1. Keira

Chapter 1

Keira

M y body moves in time with my mare, her galloping hoofbeats in sync with my racing heart. The wind rushes at my face, throwing my hair back, and offsetting the hot steam that rises from the horse’s body from its exertion. The thick trees of the ancient woods fly past, a blur of brown and evergreen. My soul soars with the thrill of the chase.

It is the only time I feel free. Alive.

Another horse rushes in beside me, its hooves pounding on the narrow path, carrying the lean form of my sister. Caitlin flashes a quick smile at me as she darts past, a bow tucked under one arm and a sword strapped to her back. Her bright auburn hair flicks up and down in a cloud of thin braids behind her.

A great horn bellows in the forest nearby and we both turn our horses sharply in its direction, their legs prancing. The shouts of men and women calling to each other follows.

The hunt has begun.

Electricity runs through my veins as I scan the hills above the narrow, craggy valley I pause in. Horses barrel past us, through the trees of the rise, their riders threatening to take our prize. I grit my teeth and will my mare forward .

We cannot lose to Gwyneth. I could handle the taunts that would go on for weeks, but Caitlin? Her prickly pride would not allow it. My sister spurs to action, galloping her mount up the slope in quick bounds. A light spray of mud splatters my face as I follow close behind and I wipe it away with the back of a hand. The air is rich with its earthy scent, combined with bruised pine leaves.

My mare struggles with her footing up the incline, sliding after each jolt forward. I crest the rise to a natural clearing, and the forms of the Protector Guard ahead of us are silhouettes to the west, falling into the tree line again.

A second horn bellows, the call long and low.

There are two packs of low fae to hunt? Far too many have crept through the gaps in the barriers between realms to threaten our lands.

“Keira. To the west,” Caitlin snaps, then looks over my shoulder with disgust. “This is going to be a glorious hunt, if our guards can keep up.”

I glance back at the men riding on our heels, in their emerald quilted surcoats sown in with iron discs and bronze leather pants, with the emblem of our house embroidered on the left breast. Caitlin wears the same uniform.

“They weren’t raised in these woods like us.” When I turn back my sister is already speeding away, a lone figure darting across the opening.

She is too headstrong and reckless. There is danger in being caught in the woods alone. Especially during a hunt. We don’t know which kind of fae are trespassing on our lands. It could be any kind of monstrosity. Fae do not belong here. This realm is for humans alone.

I take off at a full gallop, fighting to keep up. The blood crashes through me, and every muscle is taut with anticipation. My gaze flicks around, scanning for threats. For the beasts unfortunate enough to be our prey.

The nearby horn bellows again, three short blasts indicating the number of fae spotted here. The forms of the trackers and their small, spotted foxhounds are visible just beyond the trees, as they chase our query, rounding it up, then skirting away, staying at a safe distance .

I grab an iron-tipped ash arrow from the quiver at my back, and notch it to my bow, squeezing my mount with my thighs and hardly slowing its pace. The creatures of the Otherworld release a high-pitched, hairsplitting howl, both vicious and sorrowful.

Goosebumps raise on my arms and my stomach turns with the fear that is inevitable before the fight. Our party slows marginally as we crash into the thicket, scanning between the wide, lichen-covered trunks of trees hundreds of years old.

A Cú Sídhe stalks through the forest. Time slows. It almost stops. The fae hound is as large as a horse and the bony cavities of its eye sockets stare back at me with ethereal green lights. Its entire skull is nothing but exposed bone, housing sharp teeth the length of a finger.

The creature's body is covered in thick, furry moss, intertwined with prickly branches and twigs, and its feet are exposed bone. It snarls and bites the air.

Potent relief cascades through me. My prey is a monster indeed. It could have been a brownie, or a nymph, or any less sinister fae to unwittingly step into my realm. A creature that would beg for mercy, and I would have to kill it anyway, despite how my heart broke.

The beast gallops toward me, its powerful legs leaping over fallen trees and rocks.

I stand in my stirrups as my horse races in an arc around the beast. Twisting my body to the side, I knock an arrow in the bow, breathe in, breathe out, and let it fly. It cuts through the air, and I weave threads of magic around the whistling shaft, directing its path and pushing force into it to create an even deadlier missile.

The Cú Sídhe lunges into the air, completely unaware of its doom. The leafy strands of its pelt flutter like a majestic mane. It bounces off a fallen log, using the hurdle to lunge higher in the air.

My magic pulls the arrow into its new trajectory, piercing the creature through its gaping maul.

I weave a dozen more strands of air into that arrow shaft as it collides with the beast, throwing the entirety of its bulk backward. The magic radiates out from the initial point of contact with the strength of a typhoon, breaking its bones and crushing the fae from within.

I could shatter it into a thousand pulpy pieces, but we need the body.

The Cú Sídhe curls in on itself and its spine hits the broad trunk of a tree with a sickening crunch, then falls to the ground in a limp heap.

The poor thing never stood a chance.

Not against an enemy that can kill it from a distance. A deep sadness rolls through me at the thought. I am a terrible executioner.

The sound of another beast crashing through the woods has me swinging in my saddle.

Three arrows glide through the air in fast succession, also fueled by magic, piercing the creature in a neat row. The sheer impact has its huge form jerking violently. It skids through the leaf litter and mud with velocity, leaving a long furrow of disturbed soil and vegetation around it.

There is only one other person in our band capable of such weaves of air.

Caitlin breaks through the foliage after her prey, a huge grin across her face. I swear the hunt is the only time she looks truly happy. A fire burns within her small, emerald eyes and specks of mud accompany her dusting of freckles.

“No other fae gives the same thrill as hunting Cú Sídhe.” My sister laughs.

Chittering echoes nearby, followed by the warning shouts of men. Worry flares through me. It is a rare day that we lose one of our people on the hunt, but my heart could not bear it if a guard died on my watch.

I sharply bank my mare toward the fight. My horse leaps over stony outcrops and I am forced to duck under low branches that fly past, but I do not slow my pace.

I nock an arrow as the trees fall away to a shore of polished, colorful stones and ride into the shallow stream at its center. Icy droplets of water splash onto the exposed skin of my ankles, sending a shock through my skin .

On the opposite bank, three men approach the third fae, cornering it. This Cú Sídhe is far smaller than its recently dead brethren, and the dark browns of its mossy fur are akin to dead and rotting leaf litter. Its snarl exposes yellow teeth, with many missing. A scent of decay rolls off the creature, and even at this distance, my stomach rolls.

Another abomination.

The three mounted Protector Guards shout orders at each other, as they coordinate their attack, surrounding the beast. I wait, while my horse prances on the spot. This is their kill.

Brandan fires arrows into the fae’s flank, but without a mastery of elemental magic, they are mere inconveniences to the beast. The two other guards, brothers, throw spears tipped in flames, but their quarry moves with lightning speed, evading the missiles then snapping at their horses, causing them to rear.

Both brothers lose their seats and roll from their horses back to the ground.

My heart rate accelerates, but I continue to hold back.

Liam leaps to his feet first, all golden hair and pale skin, where the Cú Sídhe is shadows and darkness. He pulls his sword from its scabbard and engulfs the blade in tongues of blue flame, then charges. The hound chitters and yelps, backing away from those flames.

Cú Sídhe fear fire, as creatures of leaves and moss.

Aiden, the younger brother, sneaks behind the beast that is focused on Liam’s attack and his matching sword of fire prevents the fae’s retreat. In multiple, fluid motions, both brothers skewer the beast again and again, their quick footwork slipping them in and away before Cú Sídhe’s claws catch them.

The invader swipes frantically from side to side, as it cannot decide which man to gut. It becomes clumsy as blood seeps from it and smoke rolls from the wounds, then it thunders to the ground, almost crushing Liam beneath its weight.

I smile at my guards as pride fills me, but it falters as the Cú Sídhe’s pelt immediately whooshes up in flames.

“The gods damn it!” Liam spits as he attempts to throw handfuls of water onto the fire .

With a gentle twist of the wrist, I guide a volley of air into the stream, and a wave crashes down on the fire and the men fanning it alike. I bite back a smile as three sets of eyes narrow on me with rivulets of water running down their faces.

“Thank you, Lady Keira. Could you not send enough water to drown us next time?” There is a hint of humor in Liam’s voice.

I lead my mare to the shore and dismount. “If I had left it up to you, there would be only ashes for the druids to inspect. I bet they will pay you a decent price for a Twisted One.”

“There will be no eating this fae bastard.” Brandon adds. “Excuse the language, Lady.”

Aiden spits on the ground in reply.

Some would frown at my familiarity with the Protector Guard, but my father, the lord protector, is not one of those people.

I lift my parted riding skirts as I approach so the jade wool doesn’t drag in mud and toss the flame red curls of my hair over my shoulder, then crouch before the Cú Sídhe.

There are black clumps of mushrooms in its grassy fur, and mushy leaves fall from its form. They are rotting and covered in a spotted blight. The blood that clots its fur is black as tar, unlike the crimson that spills from healthy beasts.

There is a sickness in the Otherworld of the fae. The idea of it spreading here sends a shiver down my spine.It is just another threat we defend our kingdom of Strathia from.

The entire North of this land is the domain of the Appleshield Protectorate, my father the lord protector and his Protector Guard are the shield held against the fae. The first line of defense when the worlds align and their creatures slip through the cracks from their realm into ours.

If there is another fae invasion, we of the North will meet them in battle first. It is here where the veil between worlds is thinnest, and it is here where they always seem to trespass.

The lords of the south, east and west have become soft and indulgent because the fae threats never slip through our protectorate into their lands .

A high-pitched horn blows two fast blasts from behind me, marking both Caitlin’s and my kill. Liam pulls a brass horn from his saddlebag and matches the call with a beat of his own.

A crash of galloping hooves vibrates the ground and shakes the trees on the far bank of the creek. Branches swish as a creature charges through their depths. I leap to my feet, feeling at my back for the bow I left on my horse. The Protector Guards form a wall in front of me, weapons at the ready.

There were only three horn blasts at the beginning of our hunt, marking three beasts. The trackers could miss a fae. Another could have just entered through a rift in the barrier between worlds.

My heart skips a beat.

Caitlin bursts through the tree cover with a handful of guards on her tail, encircling us as she slows her mount. Not another fae beast.

“A Twisted One.” Caitlin’s lips press into a thin line as she examines it. We are always fearful of finding a Twisted One. It is an infection that can take any kind of fae, and we are terrified that we humans might catch it too. Caitlin’s emerald gaze flicks to me. “Your kill or theirs?”

I tip my head toward Liam, Aiden and Brandan. Their backs straighten and chests puff out under her scrutiny.

“You men made enough noise killing it. I heard so much snarling and yelling from a league away, I thought there was a whole damned army of men and fae at battle.” Caitlin huffs a breath, then double takes. “There are only three of you. You did well. You have my invitation to the feast tonight.” She nods to them, then turns away, not seeing the way their faces light up as they turn to each other in amazement.

“Thank you, Commander Appleshield,” they say.

I suppress a smile. Caitlin has no idea of the imposing figure she casts, despite being slim in build. She is the leader of our troops and heir to the lord protector, outranking their captain of the Protector Guard. Her approval and invitation to the feast is an immense honor to these guards.

The healthy fae beasts slaughtered on today’s hunt will be roasted over a spitfire and served with delicacies tonight. It tastes like venison, bursting with earthy flavors.

Any who dine on their meat will have the creature’s raw magic infused into their blood. It is the only way we can recapture their magic. It is almost gone from our human bloodlines, seeping away more and more with each generation.

This opportunity is so great, the king and his entourage travel to our lands during these festivals, sometimes staying for weeks to consume as much power as possible.

My head spins at the thought of the prince’s arrival. His handsome face flashes within my mind’s eye. The blue-black curl that hangs over his pale face. The dimpled smile he saves just for me.

I startle from my daydream as Caitlin leans down from her saddle and says something to me.

She frowns at my blank expression. “I asked, do you feel sorry for these creatures too, when you kill them?” Her words are soft, so only I can hear them.

I glance at the rapidly decaying Cú Sídhe. The areas of extensive rot blow away like ash on a breeze, revealing healthier flesh beneath. We still wouldn’t risk eating it.

“Not that one. It seems a mercy to kill a Twisted One and end its suffering. The others?” I lick my lips, my throat suddenly dry. “No. Not predators like the Cú Sídhe.”

Caitlin leaps down from her horse in a single, graceful motion and pulls me to the side, out of earshot. “You need to harden that heart of yours, Keira. Especially if you are going to lead a kingdom one day. How can you put down a rebellion if you struggle to kill a fae invader on our lands?”

I drag in a sharp breath, but I know she is right.

Caitlin continues her tirade. “All fae are dangerous in our lands. Predators like the Cú Sídhe have attacked the villages before and will destroy our natural ecosystem. The fae that can manipulate and beg for their lives are as capable of doing the same. Imagine if an entire tribe of pixies crossed over and carved out a little kingdom for themselves in our woods .

“Going to war with them would be a nightmare. Fighting an army of them would be like standing in the path of a hundred arrows and attempting to cut them out of the sky. And if the pixies take a kingdom here, then why not the sprites and nymphs and goblins? How long until they go back to their old ways and start hurting humans? Or the gods forbid, the high fae cross too.”

“I know. Gods, I know,” I half-whisper. “But they seem so vulnerable and lost in a foreign land.”

“Perhaps it is a strength that you see the good in all creatures, but don’t let their glamour blind you to their true nature. The same applies to people.” Caitlin's gaze pierces mine, and it seems she will say more, but the sound of multiple footfalls crunching on leaf litter turns her away.

A handful of druids step out of the woods. Their simply cut robes of rough, brown cotton billow around them. I find their youngest and tallest member, my brother Diarmuid.

His shoulder-length, mousy brown hair is ruffled as usual and his hazel eyes, that match my own, dart around the scene. Diarmuid is Caitlin’s opposite, all dashing smiles and mischievous charm, despite being her younger twin.

Diarmuid nods to Caitlin and winks at me, a half-smile playing across his lips, but he follows his greying mentors as they lift their robes and walk through the stream.

I cringe at the sight of a few walking barefoot through that icy water and over the pebble bank. A lifetime of living as one with nature has probably hardened the soles of their feet.

The druids congregate around the Twisted One, muttering between each other. One dons the thick leather gloves of a blacksmith as she examines the beast, turning it over and lifting its legs. Another scrapes at the decay, securing samples in glass jars. Mushrooms, rotting leaves, black fur, they all are all plucked from the Cú Sídhe.

I watch with rapt fascination. The customs of the highly secretive druids are fascinating. They form a circle and start chanting in soft murmurs, the tone low in pitch and slowly rising. Their language is foreign and their many voices overlap with different notes .

At the crescendo, a near shout, they raise their hands high above their heads, then drop them sharply. Air rushes around them, blowing leaf litter in spirals, circling in closer and closer to the fae.

The chant repeats until a bubble of moving air constricts around the Twisted One. Their strange magic lifts the creature off the ground in a storm like torrent that has the hems of their robes drifting in toward that containment of magic.

The druid masters suddenly cut off their chanting and disappear into the forest with their quarry, immediately melting into their surroundings. They leave behind their apprentice, my brother.

Diarmuid strides to the three Protector Guards, who have their heads bowed in respect. I should have looked away during their ceremony, but I couldn’t help myself.

My brother pulls a coin purse from deep within his robe and places a few gold coins in each man’s hands, purchasing the beast from its hunters. The druids will examine it, then turn it into potions.

Liam looks as though he will cry at the amount, enough to match his fiancé’s dowry and pay for their wedding, while Aidin actually laughs. Brandon wipes a tear from his cheek.

I give Caitlin a sidelong glance, noting the tension coiled in her shoulders and the foot she taps. She will be the custodian of these lands and people after our father. If this disease among the fae gets worse, if it spreads to our realm, it will be her problem to solve.

The boundaries between realms are thinnest here in the North. If there is a natural disaster brewing in the fae world, it will bleed through to us first.

“It’s getting worse,” Diarmuid calls out as he passes over pebbles that tumble and slide beneath his footfall. He wears good, stout boots, and his robes are of better cut and fabric than his masters’. There’s no taking the nobility out of Diarmuid, despite his years training with the druids. “There is something plaguing the lower fae in the Otherworld. My mentor doesn’t believe it will spread on the inhabitants of our world but?—”

I don’t let him finish before I barrel into him with a hug, wrapping my arms around his bony body. He gives me a lopsided smile and squeezes me with one arm.

“I rarely see you anymore and this is how you say hello?” I laugh.

Caitlin gives him a quick embrace. “When do you become a full druid, Diarmuid? You are twenty-six and as smart as any of them.”

“You know the training takes decades, Caitlin,” Diarmuid replies.

“Perhaps you don’t need decades. You were well-schooled before you were initiated.”

“Perhaps the order is the one thing in these lands that neither you or father get a say in.” Diarmuid’s smile grows wider as Caitlin huffs, but the corners of her mouth also lift.

My eyes dart between them. “How many fae crossed into our realm today?”

“Two packs.” Diarmuid frowns. “Five healthy Cú Sídhe, and three Twisted Ones in total.”

“A pack of five? Taken down by Gwyneth’s hunting band?” Caitlin asks. “The damn woman will never let me live that down!”

“There will be more hunts between now and Beltane,” I chime in happily.

“More hunts and more feasts. I could drink to that!” Caitlin places an arm around Diarmuid’s shoulders and leads him away from the clearing. “And you said this plague won’t infect our realm? Our people and animals are safe from it?”

“Potentially. We believe it might be a matter of breeding that causes it.” Diarmuid’s voice is almost lost to me over the gurgling of the shallow stream as we cross it.

The tension drops from Caitlin’s shoulders and she talks excitedly about the feasts and hunts to come. A lump that forms in my throat.

My sister won’t be here for all those events.

When the realms reach full alignment this spring equinox, the portals will open and humans will cross into the fae realm. It happens every seven years. We do not send armies or male warriors. Only our women step through the portals into the vicious fae lands, alone and almost completely unarmed, to bring fae magic back to our kingdom.

This year, Caitlin will make the pilgrimage into the fae realm.