we’re here.
It’s taller than I thought it would be. Taller than any man I’ve seen, with skin the gray-green of lichen and hair falling past its shoulders in tangled ropes.
An iron collar is locked around its throat, and rising from its skull are the most beautiful set of antlers.
Twelve points, spreading wider than my arm span.
They’re bone-white, huge, the kind of trophy that would dominate any wall.
Its stillness unsettles me. I came here to hunt an animal, and most animals pace in their cages.
They snarl at the bars. This one stands like a cat waiting for the mouse to come out of hiding.
Patient and utterly still, and I’m conscious of the way the guards inside the enclosure never turn their backs on it.
Their hands rest on iron-tipped staves and the daggers at their belts, even though it’s collared and chained and can’t possibly hurt them.
“Impressive,” Brennan murmurs.