Chapter One
Analleia
I never understood why legend called it the dark wood.
Sunlight burst through the trees, illuminating the forest with a glow that permeated everything it touched.
Dust glittered like sparkles in the beams of light shining through the interwoven branches.
Nothing about the wood was dark or imposing.
It was like a grand hall created for fairies—yet few dared to enter.
My leather boots pressed into the soft moss weaving a trail through the woods that created a carpet of green leading to the cottage.
A shiver crawled its way down my spine at the mere thought.
The cottage. Such a basic name for a terrifying concept.
A nightmare, as legend called it. The path shifted to an incline, and I hiked up the skirts of my lilac dress, bunching the velvet fabric in my hands to keep it from dragging on the ground.
My white-blond hair cascaded down my back in waves, pale like moonlight.
My preference would have been to come in black, to come as who I really was while protected by the cover of darkness, but I didn’t know if she would appreciate that.
Fear crept in at the thought.
A leather bag of gold coins jingled at my side, a heavy reminder of the weight of this task’s importance.
I could do this. The shuddering breath that escaped my lips spoke otherwise.
I reassured myself that I had nothing to fear, but it didn’t work, unease rising to power within me.
Hundreds of stories about the old crone who lived in the dark woods of Kader had been recounted by the superstitious, and I’d heard nearly every single one.
They were told in closed circles in the taverns, whispered into the ears of disobedient children, and recounted in hushed voices around vagabonds’ campfires.
The Enchantress, they called her.
Some claimed she was nothing more than an old woman who had given in to senility. Others swore she was the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.
The endless tales swirled around me.
If you touched her house, you would turn to dust.
If you looked into her eyes, she would steal your memories and curse you to walk the earth as a nameless one.
If you plucked a flower from her garden, vines would wrap around your limbs and drag you deep into the earth.
And if you ever, ever made a deal with her—you would regret it for the rest of your days.
Each recollection haunted me as I delved deeper into the trees, forcing bravery into my terror-filled heart. They were only stories, old wives’ tales used to scare off curious little ones. Or were they? Truth shimmered at the edges of them.
Those who made a bargain with the Enchantress never spoke of it again—except one.
I knew of a fellow assassin in the tower who had visited the Enchantress and made a deal to bring back her sister from the edge of death.
An impossible bargain, as the infection was too far gone.
Death came for her sister. When she poured the elixir between her lips she hadn’t been breathing, but whatever the vial had contained, it changed her visage from one second to the next.
Alive. Whole. Healed. The assassin never revealed what she had bargained for the elixir, but the weight of it clung to every line on her face to this day, and looking at that horror and grief in her eyes chilled me.
Coming to the dark wood was dangerous and bordered stupidity, but if anyone could alter my face and conjure an invitation to the Paravellian Balls, it was the Enchantress. Maybe she was nothing, but the girl’s recovery was the only real magic I had ever seen.
The mossy path curved, hiding the trail ahead, and the brisk air cut against my cheeks. I sniffed as my nose ran and threw an arm over my eyes to shield them from the brightening sunlight, rounding one final bend before staggering to a stop, overwhelmed at the sight before me.
Colors of every shade exploded like fireworks from a massive garden with the grandest array of flowers I had ever seen: roses, petunias, daisies, lilies, pansies, some in shades I’d never known existed.
A garden of herbs wrapped around the back of a white cottage overgrown with ivy.
My mouth fell open. How were the plants so fresh and vibrant this late in the year?
A pebbled path beckoned the way to the cottage door, but I couldn’t bring myself to take another step.
The warnings of the evil within assaulted me, but the sight stole my breath away.
I moved closer to the flowers hanging over the wooden garden gate, examining the purple specks on the petals of the white roses.
I scrunched up my nose, not wanting to believe what my eyes were seeing.
It couldn’t be natural. Was it sorcery? If she could change these flowers’ appearances ...
“Touch one of its petals and the flower will sear your fingertips like fire.”
I spun, my heart jumping in my chest as I reached for one of the daggers at my hip. I half expected to turn into dust or disappear beneath the ground.
Her eyes caught my attention first, green spheres with flecks of light gold sprinkled around her irises like pixie dust. Straight ebony hair flowed over her shoulders and complimented warm brown skin that seemed to glisten in the sunlight.
She was not young, but nor was she old. Her appearance spiraled me into confusion until I suspected her true age was masked by an enchantment.
I dipped into a curtsy, but she looked unimpressed.
I swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. “I came to buy an enchantment from you, Miss ...”
She cocked an eyebrow as I trailed off, but she didn’t offer a name.
“What would a girl like you need an enchantment for?” She took in my attire. “What is your name?”
I drew my shoulders back and pulled the poorly fabricated invitation from my pocket, extending it to her.
It might get me in the doors of the first ball, but it also might get me arrested if the guards identified it as a counterfeit.
Sunlight reflected off the gold filigree and elaborate script.
“My name is Marielle, and I need three invitations for the Paravellian Balls.”
Curiosity sparked in her eyes as she turned the paper over in her hands. “Why the Paravellian Balls?”
False fascination filled my voice. “It’s the experience of a lifetime, where a gathering of the royals and nobles from the surrounding kingdoms come together for seven nights of wonder and enchantment. It only occurs every five years.”
“And you wish for an invitation because you enjoy dancing so much you want to twirl at seven different balls, or because you hold a position of power you wish to form alliances from?”
“Each ball is unique in its own way,” I said. “It’s not the dancing but the puzzles and the masquerade. Most kingdoms attend to form alliances or strike trade deals, but there are others who simply go for political means or the enjoyment.”
“And you fall beneath the latter?”
“As I said, it is the experience of a lifetime.”
I forced hope and expectation to fill my eyes.
The Enchantress ran a slender finger over the invitation as if pondering my request—then wadded it into a ball. My eyes widened in horror and I lunged for it as she tossed it aside like a piece of trash.
“I don’t make bargains with liars.” Venom laced her tone.
“I—I’m not—” I stammered.
“Did you think you could trick or lie to an enchantress? I know far more than you could ever imagine, and I know exactly who you are, Analleia de Ellen Mercais Kallistar.”
Fear cracked within me like a whip, and I drew a dagger from each hip, searching the surrounding woods for danger. No one had called me by my full name in years. Nor should anyone remember me by it. The lines of my face hardened from an innocent maiden to that of a threatening warrior.
The Enchantress scoffed at my daggers as if they were nothing more than sewing needles.
“Do not act surprised. I know all who enter my wood.” She homed in on the symbol engraved into the hilts of my daggers.
“Ah, you come from the assassin’s guild of the Dark Walkers ...
that’s where you ran off to when your kingdom was destroyed. ”
I blinked, unsure of how to respond. Could she be reading my mind?
“If you wish to make a bargain with me, you must be honest, Analleia,” she continued. “You will tell me the whole truth, no matter how dark it may seem. Why is it you are so desperate to attend the Paravellian Balls?”
My fingers twitched. I couldn’t trust her with the truth, nor could I gain her help without it. I averted my gaze, then lifted my chin and met her eyes. “To assassinate King Zaricor.”
My first and only kill as an assassin.
A smile touched her lips. “Kill the king of Paravellia? Well, well, this is very dark, isn’t it?” A tea kettle whistled from inside the house, and she turned to the door. “First you must come and have a sip of tea with me.”
I shivered, hesitating before following her up the cobblestone path.
The strong aroma of foliage and herbs assaulted me as I stepped across the threshold.
It was like stepping into an overgrown greenhouse.
Plants had been shoved into any bare spot and crevice that could hold them, some teetering precariously on uneven stacks of books and lopsided furniture.
One wall held a crumbling hutch stuffed with jars full of remedies for every ailment imaginable.
Oddly shaped and crooked framed artworks decorated any wall that wasn’t hidden by greenery.
“Sit.”
The Enchantress gestured to a three-legged stool.
One leg looked rotted, and I questioned its ability to hold me.
She poured the hot tea into two mugs and offered me one.
I blew across the top, curling my hands around the cup for warmth as steam rose from it, but I had no intention of drinking the liquid within—no matter how ordinary it might look.