Chapter 1

Beneath the mountains of Evardor,winter’s shadows forever linger.

~ “Spring Cowers”by Erazidar the Poet

“It’s magnificent.” Kaylina clasped her hands and gazed enraptured at the dilapidated stone inn.

The walls were cracked and crumbling, seagull droppings spattered the rusty gate, and cracks wide enough to swallow stray cats plagued what she could see of the courtyard, but the location was perfect. Only ten blocks from King’s Cliff, with the Stillguard River flowing behind it, the fortified structure would draw all kinds of foot traffic. She wagered there was a view of the harbor from the—

“It’s a castle,” her younger brother, Frayvar, said. “We’re not fortifying ourselves to withstand sieges and invading armies. We’re starting a meadery.”

“Don’t forget the eating house. I saw how many cookbooks you brought.” Kaylina waved to the trunks they’d rolled up from the harbor on a rickety cart. As it had clattered over the cobblestones, getting stuck in ruts, horse droppings, and mounds of semi-cleared snow, she’d briefly lamented the number of romance and adventure novels she’d brought along, but a girl couldn’t be bereft on a long trip. “Our diners will feel safe and protected while they enjoy our offerings. This is the rugged north. People here probably insist on a secure place to eat.”

“Are you suggesting our diners willrequire an eating house containing both murder holes andmachicolations?”

“Of course.”

Machio-what?

Frayvar sighed. “There’s no way we can afford the rent on a place this big.”

“You might be surprised.” The graying land agent they’d found in the market square smiled warmly as pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages and wagons passed on the boulevard behind them, the people casting curious—or were those wary—looks in their direction. “It’s been centuries since the Stillguard Inn went out of business, and the castle has been vacant for most of that time.”

Frayvar nudged a section of the courtyard wall with his boot, and the crumbling mortar gave way, a stone falling. “Kay, all we need is a dining room, a kitchen, a lavatory, and a well out back. Not this… monstrosity.”

A red-breasted bird chirped from a great oak rising at the corner of the property, the dark skeletal branches in contrast to the icy snow-smothered mountains towering beyond the city. It flew down and landed on Kaylina’s shoulder.

She pointed to it. “This is a good omen, right?”

“Animals befriend you everywhere,” Frayvar said. “If anything, it’s probably trying to warn you that this is a bad idea.”

The bird’s head rotated toward Kaylina, toward the castle, and toward her again. It emitted a concerned cheep.

Was Frayvar right?

No, Kaylina refused to believe that. The bird flew off when she lifted her arms and faced the castle, her dream so intense that she had no trouble envisioning it. Their meadery would be an extension of the family business that thrived far to the south, a chance to bring their food and drink to Port Jirador, the capital of the Zaldor Kingdom. It would be visited by lords and ladies and maybe the queen herself. People rich and poor would flock to taste mead crafted from Grandpa’s exquisite honey using Grandma’s recipes. Kaylina would bring pride to the family name of Korbian, and everyone would realize she wasn’t a screwup. She had what it took to build a successful business of her own, to find the contentment that had eluded her at home where others were always telling her what to do.

“Imagine it, Frayvar,” she breathed when she realized she was babbling the details of her vision aloud. “Can you see it?”

“No. I don’t hallucinate the way you do.”

Kaylina lowered her arms, frustrated, not for the first time, that Grandma had sent him to tag along and keep an eye on her.

“I don’t hallucinate,” she snapped. “I have dreams of what can be, what will be.”

“Dreams that you see when your eyes are open.” Frayvar turned to the land agent. “What is the cost of leasing this… establishment, and will repairs be included?”

“Certainly, certainly. With an acceptably lengthy lease agreement of course. No fewer than ten years.”

Kaylina gaped. Ten years? Was that normal? That was almost half her life.

“Commercial lease agreements in the kingdom are typically three to five years,” Frayvar said with certainty.

Given how much nonfiction he read, Kaylina suspected he knew that for a fact.

“Yes, but this is prime territory alongside the river and near the royal castle and the harbor. It also has a view of the mountains. Very desirable. Just yesterday, I had someone interested in leasing it, but he would only commit to five years. I was forced to pass. The landowner wants a longer contract.”

“How much is the rent?” Kaylina asked.

“All this can be yours for two thousand liviti a month.” The land agent winked at her, ignoring her brother.

“How much was it before my sister said it’s magnificent?” Frayvar asked.

Kaylina grimaced. He was right. She shouldn’t have been so transparent when they had to negotiate.

“It’s perfect for your needs. Very spacious.” The agent smiled, not answering Frayvar’s question. “Assuming you do indeed have funds? You’re young for this endeavor, aren’t you?”

He eyed Kaylina, her raven hair swept back in a ponytail, and considered her trousers, tunic, parka, and low boots. The clothes were practical for travel, if not the most feminine garments she might have chosen. At least she’d cleaned off the grime of the sea voyage in a washbasin that morning. She’d anticipated having to prove that she was serious, capable, and not without coin.

Her brother… She hadn’t been able to talk him out of wearing his rumpled hemp shirt with missing buttons and a fluffy prancing taybarri embroidered on the front. The noble creatures, ridden into battle by the elite royal rangers, were fierce, not fluffy. Admittedly, taybarri were rare in the south, and she’d only seen them from a distance, but the history books promised ferocity.

“I’m twenty-one,” Kaylina said, “and my brother is a very old and crotchety seventeen.” Despite the furry blue creatures prancing across his chest.

“Young for starting a business,” the agent said.

“Rangers are recruited to risk their lives and protect the kingdom as early as sixteen,” she pointed out.

“Rangers are chosen, not recruited.” The agent glanced up and down the street, then asked again, “Do you have funds?”

“Yes,” Frayvar said.

He was the one who’d brought a purse. Kaylina, who’d left in more of a hurry—or, as Mom would call it, a huff—than she wanted to admit, had planned to work for someone else to save up funds for the first few months. As much as she hated having her younger brother watch over her, his coin would be helpful.

“We also have Grandpa’s special yeast and honeycomb.” Kaylina patted one of the trunks.

A squawk came from a tower, and three pigeons flew out, complaining about something. Unlike the other, these birds weren’t inclined to visit her shoulder. One pooped on the walkway three feet from them before flapping away.

“You’ll want to clean that up before the queen arrives,” Frayvar told her.

“As my assistant, you can handle that.”

“Hilarious. Grandma sent me along to keep the books, prevent you from being swindled, andensure her recipes are accurately represented.”

“Also so you wouldn’t be beaten up again by the Bustinor brothers.” Kaylina waved at his shirt, though it was more his spindly arms, gangly height, and tendency to wheeze and pass out that made him a target for bullies.

Frayvar lifted a finger, as if he might protest, but he only sighed and added, “Or the Bustinor sisters.”

“Craters of the moon, they’re worse than the brothers.”

“Tell me about it.”

After another glance down the street, the agent gestured at the castle. “Why don’t you look around the property while you think about it? I’ll wait here and find my paperwork in case you decide you’re interested.” He patted a brown satchel.

It wouldn’t hurt to check the place out.

Smiling as her vision wafted through her mind again, Kaylina leaped the cracks of the courtyard and jogged to the double doors leading into the keep. The stout wood creaked as she pushed one side open. She almost ran through a grand vestibule and into a great hall with wrought-iron chandeliers hanging from high ceiling beams. This would be a wonderful place to seat diners.

Dust tickled her nose as she stumbled into cobwebs hanging from those beams, but she didn’t care. Already, she could see the hall cleaned up and full of tables, every patron sipping her mead and proclaiming its brilliance.

An archway led to a smaller room with cabinets and counters. They could put the mead-making equipment there, and she could give talks about the process. Demonstrations. And was that a kitchen beyond? A huge kitchen.

“Look, Fray.” Kaylina spun a pirouette before pointing. “There’s room for all your pots and pans, and I bet there’s a huge pantry. Once we’re successful, you can buy every spice in the world. And you can spend your days gleefully organizing and reorganizing the jars, an activity I’m positive you love as much as cooking.”

“I don’t love cooking.” Sneezes came from behind her, announcing her brother following, though his watering eyes might be keeping him from seeing her vision. “I got into it because I’m allergic to everything, and I have trust issues about taking food from strangers.”

“And family.”

“Family who aren’t meticulous in the kitchen, yes. Silana has tried to poison me three times.”

“She gave you nutmeg.”

“Poison.” He sneezed again.

His dourness couldn’t make Kaylina’s vision falter or still the energy humming through her. She couldn’t wait to sign that lease and take ownership of this place, to clean it up and—

The heavy front door slammed shut, the thud echoing from the stone walls.

Had that been… the wind?

As if in response to her thought, a creepy draft whispered across the back of Kaylina”s neck, sending a chill to her core. With her instincts warning her of danger, she ran to the front door and tried to open it. It didn’t budge.

“That guy locked us in?” Kaylina darted to a window as tall as she, heavy shutters covering it. She grunted as she tried to open one. “Do you still have your purse?”

Coins jangled.

“Yes, but we left our trunks out there.” Frayvar’s voice lowered. “I’ll bet he set us up to be robbed. I knew he wasn’t legitimate.”

“If you knew that, why didn’t you say something back at the market?” Again, Kaylina pushed at the shutter, but it didn’t move.

“I didn’t know until he quoted the rate. I’m not that good at reading people. You know that. You’re supposed to have a woman’s intuition.”

“You’re thinking of Silana. I have…” What? If Kaylina knew, maybe she wouldn’t have felt compelled to make this journey to prove herself.

“Schemes.”

“Dreams.”

A clank came from the back of the castle. The kitchen? It sounded like someone had kicked a pot. Someone sneaking through the shadows to waylay them?

“I hope they can defend us from thieves and cutthroats.” Frayvar turned toward the kitchen.

Kaylina reached for her belt, for the only weapon besides her utility knife that she carried. But the sling was for hunting grouse, not braining thieves. If it hadn’t been a gift from Grandpa, she might not have brought it, but she’d wanted it in case she didn’t get to go home again for a long time.

Behind them, the shutters flew open. Light shone in around the blue-furred head of a towering taybarri, its soft floppy ears contrasting with the fangs revealed when its jaws parted. Its breath steamed into the room, fogging the cold air.

Kaylina stumbled back, screaming before she caught herself.

The creature’s large nostrils twitched. Because it was sniffing her? Because she smelled like dinner? What did taybarri like to eat?

Appearing far different from the image on her brother’s shirt, the long-bodied, four-legged beings were supposed to be at home on the Plains of Tiardia, where their height, greater than that of a horse, allowed them to see over the tall blue grasses and stalk prey as they swished their thick, long tails behind them. The stories said those tails were as much weapons as their claws, fangs, and flash magic. Their floppy ears made them look cute when they were at rest, but when the taybarri sprang into battle, even the fearsome Kar’ruk warriors scattered.

This one leaned closer, its jaws parting farther. The fangs drew Kaylina’s gaze, almost mesmerizing her. The taybarri’s nostrils twitched again, but it didn’t look at her face or what might be her delicious torso. Instead, it peered over her shoulder to her pack.

Kaylina pulled it off and set it on the floor, thinking the taybarri might want the handful of snacks she’d taken from the galley before they disembarked. Or maybe the creature smelled her grandfather’s honey. Not fully trusting that the trunks wouldn’t be lost, she had stashed some in her pack. But would something with that many fangs eat sweets? Those teeth and that powerful jaw had to be for tearing meat from bones.

As its head dipped toward the pack, Kaylina noticed the rider for the first time.

When she met the icy blue eyes of the pale-skinned man, she didn’t grow any more certain of her fate. He wasn’t much older than she and might have been handsome once, with a square jaw, straight nose, and cleft chin, but one of three parallel scars pulled down his left eye at the corner. Marks made by claws? His short red-brown hair was trimmed so close that it revealed more scars on his scalp. They also looked like they’d been left by an animal rather than a blade.

Dressed in the black leather armor of a ranger, he had to be one of the fabled protectors of the kingdom, and she shouldn’t have needed to fear him. His face was cold and distant but not cruel, and he sat calmly on his mount, barely stirring. Even so, her instincts warned her of something dangerous about him, not only dangerous to enemies of the kingdom but to her.

“I am Lord Vlerion,” he stated with little inflection. It reminded her of her brother’s tone, especially when Frayvar was tired and not putting effort into being expressive, but the coldness in the ranger’s eyes made his voice more menacing. Or maybe it was the fact that his hand rested on the hilt of a sword. “You will come out of the castle.”

His taybarri shifted slightly, enough for her to see another standing in the courtyard, a strikingly handsome man mounted atop it. He also gripped the hilt of a sword, promising he was a threat as well. Despite his good looks, he regarded her with the same coolness as the other man—Vlerion.

His taybarri’s jaws parted, and it looked at her like she was dinner. There was no curious sniffing. A wide pink tongue slid between its pointed teeth to wipe saliva from its jowls.

“Actually, we’re in the middle of a tour.” Kaylina was proud that her voice didn’t squeak. “Maybe you could speak with…” She glanced at her brother. “What was his name?”

“Naybor,” Frayvar whispered.

“Naybor,” she repeated with a smile for Vlerion.

He didn’t smile back. Something told her the guy never smiled.

The handsome ranger looked around, elegant blond eyebrows rising. “There’s nobody else here.”

“You will come out.” Vlerion held Kaylina”s gaze. “Trespassing on private property in Port Jirador is illegal.” His eyes closed to slits. “Trespassing with the intent to foment an insurrection is treason, punishable by death.”

Kaylina stared at him. Insurrection? What insurrection?

“We just got here,” she blurted.

Maybe that wasn’t a defense. Maybe if she had a minute, she could come up with something more articulate, but he didn’t give her a minute.

“Only the so-called virtuous cohortand their spies lurk around the cursed castle.” Vlerion drew a long sword, nicks along the blade promising it had seen frequent use. “And only the Virts have the motivation to murder unarmed aristocrats.”

“I—”

Murder? What was he talking about?

“If you are not guilty, you will come out and explain yourselves,” Vlerion said. “If you run, your guilt will be assumed.”

And I’ll kill you, his cold eyes said.

Would he enjoy it? Or remain as dispassionate throughout as he was sitting on his mount?

“The front door is locked,” Kaylina remembered. “Naybor trapped us inside.”

“During your tour.” His flat tone made it a statement, not a question.

“Before it started.”

“It was a self-guided tour,” Frayvar said. “Naybor—he called himself a local land agent—told us to check out the place. We’re prospective tenants.”

Vlerion’s expression never changed, but his earlier words, cursed castle, made Kaylina think the idea of anyone renting this place was ludicrous. Maybe that was something the locals all knew.

“Jankarr.” Vlerion looked to the other ranger.

He appeared to be older, but he bobbed his head and hopped down as if he’d been given an order by a superior. He trotted to the great oaken double doors and swung one open easily, as if its hinges had been oiled recently.

What in all the altered orchards? It had been locked a minute ago. Kaylina wasn’t crazy. She’d checked.

“Come outside, Virts,” Jankarr called, “if you want a chance to defend yourselves.”

“Defend ourselves?” Frayvar whispered, walking hesitantly toward the door. “Does he mean with weapons or words?”

Though she didn’t want to go out, Kaylina had to watch out for her little brother, so she hurried to step in front of him. “You know a lot more about words than weapons, so you’d better hope for that.”

“I know more about numbers than either.”

“You want me to ask him to set up some math problems?” Kaylina crept warily toward the door, eyeing Jankarr, who held it open, as if he were a polite gentleman instead of a fearsome ranger who was also fondling his sword hilt.

“Would you?” Frayvar asked.

“Math isn’t going to prove our innocence. You—”

As Kaylina stepped out, a shadow moved to the side. Before she could so much as twitch, a sword swept in, the cool kiss of sharp steel touching her throat.

Fear slammed into her like a stake to the heart. She stared into Vlerion’s cold eyes, certain he had no idea who she was but equally certain he was going to kill her.