Chapter 1

Chapter One

Present Day

A smile of delight brightens my face as a golden fortune bird lands on my extended hand. Just seeing one of the rare native birds is said to bring luck and riches, so I wonder what is said about those who are lucky enough to hold one. Our land is built on the tales of our ancestors, stories passed down from generation to generation, mostly superstitions and warnings to keep children from misbehaving or entering the woods around us. I have always loved the tales of the fortune birds.

About the height of my forefinger, it has a round body that does not look capable of flight, its black tail doubling its length. Black and yellow feathers cover most of its body, but the golden flashes on the underside of its wings gives it the name of fortune bird. The elders in the village tell stories of a time where the birds were used by miners, as the beautiful creatures were drawn to precious stones and gold in the mountains.

“What a beautiful little creature you are,” I coo, bringing my hand a little closer to my face so I can take in the colours of its feathers.

The bird seems to preen under my admiration, fluffing up its feathers as it meets my gaze, although I am sure I am just imagining it. After all, birds do not communicate with humans. That is crazy talk and the sort of thing that would get me locked up in the village jail.

“Are you talking to the flowers again, sister?” The question is curt, the familiar voice cutting through my moment of peace.

I startle, not having heard my younger sibling approach. The fortune bird flies away in a flash of gold with a high-pitched cry. Sighing as I watch the little bird leave, I plaster a smile on my lips as I turn and look over my shoulder. Our little garden is my haven, the plants and flowers glorious in their blooms, and even my sister’s sour mood cannot destroy the happiness this place brings me.

“Jas, I didn’t hear you approach.” Dipping my head in greeting, I take in her gloomy expression and see that today is going to be difficult. “Plants grow better when you sing to them, that is a proven fact,” I respond lightly, if not a little defensively. I have learned over the years not to react to her barbs, as it only encourages her, but the way she asks the question only puts emphasis on what she is always accusing me of—that I am strange, a changeling, that I have moon fever and have gone mad, or I’m cursed by the fae.

Jasmine and I have never seen eye to eye on most things, although we are almost the mirror image of each other. Jasmine is a little shorter and slimmer, but her features are identical to mine. At twenty-two, I am her senior by four years, and there is no mistaking us as siblings. Our personalities could not be any more different though. Where I usually have a smile on my face and enjoy my own company, she seems to wear a permanent scowl and spends the majority of her time with her friends in the village. What she does there to pass the time, I have never understood.

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, raising her brows as though to say she is only agreeing to keep me happy. “We are leaving for the market. Are you coming?”

“Yes, I had not realised the time.” Pushing to my feet, I brush down the front of my flowered skirt and hurry back into our cottage. Removing my apron, I glance in the mirror to check that my dress is still in place and my chest is suitably covered, pull my wavy golden brown locks back from my face, and grab my basket with the bouquets I prepared earlier.

I have a skip in my step as I move through our cottage and pause by the front door to grab my shawl. Low, whispered voices catch my attention, and I hover by the door, indecision making me bite down on my lower lip. No, I should not be listening to my mother and sister’s conversation. If it were meant for me to hear, then they would tell me themselves.

I reach out for the door handle when my sister speaks again, the undisguised venom in her voice stopping me in my tracks.

“She was talking to the plants, Mama.” She sounds exasperated, and I can almost imagine her throwing her arms up into the air. “She’s crazy and is going to give us a bad name. No one shall want to trade with us in case they catch it off her.”

“Will you stop, Jasmine?” my mother hisses. “That is your sister you’re talking about, and you could get her locked up with that talk.” I hear how weary she sounds. “There is nothing wrong with her, she is just a little different. That is not a crime.”

While I cannot see either of them, I can visualise how my sister is taking my mother’s words—her arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked to one side. A few quiet, heavy seconds pass before she hums again. “Da would agree with me.”

“Well, your da isn’t here right now, so you will just have to listen to me.” My mother’s voice rises slightly, fed up with this conversation. “Now stop this talk. Iris would be devastated if she heard you talking like this.”

I love my mother for defending me, but nothing she ever says gets Jasmine to stop. Hearing her exhaustion as she argues with Jasmine about this again , I feel familiar tendrils of guilt wrap around me. Not only does she have to defend me from rumours coming from the villagers, but she also has to hear it from her youngest daughter too.

Different, strange, and odd—all words I have been called before, and while I have never wished to be like everyone else, I do feel guilty over the stress I cause my mother. She is right though, I am devastated to hear my sister talk about me this way, each word like a stake to my heart. Unfortunately, none of this is unusual for Jasmine.

I am not sure when her dislike of me first started. We always got on when we were children, and then, when we were teenagers, something changed. Things have only escalated since then. We mostly stay out of each other’s way, and that suits the two of us perfectly, yet I know these jibes today are about more than the market folk no longer trading with us. There is one reason that Jasmine’s dislike for me has increased over the years—she believes no one will marry her if her sister is deemed crazy. Her dreams of finding a highbrow husband and getting out of this town all rest on our family’s reputation.

Shaking off the weight of my sister’s words, I take a slow, measured breath and push open the door, stepping out into the sunshine. Our front garden is almost as beautiful as the one out back, and while small, the flowers here are glorious in their colours and varieties.

“Ma,” I greet with a smile, brushing her shoulder with my hand as I pass. She has always been able to read me, and if I stay still for too long, she will see through my mask and know that I heard them talking.

My mother and sister follow behind me, talking quietly between themselves about the villagers and who they plan to trade with today. I let my mind wander as I walk towards the village, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face. Today is market day, and I can trade my home-grown bouquets for coin or food. Market day is also the only time when outsiders are welcome, bringing their wares and opportunities with them. Even so, they are carefully watched and not trusted.

The village of Brine is right on the edge of the human territories. This makes everyone here hardy and suspicious. Surrounded by the Fae Forest, outsiders of any description are not welcome, save on market days. A large wooden wall is built around the settlement with a heavily guarded gate, keeping out all unsavoury people and creatures. My family’s cottage is right on the outskirts of the village and outside the wall. In fact, our rear garden backs up to the forest, the border oh so close. This only makes us more suspicious to the villagers, yet we are accepted because my mother makes a healing balm that has saved many lives. Besides, the mayor seems to like me, and it is only from his vouching for me that we live in the relative comfort we have. It is not only me who is the subject of whispers, but my entire family, all because of our proximity to the forest.

Everyone is warned about the forest, and it is the first thing they teach to the youngsters—do not go into the forest, do not trust strangers, and keep your wits about you. Fae of all descriptions live in the forest, all of which are dangerous and would quickly eat our flesh and break our bones. However, it is the beautiful high fae who you really have to worry about.

Despite all of this, I have never felt threatened by the forest. Of course, I treat it with respect and do not underestimate the power of the sentient trees that loom over us or the creatures that could shred me to pieces if they wanted to. The few times I entered were thrilling, and I count the days until I can visit once again. My family has no idea that I enter the forest alone. They would disown me if I were ever caught. I always make sure they are away before venturing in.

The gravel road that leads to the village becomes narrow, the forest creating a pinch point. The trees lean towards us from both sides, their branches meeting in the middle and creating a canopy, briefly blocking out the sun.

The rest of the road beyond is open, and the forest drops back, allowing the grasslands and fields to take over. None of us has ever been attacked at this section of the road, but even so, my mother and sister fall silent as we pass through the pinch point. I do not take my eyes from the road, but I know if I did, I would find the two of them clutching onto each other, fear lining their faces. I do not tell them that it is not the forest that I fear, but the humans we are about to meet in the market.

Our journey is not long, only ten minutes or so, and I can see our destination growing on the horizon, like a dark stain blotting out the sky. From outside, Brine looks unwelcoming and tough, yet I know that when we step past its gate, we shall be greeted by beautiful pots of flowers and a crystal clear pond in the centre. It is such a juxtaposition between the tough exterior and equally tough people, and the cheery feeling the flowers bring to the village.

I pause at the gate, waiting for my mother and sister to catch up with me. The gatekeepers sometimes give me trouble if I try to enter on my own, so I tend not to travel here unless I am with my family. No one would even try to deny my mother entry to the village.

One of the gatekeepers steps forward to check us over, his gaze landing heavily on me. I recognise him, but I cannot remember why. Most of the villagers stay away from me, and that is how I like it. Right now, though, I do not like the way he is looking at me with a cross between distrust and desire. That is a dangerous combination. While I might describe myself as pretty and curvy, others have called me beautiful. They might call me strange and scowl at me when I pass, yet many of the men here desire me. I am not vain when I say that. Simply put, I am the unknown, mysterious woman from the house by the forest, and that makes me desirable. They do not love me or want to court me, no, they wish to dominate me. I see the violence glimmering in their eyes when they think no one else is watching, and it makes me fearful. If I had to choose between walking down a dark alley in the village or through the forest, I would pick the forest every time. At least the monsters there do not try to hide what they really are.

A hand lands on my arm, startling me from my staring match with the gatekeeper—my sister. I watch as she smiles prettily up at him, drawing his attention away from me. His eyes light up, and he blatantly admires Jasmine, noting the low cut of her dress, her cleavage just peeking from the neckline.

My mother clears her throat loudly to remind them that she is there and not happy with what she is witnessing. This seems to snap the guard into action. He looks at my mother, and he bows his head in acknowledgement before his gaze moves back to Jasmine. When she smiles, she really is beautiful.

“Well, hello, Miss Bloom,” the gatekeeper greets with a smile. “You look lovely today.”

“Why thank you, Jimmy, it’s a new dress.” She runs her hands down the front of the fabric, and the male’s gaze follows the movement as though he can see straight through the fabric to what is hiding beneath. “We are here to visit the market,” she finishes brightly, biting her lower lip as though she is anxious he will not let us in.

Jimmy, I knew I recognised him. He is several years older than me and went to school with us. He used to pick on me until Jasmine tried to punch him one day. He kept away from me after that, but I always felt his eyes on me. Now that I think back, I remember snippets of a conversation Jasmine had with my mother, and Jimmy’s name came up several times.

Taking in her uncharacteristic smile and coy expression, I hardly recognise her as my sister. She has lit up under his attention, becoming a different person. Her show of uncertainty is an act put on to make him want to care for her. The effort works. Puffing out his chest as though he is an expanding balloon, the guard rolls his shoulders back in a way I am sure he thinks makes him look manly.

“Then by all means, please enter.” Stepping aside, he gestures for us to pass. Unlinking our arms, we step forward to enter the village. Just as I am about to cross the threshold, his hand whips out and pulls me to a stop. “Oh, Miss Iris?”

I turn to look at him, the hold so tight on my arm that I can already feel it starting to bruise. However, I don’t let my discomfort show on my face. My mother and sister are already out of hearing range and are only just realising that I have not entered with them. Mother looks concerned, but my sister just looks annoyed.

“Yes, sir?”

His eyes flash at the title, enjoying being called sir when he is from as poor a background as I am. “We do not want any trouble here. I have no qualms in handing you over to the jailor if you so much as sneeze too loudly.”

“I understand.” I keep my head down and make myself look meek and helpless. Really, my head is lowered to hide the anger that flares inside me. There is a wildness within me that I have always felt, but I have learned to tame it. Surrounded by plants, I am at my calmest, and it settles my soul. It is when I am surrounded by humans that everything becomes more difficult.

Stumbling forward, I hurry to catch up with my family, shuddering from the memory of his touch. Thankfully, as I step into the village and see the flowering baskets and blooming rose bushes between the houses, I feel my anxiety lift. Ever since I began to attend the village weekly, life around Brine blossomed.

It had been the mayor’s idea, seeing how plants respond so well to my care. Honestly, the plants do not need much from me, just the occasional watering and pruning. Stepping up to several barrels that have been turned into large planters, I run my hands over the leaves of a small rose. This time last week, it had been little more than a dry stalk, and now, although still small, it has leaves, green shoots, and a tiny bud. It should bloom by next week. All of these plants are so full of life that I can almost feel it thrumming beneath my fingers.

“Iris, come, we need to get to the market before it gets busy and the traders raise their prices.”

Jerking my hand away from the plants at my mother’s voice, I look up, startled. Why do I feel as though I have been caught doing something I shouldn’t? I have been tasked with caring for the flowers, and that is exactly what I am doing. Perhaps it is the fact I am so closely watched while in Brine, everyone waiting for me to make a mistake.

Clearing my throat, I follow my mother over to the bustling market square. I feel a soft smile pull at my lips. Despite the fact that there are people everywhere, I love market day. With a deep inhale, I take in all the scents and colours that fill the usually empty space. Some of the items for sale seem so exotic—spices that are the colour of the deep orange roses in my garden, clothes made of wispy fabrics, and sparkling belts that make me blush.

My mother and sister go off to complete their tasks, and I focus on trying to sell the bouquets I made. Usually this is not too difficult, but something is different today.

“Sorry, miss. No trade today, coin only.” A female trader selling loaves of bread shakes her head. She seems genuinely apologetic, but her eyes do not stay on me long, flicking from person to person as they pass by.

The traders are nervous, their eyes shifting as they watch everyone closely, as though they are trying to assess if they are a threat or not. It is making them tighten their purse strings, and I am struggling to sell or trade my flowers. Even my usual buyers are refusing, the atmosphere over the market tight and heavy.

I have been to almost every stall now, including the ones who never buy from me. It was worth a try. Taking a deep breath, I glance around and take in the final row of vendors.

“Girl, are you selling those flowers?” a female voice calls out to me.

I turn on the spot and see a woman I did not notice before. I am not sure how I missed her stall, which has bright purple fabric draped over the table to advertise her wares. The woman has a kind face, her laugh lines crinkling as she smiles at me and gestures for me to come closer. She wears a headscarf in the same deep purple as the material on the table, large silver hoops dangling from her ears. I have never seen anyone like her before.

“Yes, would you like some?” I ask, wishing I sounded more confident. “I grew them in my garden.”

She barely glances into my basket, her pale blue eyes scanning my face. “They are beautiful. I cannot give you coin, but I am happy to trade.”

I hoped for coin, but this woman is the only person who has shown any interest today, so I am thankful for whatever I can get. Giving her a tight smile, I drop my gaze to her table, my eyebrows rising as I take in the various items on display. A row of glass bottles containing a strange greenish liquid catches my eye, the labels written in a language I do not recognise. Several charms and other knick-knacks are scattered across the table, many of them containing feathers and teeth and held together with what looks like hair.

Confused, I look up, hoping my discomfort is not obvious. Anything that contains animal parts makes me wary, and my mother’s cautions of dark magic rings in the back of my mind. “What are you selling?”

She smiles at me and places a hand on top of mine. “Protection against the fae. You are the girl who lives by the woods, right?” Tingles run up my arm from where she touches me, but I am too distracted by her comment to question it.

She is not from around here, one of the travelling traders perhaps, but I know she has never come to Brine before. How does she know who I am?

She waves off the questions on the tip of my tongue that I have not yet voiced, somehow knowing what I was going to ask. “I just know these things, dear. Being so close to the wood puts you in danger. You should take this.”

She switches topic and speaks so quickly that I struggle to keep up. She takes my hand and opens it, palm facing up. With her other hand, she drops something into it. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I acknowledge that the tingling on my skin has stopped now that she has removed her hand, yet I am so focused on the item in my palm that it does not fully register. A bracelet made of what seems to be dried vines sits in my hand, and right in the centre is a tiny black stone.

“What is it?” I ask, lifting the bracelet to examine it closer, my curiosity getting the better of me. There is something about the stone that draws me to it, as though it has its own energy and hums, making a noise on a frequency just out of hearing range.

“That is fae bane, and the stone is a black heart stone.”

Fae bane. I cannot quite believe I’m holding it. The plant is so rare and expensive, most of us will never see it in our lifetime. It used to grow freely and was used to protect the border of the human lands, repelling the fae and keeping our lands free of them. However, they discovered that all they need to do to get past the poisonous plant was to set it alight. Nowadays, it is only seen around the boundary lines of rich households. To know that the bracelet is made from fae bane is one thing, but the black heart stone is another matter altogether. I have never seen one before, only heard the whispers of what it is capable of, and that even the smallest piece is said to protect from the fae.

It is said that the king’s sword has a large piece of the stone in the pommel, and that it helped him to defeat the fae who plagued our lands. A piece the size of that on the bracelet is rumoured to cost more than the entire village’s combined earnings. Quickly returning the bracelet to the vendor’s table, I pull my hands away, afraid of damaging it and being forced to pay for it.

“I cannot afford this.” That should be the end of it, yet I still feel a pull towards it. It calls to me, and a note of longing slips into my voice.

The woman raises a brow and makes a noise in the back of her throat, jerking her head towards the other vendors. “The traders are scared, and that is making them refuse to part with their coin. You will not get any coin from them today, girl.” Reaching out, she runs a hand over the bouquets in my basket, nodding silently as she assesses the flowers. “I am willing to trade the bracelet for your flowers.”

There is no way my flowers cover even a fraction of the bracelet, and that is something she will know, meaning she is willingly undercharging me. I don’t understand why she is helping me like this. Strangers rarely offer kindness, yet this might be a chance to get some information. Taking a deep breath, I step in closer until only the table separates us. “Why are the traders on edge, and why are you doing this? Why help me like this?” I ask quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

“Fae were reported on the highway. We almost did not come here today with the village being so close to the forest.” There is a quiet chill in the woman’s voice, the closest thing to fear I have seen her display. “And as for the bracelet, think of it as a gift from one outsider to another. I suspect you might have need of it.” She smiles, her voice a grim whisper.

Fae on the highway. There is only one road in and out of Brine, and that is the highway, which leads straight to the capital city. Only parts of it get close to the forest, the road purposely built through the centre of the land to avoid the foreboding forest. If the fae were on the highway, then that means they have left the forest.

The spells containing them have failed.

“There she is!” a loud voice calls out, cutting through my panic. I spin around to see what is happening, and my stomach sinks as I see Jimmy pointing at me, his face twisted in anger. Behind him is half of the village protectors, weapons drawn as they charge towards me. “Grab her before she can cause any more harm!”