Chapter 1

NATALEE

I hurriedto set the table for two, placing crisp white napkins and polished utensils next to the dinner plates. As I poured mint-infused water in the cups, memories flooded through me unbidden. I suddenly felt as if I were preparing for Logan’s return after a long day spent mining for gold deep in the mountain caves.

At any moment, he would stroll through the door and greet me with a lingering kiss. His beard would tickle my face, causing me to laugh, and I would playfully push him away. Then he would grab me and kiss me harder, leaving me breathless and quivering with anticipation for the night to come.

But the merry humming that drifted out of the kitchen thrust me back into reality as quickly as the fantasy had besieged me, my present surroundings a stark reminder that Logan wasn’t about to walk through the door. I wasn’t at our claim in the mountains. I was in the isolated mining town of Faircross, and my husband had left this life forever.

Oblivious to my musings, Mrs. Foxthorne bustled into the small dining room and placed supper on the table. Ribbons of steam rose from the large pot. The aroma of the wild mushroom soup that had been simmering on the stove for hours made my mouth water.

“I’d expected Angus to have returned already.” Mrs. Foxthorne wiped her hands on her apron and gave a shrug. “I should have invited the Lilypads over for dinner, for as much soup as I’ve made. Guess we’ll be stuffing ourselves tonight.”

I smiled politely and kept my opinion about Mr. Foxthorne to myself. Truth be told, I was glad the trip to his claim was taking longer than anticipated. Maybe, if I were lucky, he would be gone for another fortnight. I appreciated the roof over my head, considering I was no relation to the Foxthornes, but I didn’t care for the leering glances Mr. Foxthorne sent my way when his wife wasn’t looking.

After I fetched the biscuits I’d made earlier, we sat at the table, said a quick prayer of thanks to the God of Abundance, and tried our best to do justice to the large pot of soup.

The front and back doors were propped open to create a cross breeze in the downstairs of the small house, and the voices of passersby and the sounds of horses clomping down the street came in waves. Occasionally, the sounds of cheerful piano music drifted in with the breeze.

The piano music, of course, came from The Sweet Siren Tavern, which was only a short walk from the Foxthorne residence.

Mrs. Foxthorne raised her chin with an air of propriety. “When Angus and I arrived here in Faircross, the first thing we did was ask Mayor Compton to close that bawdy establishment. Considered it our gods-blessed duty, we did.”

“You asked the mayor to shut down The Sweet Siren Tavern?”

“Yes, indeed. Then would you believe it—the sheriff went and married himself a tart from that very establishment. And the mayor later did the very same thing!”

I didn’t comment further, though not for the first time I found Mrs. Foxthorne’s expectations for Faircross to be strange. If the woman had wanted to remain in polite society, she should have stayed in the Northern Isles, rather than follow her husband after he inherited a large and prosperous claim here on Black Dragon Island.

The remote island was untamed, both the land and the people, most of them lower class human or half-human males who’d flocked here in droves with dreams of making a better life for themselves. During the past few months, I’d also seen my fair share of orcs, fae, satyrs, minotaur, and even ogres on this huge, wild landmass. My late husband had told me what to expect before we set sail, and though some of the things I’d witnessed had surprised me—in particular, the massive fire-breathing dragon named Dhomyss that frequently soared through the skies—I didn’t find the presence of an establishment such as The Sweet Siren Tavern out of place or even offensive to my morals.

But, then, I had never felt as if I belonged to the family and polite society into which I’d been born. I’d always felt like an outsider. Keeping up with all my parents’ expectations had been exhausting. When I thought of my childhood, a jolt of panic often coursed through me. I could never smile enough, speak softly enough, sit up straight enough, dance gracefully enough, needlepoint neatly and elegantly enough, and so on down the line. And for as long as I could remember, I had longed to escape the confines of higher-class city life.

The volume of the piano music rose, and I fought to restrain a smile as Mrs. Foxthorne clenched her jaw in an overly angry expression.

In truth, the sirens from the tavern fascinated me. They weren’t real sirens, mind you, but beautiful young women who provided entertainment and amorous companionship to the males of Faircross. I’d seen a few of the sirens up close in the mercantile and imagined they all had grand stories of traveling southwest across the ocean to Black Dragon Island to make it on their own.

Though I couldn’t fathom selling my body for money, I didn’t think badly of the females who worked at the tavern, and I supposed it was due to my nanny’s influence that I wasn’t as quick to judge others as Mrs. Foxthorne.

Growing up, outside of the criticism my parents leveled on me when I wasn’t enough, they hadn’t paid me much attention and usually left me in the care of a much beloved nanny. They were always too busy frolicking from ball to ball and visiting with their friends who lived on different landmasses in the Northern Isles. When they happened to notice me, it was only to berate me for some lacking that made me not ladylike enough. Try harder, girl, or we’ll marry you off to an ogre when you come of age. At the time, I had longed for their love and acceptance, but now that I’d discovered their true colors, I appreciated all the lessons in kindness Nanny Tess had taught me.

An ache pulsed in my chest. I missed Nanny Tess, the sweet half-fae female who’d raised me since birth, but I drew comfort from the knowledge that the elderly woman was placed safely with a new family. I had seen to that before I left the Northern Isles as an eloping bride suddenly estranged from my family.

“Natalee. Natalee. Natalee!” Mrs. Foxthorne tapped a hand on the table, causing the silverware to rattle. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“Apologies, Mrs. Foxthorne. I must have drifted off for a second.” I forced a smile. “What were you saying?”

“I’m saying that Faircross needs to get a priest in that temple right quick. It’s a shame that the temple, and the fine rectory beside it, too, are sitting there empty without a priest and without Saturday services being held every week, not to mention the seasonal blessing ceremonies. I guarantee spirituality and the fear of the gods is exactly what this town needs to be turned around.”

“Is that so?” I took a long drink of water in hopes of settling the sickness that had twisted in my stomach. This wasn’t the first time my dinner companion had reminded me of my mother. My father too. Sit up straight. Fix your hair. Act like a lady, would you?

Mrs. Foxthorne nodded and kept going. “I tell you what, if the mayor had any sense in him, he’d go into the mountains and drag Knot Thazurok down by his thick neck and order him to start saving souls.”

I set my cup down. “Who is Knot Thazurok?”

The woman leaned forward, her eyes lit with excitement, as they often were when she was about to impart a bit of gossip—a practice she claimed to abhor yet participated in frequently.

“Priest Knot Thazurok. He’s part orc, from what I hear. They say he’s from the Northern Isle of Lannus, used to have his own temple there in a mountain village. But then one day he up and traveled southwest on a ship headed for Black Dragon Island. They say he was so grief stricken after his wife died that he abandoned everything he’d ever known. Struck it rich during his first week mining his new claim, and had a large cabin built high in the mountains. Some say it’s a palace. He comes to town now and then, but it’s said he refuses to go near the temple, let alone take up orating and holding proper ceremonies in honor of the gods.”

“Well, it sounds as though he was so grieved after his wife’s death that he felt the need to run. The need to be alone. It’s a perfectly good reason for his actions.” Though I didn’t know Knot Thazurok, I could empathize with his plight. Sometimes I wished I had the means to leave Black Dragon Island and the pain I’d endured here far behind.

Wide, judgmental eyes stared back at me. “Child, there is never a good reason to turn your back on the gods. Never.”

Not even if your parents disown you?

Not even if your husband dies a mere year after you get married?

Not even if you find yourself stranded in a mining town located on a faraway island with only a few gold pieces left to your name?

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from uttering a response I would likely regret. I was a guest in Mrs. Foxthorne’s house. Whatever the old woman had to say about sirens, absent priests, or anything else, I had best keep my differing opinions to myself. If not for the Foxthornes’ kindness in taking me in after Logan’s untimely death, I didn’t know what fate would have befallen me.

As we cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen, Mrs. Foxthorne gently suggested we take another stroll after breakfast tomorrow. She frequently suggested we take walks in the mornings, and though she hadn’t yet divulged the reason why, I’d already begun to suspect she was trying to play matchmaker, judging by how many unmarried males to whom she tended to introduce me.

Perhaps she glimpsed the suspicion in my eyes because she cleared her throat and gently said, “The drunkards will still be asleep, but the decent gods-fearing males will be awake, perhaps on their way to claim a prosperous mine. The best thing you can do is get married sooner than later, child. While you’re still young. While you can still bear children. Be sure to wear a pretty dress too. Your temple best.”

I blinked hard to dispel my tears as I dried the dishes. My throat burned and emotion tightened in my chest.

I only wanted one man. Logan.

But he was gone.

Buried near the shack we’d briefly called home, on a claim that hadn’t produced one flake of gold.

Though the claim was currently for sale, no one had shown any interest in it yet. I supposed whatever money I made off the eventual sale wouldn’t be enough to survive on for long, let alone pay for my passage back to the Northern Isles.

It pained me that finding a husband was my only option of moving forward. I occasionally entertained the idea of sending a letter to my parents with the news of Logan’s death, requesting the funds to travel home and reconcile with my family. But each time the thought entered my mind, all the cruel things my parents had said to me came rushing back.

“You’re no daughter of mine.”My father’s words.

“Get out of my sight, Natalee. I never wish to see you again. Thank the gods your older sisters have more sense than you. At least they have made us proud. But you—you are nothing.”My mother’s words.

All because I’d married without their blessing. To make matters worse, Logan’s father had had a falling out with my father years before our elopement, something related to a business deal gone wrong. Logan and I had believed our families would put aside their differences and support us after the announcement of our marriage, but Logan’s parents had treated him just as coldly as mine had treated me.

Fate stepped in when Logan’s older brother offered to pay for our passage to Black Dragon Island. He also gave Logan enough money to buy a claim. Not long after, we’d set sail on the Silver Sentinel, foolishly believing all would be well and we would strike it rich somewhere on Black Dragon Island.

But Logan’s claim proved worthless, and after he died an agonizing death from a serpent bite, I couldn’t very well live in a shack in the mountains all by myself. I might be stubborn and proud, but I didn’t have a death wish. Even if I’d managed to grow enough food to sustain myself, I wasn’t very skilled at trapping animals, nor was I capable of defending myself against the huge beasts that roamed the mountain.

After the kitchen was set to rights, I feigned a headache and went to my bedroom. Normally, I stayed up with Mrs. Foxthorne and helped her quilt in the sitting room by the roaring fire, but tonight I longed for solitude.

I prepared for bed and then stood at my bedroom window that faced the street. Darkness had fallen. I peered up at the stars and crescent-shaped moon. Was Logan up in the starfields—the realm of departed souls and of the gods—looking down on me at this very moment? I liked to think he was. And I liked to think he would understand when I married again, only months after his passing.

Yes, I decided I would allow Mrs. Foxthorne to continue introducing me to as many eligible gentlemen in town as she wished. Human. Orc. Fae. Even minotaur. As long as the male possessed a kindly deposition and was a hard worker, I was open to the idea of marriage.

A long, contemplative sigh escaped me. With the small ratio of women to males in Faircross, I would probably have all manner of marriage proposals to contend with in the near future.

As much as I wanted the chance to get to know a male well before we wed, any courtship would need to be short. This wasn’t polite society in the Northern Isles. There would be no glittering balls in the city or chaperoned carriage rides in the countryside. No stolen kisses on the large front porch of my family’s summer home while the forest chirpers screeched around us on a cool summer night.

I went to my bedside, fell to my knees, and bowed my head in prayer.

After a whispered prayer for Logan’s soul, I sat in silence as the piano music floated in the open window. I was certain this was the third time this evening that I’d heard Blushing Fairy Maiden playing, but I didn’t mind. The music brought me comfort and was one of the reasons I often kept my window open, even when the night air grew so chilled that I had to bundle up under the quilts.

I took a deep breath and bowed my head further.

Please gods, lead me down the right path, whether it’s to a husband or back to the Northern Isles. Please gods, show me a sign.