Chapter 1
Talvie
For the first time in ages, I regret going to bed alone. If I'd chosen a suitor at last night's revel like my stepmother demanded, then I'd have more than a fading dream of a handsome fae to shield me from the man shaking me awake.
Oh, I'm sure some folk would swoon at a rugged male in their chambers, with the smell of woodsmoke and leather tickling their senses. Unfortunately, I know that scent all too well. That calloused hand doesn't stir temptation, only irritation.
What good is being a princess if I can't even sleep in?
“Go away, Beron.”
With a groan, I burrow my face deeper in my luxurious blankets. I feel like I barely slept, my veins still thrumming with music and faerie wine. A beat pounds at my temple.
The hand shakes me harder. Where's my dagger? Maybe I’ll summon an ice spear to convey my displeasure.
Too bad Beron's the one who taught me to wield my magic…plus his reflexes are legendary. It’s been years since we had morning training, so there’s no good reason for the Head Huntsman to wake me so early.
“What in the Deep do you want, Beron?”
“Up, Talvie. Get dressed.” Beron’s voice is unyielding.
Blinking fully awake, I find myself face-to-face with the stern and frowning man. Someone is not in a tolerant mood this morning. Well, that makes two of us.
Beron was my father's Head Huntsman before he served my stepmother, but he remained in the role for the queen after the king’s death.
Come to think of it, the last time Beron woke me personally was three years ago, to inform me that their hunting party had returned with my father’s body.
Hot panic twists my belly, and I scan his clothes. No blood stains…not like that day.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine.
Besides, Queen Taynia hates me now, so it’s not like I should care if anything happened to her.
My pulse races through my throbbing head.
I refuse to care.
I’m sure my lovely, spiteful stepmother just wants to berate me for whatever new sin she’s decided I’ve committed.
Storms, sometimes I wish I didn’t always have to be Princess Talvie of the Hinterlands. I wouldn’t mind slipping into the shadows, just existing somewhere outside of Taynia’s icy glares. Everything I do here is wrong, so what’s the point?
Beron’s usual frown is in place, but there’s something cold about his expression this morning. Less the man I’ve delighted in annoying since childhood, and more the merciless hunter who never misses.
I scowl, flopping back on the bed. “Whatever this is, couldn’t it wait? The sun isn’t even up yet. Lumi is still glowing with moonlight.”
He responds by thrusting a heavy traveling cloak directly at my head. “We’re going to the summer palace. Queen’s orders.”
“What?” Shoving the cloak off me, I rub my eyes to give him the incredulous look this statement deserves.
“Why? The summer palace is just as frozen as it is here.” I gesture at the frost webbing across the windows.
It’s been the same every morning for the past three years of endless winter.
“Does my stepmother-dearest hope I’ll freeze to death so she doesn’t have to bother being horrible to me anymore?
It must take such effort, being so wretched all the time. ”
Queen Taynia was once like a mother to me, far more than the woman I don’t remember who died when I was a baby. A familiar pang lances my chest. We used to laugh together. Do crafts, brush each other’s hair, ride out in the fields.
Since my father’s death, Taynia can’t stand the sight of me. Now, she nitpicks my every move, finds fault in every word, and ices me out, sometimes literally since her ice magic is stronger than mine.
Beron doesn’t respond, just stands there, holding out the cloak like a command.
With a huff, I push myself out of bed to snatch it from his hands. “She’s evil. If the queen wants me up at this hour, the least she could do is send a servant with tea. Or a better explanation.”
Still nothing.
I shuffle to the largest wardrobe to find something warm enough to make up for being out of bed. Heavy trousers will do. Since Taynia had all my nice, long tunics destroyed a fortnight ago after I wore one with nothing but leggings, I have only stiff, itchy tops left. Forget that.
I tuck my nightdress into the trousers’ waistband like a shirt. Yes, Taynia would screech about proper ladies’ wear, but I can’t bring myself to care right now. I’ll cover it with a fur-lined tunic and the traveling cloak to stay cozy, then no one’s the wiser.
Beron waits, stone-faced.
“Wait, why are you taking commands from Her Royal Meanness at this hour? Oh no, my sweet Beron, was someone being naughty last night? Did you finally make a move and end up in her bedchambers?”
“Less talking, more moving.”
“Let me guess; she was ice cold.” I flex my hands to conjure ice crystals over my fingertips.
Beron pushes my shoulder toward the door. I don’t even have proper shoes!
We both know Beron’s legendary loyalty to my father—even beyond the grave—means he would never make a pass at Queen Taynia. But normally he plays along with my teasing. Once last year, I even got him to crack a smile. My proudest day!
Today, he’s made of ice. Just like our world.
As he steers me through the quiet corridors in silence, the back of my neck prickles. “You’re being very gruff, even for you.” I peer up at him. “You’re not letting Taynia rub off on you, are you? All that brooding and glowering?”
He just grunts, eyes fixed ahead. His hair is almost black in the early gloom as he ushers us inexorably onward, never looking my way. My stomach sinks.
Beron always looks at me, even when I’m pushing his buttons. He never treated me like a child growing up, and he never ignores me the way Taynia does now. But his jaw is set while he stares straight ahead.
Something’s wrong.
I stop, crossing my arms. “What’s going on, Beron? You’ve got that look.”
“The only look I’ve got right now says, ‘Keep moving, princess.’” He doesn’t miss a beat as he shoves me toward the door.
Outside, the formal carriage waits. Reindeer stamp against the frozen ground, steam curling from their nostrils in the half-light. A dusting of snow across their backs blends with their dazzling white fur. The morning air bites.
Dark sky stretches overhead, barely a hint of dawn on the horizon.
Lumi, my moon companion (and basically my only friend), glows softly as she floats by.
She pauses just long enough to reassure me she’ll be following from above, illuminating shades of dark plum in Beron’s duskwine hair as she passes.
I shiver, pulling the cloak tighter around me as Beron boosts me over the sled runners and practically deposits me inside the carriage. I scramble up onto the lush velvet bench seat.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He doesn’t answer, just clambers in behind me and shuts the door with a firm click. “Sit tight.”
“Wait. Taynia is not coming? Just me?”
Beron nods a curt affirmation.
Not ominous at all.
It makes no sense. If the queen’s not coming, then why are we traveling in the fancy royal carriage with the queen’s prized reindeer out front? They’re the ones with silver-tipped antlers she only trots out for official outings.
The road to the summer palace is long, through wild lands where threats lurk in every shadow.
It’s lawless, dangerous territory full of Wilder Fae.
This carriage might as well have a beacon mounted on its roof that flashes Oy, please rob us.
But Beron is here, and Beron wouldn’t let anything bad happen.
…Right?
As the carriage lurches into motion, unease coils in my stomach, gnawing with each swish of the skis over snow.
My jaw clenches, causing the high points of my ears to push higher through my hair.
I grab a white lock to twirl anxiously between my fingers, watching the iridescence shimmer.
Blues and golds reflected from the carriage interior dance across the strands.
For a long time, I focus on the contrast of my dark fingers and light hair, tilting it to-and-fro to make the colours shift. I must look like a pampered princess, distracted by beauty, but my mind races.
The prickling awareness on my skin continues as the city passes by the frosty windows.
Nothing makes sense.
Why did we leave so early? Why Beron and his huntsmen instead of regular palace guards? Why the royal carriage, all gilded and ostentatious?
I cast a sidelong look at Beron. “Are you sure we’re going to the summer palace?”
He grunts, eyes fixed out the window. “I said we were, didn’t I?”
“Then why is your left ear higher than your right?”
Beron’s brow furrows. “What?”
“It’s your tell. When you lie, your jaw tenses unevenly. It makes your left ear creep up.”
“I do not have a tell,” he snaps, jaw locking—left ear lifting.
“Lie.”
He glares out the window, as if the fae beyond are responsible for this treachery.
Those same fae keep me in my seat, though. I may have a bad feeling in my gut, but I’ve always trusted Beron. The same can’t be said for the folk out there.
The familiar streets of Rimne end at towering city walls. Passing through the gate, we leave behind Point Fae merchants bundled in thick furs and neat shop fronts. On the other side are the others. The Wilder Fae.
My heart skips. I rarely get to leave the palace gates, let alone Rimne’s city walls.
This is the first time I’ve left unaccompanied by either my father or Taynia, and I suddenly feel younger than my years.
I came of age not long before my father’s death, and that was three years ago already.
Yet, since I'm not entrusted with any freedom or responsibility, I know little of the Hinterlands beyond these walls.