Chapter One
Thyra
Ashimmer of magic is the only warning that death is coming for me.
Golden power ripples across the air, filling the space above the sparkling water I’m wading in. The pulse of energy is so strong that it snatches the air from my chest.
I started work for the day only moments ago in the rock pools at the side of this coastal village, my feet and legs protected from the sharp rocks by high boots that extend up to my thighs.
I was preparing to search for the pale blue shells that contain strands of gold and silver, for which highborn fae will pay good coin.
For the last three years, I’ve worked with this group of women: all of them lowborn, all of them generous with their care and attention as they took me under their wing and taught me how to harvest the shells without damaging the treasure within.
Now, each of the ten women jolts upright, water streaming from their hands, some of them clutching unopened shells, others in the process of prying the pale blue pods open with specially curved blades.
Their weathered faces turn deathly pale, and their faded eyes immediately focus on the sky.
A blaze of unnatural fire cuts across the deep blue above us, a streak of flames so terrifyingly quiet that, for a split second, I convince myself we’ll be okay.
Death will not claim us this day.
Then the flames hit the waves beyond the rock pools. Flames that, if they were ordinary, would be extinguished by the vast body of water.
This fire is not ordinary.
“Run!” My scream tears from my throat as I fight the water’s drag against my legs. Catching the nearest woman around the waist, I propel her along with me. “Run!”
Screams erupt around me as heat billows at my back, a blast so intense, it’s consuming everything in its path, evaporating the water in the rock pools and turning the rock itself into molten lava.
Streams of melted stone spread through the water I’m splashing through, and panic swells within me.
I’ve been touched by fire like this once before. The scar on my upper right arm is a testament to it.
Never again.
Water splashes up around me as I push myself to move faster, pulling the woman I’m supporting off her feet as I launch myself over the final rocky ledge and onto the sand.
Behind us, the flames consume the rock and finally—finally—they disperse, but not before turning the stone to lava, which flows back into the water.
Up ahead, men and women scatter across the beach, many running toward the village that’s sheltered behind a long row of trees, others scooping up their small children, who were playing on a shady patch of sand while their parents hauled ripplefish from nearby boats.
My heart thumps harder at the villagers’ panicked cries. “It’s the Ember Fae!”
The woman I was helping breaks off from me, sprinting as fast as she can in her high boots, headed for her terrified, screaming little girl.
I fight every instinct in my body that wants to help the families carry their children to safety.
But I can’t take the risk. Not if the Ember Fae might be here because of me.
My father’s long-ago warning rings in my ears.
You would be the kings’ ultimate weapon against each other. They would kill anyone to get to you.
If these Ember Fae have come for the Oracle—if they’ve come for me…
I would only draw more danger to those families.
What I don’t understand is how the Ember Fae could know I’m here.
How, how, how?
For the last twenty-five years, my father and I have assimilated into villages up and down the coastline, blending with the lowborn fae.
It was an easy enough task, given that our appearance matches theirs.
Our hair is a dull black, and our eyes are faded blue.
We have nothing of the brilliant coloring of the highborn fae, who are the most magically powerful.
Of all the places we could hide from the three kings, Father chose the coast because none of the three kingdoms has gained a foothold here.
A treacherous mountain range sits between the coast and the mainland, stretching all the way from the north to the south.
Trade occurs through several safe passes, but they’re far too narrow for an army to march.
And so, the three kings have left the coast in peace.
A peace that has now been broken without warning.
I don’t stop running, my arms and legs pumping as I push myself to sprint faster in the direction of the village’s northernmost point, where my father works with the carpenters.
My boots may be a blessing in rocky water, but their weight is a detriment now. Despite slowing me down, I don’t have time to stop and take them off.
Another blast of magic washes over me a heartbeat before a golden serpent shoots into view overhead. It’s flying high, its rider leaning out from the saddle and into the air.
I make out the Ember King’s royal insignia on the serpent’s saddle as it soars toward the ocean, while the fireball forming in the male rider’s outstretched hand makes my heart sink.
If he aims his fire at the fleeing villagers…
My jaw drops when he casts the fire back in the direction from which he flew.
The fireball blazes across the air, past the tops of the giant palms that stand at the edge of the village. The fire’s trajectory takes it up, not down, as I expected.
My eyebrows pull together. What is he aiming—
Whoosh!
A giant eagle soars into view, chasing after the serpent.
It tips to the side, its majestic chestnut-brown wings carrying it safely out of the fireball’s path.
My eyes widen to see the insignia on the eagle’s saddle. It belongs to members of the Iron King’s guard.
The Iron Fae are here, too?
The eagle’s female rider stands upright in the saddle, holding her bow and arrows, her balance impossibly steady despite the rapidly changing position of her bird as it evades the fireball the Ember Fae cast at her.
The fireball hits the tops of the palm trees behind her—the flames consuming leaves and wood and leaping along the sand, and it’s only by luck that the villagers are running in the other direction.
With the Iron Fae here, fire isn’t all the villagers need to fear.
The Iron Fae take their name from their ability to craft iron metal into weapons of extreme pain and control the arc of those weapons through the air.
The woman riding the eagle holds three arrows to her bow, each one with a tip that, even from this distance, glows crimson-red. They can only be covered in iron dust.
As I run, my tunic rubs against the scar across my upper right rib, a reminder of the torment of an iron blade.
Just as fire burns fae flesh, so too does iron.
If this woman’s arrows carry powdered iron, they will explode on impact, scattering the iron particles to the wind and into the village. A horrifying harm. Even her own people won’t be immune to it if she doesn’t control the blast.
She must not care.
If she did, she wouldn’t risk using such a weapon here, just as the Ember Fae riding the serpent doesn’t hesitate to prepare another fireball that will inevitably hit innocent victims—or, if he’s clumsy, his own brethren.
I haven’t stopped running, can’t stop, despite the tears of hot rage blurring my vision.
These highborn fae have brought their war to this peaceful village. The fae who live here…people I’ve come to care about…will pay a terrible price.
Worst of all, there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.
My father trained me in basic defensive combat, but I’m not as strong as a highborn fae, and I certainly can’t reach the warriors in the air.
Frustration is a scream in my throat as I sprint through a gap between the trees and into the main village, where my boots pound the pebbled path.
In the distance, the fireball soars high into the sky, its trajectory arching toward the villagers’ homes this time.
I wish I could block my ears as screams of terror crescendo behind me.
This fire. These screams…
They remind me of the fire I don’t remember, the story of the day I was born. Those flames consumed a cottage and broke my mother’s heart, burning the white roses she created to celebrate my birth, destroying her connection to me. But they saved her from the danger I brought into her life.
I stumble, but right myself, racing toward the nearest two buildings, only to pull up sharply.
My heart leaps into my throat as I find myself facing three white-haired fae.
Two men and one woman, each wearing silver armor bearing the royal crest of the Frost King, block my way.
Oh… Damn.
Fear claws its way into my soul. Warriors from each of the three kingdoms are now here, and I don’t know for certain if it’s because of me or if something else has brought them to this village.
All I can be sure of is that their hatred of each other is limitless. They will destroy too many innocent lives in their bid to kill each other.
The two men immediately focus on me, while the woman’s focus is raised to the sky behind me.
Icy-blue power rages around her right hand as she draws back her arm and flings the snowstorm she created into the air.
I duck instinctively, forced to stop running, the hairs on my upper arms and at the back of my neck standing on end, a shiver rocking my body at the freezing temperature of the energy that flies over my head.
The woman’s icy power storms across the air and collides with the fireball.
Crack! The two powers explode against each other, and I expect a dangerous fallout, but instead, the air clears.
The fire is gone, but so is the ice.
The woman snarls, “Fucking Ember Fae. Always causing a mess.”
The cold smile on her lips tells me she doesn’t care about the people who would have died in that fire, only that a blaze so close by would be an inconvenience to her right now.
Her focus on the sky gives me the seconds I need to identify the narrow alleyway between buildings to my right, a viable escape.
I launch myself toward the shadowed pass, but I barely make it two steps before a ball of snow shoots past my left shoulder, casting an icy burn across the air that draws a cry to my lips.
The snowball explodes against the nearest corner of the pass. Stalactites burst across the gap, jagged and sharp, and a wall of ice closes off the path before I can blink.
I seek safety in the direction I came from, only for another snowball to crash against the ground right in front of me, stalactites shooting upward, spreading in an arc, their sharp ends driving me back again.
Damn, damn, damn!
I’m forced to face my attackers. Both men stand with their arms raised in my direction, their power churning visibly around their hands and forearms, snowflakes building with every passing second.
The woman, on the other hand, seems unconcerned about my presence. Overly serene. Her demeanor is chilling as her focus remains on the sky, watching the battle raging in the distance.
The man to her left keeps his gaze on me as he grumbles, “Your intervention was reckless, Lilis. Our enemies will know we’re here now.”
The woman—whose name is apparently Lilis—shrugs. “They would have expected us anyway.” Her smile vanishes. “We’re all here for the same thing.”
“The female Oracle,” the man says through his teeth.
My stomach sinks at the confirmation they’re here for me.
Technically, I’m not the Oracle yet. There is only ever one Oracle at a time. I won’t come into my power until the day of my father’s death.
Even so, it’s just as Father warned me. I’m the reason the highborn have attacked. It’s my fault this violence is tearing the village apart.
But…
Do these fae know I’m their target?
On the chance they don’t, I’m not about to give myself away.
Lilis finally gives me her attention, pinning me with her bright, purple eyes.
“It seems we have a plaything.” She clicks her tongue, sickly false pity dripping from her voice. “Maybe this wretched, ugly creature will tell us where the Oracle is hiding.”
It’s now clear she doesn’t know it’s me.
I shouldn’t be surprised. My father chose our lifestyle well.
Along with the dull colors of my hair and eyes, my skin is weathered from hours spent in the sun.
I even have calluses on my palms from days of hard work.
My appearance is a far cry from the flawless beauty of these highborn.
I attempt to back away from Lilis, but I’m only able to move a few steps before the chilling temperature of the icicles burns my back and freezes the droplets of sweat on my neck and arms.
I’m trapped. No way forward. No way back.
The woman steps toward me, fresh power sizzling around her fingertips. “You will tell me everything you know, pathetic lowborn, or I will freeze you from the inside out and enjoy your screams.”
I mentally shout at myself to push through my panic, the awful terror that threatens to pin me to the spot.
Move, Thyra! Find a way past them.
And then, just as Lilis raises her hand, preparing to unleash her icy power, her attention darts upward.
The blood drains from her already pale face.
A shadow drops over me, a heartbeat before a figure crashes down upon her, narrowly missing me.
In the rush of movement, I catch sight of a double-bladed axe, its edge glinting iron-red in the morning light, and the face of the formidable man swinging the weapon.
Black steel armor covers his body, while a cracked metal mask conceals only half of his face, its broken edges gleaming as if it were newly burned apart.
My heart stops as his gaze lands briefly on me, even as his blade cleaves the air toward the Frost Fae.
He is savagely beautiful—more so than any fae I’ve ever seen, with his eyes the wildest green, his jaw chiseled, and his lips perfectly full.
A beauty defied by the violent intentions filling his eyes.
A promise of pain.
First theirs, then mine.