Chapter 1

Callum

The wolf tracks are getting too close to the castle.

My father will need help to relocate it to a part of the kingdom with a denser deer population.

I squint at the tracks in the mud, and suddenly I see it—not one set but two smaller sets behind a larger one. A mother and her pups.

The tracks lead deeper into the dense woods and down into the ravine. I wonder if it’d be possible to tag them and then?—

“What are you doing?”

The voice rips me from my concentration. I whirl around, and the girl appears as a loud, vibrant specter, dressed in hues of orange and pink that don’t belong anywhere near a man trying to subtly, carefully, find a predator’s den. An almost-man, anyway.

There goes my plan for the day.

“I’m tracking wolves. You should go.”

She looks familiar—about my age of 11, though I’ve never seen her before.

“Why? I’m not scared.”

She should be, dressed in fine shoes and a fancy dress that reminds me of springtime and the first flowers. Her blonde hair is braided into a crown around the top of her head. She stands on the boardwalk that the royals use for their “outdoorsy” photo ops.

“Are you a palace visitor, or are you here for Easter photos and have lost your way?” I ask because this is a frequent occurrence when the weather improves.

“Neither. I live here,” she says blankly.

“That’s a lie. I’ve never seen you before.”

A mischievous smile pulls at her lips. “That’s because I’ve been at boarding school since I was seven. But now everyone’s had the final straw with me, so this is my life now. But I have to say I don’t mind the idea of hiding out in the woods with a new friend, er…”

“Callum.”

She smiles. “Flora.”

“That’s not true. That’s the princess’s name.”

Beaming at me, she laughs. “Is it? What a coincidence?”

Truly, she’s playing a joke on me. If this were the princess, she would not be out here unaccompanied.

“Won’t your nanny be looking for you?”

She laughs. “I do what I want.”

The girl has that look about her, that she’s a force to be reckoned with. But she can’t fool me—she has hurt in her eyes.

It’s in my nature to notice things. As gamekeeper for the palace, my father counts every predator, every deer that passes through these woods. Not so much as a northern finch escapes his notice. It’s the people we have trouble with. But this girl, she wears her feelings on the outside.

I like her.

“Fine. You can stay and help me if you don’t mind getting those shoes muddy.”

“Hmm,” says the girl, looking down forlornly at her shoes as if already regretting ruining them before she’s even begun. “Why are you tracking wolves anyway?”

“Because I’m going to be the gamekeeper one day.”

“Why do you want to find them though?”

“We count them,” I say, resting my fists at my waist to indicate that I’m a very important, busy man.

“Yes, but why?”

This girl and her questions will drive away every wolf, bear, and badger within ten kilometers.

“Dunno. My father says it’s something about biomes. Or biology. Or something.”

She juts out a pretty bottom lip and scans the forest floor. “I don’t see any tracks.”

“Look here,” I say, squatting down in the underbrush. She follows my pointing finger to the shape on the ground. “See that?”

Carefully, she moves off the boardwalk and squats down next to me. The breeze whips around us and a tendril escapes her braid and brushes my face. She smells like wild berries.

“Is that it?”

“Yes, there,” I say, nodding, pointing out the claws, the depressions of each pad.

“How can you tell it’s not one of the hunting dogs?”

I explain how dog paw prints are different.

She smiles at me as she listens, though I’m not sure she’s absorbing anything.

“What happens when we find the wolf den?”

I smile at her. “Then we stay as quiet as we can. We mark it on this map.” I pat the pocket in my trousers. “And report back to my father.”

She whispers, “But what if the wolves find us first?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to run for help.”

She smiles proudly. “I’m a fast runner.”

“I’ll bet I’m faster,” I tease.

“Wanna find out?”

“Let’s go. Race to you my house and back,” I offer.

She scoffs. “Not fair. I don’t know where you live.”

“At Mr. Black’s cottage.”

“The one that leads the hunting parties? I know him!”

I laugh. “That’s my father. Now tell me the truth. Who’s yours?”

She thinks for a moment. Her eyes scan the woods, and I follow her gaze to a patch of sunlight where the springtime flowers glow like little golden jewels in a cluster.

The girl’s mouth curves into a smile that could charm the wickedness out of the fairies themselves.

“Three, two, one, go!” Flora shrieks. I’m already ahead of her. Though she’s about my size, my legs are longer.

I call out over my shoulder as I run. “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

She shrieks a laugh. “Not fair!”

My feet sprint through the familiar woods on the trail over rough terrain, but the girl catches up to me shockingly fast.

Her dress does not slow her down, and she’s ditched her pretty shoes. I worry about her cutting her bare feet on the rocks and roots. With labored breathing, my new friend laughingly tries to reach for my sleeve to slow me down. I gently swat her away and she takes it in stride with more shrieking laughter that echoes through the forest.

When we’re about a hundred meters from the small cottage I share with my father, another pre-teen voice cuts through the forest.

“Callum, have you seen—there you are!”

I stop dead at the sight of my teenage friend, Prince Sigurd, his arms folded.

“Your Highness,” I choke out, bent over to catch my breath.

“Knock it off, Black. What are you two up to?” Sigurd asks, his gaze flicking between myself and the girl who calls herself Flora.

“Racing!” Flora squeals. “And you’re ruining it.”

Sigurd mutters something like a curse. “And you’re about to ruin the family portraits with your muddy feet.”

Family?

This really is the princess?

If the king finds out I’ve been playing with his daughter in the woods, he’ll have me drawn and quartered. Worse, Father will lose his job. My friendliness with Sigurd has already caused Father to receive some unkind comments from some of the palace staff.

“I ruin all the family portraits. Mother says so all the time,” Flora says, not sounding the least bit sorry.

Sigurd shakes his head but seems amused all the same. “Let’s go,” he says to the girl.

“Apologies, Your Highness.”

Sigurd pops me gently on the shoulder. “You don’t apologize to me, Callum. It’s the queen who’ll have your head for making her wonder where the princess has got to.”

I watch them depart through the woods toward the palace. The pink and orange of her dress dance through the trees as they hike. I follow from a far distance, mesmerized by the gold braided halo, the shimmer, the excited laugh, and the muddy feet.

In the distance, the princess says, “Don’t snitch that I was playing with the gamekeeper’s son, now, Sigurd!”

The older boy laughs as they run. “Promise.”

“Pinky swear!”

“Gods, when will you outgrow the pinky swears!”

I smile as I watch them go, some deep part of me aching for a connection like that.

“Callum! Pay attention!”

With a start, I finally see Father’s dark stare.

“I’m tracking the wolves.”

He gestures in the opposite direction. “The tracks go that way. Meanwhile, you’re about to free your foot from your body.”

I look down and my foot is barely half a meter away from one of the old bear traps, worn and rusted. They were placed here by a previous gamekeeper over a hundred years ago, and we’ve been systematically ridding the forest of them, but new discoveries are made constantly.

I spring far away from the trap and turn to face my father.

Beyond him is a flash of pink. In the distance I hear a familiar voice scolding the girl.

“Flora! Where have you been?”

That can be no one else but the queen.

“Sorry, Father.”

He warns me to get my head on straight.

I’ll need luck with that, because my head will be full of nothing but the girl who just captured all my thoughts.

Flora. The princess. The daughter of the king who employs my father, and my best friend’s sister.