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Prologue
Onceuponatime,in the kingdom of Valderán, there lived King Silas and his queen, Elspeth. The kingdom was known throughout the lands for its lush valleys, jagged mountain peaks, and bountiful harvests of apples so delicious, they were described as having come from the gods themselves.
The king and queen were happy, their people content. They agreed amongst themselves, as they wandered the markets or enjoyed ale in the pubs, that they were lucky indeed; neighboring kingdoms did not fare so well as Valderán and were not ruled by such gracious and kind monarchs.
As the years passed, the prosperity continued, and talk began to turn of an heir for the king and queen. Whispers started to circulate that perhaps the queen was barren, for surely there would have been a child by now? Queen Elspeth, upon hearing the rumors, descended into a deep depression. The once bright airiness of her chambers became dark, the thick curtains drawn tight against the sun, the air stifling and stale as she sobbed to herself.
The king, despairing for both the future of his kingdom and his wife, sent out his great hunters to roam the lands, searching for someone who could help them. Surely a powerful sorceress, or the Fae perhaps, could help his wife conceive? His love for her was all-consuming, and he missed her friendship, affection, and passion.
A month went by, then two, the queen’s life force withering away from lack of nourishment. She would not eat, nor even leave her rooms, her anguish so great. Finally, the men returned with a beautiful woman riding in front of Alaric, the lead huntsman. The king, upon hearing the guards’ shouts and the horses’ mighty neighs as they galloped into the courtyard, hurried to throw the doors open and welcome them back.
King Silas was at once struck by the beauty of the woman his men had returned with, and she blushed prettily as she sank to her knees in a graceful curtsey. Descending the stairs in a hurry, he thrust out a hand, helping her to her feet.
She introduced herself as Morana, a healer from a small family at the base of Clawback Mountain in the north, just south of the border of the kingdom of Granton. As the king led her into the castle, she explained she had an extra gift given to her by a distant Fae relation—a small amount of magic, just a smidgeon really—that allowed her to aid women like the queen, who found themselves desperately wanting a child but unable to conceive.
The king rejoiced upon hearing this and ushered her to the queen’s chambers. Just in time too, for the queen lay on her bed, her breaths slow as the fight within her waned. Morana gasped at the sight, a tear falling gently down her downy cheek, and the king was moved at the evidence of her kind heart.
Morana rushed forward, withdrawing an apple from her skirt pocket. The king had never seen its kind; the deep red of a ruby, with flecks of pure gold decorating the peel. Morana dropped to her knees beside the bed and gently raised the queen’s head, begging her to take a bite. She whispered promises of health and an heir, and a bit of life returned to Elspeth’s eyes. Leaning forward, she took a bite, her hand shaking as she reached for it. One bite followed another until it was gone—seeds, core, and all.
Smiling brightly, Morana stood and threw back the curtains. The king and queen flinched against the golden glow of the sun flooding the room. Flurries of dust motes danced around the room before scattering when Morana tossed open the windows, allowing an autumn breeze to sweep through, carrying away the despair and heartbreak.
When the king turned back to his wife, he gasped with joy. Her hair, before greasy and tangled, now shone like ebony. Her ice-blue eyes, once devoid of life, now sparkled with hope. Her lips, downturned and pale, now smiled happily, their rosy hue returned. He rushed to her side and kissed her hand, his happiness at her miraculous recovery clear for all to see.
Once he could tear himself from her side, he thanked Morana profusely, pressing a heavy bag of gold coins into her hands. As he led her to the courtyard, she stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. He shuddered when his eyes met hers; for a moment, he swore he could see something else looking back at him from within them. Just as quickly as it was there it was gone, replaced by the beauty standing beside him.
Alaric helped her into a carriage that had been prepared for her, and as it started away, the king caught a whispered phrase rising upon the wind. “Remember, Your Majesty, all magic comes with a price. A life for a life.” But then he heard the queen call to him, and the strange words fled his mind, just as they were intended to do. It would be seven years before he remembered the saying of them.
And that is where our story begins . . .
Chapter 1
Morana
Dawnbreaks,thintendrilsof oranges and golds painting the sky in a stunning mural. Birdsong erupts as the small creatures awaken, heading out to break their fast. Pulling my arms above my head, I stretch out my back, groaning as the chilly air in the room breaches the warmth of my blankets.
I’m about to close my eyes again when I remember the date. November first. The corner of my mouth ticks up as I throw the blankets off and ring the bell for a maid. November first. The last seven years have dragged past, taxing my patience dearly. But it is finally here, and my breath catches in my throat at the joy that bursts through my veins. Excitement is fast on its heels, and I leap from the bed in a rush. There is much to be done today, and no time to waste.
The heavy oak door to my room squeaks on its hinges, and Marison, my maid, pokes her head through, eyes downcast. The little fool is terrified of me—as she should be—but I don’t have time to pander to her today. “Get in here, girl,” I growl, and she scurries in, hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I will wear the purple gown today and the black overdress. Lay them out for me, and get my breakfast. And get someone up to fill my bath and stoke the fire. It’s as cold as a witch’s tit in here.”
Marison executes a hastily sloppy curtsey, utters a “Yes, mistress,” and then scampers into the adjoining room to find the clothes I demanded. An hour later finds me bathed, appropriately dressed, and fed. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I quickly smooth back my waist-length brown hair. Jade-green eyes surrounded by thick lashes peer back at me, and I straighten my shoulders. Perfect, as usual.
Ensuring the maids have left, I pull a heavy key from its hiding place in a jar above the mantel. My fingertips slide across the left-hand wall, feeling for a concealed groove in the rough stone. Excitement flares as I unlock the hidden door, which swings open silently.
My black and purple skirts swish around my legs as I race up the stairs before me. Torches flare into existence at my presence, illuminating the twisted circular steps. Up and up, ’round and ’round I go, climbing up the tower to the room waiting for me at the top. I lean against the door frame to catch my breath, my heart thumping furiously from the climb before striding across the room.
Thick tapestries showing my family’s history line the walls, covering the windows to keep out the chill. I move along each one, admiring the scenes stitched into the fabric before moving them aside to let the light in.
Two hundred years ago, my family was poor. Since mankind first appeared on this land, my family has made its home here, at the base of Clawback Mountain. Farmers and shepherds, we worked the land and survived by providing food for the nearby village. But that all changed one day, when my great-great-grandmother, Ravensly, was whisked away to the land of the Fae by one of the princes who had fallen madly in love with her beauty.
When he returned her, dumping her in her bedroom pregnant and alone, he left behind a mirror, instructing her to use it to contact him once the child was born. Ravensly was distraught, as she loved him deeply, and to lose him and her family—who had long since perished—at the same time was distressing. She wrapped the mirror with blankets and tucked it into a closet, promptly forgetting about it as she fell into mourning.
After the birth of her daughter, Ravensly remembered the gift and hauled out the large silver mirror. She ran her fingers around the frame, and as she did so, fairy runes shimmered on the surface before disappearing once more. Ravensly had been confused upon seeing this evidence of magic and quickly hung it on the wall, stepping away from it when the runes lit up again.
Legend says the mirror then spoke to Ravensly, imparting its secrets to her. And the family of farmers and shepherds became powerful sorcerers, the nearby villages quaking in fear of their power. The huts they had previously lived in were demolished, a dark gray castle rising in their place. With the might of the Clawback Mountain protecting their back, a moat filled with man-eating fish surrounding the front, and powerful magics the poor villagers could not hope to defeat, no one dared to go against them.
Since that time, my family has worked diligently to keep the news of our powers from the royal family. If there is one thing we have learned, it is to plan ahead, have patience, and pretend to be less than we are. Unfortunately, over the years, fewer and fewer children have been born, and now, it is just myself left.
The distant call of a raven stirs me from the past, and I stride over to the final tapestry. Whipping it aside, I catch my breath as the mirror is revealed. The sight of it always leaves me breathless, its power gently humming a melancholy tune. Sweeping my hand along the edges, I activate the runes which glow an electric blue as my fingers brush over them.
