PART ONE
THE HOUSE OF ICE
1
Avalon Edenstone nibbled on the end of her pencil and studied the words and symbols engraved on the ceiling of the catacombs.
An hour had already passed, and she was nowhere close to deciphering the letters she’d copied into her notebook. Throughout her childhood, she had spent countless nights at the library in Hilsian, translating ancient languages to pass the time when she was alone, but these letters were different. She had never seen anything like them.
Scattered among the shapes and symbols were drawings of horned and winged beings, their ears as sharp as knives; nearly every inch of the ceiling was covered with them. The light from the oil lamp she’d placed on the ground licked across their time-worn features, illuminating their hollow eyes in such a way that they seemed to stare back at her.
Angels and demons, or perhaps gods. Though they could also be Elves or Fey. It was hard to tell when legend spoke of them all sharing similar traits—hooves, antlers, wings.
Avalon sighed, her breath puffing out before her in a cloud as she circled what she concluded, the scratch of graphite on parchment loud in the otherwise silent tunnel.
Gods. Definitely gods.
Somewhere in the House above, a clock tolled out the hour. It was already eight o’clock. She only had so much time left before her father, the King of the Fey, would return from his meeting with the general of the Wolf Pack. If he caught her wandering about at this hour, especially after he’d told her to remain in her rooms for the rest of the night, she would be in deep trouble.
She gathered up her things and made her way to the entrance. The shadows hiding within the crypts seemed to devour the lamplight. She picked up speed until she was nearly running, fear dripping coldly down her spine.
Voices seemed to bounce from the shadows, urging her to turn back. To keep looking.
Keep looking for what?Avalon thought, her heart pounding in her chest as she swung around the corner and into the stairwell.
Despite her silent question, she had an inkling of what the voices were begging her to find, for it wasn’t just her insatiable curiosity that had led her to explore the catacombs beneath the House of Ice tonight.
It was the dreams that had plagued her mind for the past decade. Dreams of a young Fey woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair and eyes of molten gold. All her life, Avalon had refrained from telling anyone about the dreams, for she was one of the only humans who lived in the lands of the Fairfolk—powerful, godlike beings once worshipped by her people. It was her best kept secret, for if anyone happened to discover her strange…ability, for lack of a better word, they might think she was a threat.
Before tonight, Avalon might’ve laughed at such an idea. After all, how could anyone possibly seeheras a threat? Humans were nothing compared to the Fey and Elves; they possessed no magic, and their lives were fleeting and insignificant in the eyes of immortal beings.
And yet…all these things aside, when Avalon had ventured into the catacombs earlier that evening, she had realized that although she’d never visited this place before in real life, she had been here in her dreams. The dreams had shown her the catacombs in perfect detail, clearer than a memory. She’d known exactly which way to go, as if she’d set foot in the tunnels a thousand times.
How was such a thing even possible?
Perhaps she wasn’t quite as ordinary as she believed.
As she raced up the stairs, she shut out the whispers pleading her to turn back.
There was only one thing she knew for certain: there was something in these crypts that was begging to be found.
~
Hadrian Courts was waiting for Avalon at the top of the stairwell. The Fey Captain of the Guard had a few choice words for her, as he was not impressed in the least that the mortal princess had disobeyed her father and snuck out of her rooms. But she listened with her head high as he expressed himself, and when he asked her what she had been up to, she gave him the same answer she always did: she was looking for treasure.
“And did you find anything?” Hadrian growled. His gloved hand tightened around the torch, and his upturned eyes glinted with unconcealed rage. Even when furious, he was handsome.Sodistractingly handsome that Avalon briefly forgot thatshewas the source of his wrath.
Avalon shook her head, a stray curl falling in her face.
The captain’s eyes were skeptical as they raked down her body, from her head to her toes, searching for signs that she was lying to him. As the rippling torchlight fell on his features, the flames turned his chestnut irises a shimmering garnet, and set his tousled bronze hair flickering like leaves under an autumn sun.
Finally, the captain spoke. “I would get a thrill out of searching you, but we haven’t the time. Your father will be back soon, and he expects us to join him for supper.” If Hadrian searched her, he wouldn’t be the only one getting a thrill out of it. For years, they had danced around the idea of becoming a little more acquainted with one another, but despite the flirting that never failed to turn Avalon’s legs to jelly, they had never even kissed. They had to be careful, for if the captain laid a hand on the princess, there was no telling what would happen.
When Hadrian turned on his heel and began making his way down the corridor, Avalon loosened her shoulders and released the breath she was holding. She was still getting used to having Hadrian interrogate her like this; when they were younger, they had explored new and exciting places together, but since accepting the position of Captain of the Guard, Hadrian had become less of a friend and more of a soldier. Avalon wished she could tell him how much this upset her, but Hadrian was proud to be called Captain. And as long as he was happy, Avalon was happy, too.
“I imagine he’d like us to becleanfor supper.” Hadrian’s words bounced against the walls of the crystal-lit corridor. Avalon trailed behind him, their footfall echoing loudly.
The House of Ice was an enormous castle tucked far in the northern realm, where forests were cloaked in snow, and rivers sparkled like snakes of diamond. The snow-blasted Bluehorn Mountains bordered the east, while the west was stained with the dark tangle of the Haunted Woods—the gateway to the mortal lands. Before coming here, snow had been nothing more to her than a word. Nearly her entire life had been spent in Hilsian, the capital of the Realm of Fire—a place of eternal summer. If it weren’t for her controlling father, she would’ve already explored every inch of the magnificent North, instead of wasting the past two days cooped up inside with her nose pressed against frosted windows. Alas, she’d had to choose her adventures carefully.
