Chapter One

"Come here, little witch. Worma must know if you taste as good as you smell."

Pressing my back against the tree trunk, I dared not move a muscle or breathe too hard, lest that creature find me, though I feared it was only a matter of time before she did. The flimsy tree limb I stood on verged on breaking apart as it groaned and splintered beneath me. The crone's eye sockets might have been two hollow, scarred holes, but I knew she had a superior sense of smell to go with her wickedly sharp claws. Berchta, that's what Father had called the demonic hags who slashed open stomachs of travelers who dared find themselves in the forest after nightfall, eating out their guts like birds picking off corpses. He'd warned me of her kind often enough. And to think, I'd thought his stories were only fables, a means to keep me from entering the Werewood Forest. Now I knew such creatures of nightmares were real.

"Sweet witch, tasty witch." The crone's hoarse voice carved through my chest like shards of glass. "Let me peel back your layers. Formed of old and new, ancient, dark magic reborn as something so sweet and pure. One taste, my dear. Just one ear or toe. That is all Worma will take."

Great goddesses, how does she know me when I don't even know who I am?I was tempted to hear her out, but I knew better than to trust a berchta.

I closed my eyes tight and placed a hand on my stomach to quell my roiling gut when I felt her lengthening shadow beneath me. Something crawled across my shoe, but I dared not look down into that blackened pit teeming with all manners of creature and twisting vines that moved as arms, snatching forest creatures and hapless wanderers, shoving them into the jaws of monster plants with rows of sharp teeth.

Demon, my rabbit familiar, stirred in my pack, thumping his back paw in dissatisfaction. Calm, I projected while clutching the woven satchel to my chest. I will not let her harm you.

"The smell of your fear and confusion, so delicious," the berchta taunted. "You do not know the blood that flows through your veins. He deceived you. He betrayed you. He stole your memories." My blood turned to icy sludge. How did she know? "I can tell you who you are. I know the scent of your blood. You do not know why the mind spinner would hide you in this wretched place."

Mind spinner?Was she referring to Father? Because that's what he'd done. Spun my memories into something new, something unfamiliar like a weaver with a loom. I'd always known my past had felt more like a dream, more like a life that someone else had lived, but tonight he'd confirmed it. And that's why I'd run. Why I was still running. He'd taken me from my family and altered my memories. That's what he'd said to the wandering witch as they thought I slept by the campfire, though they didn't know I was wide awake, and I'd heard every word.

"Heir to the throne, queen of all creatures, goddess of light. One taste, and I can tell you everything."

Now I knew she was lying. I was no queen and certainly no goddess. No, I was a green witch, and not a very good one. I had a way with animals, with all things nature, and I had minor healing powers, nothing more.

"One taste. One tiny little taste."

She would take more than one taste. I didn't need to recall Father's stories to know that. I could feel her hunger, her quiet desperation leeching from her pores like a poisonous fog. She would devour me, and as miserable as my life was, I wasn't ready to become some demon crone's meal. I could not die, I would not die, until I had answers. Namely, who was I and why did the man pretending to be my father erase my memories?

Demon thumped again. I pulled some grass from my pocket and slipped it into the satchel. Please, be quiet. He thumped once more as if to remind me that I certainly was no queen of all creatures.

"Why do you not answer me? Do you not wish to know who you are?" Her voice rose in power. "Foolish witch. Do not make Worma angry, or I will take more than one taste when I catch you. I will take hand. I will take foot. I will take womb."

She was standing directly beneath me. I worked hard to stop my teeth from chattering as all warmth seeped from my bones. A pale frost coated the decaying tree trunk at my back, and I never wanted to die so much as I did at that moment. Great goddesses! This demon wasn't just devouring the warmth from the air, she sucked the very joy from my soul. I swore my heart shriveled up in my chest, turning into a blackened piece of coal, and I wanted to surrender my body and let her rip me to shreds, so I could sink into oblivion.

Demon thumped two more times.

"Worma knows secret about your womb, too," she cooed. "Don't you wish to know?"

My womb? I placed a hand across my abdomen. I closed my eyes and pictured two sets of silver-blue eyes blinking up at me, two cherubic smiles, four grubby little fists waving in frustration as I worked to arrange each of them on my breasts. But no, that was an illusion planted by the crone. I had no children. I had no husband. And after discovering Father had deceived me, I had no one save for Demon.

Blinking back tears, I stared at the night sky, eyes widening when a flaming comet shot overhead, painting a streak of stardust as it hurled in a perfect arc, disappearing behind a line of shadowy trees.

You're the only one who can save him!a foreign woman's voice cried out in my head. Please.

I flinched at the voice sounding as clear as if she was standing right beside me.

Save him! Follow the flame!

I didn't know what force of nature compelled me to run. Maybe the splintering branch beneath my feet. Maybe the fear of dying in that forest, or maybe instinct told me that flame held the answers to my identity. I jumped with a war cry, meaning to land with the dexterity of a cat, but I lost my footing on the fresh ice that carpeted the forest floor.

The crone was there, cackling, long, knobby fingers with claws for nails reaching for me. Ignoring the pain lancing up my back, I scrambled to my feet and ran, holding my satchel to my chest as Demon thumped and thumped. Icy tendrils kissed my neck and caressed my backside while I dodged twisting vines and gnarled roots. And somehow, despite my dexterity, my speed, she followed, her laughter snapping at my heels like hell's fiery flames. Even as my chest heaved, she moved behind me without stirring a single leaf, her feet never touching the ground like a phantom being pulled on a cloud.

"Slow down," she cried. "This stress is not good for you, and I prefer my meat tender."

I risked a look over my shoulder and was met by a gleaming, fanged grin as thin, pale lips curved upward. Holy Elements! She wasn't even out of breath. That's when I remembered Father saying berchtas could outrun the fastest horses. She could easily catch me, but she was playing with me like a cat toys with a mouse. Still, I would not give up. Even if my life meant nothing, I had to think of Demon. My lungs screamed and my legs burned, but I pushed myself harder, dodging some branches and striking others, ignoring the stinging slashes slicing open my cheeks while following the flash of fire, the tang of smoke.

My lungs were burning when I burst into the clearing as the berchta's feather soft whisper of death tickled the nape of my neck. I was barely aware of the blackened grass beneath me, of the patches of flames as the fire still burned around me. Before I could stop myself, I nearly ran into the crimson beast's scaled chest and was almost crushed by a massive, clawed foot.

"Help me!" I cried, not knowing if the dragon was friend or foe. And then I stumbled over the blackened human body beneath his heaving belly. The beast's dinner! I'd run from the gaping maw of one monster to the hungry jowls of another. Still, I pleaded, "Save me, and I'll do anything. Anything!"

The dragon reared back its head with a roar. Every muscle in my body tensed as I prepared to be swallowed in one gulp. In that span of a heartbeat, I apologized to Demon for failing to keep him safe. I also noticed, as was my penchant for observing odd details at the most inopportune times, that the dragon was definitely male, because he nearly knocked me over with balls as big as boulders when he leaned up on his hind legs.

The berchta's scream of terror wasn't of this world, but within a blink, that scream was doused like water to flame as the dragon landed on all fours, his bollocks swinging like cannon balls being tossed in a gale, and swallowed the creature in one gulp. The beast let out a belch, fogging the air with a smell more foul than a hundred decaying bodies.

Then he looked down at me, and my knees wobbled.

You will save my dragon rider, witch.Though his mouth didn't move, his deep, rich voice ricocheted in my skull like a gong as he nodded to that charred piece of human beneath the shadow of his belly. You will heal him, or I will make you wish you'd accepted death at the berchta's claws.

I was vaguely aware of warmth trickling down my legs as they buckled beneath me. I looked into the foggy eyes of the rider, his pale skin covered in burns and boils. He let out a groan, and I swallowed back bile. This would be a long night.

* * *

I HAD A HARD TIME KEEPINGmy eyes open as I sat back on my heels, wiping sweat from my brow. I leaned over to stroke the spot between Demon's soft, pointy ears as he munched on grass beside me. He stopped eating to rest his head on his paws, his little rabbit nose twitching, and made sweet little tooth purring noises. Petting my familiar always fueled my magic, but I feared it would take more than he could give me. I'd never healed such severe injuries before, at least not that I remembered. I didn't know how the man beside me had survived such horrific burns. I'd managed to restore the damage to his lungs and heart, but he was still badly burned, still oozing blood. I heaved a weary groan.

Thankfully, the crimson dragon had left us alone, though I knew he was nearby, for I could sense a shift in the air. With a deadly predator in their midst, the forest creatures had gone eerily quiet, their collective breaths held. Though I might not have been a good green witch, my senses were attuned to their fear. No doubt the dragon could scent it, too. I caught a glimpse of him stalking through the trees like a cat, his wings pinned behind his back, the powerful muscles of his legs rippling with each step while his claws gripped the soft soil.

The poor forest creature didn't stand a chance. His prey made a gruesome honk, muted by the blood filling its lungs. I tried to hide my fear and disgust when Demon hopped into my lap, his eyes wide, his little paws trembling.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "I'll keep you safe." I opened my bag, letting Demon hop in.

The dragon stomped back toward us, a large stag hanging limply in his jowls. He nodded toward his rider. You call yourself a green witch. He looks horrible.

I stiffened at the insult. Most green witches could only heal minor ailments. I had at least given the rider a chance at survival. The wheeze in his shallow breathing was less pronounced. He smelled like burned barbecue, but that couldn't be helped. I lifted my chin, glaring at the fanged beast. "I'm not finished healing him."

He dropped the stag at his feet, then sucked in a deep breath, bright fire visible beneath his scales as it raced up the column of his throat. He released his fire, burning the stag until he was nothing more than a crusty, black shell. What's taking so long?

"Seriously?" Coughing, I waved away the acrid smoke, the remnants of the flame's heat causing rivulets of sweat to run down my brow. "He was a human piece of coal."

The dragon let out a low rumble, rattling the ground beneath my skinned knees and making Demon thump in disapproval. Don't call him a human.

I gritted my teeth to keep from saying what I knew I'd regret. "Then what is he?"

Not a human.

"That only leaves about two dozen different kinds of witches and hundreds of breeds of Fae. Can you narrow it down for me?" A thought struck me. What if I was healing a bad person? Would I want to? Would the dragon give me a choice?

The dragon let out a cross between a growl and a groan. Do you need to know who he is to heal him?

"No."

Then you don't need to know.

I frowned at the rider's supine body when he let out a moan. "Who burned him?" This was probably something I should've asked earlier, but I'd been too busy trying not to get eaten by the berchta.

The dragon's nostrils flared. None of your concern.

"It is my concern if whoever attacked comes back." What other creature could create such a conflagration? It had to have been another dragon, one most likely more temperamental than this one.

I'll be ready for them this time. How much longer?

"I don't know. I'm hungry." I grasped my stomach right as it growled like a ravenous bear. "I can't heal him without nourishment."

He snorted. Eat your rodent.

"He's not a rodent." Scowling, I placed a protective hand across my satchel, petting the little lump inside. "He's my familiar and my family." I gave him what I hoped was an intimidating look. "Nobody's eating him."

As if he understood what we were discussing, Demon stomped in response, the angry sound muted inside the fabric of my sack.

Fine.He clutched the stag in his paws, ripping off his leg with a tug of his teeth. Here.

"No!" I jumped up, too late as he threw the leg at my feet. I clutched my stomach, wanting to gag as I gaped at that burned piece of flesh. I mouthed an apology to the soft white light hovering at the edge of the forest, the stag spirit as he looked at me with sad eyes. "I'm not eating that." As a green witch, I could see spirits of animals when they left their bodies, making it hard for me to eat any sort of meat, save for fish, the only spirts I couldn't see, whether it was because they were too primitive or else their spirits sunk to the watery abyss.

Why not?The dragon's heavy jowls turned a frown. It's fresh kill.

I wasn't about to go into detail with the dragon about my visions. Though I didn't know him well, I suspected he was the type to kill a dozen more creatures just to torment me. "I'm a pescatarian."

He flashed what was either a fanged grin or a scowl. You can't be serious.

"What else do you expect from a green witch?" I threw up my hands, frustrated with this judgmental drake and with my life in general. "You're lucky I eat any sort of meat."

He arched a scaled brow. Oh, I'm lucky?

"Do you want me to heal your rider or not?"

His growl reverberated the earth beneath me, rattling my bones. Do you see any oceans near here?

I jutted a finger toward the forest. "I can hear running water." How the hell had I ended up here with this cranky dragon when just yesterday I had a warm bed by the fire and a full belly, thinking I was safe and loved in my father's care?

He let out another rumble, smoke pouring from his nostrils. You have tested my last thread of patience, witch.

I wanted to answer back with something equally acerbic, but I thought better of it. I'd pissed off this dragon enough in one day. Even I knew better than to keep goading him.

I will hunt for your fish, but when I return, you will heal him.

I glared at the beast. "I already said I would." I might have been without family or a coin to my name, but one thing I did have was my word.

When he leapt into the sky with a roar, flying toward the direction of the running water, I smiled at my small victory.

I winced when my patient let out a moan of pain, the strong rattle in his chest reminding me that I still had a lot of work to do, a task I knew I couldn't fail, lest I end up with the same fate as that stag.

* * *

I JUMPED BACK, TAKINGmy thumping satchel with me when the dragon dumped a mouthful of water and one flopping fish on the ground in front of me. I swore when I couldn't dodge the water fast enough and it soaked my thin soles and muddied the dirt beneath me.

Eat. Then heal him.

I frowned at the fish as its sides heaved while it gasped for air. "I'm not eating raw fish."

The dragon's top lip pulled back in a snarl before he tossed back his head, fire racing up the long column of his throat. With a roar, he lit the dwindling fire beside me, its dying embers sparking back to life. The heat from his breath warmed my feet and dried the wet ground. I went to work preparing my meal, first by selecting two large rocks and placing them on either side of the pit, then by finding a sturdy enough stick to suspend over the fire. By the time I cleaned the stick, the fish was dead, its lifeless eyes staring up at the awakening sky above painted in swaths of pink and yellow. I gutted it and jammed the stick through the fish's gaping mouth and the end of its spine. Then I hung the stick between the two rocks, the fire having died down enough that it wouldn't scorch the scales.

I cringed when my patient moaned again. The dragon bent down, sniffing his burned rider like a mother hen checking her eggs.

I pulled my satchel into my lap, reaching deep inside to stroke Demon's head while warily eyeing the dragon. The beast sat back on his haunches, frowning down at his rider. I recalled that flaming ball of fire from last night that had looked like a comet arching across the sky. The dragon looked unharmed, no doubt because of his thick scales and the fact that he breathed fire. His body was meant to withstand the flames, but his rider...

"You still never told me who did this," I said to him.

None of your concern. Eat, so you can heal my rider.

I waved to the fish hanging over the fire. "It's still raw."

He puffed up his chest. I'll cook it for you.

"No. You'll scorch it, and it won't have any nutrition." I did my best to hide a smile. "I don't want it looking like your rider."

He impatiently flicked his tail. Then keep healing my rider.

"My magic needs fuel." I released a huff of air. "I'm too weak right now."

You're not too weak to argue with me.

I arched a brow. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

Fire pulsed beneath his chest scales. Malvolia's dog.

By dog, I assumed he meant one of Malvolia's fire mages. "Malvolia?" My heart skipped a beat, then took off at a race. "The sorceress queen?"

Is there any other?

My insides turning to mush, I swallowed back a knot of fear. "There's no witch or mage more powerful than her."

So I'm aware,he drawled, showing not one spark of fear.

My gaze shot to the sleeping dragon rider. "What did you do to anger her?"

Perhaps we asked questions that were none of our business.

He was a cantankerous beast, but at least he had a sense of humor. I snorted at that, my gaze sliding to his as he looked at me from beneath hooded eyes. "Why do you eye me like that?"

Why is a green witch running by herself in the Werewood Forest?

I tensed, not realizing I'd stopped petting Demon until he nudged my hand. "Long story." I shrugged, doing my best to keep the hurt from my voice while absently scratching Demon's head.

The dragon settled down with a thump, dried leaves rustling around him. I have time.

I shivered when he eyed me so keenly, as if he was looking into my very soul. I was afraid of what he'd find, for I'd no idea what memories were buried there. "I was running from my father..." I paused at that, his words blaring in my skull as if he was sitting beside me yelling into my ear. She's not my child. "At least," I mumbled, emotion threatening to choke off my words. "I thought he was my father."

Go on, he purred, hanging on my every word like an old crone digging up gossip.

"The man who claimed to be my father is a tradesman." I closed my eyes as tears threatened. How many hours had I toiled making that potion for him? How many of those little green bottles had we stacked in the back of that old wagon? Had he been using me just for profit? Could any man be so cruel as to separate a girl from her family and erase her memories, just for a few coins? I jerked back when Demon nibbled my finger. I'd forgotten him again. I resumed petting his head. "Mainly we traveled, and he sold an elixir made from Verian root." Was my father awake yet? Was he searching for me? Who would make his elixir now?

The dragon arched a scaled brow. Verian root has no healing properties.

"It does when I cast an enchantment on it."

His low, deep chuckle reverberated my bones. And your customers can't tell this?

"No." When Demon nibbled my hand again, I dug deep into my well of remaining magic and held my palm over the earth, summoning a small patch of flowers. They grew quickly, their leaves opening while they stretched toward a ray of morning light. I immediately plucked a handful and fed them to Demon. "Witchcraft is forbidden south of the Periculian Mountains. It's the way we steep the Verian root, at least that's what we tell everyone."

His smile was a slash of teeth. And?

"We ran into an old friend of my father, a wandering wise woman. She and my father...they are sometimes lovers." I released a shaky breath. Elka had always been kind to me, but I now realized the undercurrent of pity in her voice when she spoke to me. She had known, or at least suspected, and she hadn't told me. Father said he'd never taken her to wife, or any other woman for that matter, because he still mourned my mother who'd died during childbirth. How much of that had been a lie? All of it? "I overheard their conversation when they thought I was sleeping. My father said he took me from my real family and altered their memories, so they thought I'd been killed by a bear. Then he changed my memories, too."

The dragon's eyes widened. A mind spinner, a very rare mage. There's only one living mind spinner that I know of.

Breath hitched, I struggled to speak. This dragon could hold the key to my past. "Who?"

Does it matter?he slurred.

"It does to me. Was his name Thorin?" Though I had only ever called him Father, his many lovers called out his given name often enough when they'd disappeared into the tent or behind the bushes.

He went by many names. Thorin might have been one of them. He was Queen Malvolia's mage, he said with no inflection. Mage to the most powerful, the most evil witch who's ever lived.

"What?" My world tilted on its axis as I struggled to draw breath. No. "But he is no longer?"

He sat back on his haunches, picking blood from nails as long and sharp as daggers. He left her service decades ago.

"Why?"

How should I know, girl? His top lip pulled back in a snarl. You ask too many questions.

"Do you blame me? I want to know who I am. I want to find my real family."

How did you escape your father? Pinning his wings behind him, he sniffed the charred stag before biting off his head, horns and all.

My gaze darted toward that spirit still hovering at the edge of the forest, kicking up invisible dirt while watching the dragon eat his remains.

I did my best to block out the sound of those horns crunching between the dragon's teeth, focusing on feeding Demon as he nudged me for more flowers. "As soon as they went to sleep, I ran, and I've been running ever since." But stupid me had run right into the Werewood Forest instead of going around it. I wanted to put more distance between myself and my father—no, not my father—Thorin. I thought I could run fast enough to avoid whatever demons lurked within.

And where do you plan to go?

"I haven't thought that far ahead." A thought struck me as I chewed on my lip. "After I heal your rider, will you carry me away from here?"

He blinked at me. Do I look like your personal carriage?

"I'll be too tired after I heal him." I tried hard to keep the note of panic from my voice. "I'll be vulnerable." Why hadn't I thought of this before?

The dragon rattled his wings like a bird ruffling his feathers. Not my problem.

I eyed him coolly. "Then I will have to heal him in slower increments." I paused, nodding toward my sleeping patient. "Conserve my energy."

I swallowed back my fear when the monster crouched down on all fours, his long neck snaking toward me, my wide-eyed reflections staring back at me in his big, glassy orbs. My knees weakened when he blew my hair off my neck with a puff of smoke.

I will carry you out of this forest, but that is as far as I'll take you.

Not far enough. Thorin could easily find me there. Turning up my chin, I summoned a courage I didn't feel. "You will take me across the Caldarian border, away from the human lands. Do this, and I swear to you, I will heal your rider as fast as I can."

He blew more smoke on me, so much that I had to scoot back, taking Demon with me. My poor rabbit's tremors shook my bag.

"Do we have a deal, dragon?" I added, never taking my gaze from him, from that one antler sticking out of his teeth when his lips pulled back in a snarl.

He sat up, picking out the antler. Radnor.

I blinked for a moment. "That's your name?"

It is.His low, deep chuckle caused my spine to stiffen. Now let's make this deal, witch. I will take you across the Caldarian border if you heal my rider.

"Don't you want to know my name?"

I don't care, he said with a flick of his tail, stirring up crackling, dry leaves in the process.

"It's Anya." I frowned, rubbing my chin. "At least, I think it is."

A dull name.

I was a fool for talking to this dragon as if he was a friend, as if he'd have any ounce of compassion in his shriveled up, lizard heart. I cocked my head, glaring. "Are all dragons as rude as you?"

He snorted. Are all witches as foolish as you?

I stood, brushing dust and leaves off my skirts. "Do we have a deal, Radnor the Rude, or not?"

He arched back, looking down at me over his snout, disgust in his eyes like I was no more significant than a flea. We have a deal, Anya the Ordinary. Now heal my rider.