AN ENCHANTMENT OF THORNS

A COURT OF FAIRY TALES BOOK ONE

HELENA ROOKWOODELM VINCE

C O NT E NT S

Map of Rosehill and the FolkwoodMap of the Cursed Court

Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43

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Also by Helena and ElmAbout the authors

First published 2021.This edition published 2021.

Copyright © 2021 by Helena Rookwood and Elm Vince

The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means,electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher.

It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction and all characters and events are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, livingor dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

HELENA ROOKWOOD AND ELM VİNCE

Sometimes I feel wild.

So wild that my voice is the brush of wind through petals, my hands are curling leaves,my feet are roots.

And my heart is a tangle of thorns.

C H A P T E R O N E

THE FOLKWOOD LOOMED BEFORE US, a dark tangle of gnarled trees, winding ivy, and velvet mosses.Beside me, my eldest sister clutched her bow, lilac eyes narrowed as she squinted into

the misty depths of the forest. Laurel held her lean body as taut as her weapon, poisedand ready to fire one of her iron-tipped arrows at the first shimmer of pixie dust or flutterof a translucent wing.

My hand hovered over the string of dried rowan berries around my neck, rolling thevibrant beads between my thumb and fingertips, my gaze darting between the branchesfor the glittering eyes of an imp or sprite—or worse—that might be watching us from thetrees. It was rare that I was called out right to the forest’s edge, uncomfortably close tothe fae territory within.

And you couldn’t trust the fae, or the Folkwood.I dropped my hand from my necklace to my satchel, wondering whether I’d brought

enough supplies with me to hold back the encroaching trees and undergrowth. They’dalready spread much farther onto the farmland than I’d expected. With spring rapidlyapproaching, the threat from the Folkwood should be getting better, not worse.

Farmer Barric Hawley shifted behind us, his weathered cheeks reddening as hewatched the two of us take in the impenetrable wall of brambles and branches, stickybuds like tiny green tongues tasting the clear farmland air beyond the trees. Trees heshould have been making sure were kept back.

I repressed the urge to glare at him as he began fidgeting with the flat cap he held inhis hands.

Farmer Hawley flinched as I turned back to him, launching into a defense even beforeI’d spoken. “It’s been even worse than usual this winter, Aster,” he said quickly. “MoreLittle Folk meddling on the farm. I’ve been finding whole pails of milk gone sour, lines ofwinter cabbages rotting in the ground. And I’ve lost half our pigs. They keep wanderinginto the wood.” He scrubbed the back of his hand over the sweat beading on his brow.“It’s been hard to find time to keep a check on the tree line.”

My lips pinched together. Securing the border between the Folkwood and Rosehill wasmore important than anything else Farmer Hawley had to do on the farm. Not tomention, he hadn’t said a word to us about pigs disappearing into the forest over the

winter. That was concerning. The Folkwood was always at its wildest during winter, andwe had to stay especially vigilant. I made a mental note to ask around and find outwhether any others who lived on the outer edges of Rosehill had seen any livestock gomissing.

Pressing down the swell of irritation in my stomach, I addressed Farmer Hawley in acalm, authoritative voice. “Why now?”

The farmer blinked. “Sorry?”“You said this has been going on all winter.” I scuffed the heel of my boot over the

rich earth, kicking up a cloud of chocolate-colored dust and allowing my anger to dispersewith it on the breeze. “Why call us out now?”

A shadow flickered over the farmer’s strained expression. “It’s—well—it’s my wife.Eliss.” His eyes closed briefly. “The children say they’ve seen her in the forest. Nairnalmost went in after her.”

My hand flew to my chest, a wave of dizziness washing over me.Beside me, my sister clicked her tongue, her brow pinching into a frown as she

lowered her arrow a fraction. “Your wife should know better—”“Laurel,” I interrupted quickly, “Eliss died last fall.”Laurel’s grip on her bow instantly tightened again, and she lifted the arrow so it

pointed into the dark of the wood.My heart fluttered fast and loose, my mouth drying as I peered in the direction of her

arrow.The púca.Of all the fae we could have discovered at the edge of the Folkwood, this particular,

shapeshifting fae was the worst of all. It had stalked the borders of the town for years,and it was cunning. But we hadn’t crossed paths in a while now.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.“I’m sorry, Aster,” Farmer Hawley mumbled, twisting his cap even more tightly

between his palms. “I know that you—”“It’s fine,” I said, my voice just a little too high-pitched. Casting my eyes down, I

began rifling through my satchel, my fingers grazing rough burlap pouches of salt, smoothpaper packets of seeds, and the sharp, cold edge of a trowel. I cleared my throat, hidingthe worry from my next words. “We just need to make sure the tree line is secure so theFolkwood doesn’t expand any farther and then go over what you already have warding offfae magic. It might need strengthening.”

I strode a few paces along the tree line, my gaze running over roots tangled with theweeds Farmer Hawley had allowed to grow right up to the forest, blurring the linebetween where the trees ended and the farm began. The trees had even begun creepingover the ditch in places.

“You’ll need to clear this back.” I gestured to the overgrown ditch. “Burn what’s in it,then dig a fresh line around where the trees have grown onto your land. Then I’drecommend putting down a mulch to slow the weed growth over the spring, althoughyou’ll still need to spend some time out here pulling up anything while it’s small.”

I spun on my heel, walking back toward Laurel and Farmer Hawley. Where the ditch

looked relatively clear of tree roots, I slid down into it, the rich scent of disturbed earthrising into the air. Crouching down, I parted the wash of weeds with my hands, lookingfor any sign of the fae wards laid here by the last greenwitch to serve the town. Myformer mentor.

A pang shuddered through me at the thought of Sage and what had happenedbetween her and the púca, but I pressed the memory firmly down, working my handsfaster through the tangled weeds. There was no room for emotion in the work of agreenwitch. Sage had taught me that. And when I’d forgotten, she’d paid for it.

My fingers met with a frayed line of red thread. Exactly what I had been looking for.Running my fingers along it, I found it damp with dew, completely disintegrated in places.My lips thinned. Thread wasn’t a permanent line of defense, but it would have lasted a lotlonger if it had been kept clear of the weeds.

I looked up, preparing to deliver another lecture, but found Farmer Hawley staringunhappily along the line of the ditch.

“What?” It was an effort to keep the exasperation from creeping into my voice.He instantly dropped his gaze back to the cap in his hands. “I just… I’d hoped… I

mean, I wondered whether we might be able to take back some of what’s been lost. Cutback some of the overgrowth, maybe…”

I stifled a dark laugh. Cut back the Folkwood. If only it were so simple.I might have a gift with things that grew, be as versed in fae customs as it was

possible to be in our isolated little town in the middle of the forest, but even I couldn’tfight ancient fae magic. No human could. There was a reason Rosehill had nowoodcutters.

“I’ll bring some St. John’s Wort cuttings later this morning,” I said briskly, ignoring thefarmer’s foolish question. “We’ll plant a line of it ahead of the ditches. The ditches willstill need to be kept clear,” I added when Farmer Hawley’s expression turned hopeful atthe promise of less work, “but if the púca shows its face again, it should stop the childrenthinking it's their mother. For now, we’ll just—”

“Aster!” Laurel’s sharp tone sounded a moment before her footsteps pounded over theearth, her hand grabbing the collar of my blouse, my throat constricting as my windpipewas momentarily crushed.

She yanked me up and out of the ditch, my knees banging against the side, the softearth crumbling at the impact.

I didn’t pause. Head pounding, fingers raking through the earth, I pushed myself backto my feet and whirled to face the Folkwood.

The dizzy feeling washed over me again.It’s here.The familiar face of Farmer Hawley’s wife, Eliss, stared out from between the trees. A

line of worry creased the brow of her warm, brown face, and as she reached up to tuck astrand of gray-streaked hair behind her ear, it was hard to believe she hadn’t justwandered off into the forest instead of falling victim to a fever last fall. She pressed herhand to her heart, fixing wounded eyes upon Barric.

The farmer’s face paled.

Laurel’s soft breeches brushed against me as she sped along the tree line, training herarrow on the ghostly figure.

“Laurel!” I grabbed at her as she passed.But my sister was a trained hunter, and I was not. My fingers met with nothing, and

even before the words had left my lips, she’d already fired the arrow, its iron tip cuttingthe air with a high whistle.

As she fired, Eliss moved, faster than was humanly possible, a dark blur between thetrees, easily dodging Laurel’s arrow.

The arrow thudded into a tree, and a scream rose from the Folkwood as the ironpoison seeped into the trunk. I winced, a shock of birds flapping into the air as theplaintive shriek pierced the quiet, the sound of wood catching in a fire, wind pressingthrough a cracked window. I repressed a shudder as the noise reverberated down myspine.

I hope Laurel doesn’t pay for that later.As the scream died away, Eliss stared at the arrow quivering in the tree, then slowly

turned back to us. Her soft face broke into a wicked smile, and there was somethingwolfish about it, a point of sharp teeth, a yellowing of the eyes.

She took a step toward us, like she was stalking prey.I swallowed hard, running a hand over my hair, the dark waves contained within a

neat braid. It can’t hurt us. Not unless we cross the tree line.“It’s okay,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “The púca can’t reach us here.

It’s just trying to lure us into the forest.” I shot a nervous glance at Farmer Hawley, whostared at the imitation of his wife with an anguished expression.

Come on, Aster, don’t let your emotions take over. One of us has to keep a level head.Ignoring my increasingly damp palms, I reached back into my satchel, fumbling for the

bundle of dried rowan stems, daisies, and rosemary that I always kept close at hand toward off fae enchantments. My fingers curled around it, and a sense of calm flowed backinto me.

“Farmer Hawley,” I said, still in a steady tone, “have you got a light?”The farmer’s gaze snapped away from his wife, bewilderment stamped across his

face. He didn't answer, his head turning slowly back toward the trees.“Barric! A light?” I thrust the bundle of herbs toward him.“Of-of course.” Farmer Hawley reached into the pocket of his heavy coat, withdrawing

a box of matches. He hesitated, staring at the plants bound tightly in white thread.I waved the bundle closer to his nose. “Quickly.”Farmer Hawley struck the match, a dull hiss sounding before the little golden flame

jumped to life. He held it to the end of the herbs, and I watched, waiting for the end tocatch before gently blowing out the flame again, leaving the tiniest flicker of embers atthe bundle’s tip.

It was enough. Smoke billowed from the end of the bundle, heavy with the protectiveproperties of the plants, and I advanced on the forest, waving the smoldering herbsbefore me.

Eliss let out a hiss, taking a step back from the tree line.

I stopped with only the overgrown ditch between us, holding out the bundle of herbslike it was a weapon.

The smoke curled and caught in the spring breeze, wafting painfully slowly into theforest.

But I could wait. I wasn’t going to be lured into putting a foot in the shadow of thetrees.

Eliss let out another hiss as the smoke drifted closer, gently stroking her skin.The illusion shuddered, blurring at the edges, like leaves shaken down from trees,

pencil lines drawn and rubbed out again.For a moment, we glimpsed the fae wearing Eliss’s shape.Fear skittered down my spine at the glint of yellow eyes, the curve of sharp fangs, the

sweep of dark, rough fur.Then it fled, turning with inhuman speed and bolting back into the forest.Farmer Hawley took a quick step forward, and I thrust out the arm holding the

smoking herbs, keeping him back. “It’s not her,” I said gently. “Don’t let it use her againstyou.”

I felt him go taut against my arm, the physical effort of holding his emotion in check. Iknew a thing or two about that.

Dropping my arm, I stepped back, leveling my voice again. “That ought to keep itaway for a while, now that it knows you’ve seen its true form. I’ll be back later today withthe St. John’s Wort. And, Barric…” I turned to him with my sternest expression. “You mustkeep the tree line back. You might feel far removed from the town out here, but everyonein Rosehill depends on you to keep the borders safe. Your children depend on you.”

He nodded mutely but continued staring into the depths of the Folkwood, at the darkand the mist that had swallowed the ghostly imitation of his wife.

Uneasily, I retreated a few steps, turning to head back to the center of town, to thelittle garden where I grew the plants and flowers needed to keep our small town safe. Iwould bring back the St. John’s Wort later in the week, when the pain of seeing Eliss hadfaded, leaving Barric better able to discuss what needed to be done about the tree line.

I chewed on my lip. Even now, after seeing the púca for what it really was, the farmerdidn’t seem entirely convinced that he ought to start weeding straight away.

Laurel slung her bow over her shoulder, shooting one last look back at the Folkwoodbefore running a few steps to join me at my side. She nudged me with her elbow. “Seeingyou today, I almost think I should have taken up gardening instead of archery.”

I made a scoffing sound. “You haven’t the patience. You’ve never lasted longer than amorning when you’ve come to help me with weeding.”

Laurel gave a loud, easy laugh, at odds with the tension still hanging in the wake ofthe púca’s flight back into the forest. “I’m serious, Aster. I hope Rosehill appreciates whata talented greenwitch we have to look after us.”

Warmth rose in my cheeks. I was grateful for my sister’s words. After everything thathad happened with Sage, I’d worked hard to take over as the town’s greenwitch, and itwasn’t a position I treated lightly. I wanted to make my former mentor proud.

My sister’s tone turned mocking. “The Beast should beware if he chooses you at the

Tithe this week, what with your arsenal of plants.”I stopped abruptly, my shoulders tightening. Dealing with the púca, I’d almost

forgotten.Almost.I shot Laurel a reproachful look, and she offered me a small shrug in return. “I’m

joking. You know I’m joking.”I didn’t see what there was to joke about, though.No matter what I did with my plants, when the Tithe came around, the Beast would

take one of us.

C H A P T E R T W O

I LEANED UNCOMFORTABLY against the doorframe as Ava teased out the floating skirts of herdress, ready on its hanger for tomorrow, the white layers billowing out like petals on thewind as she ruffled and smoothed out the fabric.

Fine lines of clever embroidery in shining thread laced each layer of white material sothat the skirts glimmered in the pale, low-slung light streaming in through the tallwindows. Tiny pearls studded the bodice, rattling against the mirrors on the front of theshining wooden closet.

It was, of course, an outrageously extravagant design. Nothing less than the best formy beautiful middle sister.

I bit down hard on my lip, forcing back the words threatening on the tip of my tongue.With all its finery, this could have been a wedding dress. It hardly seemed suitable towear to the Tithe tomorrow, when the Beast would steal away one of the white-clad girlsturning eighteen this year.

My heart gave a painful stab. If Ava went to the Tithe wearing this dress, the Beastwouldn’t have eyes for anyone else.

Running her hand down the skirts one final time, Ava turned back to face me, her lilaceyes luminous against her dark skin as they caught the late afternoon light. That was theone thing we three half-sisters had in common, in spite of three different mothers andthree very different personalities—the striking lilac eyes we’d all inherited from our father.But while my eyes were the feature I was proudest of, with Ava it was hard to pick herbest feature. She was by far the fairest of the three of us, if not the fairest girl in all ofRosehill.

Another reason to question her choice of dress for tomorrow. She would already standout from the rest of us, a rose among thorns.

My sister’s finely arched brows lowered, her full lips pressed into a thin line as sherealized I still hovered in the doorway.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Hands on hips, she tossed her shining corkscrew curlsover her shoulder. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that you might deign to sit down?”

Reluctantly, I slipped inside the room, glancing between the seat closest to Ava, anornately carved, polished chair at her dressing table, and a sofa laden with plump

cushions beside a fireplace on the far side of the room.I never felt comfortable visiting Ava. Inside the town walls that encircled the central,

richest part of town, my sister’s home was a world away from the lonely farm I’d just leftafter returning with the promised St. John’s Wort cuttings for Farmer Hawley. A worldaway from my own home, even, which, while also situated inside the town walls, wasincomparable to the luxury of the mansion house Ava had grown up in.

Of course, Ava’s mother was a lady. Mine had been her maid.Each time I visited, I passed servants tittering in the hallway, and I ignored hushed

whispers that Ava’s half-sister, Kalina’s girl, had come calling. I tried my hardest not tolisten when I heard them saying how unhappy it must make Lady Cicely that herdaughter chose to have any kind of relationship with the half-sister who was such apainful reminder of my father’s scandalous affairs with both the lady and her maid, in thesame year.

“Here, Aster.” Ava beckoned me over to the dressing table, gliding over and restingone slender hand upon the back of the chair beside it.

I moved closer, breathing in a heady, floral fragrance. Roses.Leaves and discarded stems littered the tabletop. A pair of shining silver scissors had

been left with the blades open, a ball of twine beside them. In the very center of it all, aneat circlet of pale-pink roses sat upon a damp cloth, keeping them fresh for tomorrow.

Ava frowned down at the flowers, her freckled nose wrinkling. “I thought about violetsbecause Mama said they would bring out my eyes. But there’s just something so romanticabout roses…” She shot me a disgruntled look. “I suppose you haven’t even thoughtabout what flowers you’ll wear tomorrow.”

I bit back the sharp words on the tip of my tongue. Of course, Ava didn’t exactly havea choice about the flower crown. Along with the white dresses, it was required that girlswore them to the Tithe, woven with a flower of their choosing.

But why did Ava want flowers that were romantic?I was used to keeping a tight lid on my emotions for my work as a greenwitch, but

spending time with Ava was always an exercise in restraint. If I didn’t hold my tongue,we’d spend almost all our time bickering. I cleared my throat, feeling compelled to saysomething. “Ava,” I began cautiously, “about tomorrow. This dress you’ve chosen—”

“Why are you avoiding my question?” Ava interrupted, crossing her arms. Her eyesnarrowed. “Have you picked roses too?” One hand moved to hover over the perfect flowercrown, as though ready to rip out every petal if there were any risk I had picked the sameflower.

“Of course not!” I spluttered. “Roses are for love. Why would I wear a flower for loveto greet the Beast?” I drew a breath, steadying my voice. “Which is exactly why I’mworried about you wearing them, Ava. You’re already the fairest girl in Rosehill. You don’tneed roses.”

Ava’s expression instantly softened, her hand dropping back to her side. “Don’t besilly, Aster,” she protested, even as she glanced over at her reflection in the mirroredcloset, angling her face so that the light caught the shimmer she had painted over herhigh cheekbones. “There are going to be twelve girls there tomorrow. There’s no

guarantee the Beast will pick me.”Something about the way she worded this made me tense. “I’d hope you wouldn’t

want a guarantee,” I said slowly, “but the Beast almost always chooses the prettiest girl.”Ava cast her gaze down, her long, black lashes grazing her cheeks, but her lips tugged

up into a smile. “I’m sure I’m not the prettiest, Aster. But I hope the Beast likes roses. Isuppose the flowers must mean something to him, mustn’t they? Otherwise, why wouldwe be expected to choose them ourselves?”

Heat prickled up my neck at my sister’s outlandish words, my jaw working.I hope the Beast likes roses. She should be hoping he loathed them.“Miss Aveline!”Ava turned to a maid hovering in the doorway. The servant’s eyes darted briefly to me

before she dipped into a curtsey and announced politely, “Your other guests are here.”Other guests? For a moment, I almost forgot my concern at my sister’s words.“Oh, good!” Ava clapped her hands together. “Send them through here—they’ll want

to see my new dress. And have the kitchens send up something to drink, won’t you?Something sparkling, if they can manage it.”

She flitted back to the flowing, white dress hanging on the door of her closet, onceagain fluffing her hands underneath the skirts to make them more buoyant.

I tried my hardest to keep the urgency from my voice, but it was difficult when mysister was being quite so...ridiculous about all of this. Why was it that in spite of beingthe youngest sister, I so often felt like the eldest?

“I’m serious, Ava.” I drew a finger through the leaves on the table, wincing as a thornsnagged on my skin. “The dress, the crown of roses. You’d be better off choosingsomething as plain as possible—”

“Aveline!” A shriek from the doorway cut me off mid-sentence. “That’s the dress you’rewearing tomorrow? The rest of us won’t stand a chance!”

A slender girl with pale-blonde hair bolted into the room, almost writhing withexcitement at the sight of Ava’s dress.

Ava smiled coyly, stepping aside so her friend could get the full effect of the dress.“Do you like it?”

“Oh, Eluned’s seen it first!” came a plaintive wail from the door. More of Ava’s friends,two girls called Daisy and Marcia, hurried in, hands pressed to their chests, their eyeswidening as they took in the beautiful white dress.

“Oh, Aveline,” Marcia sighed, “you’ll look like a princess.”I stuck my bleeding finger in my mouth, brows lowered. Couldn’t they see that was

exactly the problem?“A fae princess,” Ava corrected. A smile split her face. “Or as close as a human can

come to looking like one, anyway.”“It’s not fair,” Daisy groaned, clutching at her face. “Mother’s making me wear the

dress she wore to her Tithe. It’s ghastly. All sleeves and ribbons and—” She beganmoving her hands around her shoulders, as though she didn’t have the words to explainexactly what was wrong with her mother’s dress.

“I suppose your father can get you anything you ask for,” Daisy said longingly, still not

looking away from the dress. “I suppose if you wanted an actual fae gown, he couldprobably source it for you.”

Ava’s brow furrowed. She clearly hadn’t considered that. “The Beast won’t wantsomeone in an actual fae gown,” she asserted, although she began tugging nervously atone of her curls. “If he wanted a fae female, he could find one in any of the Fae Courts,couldn’t he? But he doesn’t. He comes here, to Rosehill. Looking for a human bride.”

A bride? I couldn’t keep in a snort at that.All four girls whirled to stare at me.I hastily turned the snort into a cough, raising my fist to my mouth. “Hello, Eluned.

Daisy, Marcia.”“Aveline,” Eluned said in a cool voice. “You didn’t mention your sister was joining us

today.”There was a long pause.“Well, she’s a gardener,” Ava said reluctantly. “She knows about flowers, doesn’t she?”Eluned regarded me with more interest. “Of course…” She glanced between me and

the crown of roses sitting on Ava’s dressing table. “What flowers will you be wearingtomorrow, Aster?”

“I’m wearing peonies,” Marcia said quickly. “What do you think of peonies?”“And I’m wearing daisies.” Daisy flushed. “Mother said it would be silly not to. But do

you think those are too common for the Beast?”I sucked in a breath and drew myself up straighter. My sister referring to me as a

gardener stung—I was a greenwitch, and she knew it—but if I had any chance of gettingthrough to the other girls, it was now, while all of their attention was firmly directed atme.

“Listen,” I said, hiding my irritation at her words and adopting a matter-of-fact tone,“it doesn’t matter what flowers you think the Beast will like. You ought to pray he hateswhat you’ve chosen, what you look like. That he doesn’t pick you.” I tried to meet Ava’seyes, but she studiously avoided my gaze. “The fae are dangerous—”

“Oh, ignore her.” Ava hurried forward, digging her fingers into my arm in warning tostop embarrassing her in front of her friends. “Just because she’s more interested inflowers than fae lords.” She turned to me. “You talk about him like he’s an actual beastand not fae nobility.”

My lips pressed together. He was both. The fae of the forest had been our enemy foras long as Rosehill had existed. The Tithe was a punishment, not an honor.

“Just imagine what it would be like to be chosen.” Eluned walked to Ava’s bookcase,running her fingers along the spines of the faetales lining the shelves. “The stories saythe Court Fae live in castles more spectacular than anything in any of the human lands.That magic means you can eat ices at midsummer, dance all night and feel like you’veslept soundly, have servants who’ll string ribbons through your hair and tie bells to yourfingers. They say the fae want for nothing.”

I pried Ava’s hand from my arm. “Those books are for children. They’re not—”“What are you going to do with your hair, Aveline?” Marcia asked anxiously. She

raised her hands to her fluffy, red waves, trying to smooth them down. “I know we have

to wear the flower crowns, but…”“Mother said I ought to wear ribbons in my hair.” Daisy cast a nervous look at Ava and

Eluned for their approval. “That it’s traditional.”Ava slid open a drawer of the dressing table, pulling out a string of tiny pearls that

matched the bodice of her dress. “I’m going to pin some of my hair back and string thesethrough it.”

“I’m going to weave more flowers through mine,” Eluned said smugly. “If the Beastlikes flowers, surely the more the better?”

A shadow passed over Ava’s face at her words, a pout threatening as she regardedthe line of pearls in her hand. Her voice turned cold. “I don’t want to distract from theflower crown. No one’s ever said we ought to wear extra flowers in our hair. Have they?”

The other girls exchanged a glance.“He’s sure to pick you, Aveline,” Marcia said. “We all know he will.”I clutched the edge of Ava’s dressing table so hard my fingers turned white, although I

kept my voice quiet. “And just what do you think will happen if he does pick you?” Mywords sounded breathy and tight with the effort of holding my frustration back. Avawouldn’t listen if I raised my voice. “The girls who are taken never come back again. Doyou really think the Beast takes them to be his bride? Besides, even if you became Ladyof the Folkwood, you’d be replaced within a year. What do you think happens then?”

“Oh, Aster,” Ava snapped. “Why don’t you admit you’re just jealous?”“Jealous?” My jaw dropped. “Of what, exactly? You haven’t even been picked yet!”“Aha!” Aveline’s nostrils flared, a pinkness rising in her cheeks. “So you are worried

he’ll pick me.”“I didn’t say—”“Is that why you won’t tell me what flowers you’re wearing?” she demanded. “Is that

why you became a gardener in the first place? It wouldn’t surprise me if you’d beenplanning this for ages. This is so typical of you, Aster.”

“I—you—” Blood pounded in my ears. What she was saying was so stupid. I sucked ina slow breath, trying my hardest to keep my cool. “Believe it or not, Ava, I did notbecome a greenwitch just to choose flowers for the Beast.”

I offered my sister a tight smile as I rose to my feet. I ought to leave before I let mytemper show and say something I’ll regret. “I’ll see you at the Tithe tomorrow.” I kept myvoice level with some difficulty. “If you’ve got any sense at all, you’ll reconsider the dressand the roses. Please.”

Ava didn’t reply, just glared at me, her arms crossed tightly.I didn’t bother to say goodbye to the other girls. What did I care if one of them was

chosen, as long as it wasn’t my sister?Walking slowly out of the room, I ignored the muttering servants and focused on

controlling my breathing like Sage had taught me to. It wouldn’t stop the anger or theworry knotting in my chest, but it would prevent me from storming back in to lecture Ava.

I’d said my piece, and I’d delivered it in the composed, level-headed way of agreenwitch. I couldn’t control whether she took my advice.

Besides, it didn’t matter whether my sister wore her new dress or not; she’d outshine

us all anyway. It seemed impossible the Beast wouldn’t pick her. And she’d last about fiveminutes in one of the Fae Courts. She knew nothing of their ways or their dangers. Shemight be a brat, but she was still my sister—I’d never forgive myself if anything happenedto her. If I couldn’t convince her to downplay her beauty, I needed to find another way toprotect her.

Swinging out into the street, I almost bumped right into Laurel.“Aster!” Taking one look at my face, my sister hastened to my side with a look of

alarm. “What happened?”I paused, then let out a long sigh. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”Laurel produced an elegant silver knife from her belt, the handle studded with pearls.

“Something for Ava from Father. It’s iron beneath the silver. For tomorrow.”I regarded the weapon for a moment. It was beautiful...but what good would it do in

Ava’s hands when she’d never picked up a weapon in her life?“Don’t even bother.” I shook my head, already striding off. “Even if the Beast picks

her, she won’t fight back.”

C H A P T E R T H R E E

“KEEP ON YOUR TOES. KEEP MOVİNG,” my father barked at me.I circled to the left, a knife gripped in my hand, then jumped back as he feinted

forward, his own blade glinting in the dim light of the tavern lamps.I bumped up against the wall and glanced over my shoulder.“Eyes on me!” Father shouted, and my gaze snapped forward. “Find space. You need

to back out of striking range.”Absorbing his instructions, I moved around to the right this time, but the laughter and

chatter and clinking of glasses was distracting. A handful of my father’s crew hadgathered around to watch where we’d pushed back the chairs and table into a semicircle.Including Layton, his gaze tracking me like a hunter.

It was off-putting.I determinedly didn’t so much as glance at the crowd of onlookers, trying to focus on

the steps my father was putting me through. Most patrons were busy with other thingsanyway, eating dinner, playing cards, or dozing in front of the blazing fire, sprawled inplush chairs. Familiar smells hung in the air, the musky, savory scent of hops and roastingmeat, the tang of wood polish. Everyone here was my father’s man or woman, and whilebrawls didn’t usually break out in the Gilded Hare, practice sparring was a dailyoccurrence.

Although usually it was Laurel taking on challengers for money, not me.Still, tonight my father had insisted on running through drills with me. So I could

defend myself at the Tithe tomorrow, he’d said.Even though I continued to follow his instructions, the same thought kept circling my

mind.This is pointless.What use was a knife against a fae beast?My father’s broad shoulders suddenly blocked out the rest of the room, and I found

myself staring into lilac eyes that matched my own. His receding hairline and neat beardwere shot through with silver, but my father’s work kept him lithe, and he circled me onlight feet. He called himself a merchant, but everyone knew that was code for smuggler.My family’s wealth was built on the dangerous runs he made through the southern

Folkwood, bringing goods like sugar and silk that we couldn't make or grow here back toour isolated town.

Mostly, I was proud of him. I didn’t often wish I had a normal family. But tonight, Icouldn’t help thinking I’d rather be eating dinner as a family, like all the other Tithe girls,and not attacking each other with knives.

“Reverse grip,” he barked, and I flipped the knife so that it pointed downward. “Attacklow.”

I slashed toward his stomach. He moved with me, bringing his arm over my forearmand pressing his own dulled training blade down on my wrist in a disarming move.

“Now you disarm me.” He came at me with the same slash, and I copied hismovements exactly.

“I went to see Ava today,” I began, slightly breathless, avoiding my father’s nextmove. “She’s excited about tomorrow. All of her friends are. They’re picking out theirfinest gowns.”

“Eyes on my blade, Aster,” he called.I shook my head. “She’s doing everything she can to ensure she’s chosen, like the

Beast choosing her is some prize and not a kidnapping.”“Forward grip!” my father shouted.I flipped the blade to point skyward. “What does she think will happen if she’s swept

away into the Folkwood? That she’ll become some faerie queen? If she’s not killedstraight away, the best-case scenario is enslavement for a year before she’s replaced.And who knows what happens to the Tithe girls at the end of the year?”

“Keep your knife pointed at me,” my father bellowed, giving no sign he’d been payingany attention to my complaints. I extended my arm, jabbing the knife toward him. Hetook a smart step forward, gripped my wrist tightly, and pressed his blade against theinside of my elbow.

“Never extend your arm fully, Aster. You leave it open to attack. You know better thanthis.”

I huffed a sigh. “I’ll be sure to keep my arms loose if I’m mauled by the Beast, then,” Iremarked wryly.

That wrung a smile from him. He chuckled, sheathing his knife in one of the manycompartments hanging from his belt. He closed the gap between us, then held both myarms in a tight grip.

“I know you’re worried about Ava, but I’m just as worried about you, Aster.”I shrugged him off. “When Ava’s dressed up in her finery, she’ll stand out like a

gardener’s prized bloom. There’ll be no competition. You know it as well as I do.”“Ava is a great beauty, just like Lady Cicely.” He ran his thumb under my chin. “But all

of my daughters are beautiful.”“You’re my father. You have to say that.”He rolled his eyes, then shouted over to the barkeep, “Orrin, what do I always say

about my girls?”Orrin flipped a towel over his shoulder. “That you produce the most beautiful, most

intelligent, and fiercest women in town.” The barkeep offered up a toothy grin. “Although

I always say they get their looks from their mothers.”“Hear, hear,” Laurel called from where she sat on one of the tables in the corner, legs

swinging and her auburn hair glowing in the lamplight. I hadn’t even seen my older sistercome inside, let alone noticed she’d been listening in. Orrin’s huge ginger tomcat satpurring in her lap, claws flashing any time anyone else came too close to her.

“Well, I don’t know about that.” My father turned to me with a conspiratorial smile. “Iwas quite the handsome lad in my day.”

I had no doubt my father had been a charmer in his youth. How else would he havebeen bedding Lady Cicely and her maid, my mother, at the same time? Not to mentionLaurel’s wild, infamous mother a few years before that. Even now, his job and his trainingkept him in good shape for a man of his age, despite the slight ale belly that he couldnever quite work off straining at his belt.

“I wouldn’t be insisting we train if I didn’t think you were also in danger, Aster.” Hescrubbed one hand over his beard. “Not to mention, if the Beast picks you, Rosehill will bewithout a greenwitch…”

Something tightened in my stomach. It had occurred to me, of course. That if I werechosen, Rosehill would suffer more than the loss of one of its girls. If the town lost itsgreenwitch, there would be no one to see to the sick, no one to help when the cropswouldn’t grow, no one to keep back the constant threat of the Folkwood.

But why couldn’t our father see that Ava was the one at risk this year, not me?A sly smile tilted the corner of his lips. “I suppose we could ask Layton if he thinks

you’re pretty enough to be at risk...”“Dad, no.” I swatted him with the back of my hand, but he was already calling Layton

over. My father knew I wasn’t easily embarrassed, but that didn’t stop him from trying.“How can I be of service, Birk?” Layton puffed out his chest as he strode over. I wasn’t

sure whether it was more for my father’s benefit or mine. “Hi, Aster.” He gave me aneager smile, which I didn’t reciprocate, keeping my face carefully blank.

Layton’s fair, blond-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail with a soft, blue ribbon. Hewas tall and broad, built like a laborer, not dissimilar to my father. Ever since we’dtumbled after the Winter Solstice feast last year, he’d been following me around the townand yanking up poor, defenseless flowers to leave wilting outside my door. There werewhispers he wanted to ask me to be his wife and that was the reason he’d joined myfather’s crew.

He must be pixie-led if he thought I’d be interested.“Layton, tell Orrin to prepare a round of ale for the crew. I feel a speech brewing.”

Dad rubbed a hand on his stomach, then slapped Layton so hard on the back the youngerman staggered forward a step.

Flashing me another hopeful smile, Layton disappeared to the bar.“A speech?” I raised an inquiring eyebrow.“And a gift.” My father winked. He dragged a chair over to the closest table and

stepped up to stand on top, clearing his throat loudly. “Everyone!”A hush fell over the room, voices dwindling to murmurs and chairs creaking as their

inhabitants twisted around in my father’s direction.

“As you all know, tomorrow is Spring Equinox. But it’s also the Tithe, and this year,two of my daughters must attend. My own blood, offered up to the fae as sacrifice.” Hisvoice didn’t change tone, but I saw my father make a fist, his knuckles straining white.“The girls will be alone tomorrow, as no one else can walk the Tithe path and live—butthat doesn’t mean my daughters will wander into a den of wolves unprotected. Rina,please.”

My father held out his hand, and one of his crew, a short, blonde woman with a thinscar running across her cheek, handed him something wrapped in velvet.

He unwrapped it with a flourish to reveal an iron knife, the dark metal glinting in thelantern light. “The fae might have dominion over the Folkwood, but we know better thananyone that there are ways to take the edge off their powers. We learned theirweaknesses to protect ourselves. Iron, salt, rowan berries. We haven’t had one fatality ona supply run this year.” There was a cheer at these words. “And just like I never leave mycrew unprotected in the forest…” My father turned to me. “Aster.” He placed the knifereverentially into my hand like some sort of blessing. “This blade is enchanted and willnever dull.”

My eyes widened. “Fae magic?”He shook his head. “Fae magic can’t touch iron. It’s from a master ironsmith on the

continent.”So what made the enchantment? I wrapped my fingers around the grip. It was the

perfect size for my hand and still warm. I turned over the blade, admiring it. The ironworkwas beautiful, wrought metal vines with tiny leaves twisting around the handle. Unlikethe blades we used to practice, the knife was so sharp I could barely focus on the edge. Iresisted testing it with my finger, tasting the coppery tang of blood in my mouth just fromlooking at it.

The ghost of a smile flickered across my face. This was not so pointless. The faehated iron, and while I’d never be strong enough to kill one, I could use this as a threat ora distraction to try to protect Ava.

And after tomorrow was over, it might be useful in my work, for cutting thick, woodystems or stripping bark.

Layton brought over a tankard for my father and offered one to me. When I shook myhead to decline, he kept it for himself. My father led a toast, dedicating the round to me.Everyone in the Gilded Hare chanted my name, but somberly, like they were honoring mymemory at a wake, then the tavern filled with the wooden clunk of tankard againsttankard. My name faded from everyone’s lips as the lively notes of a fiddle started upagain. Conversations swelled once more, accompanied by the tinkle and clatter of cutlery.

My father leaped down from the table, and I stood on tiptoes to brush a kiss on hisbristly cheek. He smelled sweaty, but familiar. Like home. “Thanks, Dad.” I gave him anappreciative smile as I sheathed my new knife.

A shiver of guilt trailed up my spine as I remembered I’d told Laurel not to give Avaher gift. My sister was the one who needed protection the most. She was the one whoshould be training, learning how to put up a fight against the fae beast we’d both facetomorrow.

My palms grew damp, as they always did when I thought of the Tithe. It felt like I wason the edge of something terrible, like when I stood at the border of the Folkwood,looking into the darkness beyond.

Taking a deep breath and wiping the dampness away on my skirts, I took a steptoward Laurel, but she’d moved from her usual table, leaving the tomcat sulking in herplace, and was instead tossing knives at a board with a group of her male friends, themetal thwacking into the wood every few seconds. My father was talking to Layton again,his broad back blocking the younger man’s view of me.

The diamond panes of the windows were fogged with breath from low conversationsand laughter. If something terrible happened tomorrow, if this was my last time here,then this was exactly how I wanted to remember it. Gripping my new knife tightly, Igrabbed my cloak and slipped out into the cool evening.

My workshop always smelled familiar yet different, depending on the time of year. Theplants I grew and dried were ever-changing with the seasons. This evening, as I steppedinto the darkness, I was greeted with the tang of leather, the woody scent of dried herbs,and the moist, damp smell of soil from the potting table.

I lit the lamps, puddles of pale-gold light filling the space and illuminating thebotanical paraphernalia with a warm glow. I paused, taking it all in with anuncharacteristic reverence. The drying rack was full of herbs I’d grown or foraged, and thebooks I’d inherited from Sage spilled over from the shelves and towered in piles on thefloor.

Using my forearm, I brushed aside the papers and spread-eagled journals litteredacross the wooden workbench, clearing room to drop the handful of wildflowers I’d pickedfrom my small garden out front.

Ava had been right about one thing. I hadn’t given much thought to which flowers Iwould weave into a crown.

I separated out the white hellebore and wood anemone from the yellow winterjasmine and marigolds. Their petals were small, their beauty understated. My new ironknife flashed in the lamplight, cutting stems at slanted angles, releasing smells ofbleeding sap and a brittle floral aroma.

I paused, weighing the knife in my hand. It sliced through even the thickest sinewystems like butter, and I wondered if it would be just as effective on a fae body.

I reached for a marigold next, the delicate, frilly petals like sunshine after the winter.As I worked, a tight knot swelled in my stomach. My father had built me this workshopwhen I became the town’s wisewoman, not long after Sage’s death, when her position asgreenwitch transferred to me.

People who didn’t know Sage well or who had never benefited from her wisdom hadoften made the title sound derogatory, but that didn’t happen once I took over. Whenpeople spoke of me as the town greenwitch, it was with a note of admiration in theirvoices. Perhaps people only called you a crazy old witch behind your back if you were

wrinkled and gray, not young and comely enough for their sons.Of course, at first there had been whispers I couldn’t take over at the tender age of

sixteen, but those skepticisms had soon died in the years that followed, when peopleneeded medicines or advice about faerie mischief and my remedies proved effective. Itook my responsibilities to the town seriously. Despite the wildness I often felt inside, Ipresented myself as a pragmatic, sensible young woman. And I had proven myself to allof them.

Or, at least, I felt like I had. Possibly they only approved because they were scared ofmy father and his crew and wouldn’t dare badmouth one of Birk’s daughters.

Or maybe they believed the rumors that greenwitches could use real magic, eventhough there was nothing to them.

I sucked in my lower lip as I concentrated, braiding stems together tightly and bindingthem with an almost invisible thread.

What would happen if my father was right and I never came back after tomorrow?Rosehill needed me. Who would fix sprained ankles and be on standby when a babe wasabout to be born, keeping the Little Folk from swapping it for a changeling child? Whowould cure people when they were pixie-led or intervene when the forest encroached ontheir lands, ripe with fae enchantment? My thoughts turned back to Farmer Hawley’sland.

All fae set my teeth on edge, but the shape-shifting púca worried me the most. It hadbeen stalking the periphery of the Folkwood all winter, and it seemed to have an agendabeyond just trying its chances at the border. And after what it had done to Sage…

I shut down the thought immediately, my belly tightening painfully. In my time asgreenwitch, I’d learned which memories were emotional triggers.

Perhaps tomorrow morning, before the Tithe, I would go to the forest border to checkthat Farmer Hawley had planted the St. John’s Wort and dug the new ditch wide enough.

A creak sounded, and I tilted my head up.Laurel stepped into the room on silent feet, latching the door closed behind her. “I

thought I’d find you here.”I blew out a breath, allowing the tension in my stomach to loosen, and indicated the

almost finished circlet. “Making my floral crown for tomorrow.”Laurel nodded, looking around the room like she was seeing it for the first time. “You

always come here to think. Or when you need some quiet from Dad and me.”“Peace and quiet from you two wallflowers?” I gave her a wry smile, snapping a piece

of thread with my teeth.She pulled up a small, wooden stool and sat next to me. My sister’s soft, auburn hair

smoldered in the low light, the smattering of freckles bronze against her fair skin.Really, it was a miracle she hadn’t been taken in the year of her Tithe. It was so often

the most beautiful girl.She cleared her throat. “I know you’re worried about Ava, but there are twelve girls

this year. My year, there were only six. The odds are good.”I nodded, still privately unconvinced. Ava and I would both be standing in that line,

and with two of us in danger, the odds were no better for our family.

“You can talk to me about it, you know.” Laurel’s tone was tentative. “To Rosehill, youhave to be the calm and collected greenwitch who keeps her head in emergencies, but Iknow you, Aster. We grew up together. I know how much you feel. You don’t need tohide your emotions when you’re with me.” Her voice softened. “I’m your sister, not yourpatient.”

I didn’t reply, although my heart warmed at my sister’s words. At how well she knewme, despite our different personalities and paths. She was right. When we were younger,we’d both been wild and reckless, quick to quarrel and fight and just as quick to make upand laugh. But now, Laurel was a huntress, and I was a greenwitch.

Sliding one final wildflower into the crown, I set the completed circlet down in front ofme, and we both stared at it in silence.

“What was it like?” I asked at last. My voice was calm, but I couldn’t meet my sister’seyes.

“What was what like?” Laurel leaned forward to lift the circlet, inspecting it closely.Then she gently placed it on my head with both hands, like she was crowning me.

“The Beast.”The rosy flush drained from my sister’s cheeks. She lowered her hands, setting them

in her lap as a deep inhale swelled her chest.“He was the most terrible and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Aster.”The words hovered in the air, settling between us. The catch in her voice sent a flurry

of goosebumps across my bare arms. She sounded scared.Except Laurel never sounded scared. Our father had raised her no differently than a

first-born son. Where I was soft and curved, my sister was strong and toned. Shegleamed with weapons at all times, and she’d faced more fae on her supply runs throughthe forest with my father than I ever had in my work as a greenwitch.

And yet a storm of fear clouded her eyes. She reached out and interlaced her fingerswith mine. Our calluses scraped together, mine from gardening, hers from training.

“If he takes Ava tomorrow...” My voice sounded strained. “You’ll help me get her back,right? We’re not going to lose her like all the other girls.”

Laurel’s eyes glimmered with tears. “I wish I could be there to protect you both.” Inoticed she avoided my question.

“I wish you could too, Laurie.”She rubbed her lips together. “Dad wants to go on a supply run first thing tomorrow

morning. But I can arrange for someone else to go in my place,” she added quickly, “so Ican stay with you.”

I shook my head. “Go. There’s nothing you can do from the forest edge, anyway. I’llsee you in the evening, when we’re both home.”

We sat in silence for several heartbeats, squeezing each other’s hands tightly.“You just need to get through tomorrow.” Laurel released her grip, patting the back of

my hand. She removed the circlet from my head, placing it back down on the workbench.“Then we can celebrate the Spring Equinox properly, as a family. Ava, too. And our familywill never have to worry about the Tithe again.”

I nodded, but a coldness built in my core, crawling through my veins.

It wasn’t true that I wouldn’t worry about it. A girl disappeared every year—girls whowere our peers and friends. In the future, we would worry about our daughters. With thefae’s almost immortal life spans, their whims and grudges lasted generations of humanlives. The Tithe would never end.

Laurel was still talking, trying to cheer me up. “The day and the night are equal lengthtomorrow, and from then on, things will only get brighter. You’ll see.”

“You’re right.” I gave her a reassuring smile.But she was wrong. The circlet in front of us was a reminder. The fae in the Folkwood

cast a shadow over the town, and with every stolen girl who never returned, whose bodywas never found, that shadow crept longer.

Spring would come; that much was true. But Rosehill would only get darker.

C H A P T E R F O U R

I SMOOTHED DOWN MY SKİRTS, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I cast my gaze aroundthe room. It seemed silly to put on my prettiest spring dress for today. I paused, staringat myself. In the silvery morning light, my dress was a creamy off-white, a few shadesdarker than my skin, embroidered with tiny wildflowers across the bodice. I looked prettyand innocent, exactly how all the Tithe girls were supposed to look.

Although, of course, the other Tithe girls didn’t have iron knives concealed down thefronts of their bodices…

An insistent breeze slipped through the cracked window, fluttering the cap sleeves ofmy dress and stirring my hair. The outside air was cool, the wind still strong, but freshwith the promise of spring.

In spite of wearing the obligatory white dress, I’d not bothered to darken my lashes orpinch my cheeks, and my mahogany hair cascaded down my back in much the same stateas when I’d rolled out of bed this morning. I lifted my chin, shooting a fierce look at myreflection. I wasn’t dressing for a town dance, braiding my hair carefully and blotting coloron my lips. In the right time and place, beauty could be used as a weapon, Ava hadtaught me that. But this was not a day for beauty.

This was a day for iron and steeled nerves. I lifted a hand, feeling for the iron knifemy father had gifted me last night. The tension in my body eased knowing it was there.

The circlet of wildflowers sat expectantly on my dresser, the hellebores and winterjasmine slightly limp and filling the air with a sickly scent. I hesitated, not wanting to pickit up and set the flower crown on my brow.

Because when I did, I’d be ready.I’d have to go and meet the other girls outside the north gate. We’d walk in a

procession toward the forest edge, where the Tithe path would have appeared overnight,beckoning us into the depths of the forest. Friends, relatives, and well-wishers could visitus as the sun rose to its high point on the equinox, bringing us little gifts and talismans tobring us back safely. Hoping we wouldn’t be taken even farther into the forest, to theBeast’s lair to the north-east of Rosehill.

But however hard they hoped, just before midday, we’d have to walk into theFolkwood, and none of the townsfolk could follow.

A memory shivered through me of watching Laurel disappear down the path two yearsago, her auburn hair bright against her white gown.

Banging thundered through the room, jolting me back to the present. I spun around.Someone was hammering on my door, rattling the wood in its frame.

“Aster, come quick!” a male voice called, high and urgent.My brow knitted into a frown. “Farmer Hawley?” I hurried to the door, sliding the bolts

back.The farmer waited outside, covered in a sheen of sweat, his cheeks pink from

exertion. His eyes were wide and too white, rolling in his head like a horse about to bolt.“I know you have the Tithe today, but—”

“What happened?” I asked, dread coiling in my stomach.“It’s Nairn.” His voice caught in his throat. “They’ve taken him.”Ice splintered through my veins. The púca...Lurching into action, I grabbed my satchel from the peg, still full of the same plants

and tools from when I’d visited the farm yesterday. I stuffed in a spool of red thread anda whole jar of four-leaf clovers. “He went into the forest? When did this happen?”

Farmer Hawley wrung his cap between his hands. “About an hour ago.”I hissed in a breath through my teeth. Even a minute in the forest was a minute too

long. The moment a human crossed the tree line, the fae were free to do as they wanted.If it was the púca who had lured Nairn into the forest...it was already probably too late.

“I came straight here,” the farmer added, tears pricking his eyes. “As soon as Irealized.”

I pulled a necklace of rowan berries over my head as guilt rattled through me. Itwasn’t Farmer Hawley’s fault. I was the town greenwitch. I was supposed to have fixedthis.

Then my lips pursed, my movements slowing. It seemed unlikely that the St. John’sWort and a clean trench hadn’t worked...

“Did you dig the trench, like I said?” I tried to keep my tone from sounding accusatory.“I was going to…” Farmer Hawley’s voice cracked. “But we’re busy this time of year,

Aster. We’re calving, and lambing’s already starting. And we’re already behind on sowingthe fields...so I poured a line of salt, just for the meantime. Until I got around to it.”

Salt. Effective but fleeting, easily blown or washed away by the elements. With thiswind rattling at the windowpanes and howling down the chimney, it would havedisappeared overnight like fuzz from a dandelion. I gritted my teeth and slung my satchelacross my body. There was no point lecturing now. He’d lost his child.

“We don’t have a moment to spare, Barric. Hurry.”Looping the flower crown over my wrist, I flew through the door, not giving my

bedroom a backward glance.

I clutched my knife, my knuckles straining white. The moment I had stepped across thetree line and into the shadowy, dappled light, every muscle in my body had tensed in

spite of my best efforts to remain calm.I was back in the Folkwood.I tried to slow my ragged breaths, my rattling heart. The last time I’d been in the

forest like this had been with Sage. And only one of us had returned.The wind thundered and hissed through the trees, sending my hair flying around my

face and whipping my skirts between my legs. The forest terrified me, but I put on abrave face to reassure Barric.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” I called, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest.He stayed close behind me, holding an iron pitchfork as a weapon.

The trees towered all around us, blocking most of the sun. Out of the corner of myeye, their trunks and moving branches looked like creeping fae. I constantly spun aroundwith my knife clutched in my hand, pointing the tip of the blade at holly, alder, andblackthorn trees.

“Nairn!” I shouted over the roar of the wind. “Nairn!”I sucked in a breath, the scent of oak and moss and moist greenery filling my lungs.

Every hair on my body stood on end, the muscles in my calves twitching with the desireto race through the trees back toward Rosehill.

Part of me knew it was pointless to put ourselves at risk for a child who was probablyalready dead. Even if the púca hadn’t killed Nairn right away, they could be anywhere inthe vast sprawl of the Folkwood by now. Our only chance was that the púca was toyingwith us or wanted to trade the child for something more valuable.

Or to use him to lure more humans beyond the tree line.We pushed through the undergrowth, following trails when they appeared and battling

our way through brambles and briars when they vanished. The sun climbed higher in thesky, the spidery shadows from the trees growing darker and shorter. I had no idea howlong we’d been searching, but my voice soon grew hoarse from shouting Nairn’s name.

I paused, hearing muffled cries from up ahead. I couldn’t tell if it was real or the windwas playing tricks on me. Then a twig snapped.

We weren’t alone anymore.“Did you hear that?” I asked Farmer Hawley in a low voice, already running toward

the noise. I pulled up short at a tangle of brambles and nettles taller than I was. Therewas a rough path through the middle. I swallowed. If a faery was going to hide a childanywhere, it would be in the center of this.

Farmer Hawley arrived beside me, panting, and I dropped my satchel to the ground,resting the floral crown on top of it.

“Wait here, and keep alert,” I told him. Then, throwing my arms up to protect myface, I walked into the thorns. “Nairn!” I pushed farther into the tangle of briars, thornystems clawing at my dress and hair, scratching at my arm like tiny needles. Nettlesbatted at my ankles, sending waves of stinging pain up my legs, but still I pressed ontoward the center.

Something flitted past me. An insect? I jerked my head to one side as a high-pitchedlaugh sounded close to my ear, like the sudden whine of a mosquito.

Another tiny creature blurred past me, stirring the leaves with a hiss. The Little Folk. I

cursed under my breath. They were playing games, luring me into this patch of bramblesand making me bleed for sport.

“Aster,” Farmer Hawley called, and I twisted around, pushing back through thebrambles toward him. I emerged with a gasp, the cool, damp air hitting my cuts andscratches.

“Nairn wasn’t there,” I told him, my voice strained. “It was just the Little Folk playingtricks.” I dropped my gaze. I should have known better than to fall for that.

Farmer Hawley gingerly held my arms, taking in the scratches. His brown eyes glazedwith unshed tears. “The sun is almost overhead, Aster.”

“The Tithe.” My words sounded breathy. In the fear of being back in the Folkwood andthe search for Nairn, I’d almost forgotten. I looked up at where the sun glittered betweenthe canopy of branches and leaves above us. It was almost midday. And I was in thewrong part of the forest.

I looked back to Farmer Hawley. “But Nairn…”“You have to be there, Aster. If you miss the Tithe, the other girls will pay the price.”Something deep within me resisted. I needed to be here, helping to find the child who

had gone missing. Making sure that the people of Rosehill were safe.But Barric was right. I tried to calm the nausea building in my stomach.I took a deep breath. “Go back to the town, and get Laurel as soon as she’s back from

her supply run. Tell her what happened. She’ll help you search.” I took the necklace ofrowan beads from around my neck and placed it over his head. “This will protect you fromensorcellment on the way back.” I looked up, squinting through the tops of the trees toorientate myself. “Head back that way.” I pointed south. “And take my bag.” I reached formy satchel and handed it to him. “I promise I’ll come back and help. As soon as theTithe’s over.”

“Thank you for trying, Aster.” He couldn’t meet my eyes as he clutched at the bag.“You’ll find him.” I tried to sound reassuring, but my words sounded empty even to

me. Farmer Hawley shook his head in a way that suggested he knew, and he jogged inthe direction I’d pointed.

I spun around. Now I needed to make my way east through the forest, to where Iwould hopefully join with the Tithe path that opened just to the north of Rosehill.

Wait... I looked around for the circlet of flowers I’d left on top of the satchel.How could I have lost it?Then I saw a flash of white petals dancing in the brambles. I lurched forward just in

time to see one of the Little Folk, its spindly limbs the color and texture of bark, wearingthe hellebore petals like a skirt. Another faery joined it, using a frilly marigold flower as ahat. Their breathy little laughs filled the air.

Silver bells. They’d tricked me into the brambles, ripping my dress and skin, and nowthey’d shredded my flower crown. I picked up the few bare stems of foliage that wereleft. If I turned up at the Tithe without the requisite finery… The Beast might just kill methen and there. Or worse, he’d punish the other girls for my disobedience, like hadhappened once before, years ago, when a girl had tried to avoid going to the Tithealtogether. How the Beast had known someone was missing, we never found out, but the

Tithe path had suddenly disappeared, the forest swallowing all of the girls. The few whomade it out and back to Rosehill in the days that followed all developed faesickness—even Sage couldn’t heal them. We lost all of the girls to the Folkwood that year.

Curse all the fae in this forest!I ground my teeth together, losing control of my leashed emotions as white-hot anger

leaked from my core, shooting into my limbs. I reached out and ripped a length of thebrambles free, sending the Little Folk still dancing on the leaves scattering. Then Isnatched up a long stem of nettles, ignoring the needling prickles burning my fingertips.

I moved as I wove, letting rage fuel me for once. Biting my lip, I knotted the stemstogether around what was left of the existing circlet, channeling all of my suppressedanger—at the púca who had taken Sage and now Nairn, the Little Folk who had ruinedmy flower crown, the fae who plagued all of Rosehill throughout the year—into braidingthe briar and nettles. My fury poured out of my fingertips like droplets of hot blood. Whenit was done, I wedged the circlet onto my head, feeling the thorns prick into my scalp.

I was under no illusion this crown would protect me, but that wasn’t the point. It wasa symbol of my hatred for the fae who stole children and girls for their own amusement.It proved I could be as sharp and unrelenting as the briars that tore open my skin. A rosewho wore her barbs proudly, as a warning.

My beauty is not yours for the taking. Touch me and you will bleed.I clenched my fists as I hurtled over gnarled roots and tree stumps, running toward

the most dangerous creature in these woods.I raced through the forest, swatting away the branches and ferns in my path. When I

lost balance, my shoulder crashed into rough tree trunks. Every so often, I glanced up atthe sky, tracking the sun.

It was already high overhead, and I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I was almostout of time.

My lungs threatened to burst, and a sweet taste coated the back of my throat. Ineeded to stop and catch my breath, but I couldn’t let myself slow down.

Then the forest opened up, parting like a giant had swept the trees apart to create aperfect path leading deeper into the woods. The Tithe path.

It hadn’t disappeared because I was late. Relief cracking across my chest, I bunchedmy dress in my hands to run faster, the moss soft and spongy underfoot. My scratchedpalms streaked scarlet ribbons of blood across the cream fabric, joining the stainedpatchwork of mud, grass, and sap.

My cheeks burned hot, the sweat between my shoulder blades cold. The crown ofthorns dug into my scalp, strands of my dark hair whipping back and tangling around theprickles. Ahead of me, the path opened into a clearing.

Horror seared through me. The girls already stood in a line like a string of pearls intheir white dresses. And another dark figure prowled along the row of girls with his backto me.

The Beast of the Folkwood.Even at this distance, some invisible power emanated from him, filling the air like the

pressure before a storm.

I didn’t slow down, despite the panic pulsing through my veins, the blood crashing inmy ears. The crown of thorns felt hot and itchy on my head, and a trickle of blood inchedits way down my cheek where it must have cut me.

As I drew closer, the Beast stopped pacing, his body blocking out the girl he’d chosen.I didn’t need to see her to know who it was. I’d memorized my sister’s position in the line.

I wanted to cry out to her, but I could barely breathe, let alone shout.The Beast reached toward her.I burst into the clearing, running straight for them. At this angle, I could see Ava. Her

arms were wrapped around herself, her eyes wide, staring at the fae’s palm but nottaking it.

She’d taken a step back, so she was no longer in line with the other girls. None ofthem were giggling or laughing as they had been yesterday. They were all rooted inplace, pale and trembling. Perhaps the Beast had spelled them all into silence.

But he hadn’t ensorcelled me.“Not her,” I half growled, my voice still hoarse from shouting for Nairn all morning.

Every pair of eyes along the line turned to me, taking in my bedraggled appearance, thewords I’d cried out. I slowed to a walk and stepped in line with the rest of them, plantingmyself in front of Ava. My lungs burned as I gasped in frantic gulps of air.

“What’re you doing, Aster?” my sister hissed from behind me. No spell, then. Thesilence was due to fear alone. Ignoring Ava, I tilted my chin, taking in the Beast for thefirst time.

His wild beauty was like a knife to the gut.I almost took a step back. I wanted to grab Ava and run.Now I understood what Laurel had meant when she’d said the Beast was the most

terrible and the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The Court Fae were different fromthe other faeries of the forest. They were monsters on the inside, but the outside… Theoutside was part of the trap. Like a poisonous spine beneath the prettiest bloom.

The wind tore through the clearing, whipping strands of hair across my face. I madeno attempt to push them back. I buried my fear deep down, concentrating on the thornspressing into my scalp, the stinging scratches up my arms, the hot prickle from thenettles on my legs. The small flashes of pain grounded me.

I locked my trembling knees beneath my skirts, steeling my spine as I met the Beast’spredatory stare. His eyes, a murky swirl of colors like the forest floor, raked across mydisheveled appearance. He was taller than any man I’d known, dressed in a doublet ofoxblood, slit open to show an oily-black, silk shirt beneath. His face was all hard angles,his brows two slashes of night. Thick, dark hair glinted in the sun overhead, somehowunmoving despite the wind curling around us.

Time stilled. I held his gaze, my own eyes narrowing at the feral gleam in his.“Not her,” I repeated, my voice miraculously steady.The Beast moved so quickly I barely registered it. Ava gasped, and I flinched as he

towered in front of me, blocking out everything beyond. The rush of the wind through thetrees died, replaced by a high-pitched whine in my ears.

His arm shot toward me, and I tensed for the inevitable blow.

Instead, long, cool fingers twined around my wrist like a snare, threatening to snapbone.

The fae leaned closer, closing the scrap of distance between us. His pointed caninesflashed, his breath hot on my face as he spoke for the first time.

“Then you.”I barely had time to register his words before the forest melted away around me.

C H A P T E R F I V E

I LANDED with a crunch of gravel, my knees threatening to buckle. Hot hands held meupright. My vision swam in sickening twists, and my stomach lurched, a sweet metallictaste coating the back of my tongue. Magic.

He’s taken me.The spinning sensation hadn’t quite abated before I snatched my arms away from the

Beast holding me steady. My body still felt hot where he’d gripped me, the clammy,itching heat of a fever. I staggered forward.

Ava is safe.The second thought roared through my body, dampening the dread building in my

core. I might have been taken, but I’d saved my sister. Strength swept back into mywatery legs. The ringing in my ears faded, replaced by an eerie, sleepy silence. I stood alittle straighter, taking in my surroundings.

My lungs tightened at the huge house looming in front of me.No, house was the wrong word. My whirling brain struggled to catch up. Manor or

mansion was a better fit.The vast building was long and two-storied, its silvery-white color gleaming like

birchwood in the pale spring sunlight. I squinted against the sparkle of light on the tallwindows. Between columns wrapped in ivy, balconies jutted out toward us at regularintervals. In front of me, a flight of alabaster steps led to the largest doors I’d ever seen.

I’d thought my sister and her friends had been deluded in their talk of Fae Courts andgrandeur. And while this wasn’t quite the faerie castle they’d read about in books… I’dexpected the Beast’s lair to be a cave or stark stone fortress. This grand mansion wascompletely at odds with the feral creatures I knew to roam the never-ending woods.

But just like the Beast himself, its beauty made it no less ominous. Who knew whatlay in wait behind the elegant closed doors?

“What is this place?” My voice sounded breathless as I spun around on the spot, thegray gravel crunching beneath my feet.

“This is my Court,” the Beast replied, his low voice cutting through the silence.I kept my focus on my surroundings, not daring to look at him. Despite the lovely

setting, this fae was still the most dangerous creature I’d ever encountered.

And I had no idea what he wanted with me.“Do you live here alone?” I tried tentatively.The estate was set in a vast woodland clearing, so large that the tree line seemed

tiny in the distance. We appeared to be on some sort of approach, wide enough to fit twocarriages side by side.

The fae huffed a dismissive laugh through his nose.I slowly smoothed my skirts down, even as my legs quaked beneath them. “Does that

mean yes?”His eyes narrowed, and I found myself wanting to take a step back, my mouth drying

under his imperious gaze. With the sun shining above him, the Beast’s edges werecontoured with a sharp line of light, yet he somehow seemed to blur into darkness, as ifhis shadow didn’t care about the position of the sun and instead surrounded him like anaura.

“You are free to roam the estate—the house and the grounds.” The Beast intoned thewords lazily, like he’d said them hundreds of times before. Perhaps he had. Perhaps hehad given the same speech to all the other girls when they arrived. “But you will notenter the arbor wing, and you will not venture into the Folkwood, unless you wish to die.”

Something about his words nettled me. Why warn me that the forest spelled death ifhe meant to kill me anyway?

“You’re not—you’re not going to kill me?”His eyes raked over my hair and dress with a withering look. “I suggest you go with

the servants to your room to bathe and change.” As he gestured toward the doors at thetop of the stairs, they creaked open.

There was no one behind them.A cool breeze whipped at my hair and tattered skirts. “Where are the—” I turned to

find the Beast gone, a lingering scent of smoke and rosewood the only sign he’d everbeen standing beside me.

And he’d avoided answering my question.My calves twitched. A little voice told me to bolt now, while I had the element of

surprise. I imagined the gravel flying out beneath my boots as I ran for the tree line.But then what? The urge to run was nothing more than the impulsive fear talking. I

knew what dangers lurked in the Folkwood. I wouldn’t make it more than a few stepsbeyond the tree line without a plan. I’d given Farmer Hawley my rowan beads and mysatchel full of tools. Apart from my knife, I had nothing to defend myself with.

Escape from the manor was just the first step. I intended to actually make it back toRosehill alive. And that meant taking the time to gather my thoughts, to formulate aplan.

I took a tight breath, then strode toward the house, my boots tapping softly againstthe pitted stone steps. As I got closer, I realized the columns weren’t just the color ofbirch trees, they were actual tree trunks, perfectly straight and thicker than any I’d seengrow naturally. The smooth, silver wood was marbled with brown, the roots knotting andcoiling like an elegant plinth. What fae magic could craft something like this?

I hovered on the threshold, peering into the shadowy interior. There was no butler or

maid waiting to greet me like at Ava’s mansion house. Where were these servants who’dopened the doors?

“Hello?” I called, my voice echoing through the vast foyer as I took a step inside.My boots scuffed against the smooth, white-and-brown stone tiles checkering the

floor. Arched floor-to-ceiling windows allowed thick shafts of light to lance through atregular intervals, illuminating the long halls and numerous doors that spread away oneither side of me. A vast staircase flowed down from the second level, and the dampscent of wet leaves filled the air.

A house this big should have been filled with bustling servants and voices. Music,footsteps, ticking clocks, the clatter of plates. But only silence greeted me. It feltabandoned, like time had no meaning here.

I craned my neck back, taking it all in. The wood vaulting across the ceiling grew likeliving beams, the twining banister seemed to have sprouted from the ground up, andcurtains of green ivy lined the windows in place of drapes. The curling ferns that threwintricate shadows across the floor weren’t potted—they grew from cracks between thestones.

I realized what it was about its quiet opulence that put me on edge. It felt like Ihadn't left the forest.

Laughter like chimes filled the silence, cutting through the sound of my pulse crashingin my ears. The tittering came from above me on the staircase and set all of the soft,downy hairs on the back of my arms on end.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, I mentally ran through what I knew about dealingwith the fae.

Never eat faerie fruit, nor drink faerie wine.Fae cannot lie, but this has made them masters of words, so never strike a faerie

bargain.Faeries of all kinds are weakened by iron and salt—Laughter pealed again, distant, like sighs on a breeze, interrupting the reassuring

lessons I was telling myself.“Hello?” I called out again, placing a tentative foot on the bottom step of the staircase

and tilting my head upward. Before my echo faded, one of the lanterns ahead of mehissed to life, a greenish flame glowing softly, like sunlight through leaves.

The great doors banged shut, and I jumped, twisting around. The entrance was stillempty, motes of pollen drifting in the shafts of light. Ahead of me, the next lantern on thestaircase came to life, and then the next.

The wisps of green light seemed to beckon me upstairs.I hesitated, chewing on my lip. In Rosehill, faerie lights were an obvious ploy to lure

humans into the forest at night. But I was already in the forest. I was already trappedwith the fae, and the Beast had told me to go with the servants…

“Hello?”There was no reply, but I took the stairs more confidently now, sure the lights and

sounds had purpose, leading me somewhere. The stairs opened up into a landing thatbranched into further gloomy hallways.

At the end of the hall in front of me, a door creaked open, a crack of natural lightspilling out into the dark corridor. More green-hued lanterns sparked to life, illuminatingthe wooden paneling and guiding me toward the room at the end.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I peered inside.The bedroom was vast, with a four-poster bed at its center that could have easily fit

me and both of my sisters. I stepped inside, hesitantly, trailing my fingertips over theglossy oak furniture that seemed to grow from the walls. I opened a closet stuffed tobursting with fine clothes, then moved to examine a pretty dresser, each drawer carvedwith intricate flowers.

It was a lavish prison.I winced as I caught sight of myself in an antique gold mirror. My dark tresses were so

snarled around the crown of thorns I’d hastily assembled in the forest, they looked like abird’s nest.

I wandered past a crackling fireplace to the small table and chairs placed in front oftall windows. A jug brimming with wildflowers filled the center of the table, the source ofthe faint floral scent lingering in the chamber.

My ears pricked at the sudden sound of running water. When I turned around, thecloset doors and drawers, which I’d left open, were neatly closed once more. The tablebumped against my hip, and I took a quick step away.

The wildflowers drooped over the edge of the jug, petals that had just been brightnow yellowing and crispy. The fallen petals had scattered across the table, their floralsmell cloying with rot.

Realization shuddered through me.The servants were here...they were just invisible. Glamoured so that I couldn’t see

them.I placed one palm flat against the table to steady myself. The thought of being

surrounded by unseen Little Folk set my nerves on edge, but I supposed all they’d doneso far was light lanterns and close a few drawers. I eyed the dead flowers. If they servedthe Beast, they would answer to him. And for whatever reason, he clearly didn’t want tokill me just yet.

I followed the sound of running water into an adjoining chamber. Steam rose from avast porcelain bathtub, wafting through the air and misting the windows. My body achedat the thought of easing into hot water, scrubbing away the grime and blood coating myskin, the heat easing the knots from my tense body.

What harm could come from taking a bath?I spent several minutes wincing as I unpicked the crown from my hair, then unlaced

my dress, placing the iron knife from the front of the bodice carefully to one side. Thedress was almost completely destroyed, the white fabric torn and discolored from mudand plant stains and blood. I stepped out of the floaty material, leaving it in a crumpledring on the floor. Good riddance. Luckily, the petticoat underneath had fared much better,so I would still have something to wear that hadn’t come from a magical closet.

Naked, I leaned over the bathtub. Warm steam caressed my cheeks, and I steppedover the side, sliding my leg into the water.

I shrieked, yanking back so hard I almost toppled over. Bright pain lanced up my leg,and it took me a second to realize I hadn’t been scalded. Quite the opposite. I dipped myhand tentatively into the water, which was now ice cold.

Snickering laughter filled the air, and irritation flowed over me like the goosebumpsprickling my skin.

“I suppose I won’t be bathing, then.” I spoke out loud to my invisible tormentors,trying to quell the frustration stirring in my stomach with aloof words. These fae no doubtwanted to get a rise out of me. I splashed a little of the freezing water on my face towash off the worst of the blood, then pulled my thin petticoat back on, stepping warilyback into the bedroom with the iron knife clutched in my grip.

A dress had appeared on the bed. It was a soft, gray-lilac material, an almost identicalshade to my eyes, silver embroidery glimmering in the afternoon light streaming from thewindows. I set down the knife to pick it up. As I lifted the dress, a jolt of painspiderwebbed up my arm. I pulled my hand away with a hiss, a drop of ruby bloodbeading on the calloused pad of my thumb. Glancing down, I caught the flash of a pinembedded in the dress. Turning the gown carefully in the light, I realized the wholegarment was dotted with sharp pins.

“Delightful,” I muttered to the invisible fae, who had no doubt gathered to watch mebecome a human pincushion. I tossed the gown aside, sucking the blood from my thumb,then paused as a note fluttered to the ground. I picked it up, eyeing the dark-green waxseal imprinted with a circle of thorns.

I pursed my lips and opened it. A simple line of text greeted me, the handwriting sospiky it was almost illegible.

You will join me for dinner at sundown.I read it through several times, my brow furrowing. Why would the Beast ever think I

would join him for dinner? Why would he want me to, for that matter?I tossed the note back onto the bed. A steaming pot of tea had appeared on the small

table where the dead wildflowers had been, and I glared at it. While steam drifted fromits spout, and the scent of nettle and lemon verbena wafting through the room made mystomach growl, I had no doubt that the second I took a sip, it would turn into pond wateror something just as disgusting.

I leaned against the edge of the window, staring out at the driveway and the distantforest. Tricky, invisible Little Folk would make my time here miserable and hinder anyfuture plans of escape. But from my studies with Sage, I knew what I needed. Primroseswould allow me to see through any faerie glamour. And I thought I knew what else mighthelp... Hopefully some of the Little Folk working in the mansion were brownies and couldbe won over with a saucer of milk. Small trifles might not work on Court Fae, like theBeast, but these invisible servants should be much easier to influence.

I added milk and primroses to my mental list of items to source. If I wanted anychance of getting away from here, I probably needed both.

I wandered back to the dresser to retrieve a silver hair brush I’d noticed on my initialinspection and, for want of anything else to do, began working through my tangledwaves.

I had been prepared to fight to protect Ava, even to try to rescue her had she beenchosen, but it had seemed so impossible to me that I might be the one to be spiritedaway from my family. From Rosehill. Where my people needed me.

I still had no idea what the Beast wanted from me...but I was sure if I were cleverenough about it, I could escape before ever having to find out.

I perched on the edge of the bed, hugging my knees to myself. The heat of the sun hadleft the room, and I was cold in just my thin petticoat, but I didn’t want to put onanything from the closet in case I found it filled with pins again, or poison ivy, or woodnettles…

Despite my numb fingers and toes, I felt calmer after a few hours of quietcontemplation. I had a plan. Tomorrow, in the daylight, I would study the grounds andget my bearings. Just because we’d never seen any of the other girls return to Rosehill, itdidn’t mean it was impossible. I would gather the things I needed to escape. Back home,to where my family was. Where my life was. Where I was needed to keep the town safefrom the Folkwood.

Outside, the sky had darkened like a bruise. It must be early evening. Laurel wouldknow I’d been taken by now, and so would my father. What were they doing? Perhapsthey were still looking for Nairn. A stab of guilt twisted in my stomach at the thought thatmy last act in Rosehill had been to lose a child to the Folkwood. After I’d been chosen atthe Tithe, no one would ever say that I was to blame...but the púca had still taken him.And it was likely he’d never return. Maybe the púca would take even more people, nowthat the town was without a greenwitch—

A bang shuddered the door, and I jumped upright, grabbing the iron knife. I wasreminded uncannily of earlier in the morning, which already felt like a lifetime ago, whenFarmer Hawley had hammered at my door.

“Open up!”It was the Beast’s voice. I’d locked the door earlier, but I knew that wouldn’t bar him

from coming in if he really wanted to. I padded across the room on bare feet and openedthe door a fraction, the iron knife clutched behind my back.

“Yes?” I forced a polite smile to my face, despite the glower that greeted me. He’dchanged from earlier. Now he wore a green shirt so dark it was almost black, the materialiridescent like a raven’s wing. The angles of his face seemed harsher in this light, theshadows sharp against his cheekbones.

Something like distaste flickered in his eyes. “You’re not even dressed.”I glanced down at the thin, sheer petticoat clinging to my body. I was very much not

dressed. It took every ounce of restraint not to fold an arm across my chest to protectmyself from the Beast’s clawing gaze.

“I thought I might—get some sleep,” I faltered.His hands gripped at the door frame on either side of me, so hard the wood seemed

to splinter below his grasp.

For the first time, I noticed the dark tattoos on his skin, a narrow band of thornswinding across the back of his palms, twining up his wrists, and disappearing up into hissleeves. I wondered how far they went.

“You don’t deign to grace me with your presence at dinner?”All thought of the Beast’s tattoos dispersed at the lethal tone behind his too-polite

words. He’d seemed bored earlier when he’d dropped me off at the front of the house.But now he seemed angry.

I took a steadying breath before answering, my damp palm sliding over the iron knifeI gripped behind my back. “It was impossible to dress for dinner when I was greeted withservants I couldn’t see, a freezing cold bath, and a dress full of pins.”

A muscle ticked in the Beast’s jaw as he glared into the room beyond me, his darkbrows furrowing. When his gaze returned to me, he smiled in a way that flashed hisgleaming canines. A tremor ran through me, and I fought to press down the fear bubblingin my chest.

“Be that as it may, all of the other girls managed to make it down for dinner on theirfirst night.” His lips curled into something between a scowl and a smirk. “And fullyclothed, too.” His eyes dropped to my ribcage, as if he could hear my heart thunderingbeneath my petticoat.

A cold sweat gathered at the base of my spine at the mention of the other girls. Girlswho were most likely dead at his hands.

“Then perhaps you could dine with one of them instead,” I replied in a polite voice,shutting the door with a click and locking myself in.

C H A P T E R S I X

THE DOOR into the kitchens swung open with a loud creak, disguising the growl of mystomach.

I placed a hand over my belly, imploring my body to stop betraying me like this. Afterskipping dinner yesterday, hunger had kept me awake long into the night. This morning Iwas famished, and the wafts of steaming bread and the sputter of mushrooms fried inbutter and thyme made my mouth water.

Peering inside the kitchens, it was no surprise to see that in spite of food lining thesurfaces, the rooms appeared empty of servants who must have prepared it.

More invisible servants. I resolved again to find some primroses as soon as I could. Iwould have a hard time planning to escape if my every move was being tracked byunseen Folk.

“I’m coming inside,” I announced from the doorway, “and I shall be very unhappy if Idiscover the floors have been waxed just in front of my feet, or bowls disappear themoment I leave them on the counter, or fat from the mushrooms mysteriously stains mydress. Else I shall tell the Beast,” I added.

Suspecting this wasn’t enough to deter the Little Folk from their mischief, I enteredthe kitchens anyway, just as my stomach let out another loud grumble. The fires werealready lit, even so early in the morning, so I placed the lantern I’d carried here on amoss-covered table by the door. I cast a quick glance around. Like everything I had seenyesterday, the kitchens were clearly the result of magic, run through with the lingeringtouch of the Folkwood.

The only window was at the very top of the far wall, barely visible while it was stilldark outside, but I could still make out thin, creeping vines slithering down the wallbeneath it, studded with light-green buds. The roaring fireplace cast the arches andpillars around the rest of the room in a dancing light, almost—but not quite—disguisingthe fact that the carved floral stonework wound in and out of real flowers.

My gaze slipped from the decor to the long, wooden tables running down the length ofthe room, and I groaned at the sight of freshly baked bread, pools of sticky honey, vats ofgolden butter dotted with tiny, sugared violets. A copper pot of porridge heated over thefire, a jug of thick cream beside it. The mushrooms still spat and hissed on a seemingly

abandoned stove, the earthy, savory smell making me giddy.But I wasn’t here for food.Creeping through the eerily quiet kitchens, I studiously ignored the fae delicacies that

I passed, recalling children’s stories about girls who ate faerie foods and were boundforever to the Kingdom of Faerie. It was already bad enough that I was wearing clothesgiven to me by the Beast—not the fine dress left out for me last night, but a simplepinafore I had found in one of the closets—but still, who knew what even taking the dresscommitted me to?

Thank Folk it was me the Beast had taken and not Ava. She wouldn’t have had thefaintest ideas of the various dangers of the fae. At least I knew what to avoid and who tobefriend...

I paused, tapping one foot against the stone floor. Until I could find primroses, I wasdetermined to win one of the servants over to my side. If I could tempt a brownie intohelping me, it would do more than keep the room tidy and make sure there were no pinsin my dress. It could help me source the items I needed to escape and make it homealive. And to charm a brownie into my service, I needed milk.

I glanced between a row of wooden shelves that appeared to be growing directly outof the wall, holding empty pots and pans, and a line of tiny doors shaped like mushroomsat the far end of the room, which I was definitely too tall to pass through. Did everythingin this folkdamned house look like it had been charmed from the forest floor? There wasno sign of anything that looked remotely like a pantry.

Resigning myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to find any milk, I sloped back over tothe stove, helping myself to the jug of cream beside the porridge pot and pouring it into asaucer. Maybe this will do even better than milk. I drizzled some honey on top beforeretreating to the door with the saucer.

I paused beside the lantern, still lit, still just where I’d left it.“Thank you,” I said awkwardly.It can’t hurt to be polite. Even if I felt a bit foolish addressing an empty room. Better

that than more pins sticking in my fingers.A gentle breeze followed me back out into the corridors, and I could’ve sworn I heard

the light, tinkling sound of bells carried with it. Are they laughing at me?Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that the Little Folk had found my efforts in the

kitchens funny, I hastened back through the mansion, careful not to spill a drop of thethick cream.

I didn’t really need the lantern on my walk back to my rooms, the dawn light finallyspilling in through the windows. Just as it had done yesterday, the manor seemed willingto lead me where I wanted to go, lanterns flickering to life and doors opening ahead ofme. I squared my shoulders, determined not to let the Little Folk unnerve me.

Turning into the passage leading back to my rooms, I slowed. There was a kind ofatmosphere hanging in the air, a swell of unbridled power, a heavy pressure that was fastbecoming all too familiar.

Magic. Powerful magic, at that.I paused, unwilling to take another step until I’d calmed my breath, gathered my

thoughts. I clutched the saucer, breathing in and out for a moment. You can’t ignore theBeast forever.

I took a tentative step around the corner.My grip tightened on the saucer. It was hard not to be affected by the long, lean grace

of the Beast’s body, the richness of the colors of his skin and hair. The air around himseemed to hum with the raw power he wielded, and again this looked like a kind ofshadow to me, a blurring around his edges. I blinked several times, wondering if it wasan illusion, but the shadow remained.

Straightening my back, I took another slow breath. “Good morning,” I announced inmy calmest voice, even as my heart rattled uncontrollably.

Can he hear it? I knew fae senses were sharp, but I had no idea the extent of whatthey could pick up on.

The Beast whirled, dropping his hand from the door to my room, and my breathcaught in my throat as I was struck all over again by his savage beauty, marred by theink-black tattoos that spiraled over his skin.

For a moment, I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face, raking over the porcelain skin,the sharp cheekbones, the glowing eyes. His perfect, inhuman grace was both awe-inspiring and terrible to look at, as though if I stared at him for too long, I’d never lookaway again.

Then his gaze dropped to the saucer of cream in my hands.He arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing outside your rooms at this hour?” He

didn’t take his eyes from the saucer.I regarded him for a moment, then asked evenly, “Might I ask what you’re doing trying

to get inside my rooms at this hour?”His head snapped up, his lip lifting into a smirk that revealed sharp canines. The

rattling in my chest drummed faster.“There are some things I have to tell you.”What things? A tremble stole into my hands. Was this the part where the Beast

explained how he was going to kill me? About why none of the girls ever returned toRosehill after they’d been taken?

He glared at me when I didn’t respond, his hazel eyes narrowing as they met mine. “Iwas perfectly prepared to tell you everything over dinner yesterday. You refused tocome.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” I said in my politest voice, just as my stomach rumbled again.The Beast’s lips parted, a retort clearly burning the tip of his tongue, before he let out

a long breath. “I’m here to show you why you’ve been brought to my Court,” he said veryslowly, through gritted teeth.

I swallowed.“Why I’ve been brought to your Court?” I repeated. “Surely it’s just—the Tithe—”“If you come with me,” he said in a cold, silky voice, “instead of questioning my every

word, then I can show you. And then, believe me, I’ll be more than happy to leave you toyour own devices, petal.”

Petal?

My mouth twisted, my palms growing damp. What in the Kingdom of Faerie could hepossibly want me to do for him that the fae couldn’t do better? He already had a mansionfull of servants. I cringed inwardly at the thought of being asked to act like some sort ofcourt jester. Caught off-guard, I didn’t even have my iron knife on me.

“Just one moment…” I slipped past him, my breath slowing as I skimmed his tallframe, the wave of power as I came close to him leaving me dizzy.

My hands still shaking, I pressed open the door to my room and placed the saucer ofcream on the floor inside with a clatter.

I hesitated there for the briefest moment, thinking rapidly. I couldn’t fetch my knifewith the Beast standing right behind me. I likely didn’t have much choice but to go withhim now. But if the other girls had all been brought here for the same purpose...I mightfind out what had happened to them, all of the missing Rosehill girls. Besides, if I wantedto get my bearings, I’d have to explore the manor sooner or later.

Feeling buoyed by the promise of discovery, I stood up straight and forced myself tolook up at the Beast. “Where are we going?”

“Since you’ve finally deigned to come with me, you’ll soon see.”My lips thinned, irritation swelling up. “The sun hasn’t even risen.” I stopped, taking

another slow breath before I added in a lighter tone, “Besides, I don’t even know yourname.”

“Have you thought to tell me yours?”My lips pursed. I wanted to snap and remind him there had hardly been time for

formal introductions after he’d stolen me away at the Tithe and then disappeared afterthe vaguest instructions. “It’s Aster Wilden.” I tugged my fingers through my curls whenhe continued to regard me coolly without speaking. “And yours?”

An inner battle reflected in the Beast’s eyes before he finally spoke. “You can call meThorne.”

How fitting.Without waiting to see whether I was following, he turned and strode back along the

corridor.With nowhere else to go, I followed him.

I remained a few paces behind the Beast—Thorne—wincing every time my stomach letout another ominous grumble.

He’d led me straight out of the mansion house, through huge glass doors that openedonto a stone balcony spilling down onto lawns that stretched out below, and stalkedstraight along the path that cut through the middle of them.

Great. I was starving, and it looked like we were headed for a sunrise tour of thegrounds. Just what I needed on an empty stomach and not enough sleep.

On top of everything, I was still finding it difficult not to listen to the human instinctthat urged me to bolt, to put as much distance between myself and the fae stridingahead of me as I possibly could.

Every bone in my body screamed it: Predator. Danger. Run.But I knew that was foolish. I had no weapons, and anyway, I could never outrun the

fae. Not to mention I’d probably pass out if I tried to run with these waves of hungerwashing over me.

I only had my wits, so for now, I had no choice but to keep putting one foot in front ofthe other, following in the Beast’s wake and trusting he wasn’t about to make me dancein metal shoes hot from the fire, or force me to eat rotting leaves enchanted to look likecake, or grind my bones into flour.

We moved straight past a second path crossing ours, leading toward what looked likean orchard to our left and an ornamental lake to the right, until we reached a large,walled kitchen garden at the end of the lawns. Twisting my head, I examined it withinterest. It had the same collection of vegetables and herbs I would expect to see in anykitchen garden, but instead of being contained within beds, it looked as though thevegetables were growing wild. Like we’d just happened to stumble across a patch of earlyasparagus, growing right next to a smattering of snow peas, both tangled with weeds.

I glanced up at the silent fae still striding swiftly on ahead of me, evidently notremotely interested in the gardens we were passing through. I supposed even if thisgarden was tended to by the fae, it was unlikely Thorne himself ever stepped out to pickfruit and vegetables. No doubt he thought it was beneath him.

We emerged on the other side of the kitchen garden, where the grounds dissolvedinto meadows running as far as the border with the Folkwood, broken only by one of thetallest oak trees I’d ever seen. Up ahead of us, a curved, stone wall stretched toward thesky, casting a dark shadow across the long grasses. Stone gargoyles crouched on the wallat intervals, gazing down at whatever was beyond it.

A shiver skittered down my spine.“What is that?” I asked, finally breaking the silence between us.Thorne just shot me a disdainful look over his shoulder and walked on more quickly,

striding up to a narrow door set into the wall and pushing it open with a loud screech thatset my teeth on edge.

My steps slowed as I tried to get a glimpse of what was inside, but the bulk of theBeast’s body was too great to see around, so I stepped back again. I smoothed down myskirts, preparing myself for whatever was contained within. It might be a true fae beast,waiting to tear me limb from limb. Or the walls might be laced with some powerful magic,which would keep me trapped within the circle for a hundred years.

“Are you just going to stand there?”My head snapped up. Thorne had already stepped inside the walls, where he waited

with a faintly annoyed expression on his face.I stared at him, too caught up in my imaginings for a moment to move.“Hollow hills,” he snapped. “I seem to have picked the slowest human in Rosehill.” His

fingers drummed against the stone wall, the tattooed briars that reached to his fingertipsmoving like they were dancing in a breeze. “Come on in. I won’t bite.”

Giving him my most dignified look, I stepped to one side, shooting a cautious glancethrough the arched entryway. I froze.

Inside the walls was an enclosed garden.What must once have been very neat beds were now tangled and overgrown. A single

path led through the mass of briars and weeds, forming a complex design that wove itsway around the circle and eventually into the very center. A labyrinth.

Although most of the plants looked almost past recovery, the faint perfume in the airand the sharp thorns growing on every stem told me exactly what I was looking at.

This had once been a rose garden.Thorne let out a pointed sigh. “Hurry up.”Bunching up my skirts in my hands to try to prevent them snagging on the

overgrowth, I stepped inside the walls, turning to take it all in. Climbers covered theentire inside of the walls, knotted plants filled the beds, and in the very center of thelabyrinth, the thorns wound up and around a tall arch.

I finally looked back at Thorne. “Who let such a beautiful rose garden fall into a statelike this?” It was an effort to keep the disapproval from my voice.

Something like surprise flickered behind the Beast’s eyes before it was replaced by theusual aloof expression stamped across his face. “This is your task,” he said shortly. “Thisis the reason why you’re here.”

His words resounded through the garden.I swallowed, my mouth drying. It seemed impossible to believe this was to be my

task, and yet…“I’m here to be your gardener?”“You’re here to sort out this state, as you called it. That is what you must do while

you’re here. Create the perfect rose garden.”I chewed on my lip, pretending to look around the garden again as I allowed his

words to sink in.Ava had been right after all. The Beast really was interested in the flowers we wove

into our crowns. No wonder he’d almost picked my sister, with her perfect circlet of roses.The slightest frown creased my forehead. So then why choose me instead? My crown

had been far from perfect after I’d lost my temper in the forest—I winced at the memoryof allowing myself to give in to my emotions—a mess of briars and thorns stolen from theFolkwood.

If Thorne wanted someone who could create a perfect garden, it didn’t make anysense… Even if he’d accidentally ended up with the one person in Rosehill who mightactually be able to revive such a neglected garden. There was no way he could haveknown I was the town greenwitch, and I wasn’t about to tell him now. The less he knewabout me, the better. Perhaps he’d keep less of a watch on me if he thought I wascompletely useless, and it would be easier to sneak away.

“There’s a potting shed beside the kitchen garden we passed through,” the Beastintoned. He glanced back at the arched doorway, as though he couldn’t wait to get out ofhere. “You’ll find all the tools you need in there. If you need anything else, ask theservants. But they won’t be able to help you with the garden itself. None of them canenter the walls of the rose garden. This is your task alone. You have the light months ofthe year to complete your task. Six months. Until the Autumn Equinox.” He rattled

through the instructions, once again making me all too aware he’d done this many timesbefore. “Any questions?”

I swallowed. “What if I can’t do it in the next six months? What will happen to me?What happened to the other girls who came here? Did they work on this garden too?”

Thorne tore his gaze from the archway to look back at me. “That’s not your concern.”I forced myself to give the Beast a gracious smile. “If they previously worked on this

garden, then I think it is. What if something they’ve done in the garden helps me with mytask?”

“Fine. All of the other girls worked on this garden,” he said flatly. “Not one of themcompleted it before the Autumn Equinox.”

My smile faltered. “What happened to them?”“And just how does that help you with the garden?” he asked in a soft voice, daring

me to keep questioning him.I dropped my gaze. If the Beast wouldn’t tell me what had happened to the other

girls, I assumed it was nothing good. I already knew none of them had returned toRosehill. At best, they were locked up somewhere within the Court; at worst…they weredead.

As I struggled for words, my stomach interrupted us with another loud rumble.The Beast gave me a disparaging look before turning to stalk out of the gates. “I

suggest you eat something before you start work.”A fire flickered in my chest. “I’m not sure that joining you for breakfast will—”“Did I invite you?” Thorne slowed and flashed a mirthless smirk over his shoulder.

“With manners like yours, I’d rather dine alone.”Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m not stupid. If I eat your food, I’m stuck here.”His eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you think? Well, the food won’t hurt you. But

you’re not going anywhere soon, so you might want to build your strength up.” He ran hiseyes over my body with an expression that made my toes curl. “You look soft. Not likesomeone used to outside work.”

The heat in my cheeks spread to my neck, my stomach, boiling in my blood.I was not soft. I was a greenwitch.A bland smile spread across my face, and I forced myself to relax my arms so that

they hung loosely at my sides. I needed to play along so he wouldn’t know I was planningto run away as soon as it was feasible. “I think you’ll find my work sufficient.”

At those words, the smirk faded from the Beast’s face, and he turned away oncemore. “Eat something. You’re no use to me half starved.”

Without another look in my direction, he stepped out of the rose garden anddisappeared in a swirl of black smoke.

C H A P T E R S E V E N

I STARED out across the lake, my gaze fixed on the small island at its center. The waterglittered in the cool spring sunshine, the vibrant blue skies reflected in its surface.

I pressed my lips together. The island was the only part of the estate I hadn’texplored yet—apart from the arbor wing, which the Beast had told me was as dangerousas the Folkwood. And I had no desire to risk venturing into either until I was fullyprepared.

In spite of being told that my task here was to tend the rose garden, I’d spent thebest part of a week mapping out the house and its grounds, trying to get a sense of mybearings. As well as noting all of the points where the entrance to the forest couldn’t beseen from the manor. No matter that I’d been given a task to complete while I was here;I had no intention of staying long enough to help the Beast, even with something astrivial as roses.

If I were going to escape unseen, I needed to find out as much as I could about myprison and my captor. Figuring out where everything was so I no longer had to rely on themischievous servants lighting lamps to guide me around the house had seemed like agood place to start.

The map I’d been inking onto a roll of parchment rustled in my hands, a slight breezefluttering its edges, and I gripped onto it more tightly. So far, I’d found nothing to tell mewhat had become of the other girls—of what my own fate might be if I failed to escapeand still found myself trapped here in six months’ time. I wouldn’t dwell on that, though. Istill had plenty of time to formulate a plan to get back to my family. In the meantime, Iwould be as thorough as possible with my search of the estate.

Swallowing hard, I dropped my gaze to the wooden rowing boat moored at thewater’s edge, bumping against the wooden decking with a soft thunking sound. A knottightened in my stomach. Luckily, the jetty was on the north bank of the lake, the sidefarthest from the manor. I glanced around. Behind me, the meadow was empty, only afew early spring flowers sprinkled throughout the dull grass. The Folkwood rose darkly tomy left.

I crouched down, scrutinizing the boat more closely. Pale-blue paint covered thewood, bright red roses painted onto its sides. A pair of oars rested on top of the narrow,

wooden seat across the middle, a thick length of rope looped around a mooring post atthe water’s edge.

The knot in my stomach grew tighter. I’d left mapping out the island until last onpurpose.

Growing up in the isolated, forest-bound town of Rosehill, I’d only ever seen boats inbooks. If it capsized, I couldn’t swim.

“You won’t have to swim,” I muttered to myself. “You just have to row over there.”I wished I believed my own words.Slowly rolling up the parchment and tucking it inside my satchel, I hesitated before

placing the bag delicately inside the little rowing boat. I didn’t want to wet thepaper...but leaving it on the banks risked the Little Folk getting hold of it. No doubt I’dreturn to find that the ink faded away when I picked it up, or that everything on it wasnow magically back to front, or that they’d folded the parchment into a tiny vessel andsailed after me. It would have to come with me.

Steeling myself, I put one foot in after my satchel, then the other, my stomach flippingas the boat swayed beneath me.

I arranged myself on the hard seat, grasping the rough wooden oars before glancingup at the island. It’s not so far away.

Determined, I pulled the rope from the post and used the second oar to push off fromthe banks in a swish of water.

I floated out into the lake, the strange, weightless feeling of being out on the watermaking me feel slightly sick. I fumbled with the second oar, getting it into position beforetwisting around to see where I was going.

I gave the oars an experimental pull, and my stomach turned again as the boat slidacross the water. It suddenly seemed impossible I’d be able to navigate this tiny woodencontraption over to the island.

Still, I kept pulling at the oars, an unfamiliar burn forming over the fronts of myshoulders and between my shoulder blades at the repetitive movement. I might not bemoving the boat in the straightest line, and I might not be moving as fast as I’d like tobe, but at least I was moving.

I glanced behind me again, trying to work out how long I’d have to keep rowing—andfroze.

In the middle of the lake, someone was flailing in the water.One of the servants?I hesitated. None of the servants had revealed themselves to me yet. Could this one

be in trouble? I had no idea what they looked like beneath their glamours.I squinted, trying to make it out. All I could see was a mess of shining dark hair, the

flash of white hands as they came closer to the surface. It looked human, and like it wasstruggling, not swimming…

“Hello?” I called tentatively. “Do you need help?”It didn’t reply.I fumbled with the oars, awkwardly pulling on one of them to adjust my course, and

moved the boat closer, continuing to glance over my shoulder. As I grew closer, I could

make out a pale face beneath the mop of dark hair tangled with weeds just above thewaterline. It seemed impossible, but the shape of a human body was dimly visiblethrough the water, arms and legs moving frantically. Dark eyes met mine, and the man’smouth opened as if to cry out before he dropped beneath the surface, the water closingover his head.

I dropped the oars, twisting to lean over the side of the boat, trying to see where he’dgone.

The sparkling blue water rippled with my panicked reflection.Had he just swum underwater, or was he drowning? I couldn’t dive in to help him, not

without drowning myself. But I couldn’t just let him die like this.I screwed up my eyes against the glare of the light on the water, but it was too

difficult to make out anything.“Are you okay?” I called in a high-pitched voice. Would he be able to hear me

underwater? “Should I fetch—”The boat tipped.I flew forward, banging my knees against the side.Water crashed over me, and my breath caught as I was drenched in a wave of

shocking cold.I grasped for the side of the boat just as it rocked back in the other direction.I slipped, falling backward. My head cracked against the wood as another shower of

water rained down, the cold making me inhale sharply.Stars spun before my eyes.Coughing and spluttering, I scrabbled for a purchase on the boat as it continued to

rock back and forth, showers of ice-cold water cascading over me.My trembling, freezing fingers finally met with the edge of the boat, and I clutched

onto it for dear life. My head throbbed, my limbs shaking.I couldn’t do anything apart from cling onto the rough, slippery wood for fear I would

fall into the water and drown.I squeezed my eyes shut.Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the boat stopped rocking.What’s happening?One trembling hand still grasping the edge of the boat, I shifted, opening my eyes and

looking wildly around. Nothing.Then a cold hand closed over mine, and a sharp pain raked down the back of my

hand.My head snapped up.The man from before—the faery—crawled half into the boat, his skin slick with water,

dark hair and glistening green weeds stuck to his face.He gave a wicked smile, revealing a row of pointed, black teeth.The strength dissolved from my limbs.“Hello, dearie,” it said in a hissing, wet voice.My knife—I needed my knife.Not taking my eyes from the faery even for a second, I clutched at my sodden bodice,

reaching for the iron knife hidden within.Then its eyes widened, fear wrought across its face as its gaze fixed on something

behind me.“Excuse me.” A polite voice right by my shoulder made me let out a yelp.I twisted, squinting into a golden light.The shape of a man—another fae—was just visible through a blindingly bright golden

glow.Realizing that I’d taken my eye off the original faery, I hastily twisted back around—to

find it gone from the boat and back in the water, dark eyes fixed on the fae behind me,hands clutching the wood.

I shuddered as I realized its fingertips ended in sharp, black claws. My gaze droppedto the back of my hand, where a deep scratch leaked red blood onto my skirts.

“I suggest you let go of the boat now,” the voice said, still perfectly politely.The faery let out another watery hiss, its eyes narrowing.“Now.”The light behind me glowed brighter, and then the water faery flung itself away from

the boat, diving back down into the clear water and swimming deeper and deeper until Icould no longer make out its shape.

I clung tighter to the edge of the boat as the metallic taste of magic coated mytongue. Water from the lake dripped from my hair, my wet skirts sticking to my legs.

“Are you all right?”My heart seemed to be trying to escape my chest, my breathing fast and ragged. I

realized I’d rammed myself up against the side of the boat, almost hanging over theedge, trying to get as far away from the strange, shining fae as possible.

I forced myself to loosen my grip on the edge, slowing my breath.A shiver ran through me as I looked back at my rescuer. He must be Court Fae, like

the Beast, dressed in rich fabrics run through with golden thread, almost human inappearance.

Almost.Like the Beast, this fae had an otherworldly beauty to him, his angled cheekbones and

full, soft mouth so perfect it was almost painful. He had the same long, elegant limbs, thesame grace and fluidity to his movements. His pointed ears were just visible beneathwaves of golden hair.

Unlike the Beast, no shadows blurred around his edges. He seemed to radiate abright, golden light. I felt as if I had been staring too long at the sun.

At least it didn’t seem like he was about to capsize us both. Rather, he picked up theoars and began rowing us back to shore, the boat sliding softly through the water.Whoever he was, he’d frightened off that faery.

I tore my gaze away from his shining beauty to stare at the place where the faery haddisappeared back into the water, faint ripples disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surfaceof the lake.

“Wh-what was that?” I stammered out.“That was the kelpie,” the fae answered. Now that the tap of my pulse had slowed,

my breathing returning to normal, I noticed the melodic quality of his voice, like the sighof the wind. “It lives in the lake. Thorne didn’t warn you?”

“No,” I said faintly. “No, he didn’t.” Of course he didn’t. But clearly this fae knew mycaptor. I regarded him curiously.

He smiled back as I stared at him, and a faint heat rose to my cheeks as his wide,sky-blue eyes met mine.

“Why were you out on the lake, anyway?”“I was trying to get to the island.” I attempted to sound sure of myself, twisting

around to look at the small island steadily growing farther away again, but even I couldhear the waver in my voice.

The fae laughed. “Whatever for?” His nose wrinkled. “You’re not one of those humanswho watches birds, are you?”

I frowned at him, confused. “What? No, I just…” My gaze dropped to the satchel as Ilooked for the reason I’d come out here in the first place. The leather was dark, assoaked through as I was.

So much for my map of the estate.The boat continued to glide swiftly across the water, away from the island. “Thorne

keeps a bevy of six black swans over there,” the fae explained, pulling at the oars. “I’mtold they’re quite unusual.”

The disappointment must have been obvious on my face, because his lips quirked up.“I take it that’s not what you were hoping to find?”

I paused. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was looking for.”He gave me an appraising look. “An honest human. That’s refreshing.”I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. But I wondered how he could talk about

humans with such familiarity. Where exactly had he come from…?“And you didn’t answer my earlier question.” He leaned forward, concern etched into

his perfect features. “Are you all right? The kelpie didn’t hurt you?”“I’m fine,” I said warily, dropping my gaze back to the scratch pulsing on the back of

my left hand. My head still throbbed where I’d hit it. After a beat, I eased myself onto thewooden bench so I sat facing the golden fae. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. Truly.” He flashed me a smile, his teeth brilliantly white. Unlike theBeast, I noticed, there were no pronounced canines.

I smiled weakly back. “And—sorry. Who are you?”“Forgive me!” The fae abruptly stopped rowing and extended a hand. I stared at the

long, fair fingers, golden rings adorning every one. “I should have introduced myself. I’mFaolan.”

Politeness prevented me from refusing his hand. Tingles ran up my arm as my handmet his, his skin infinitely softer than my calloused gardener’s palm. I hastily withdrewmy hand again, embarrassed.

“I’m a friend of Thorne’s,” he said, raking his golden hair back from his face before hepicked up the oars. “I saw you on the boat looking very much like a damsel in need ofrescuing.”

My hand went automatically to my bodice, where my iron knife was tucked away, out

of sight.I cursed myself for being so stupid. How could I have thought the faery in the water

was a human? None of the servants had revealed themselves to me—of course this hadbeen a trick. Just because the invisible faeries had done nothing worse than stick me withpins and shock me with a cold bath, it didn’t mean I should forget that all fae weredangerous.

Probably including the shining, golden male seated opposite me.Faolan gave me an inquisitive smile. “And your name..?”“Oh.” Silver bells, my cheeks are burning. “I’m Aster. I’m here…” I trailed off, figuring

that if he was a friend of Thorne’s, he already knew why I was here.“Because of the Tithe,” he finished for me. He gave a slight shrug of the shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”He didn’t sound particularly sorry, but then again, I hadn’t expected any fae to profess

sympathy for me at all. For any of the girls who’d been stolen away.“How did you get here?” I asked. “Onto the boat, I mean.” I hadn’t seen any of the

dark shadows that accompanied Thorne whenever he stepped into the air anddisappeared.

I gasped as a pair of glittering, iridescent wings flashed out behind him. He tuckedthem away again almost immediately. “Did that frighten you?”

I rubbed my arms up and down myself, trying to warm myself up. “A little,” I settledon, not wanting to give too much away.

“Then you can’t have seen very many other fae while you’ve been here,” Faolan saidin a low voice. “I suggest you cultivate a healthy fear of the fae, Aster. It will help yousurvive your time here.”

I remained silent. I might not have seen many of the fae while at this Court, but Iknew enough of the fae from my encounters in the Folkwood to know that they were tobe feared.

But I wasn’t about to confess to Faolan how stupid I’d been to let my guard down.“You said you’re a friend of Thorne’s…” I said. “I’ve not seen you before. Do you live

here?”“No.”“Does he have many friends who visit him here?”Faolan tilted his head to one side. “Do you want to meet more of Thorne’s friends?”“I didn’t say that. Where do you come from? Why have you come to visit him?”“Do I need an excuse to visit an old friend?”I frowned. “Do all fae answer a question with a question?”He inclined his head, a smile flickering across his face again in an expression that

seemed to make him shine all the more brightly. “Ask me your questions, and perhaps I’llanswer them.”

I made a show of leaning over the side of the boat, wringing out my hair, watchingthe droplets shower down onto the lake. Giving myself a moment to think.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again.“I told you, I’m a friend of Thorne’s. I usually visit around this time of year, after...the

winter. To check how he’s doing. The dark months of the year are hard for him.”I hardly think so. Not compared to what it was like for the humans of Rosehill over the

winter, facing the worst attacks from the Folkwood, months of reduced supply runs, andall with the knowledge that the Tithe was waiting for us at the end of it. That one of ourgirls would be taken.

And now they had to do it all without a greenwitch. My stomach twisted at the guilt ofnot being there to help them.

I chewed my lip. “Why did you help me?”“I saw you heading straight for the kelpie,” he said. “And it wouldn’t be good for you

or Thorne if you were eaten in your first week here.”I blanched. “It would have eaten me?”“Eventually.” Faolan gave another long, smooth pull on the oars. “It would probably

have drowned you first. They drag humans underwater before they eat them.”I paused, then asked, “Can I trust you?”“Should you trust any fae?”“No,” I said instantly. “You shouldn’t.”“Good.” Faolan’s smile broadened. “You’re learning fast. Don’t trust anyone. Even me.”The boat bumped gently against the shore, making me jump.“Although I notice you’re back to answering my questions with more of your own,” I

muttered. Just because fae couldn't lie, it didn’t mean they had to answer questionstruthfully. And Faolan seemed to have mastered the art of deflection.

He leaped nimbly from the boat onto the shore, then leaned back down to offer hishand.

I stared at it for a moment before reaching out, wondering if he’d had similarinteractions with any of my predecessors. “Did you meet the other Tithe girls?” I claspedhis hand in mine.

Faolan guided me off the boat, and my legs trembled as my feet met with solidground.

“I did.”“What happened to them?”“I don’t visit in the autumn.”My brow creased at yet another evasive answer, and I tried to tug my hand from his,

but he resisted, his hand tightening on mine.“We can talk more at dinner. I’m eating with Thorne at sundown. I’d like it if you

joined us.”My eyes narrowed. Why?Still, he’d given me more answers than Thorne ever had. I’d spoken more to Faolan in

the past few minutes than I had to Thorne since I’d gotten here.Perhaps I could find out more about the other girls and about the Court. It was worth

the risk of dining with two fae males.He smiled, as though he knew he’d convinced me. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”Dropping my hand, the shining, golden fae stalked away from the lake, leaving me

staring after him from the shore.

C H A P T E R E I G H T

MALE VOİCES DRİFTED down the corridor, along with the rich scent of wine and roasted meat.My steps slowed as I neared the dining room, a hot flush spreading over my skin. Faolanhad answered most of my questions earlier, and the opportunity to ask him more aboutthe other girls was too good to pass up… But the thought of spending my evening in thecompany of two Court Fae still made my skin crawl.

I smoothed down my skirts as I approached the door, glancing self-consciously downat them. My pinafore had been sodden after the kelpie incident, and my hand had stillbeen bleeding, so I’d had no choice but to go back to my rooms to change and to dressthe wound. When I’d stepped into my chambers, still dripping wet, I’d found warm waterin the bath and a pin-free gown laid out on the bed. Perhaps the dishes of cream I’d leftout every morning had finally succeeded in attracting a brownie into my service.

I ran my hands over the silky skirts again, a rich, just rained green that gleamed witha gold sheen in the candlelight. The bodice was cut in a deep triangle almost down to mywaist, the semi-sheer material embroidered with swirls of ivy in green and gold thread,which wound their way down the voluminous sleeves.

Patting my still-damp hair twisted up in a bun, I tried to ignore how much flesh was ondisplay, the cool air kissing my bare neck and shoulders. In this outfit, there had beennowhere to hide my iron knife, and besides, I’d be outnumbered and outmatched by twofae males. I was coming to dinner armed with my wits alone. Steeling myself, I pushedopen the doors to the dining room without knocking.

The room was large and ornate, silent save for a vast fireplace that seemed to be theonly thing illuminating the space. I loosed a tight breath as both fae males turned to faceme from either end of a long table.

While the Beast remained lounging back in his chair, shining black boots crossed up onthe table, Faolan stood in a smooth motion and executed a formal bow.

I curtseyed back almost out of habit.Tonight, the golden-haired fae wore a pale-blue shirt, the color of spring skies, and an

ornate navy waistcoat with shining gold buttons. His gaze caught mine as he rightedhimself, and I rose from my curtsey. I crossed the room, standing beside the middle ofthe table, my hands clasped behind my back.

“You…” Thorne’s eyes narrowed as he gestured toward me with his goblet, “were notinvited to dinner.” Unlike Faolan in his finery, the Beast was hardly dressed for dinner,wearing black from head to toe with his dress shirt half unbuttoned to reveal a sliver ofbare chest. I stood opposite the crackling fire illuminating the spread of food, the flickerof flames reflected in the gilt tableware. I felt exposed, standing between two Court Fae—creatures who could ensorcel me with a word or snap my neck in the blink of an eye.

Focusing hard on the fire, I reasoned away my fear. The Beast needed me for his rosegarden. And Faolan was Thorne’s friend.

Besides, the golden-haired fae had already saved my life once today.My lips lifted to give Faolan a faintly conspiratorial smile. “I was invited,” I corrected

Thorne, “just not by you.” I raked my gaze across the entire length of the table, whichwas wider than my courtyard garden back home, until it found the Beast. “I think you’ll beable to squeeze me in.” His dark hair was tied back from his face, revealing elongatedears.

He ignored me, turning his piercing gaze to Faolan. “You failed to mention you’dalready met my new guest, Faolan.”

“I did?”The Beast drummed his fingers on the table, shooting Faolan a humorless smile. “It

appears so.”Faolan ran a hand through his gleaming locks as an invisible thread of tension

stretched out between the two males. I shifted on the spot, my mouth dry.Then Thorne laughed loudly, white teeth flashing in the firelight as he tilted his head

toward me. “So it seems you’ll accept Faolan’s dinner invitation, and not mine.” Hedrained his goblet and slammed it down on the table with a lazy viciousness that madethe silverware rattle.

“Well... Faolan saved my life today. I think I owed him dinner, at least.”The Beast’s eyes darted toward Faolan once more, a brow raised.“The kelpie,” Faolan offered by way of explanation. “You should really keep it under

better control, Thorne. Especially with something so precious wandering around yourgrounds.”

A shadow passed over Thorne’s face as he turned a half-lidded gaze to me, noticingthe bandage on my hand. “Pull up a seat then, petal.”

I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to snap at the term of endearment.Both males sat in towering, throne-like chairs far taller and wider than they were.

There was no third seat at the table. Glancing around the room, I made a beeline for aplush chair pressed up against a wall. Despite its more modest size, the dark, polishedwood was still far too heavy to lift. I dragged it by the arm, the legs squealing across thewooden floor.

“Allow me.” Faolan appeared at my side, lifting the chair as if it weighed nothing.“Thank you.” I relinquished my grasp, lowering my voice and sidling closer. “Did you

dine with any of the other human girls?”He gave me a dazzling smile. “Oh, several, at the beginning. But not for years.

Thorne’s attitude to the girls changed over time.”

Before I could ask what that meant, Faolan turned back toward the table, and Ifollowed behind him, taking the opportunity to study the shimmering wings folded neatlyat his back, unsure what to make of his answer. He set the chair down opposite the fire,then retrieved an extra plate, goblet, and silverware from a grand wooden cabinetgrowing out of the wall.

I sat down. He’d placed me exactly in the middle of the table, although I wished he’dput me farther from the Beast, who was pouring himself another goblet of wine. Theoppressive weight of his magic reached me even from here, prickling like static in the air.I turned away from my captor, feeling his gaze boring into me.

“Wine?” Faolan leaned forward to hold out the jug. Bathed in the light from the fire,his features seemed more alight than ever, his skin golden, his gilt hair tousled butshining. The feel of sunshine clung to him, even in this dimly lit room.

This was no doubt the type of fae Ava and her friends had been expecting.“Aster?”“Hmm?”“I said, would you like wine?”I clutched the edge of the table. Faolan’s perfect features were distracting. “No, thank

you. Water is just fine.” I needed to remember he was a fae and that his beauty was partof the trap. He was just as much my enemy as the Beast, no matter how handsome hewas, or how politely he addressed me...or that he’d chosen to save my life.

“It’s not faerie wine, it’s just…” Faolan pursed his lips, inspecting the jug beforepouring the syrupy, blood-red liquid into his own goblet. “Wine wine.”

A half-smile lifted my lips. “Regardless, I don’t drink.” Drinking meant losing controlover your emotions. For a greenwitch, that could be dangerous. I reached out and pouredmyself a glass of water instead.

Thorne scoffed, but Faolan simply set down the jug with a smile. “To your goodhealth, Aster.” He tilted his goblet toward me. “And to no more underwater adventures.”He took a wry sip as I gulped down some water.

My gaze dropped to study the spread in front of me. An ornate vase, filled to burstingwith spring flowers, sat in the middle of a table groaning under the weight of more foodthan two fae males and a girl could ever hope to eat in a week, let alone for one meal.Steam rose from huge platters of roasted meats, sticky and shining with glaze,surrounded by thinly sliced vegetables arranged to look like flowers in full bloom. Tieredmetal stands displayed intricately decorated delicacies and tiny cakes, shallow dishesglistening with sauces dotted between everything else.

I arched an eyebrow. “Who made all of this? The servants?” Even with a small army ofinvisible servants, it would have taken all day.

I shot a sidelong glance at the Beast as he tore into a leg of meat, making the motionlook savage and graceful at the same time.

Faolan gave a light laugh. “The fae can’t cook like this. Fae can’t cook at all, actually.”The news didn’t surprise me. I couldn’t imagine either of the fae males seated beside

me anywhere near the kitchens. I cast another quick glance at the Beast to find himalready looking at me.

He ran his tongue around the corner of his mouth, his wine-stained lips crimson in thedim light.

No, I couldn’t imagine Thorne cooking...although I could easily imagine him hunting.I turned my attention back to Faolan. “Can’t cook, or don’t deign to cook?”“Can’t,” he clarified, a note of wistfulness entering his voice. “Cooking is Craft, which

only humans can do.”“Craft?” I repeated, unfamiliar with the term. I frowned at the food. There had been

no humans working in the kitchens any time I’d visited…“You’ve not heard of it?”“She’s never ventured beyond her little town of Rosehill,” the Beast drawled from the

far end of the table. “It’s no wonder she has such a limited view of the world.”Ignoring the prickle of irritation that ran down my spine, I kept my eyes on Faolan.

“What else is considered human Craft?”“Anything creative, which involves making something through skill,” he explained.

“Art, music, literature…”“The fae can’t make any of those things?” My brow creased. With such powerful

magic, it seemed absurd the fae would have to rely on humans for anything. Or be deniedthe pleasure of creating something through hard work and perseverance.

Faolan tilted his head. “We can still enjoy those things as the fruits of human labor.”“But you can’t make them yourself?”“You don’t need to pity us,” the Beast cut in, his voice cold. “We can still do plenty.

Eat, drink, hunt, dance. Make love...” His gaze never left mine.Faolan cleared his throat. “Do you have a particular Craft you’re interested in, Aster?”Caught off-guard, I answered truthfully. “Before I was taken, I was the town

greenwitch.”“And tell me, what exactly is a greenwitch?” Faolan asked. “Forgive me if that sounds

like an ignorant question.”“I use botanical ingredients to make things. My mentor taught me the properties of

different plants and how to grow and prepare them. In Rosehill, I mainly used them toheal or protect people from the Folkwood.”

He smiled. “It sounds quite magical.”I laughed. “You sound like one of the superstitious townsfolk. I only use the natural

properties of each plant. Humans can’t do magic. You know that.”Faolan exchanged a glance with Thorne, then took a long sip from his glass. “I’ve

learned never to underestimate the power of humans.” He set his drink down. “Especiallyone who is talented in her Craft.”

“I’ve yet to see any of her talents, in the garden or otherwise,” the Beast said, hiseyes raking over me. The corners of his lips curved up. “Unless, of course, you count herability to look ravishing in a fae gown.”

I resisted the urge to fold my arms across my chest. From his sarcastic tone, he wasteasing me. I turned my back to him yet again.

“If the fae can’t cook for themselves, then how was all of this food prepared?” I askedFaolan, changing the subject. I refused to let myself be drawn in by the relentless

goading of the Beast. Could it have something to do with the other Tithe girls? Had theybeen forced to cook for him as well as work in the garden?

“Have you been to the kitchens yet?” Faolan asked.I nodded, remembering the pans frying mushrooms and the freshly baked bread

steaming on the counter.“Then you’ll have seen. The kitchen is enchanted to perform certain cooking duties—

knives to chop, pans to sauté—all without any fae lifting a finger.”An enchantment. I’d assumed the room had been filled with the invisible servants. So

I’d just been speaking to an empty room before. Great.“Of course,” Faolan continued, leaning forward, “it’s all part of the cu—”“Rather than discussing the intricacies of how dinner has been prepared,” Thorne

interrupted, standing and moving along the table toward me, “perhaps you would do usthe honor of actually eating the food in front of you.”

Long fingers curled around the golden plate before me. The Beast stood close behindme, and I caught my breath at the heady feel of his magic, the scents of roasted meatand butter as he heaped food from the platters I’d just admired.

“Here.” He set the plate in front of me.His dark sleeve brushed close to my cheek as he leaned forward to pluck a mallow

flower from the vase in the center of the table, and I realized the black material wasstitched with small, crimson roses, like drops of dried blood.

“Enjoy the fruits of my kitchen’s labor.” His words slurred slightly as he presented mewith the mallow flower, and I wondered just how many jugs of wine had been consumedbefore I’d arrived.

I hesitated before snatching the flower from his hand then quickly shoving it to oneside of my plate. I lifted my knife and fork as he returned to his throne, the metal cooland heavy in my hands.

“So, Faolan,” the Beast drawled, crossing his boots back up on the table. “Before wewere interrupted, you were telling me news of the Sky Court.”

I sliced a mouthful of venison, which I could at least identify, and took a very tiny bite.The meat melted on my tongue with a burst of savory flavor, the unfamiliar spicesmaking my mouth tingle. I’d never tasted food like this in my life.

Suddenly aware of how hungry I was, I loaded up another forkful.“Actually...” Faolan gave Thorne a wry grin. “I seem to remember you told me you no

longer care for news of the other Courts and that I should keep my fae politics to myself.”The Beast gave Faolan a wolfish smile that made my muscles tense. “Perhaps I’ve

changed my mind, sky prince.”My ears pricked up. “Sky prince?”Faolan glanced back toward me. “I’m the heir to the Sky Court.” He inclined his head

toward the Beast. “And Thorne goes by Lord of the Folkwood. Many fae would be enviousof the company you’re keeping this evening.”

So Faolan was a prince… I stabbed another piece of venison, this time daring to swirlit in some sort of sauce made from crushed vermillion berries. The sharp, wintry tangcutting through the rich taste of meat was divine.

I could well believe the handsome, golden fae to my left was a prince. Just as I couldunderstand how the Beast was lord of this dark, miserable forest. My lips pinched. Thatwas hardly an achievement.

But before I could make my wry observation, a hot prickle ran across the back of myneck, dispersing my thoughts.

I dropped my fork, staring at the vase in the middle of the table, the fine china andflowers silhouetted against the dancing flames of the fire beyond slipping in and out offocus. A sensation like champagne bubbles filled my head, making my whole body feelweightless as thistledown.

Faolan and Thorne had begun talking again, but they sounded tinny and distant.What’s wrong with me?I slowly straightened the dropped fork beside my plate. Maybe the rich food wasn’t

agreeing with me. Blinking rapidly, I struggled to focus on what the fae males werediscussing.

“Perhaps you’d like to join me on a hunt in the Folkwood tomorrow?” the Beast askedFaolan. “You can see what I’m dealing with in the forest.”

“Hunting? Hunting what?” I demanded, sounding slightly breathless. “Humans?”Both males turned to me.I took a gulp of water, but it didn’t alleviate the hard lump building in my throat. I

remembered all the times I’d been in the Folkwood and what had happened the last time,with Nairn.

He was probably lying dead in the woods right now.A fae had been hunting in the woods then too.Hot tears welled in the corners of my eyes. “There’s a púca that roams the Folkwood,”

I burst out, focusing my attention on the Beast. Everything around him seemed to blur, asif hazy with heat. Or perhaps it was my tears. I clenched my fork, trying to ground myselfthrough the dig of metal into my skin. “Do you know it? It took a boy called Nairn on themorning of the Tithe. He was only eleven years old. I tried to help his father find him, butthere wasn’t enough time before...”

I dropped my gaze, the shiny, pink mallow flower beside my half-eaten plate of foodblurring as the tears began to fall. I failed him. Hot, wet drops pooled on my plate.

All the emotions I’d tried so hard to manage over the past week came flooding in.Farmer Hawley’s distress at losing his son. The Beast almost taking Ava at the Tithe. Thekelpie pulling me underwater...

And now I was trapped between two Court Fae who were discussing hunting humansfor sport. Folk knew what had happened in Rosehill while I’d been away. Who might besick or injured. Who might be having trouble keeping the Folkwood from encroaching ontheir lands. Who might have been taken into the forest...

I should have run when I had the chance.I tried to stumble to my feet as the room swam around me, the edges dreamlike and

wavering, but when I looked down, I still seemed to be sitting.“I know of the púca.” The Beast’s voice echoed oddly in my ears.My head snapped up. Of course Thorne knew the púca. For all I knew, the faery was

one of the Beast’s minions, stealing away humans for him.“That púca is a murderer,” I slurred, banging my fork against the table.The room fell silent. A hot flush had risen to my cheeks and stayed there, burning its

way across the bridge of my nose, the tips of my ears. “Nairn wasn’t the first humankilled. Just the most recent.” My voice rose a pitch. “Before that, it killed…” My throatgrew tight.

I could barely get the words out, even after all this time. I turned, half shouting atFaolan, “It killed Sage. She was my mentor. She taught me everything...”

Tears plinked faster onto my plate. I was crying now, really crying.No. I was sobbing. My chest heaved painfully.What’s happening to me?Faolan’s golden brows rose, then he looked down at my platter.Horror lit his features. “Stop eating, Aster,” he barked. He twisted to stare down the

table at Thorne. “You gave her faerie fruit?”The Beast shrugged, his lips lifting in a smirk. “If she wants to join a fae dinner, she

can eat fae food.”Faolan got to his feet, his expression dark. “You know how it affects humans.”“I wanted to see how it affected her,” Thorne replied mildly.“I’m a human,” I announced loudly, my sluggish brain struggling to process this

exchange. My cheeks were hot and damp. Had I been crying?I clenched my fists and looked down at my plate.The half-eaten berry sauce was smeared across my plate like a streak of fresh blood.Faerie fruit.“Besides, she had a stressful day. I thought she could use a release.” Thorne’s voice

was laced with amusement as it floated through the air.I wiped away tears with the back of my hand, pressing down the manic, bubbling urge

to laugh.My body felt light, my limbs ribbons, rippling away from me. I wanted to slip out of my

gown and dance, barefoot in the moonlight.Something was very, very wrong with me.I glimpsed Thorne’s beautiful, hard-angled face, and a new emotion surged through

me—hot, dizzy anger burning at my core.He had done this to me.My heart gave a kick as I pointed my dinner knife at Thorne, the silver smoldering in

the firelight. “You fae beast.” The words were slow and heavy on my tongue, so I triedthem again, enunciating. “You beast.”

He hadn’t moved an inch, but his eyes followed the tip of the blade. “Silver can’t harmme.”

Velvet thoughts whispered in my mind, goading me to hurt him.If I’d had my iron knife, I’d have launched at him. But all I had was this useless

silverware. I slammed the point of it through the pink petals of the mallow flower besidemy plate as unbridled rage flared through me, flooding from my body. “If you ever—”

The vase on the table exploded.

A spray of leaves and petals and water shot through the air, stems flying out in everydirection, into the fire, across the table, covering Thorne. Water pooled and dripped fromthe table. The floor seemed to shift beneath my feet, the table seesawing in a blur offiery light.

The Beast’s grinning face was the only constant, the room twisting around him, mystomach lurching with it.

Shadows crept along the edges of my vision, then darkness claimed me.

C H A P T E R N I N E

I WOKE to a pounding head and dry mouth. Downy pillows cradled me as I rolled to oneside with a groan, cracking an eyelid. I was in my room, the thin, green bed curtainspulled closed around the four posters. I propped myself up on my elbows, my headgroggy and swirling, my stomach taut with an emotion I couldn’t identify.

What happened to me?I jumped as a soft patter of feet scurried across the bedroom floor.I wasn’t alone.I sat up and strained to listen. It sounded too big for mice… The clink of china filled

the silence, a drawer sliding closed. It had to be one of the invisible servants.I squeezed my eyes shut as they filled with tears. I couldn’t handle any more of the

Little Folk’s tricks, not in this fragile state.Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I took a shaky breath, then drew back

the bed curtains. Weak dawn light streamed in through the windows, and I threw a handup, shielding my face with a groan.

When I squinted an eye open, a twiggy little silhouette greeted me. It hung from thedrapes to crack open the window, letting in a curl of cool morning air.

“I can see you,” I exclaimed, shocked that one of the servants had shown itself to me.The creature moved into the light. It was no taller than my knee, with thin, spindly

limbs and dark-brown skin that gleamed like polished wood. Straggly, mouse-brown hairflowed around its bat-like ears and down its back.

It looked up at me, smoothing down a yellow-green tunic crocheted from spongyclumps of moss. Then it hopped from the curtains onto the chair, reaching out to pour acup of whatever tea was brewing in the teapot. Without spilling a drop, it jumped backdown, offering me the saucer and nodding encouragingly.

This must be the brownie who’d accepted my cream. The one who’d tidied my roomand left out the ivy gown last night. Out of all of the Little Folk, brownies were the mostlikely to help humans. But I also knew they were easily offended, and I didn’t want tomake an enemy of this one.

“Thank you,” I said quickly, leaning down to accept the teacup, the china rattling inmy shaking hands.

The tea was pale green, the bitter, leafy aroma of nettle and fresh mint rising in waftsof steam. I took a huge gulp. Along with the headache and tremors, I’d woken upravenous and parched.

“Who are you?” I asked the brownie, who was now tying back the curtains at thecorner of the bedpost, its claws clacking against the wood.

“Mosswhistle doesn’t talk to the girls.” Its voice was high-pitched.For some reason, I still seemed to be on edge of tears, but I tried to stay composed.

“You knew the other girls? What happened to them?”It ignored me, straightening the curtains.“Is that your name?” I tried again. “Mosswhistle?”The brownie turned black, beady eyes to me and nodded once, its long, shaggy hair

swaying around its face.“Are you a boy or a girl?”It gave me a withering look, as if I’d asked the stupidest question in the world. I took

a hurried sip of tea.“Did the Beast—Thorne—say you shouldn’t speak to me?”Mosswhistle paused, then shook its head. It pointed to the tea cooling in my hand.

“Drink.”I obeyed, draining the last of the cup. What had happened last night to make me so

thirsty?Last night…Memories came back to me in a sharp shock. The Beast. The faerie fruit. No wonder I

felt so terrible this morning.He poisoned me.Anger rattled through me in a wave, my emotions still high. I lurched up out of bed,

then glanced back down at myself. I was dressed in a short, plum-colored nightgown I’dnever seen before, the silk edged with black, scalloped lace.

“How did I get here last night?” I demanded. The brownie had already jumped intomy vacated spot on the bed and was busy making it, dragging the covers over itsshoulder like a bag of stolen loot. “Who dressed me?” My throat tightened at the thoughtof one of the fae males unlacing my gown, choosing this nightwear.

“Mosswhistle dress.” The brownie fluffed up the pillow by kicking it heartily with itsskinny little legs. “You like?”

Relief rushed through me, but it couldn’t cut through the dread and anger unspoolingfrom the pit of my stomach. The Beast had poisoned me with faerie fruit. That was why Ifelt so terrible this morning. So...emotional.

I can’t stay here.I’d always planned to leave, but waiting to figure out the perfect plan didn’t seem so

important this morning. I’d almost died twice yesterday, first with the kelpie at the lake,then at dinner. I couldn't stay here another day.

I tried to gather the thoughts drifting around my mind like dandelion seeds. Even if Iwasn’t going to wait to figure out a plan for my escape, I still needed supplies.

I glanced over to the dresser, where the brownie had already left out an outfit for the

day, a simple green pinafore and a cream floral blouse. Perhaps it would help me withthe other things I needed now. That was my whole reason for befriending one of theLittle Folk, after all.

“Mosswhistle, could you bring me a winter cloak and a blanket? And as much food asyou can carry from the kitchens, wrapped in brown paper?”

The brownie cocked its head, looking at me with unblinking eyes.I gave it a watery smile. “I’m going to spend the day in the garden.”After a moment longer, it dipped its chin and slipped through the door.Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I was leaving today. Now.It took me a while to dress and put on my boots, my trembling fingers fumbling over

the buttons and laces as waves of anticipation and fury surged through me. I’d thought Icould wait. I’d figured the Beast wouldn’t hurt me because he wanted me to work on theroses, but I’d been foolish to let my guard down. I was no safer here than I would be inthe Folkwood. No doubt the task the Beast had set me in the garden was for his ownamusement.

Straightening up, I slipped my iron knife into my bodice, then quickly inspected myface in the mirror. I winced at my reflection. My eyes were puffy, like I’d been crying allnight, the purple shadows etched beneath them the same shade as my irises. My darkhair had long since tumbled free of last night’s bun, so I gathered it back into a roughponytail. I looked clammy and ill, like a fevered child.

“Not so good. Pale like cream,” Mosswhistle observed as it returned to the room,although how it could see me with all of the items piled high in its arms, I had no idea.

I massaged my temples with my fingers, watching the brownie deposit the cloak andfood on the bed.

“Do you know where Faolan is this morning?” I asked.“Not here.”“And Thorne?”The brownie twisted to look at me, cocking its head to one side as if weighing up

some internal dilemma. Its bird-like black eyes gave nothing away.Finally, Mosswhistle huffed. “Master is hunting today. Gone already.”Heat rushed through my body. Now there was nothing between me and my break for

freedom.

The manor and gardens were quiet as I raced to the stables, my dark-gray cloaksweeping out behind me. I felt untethered.

I cut across one of the lawns, the morning dew soaking into my hemline, my satchelclutched to my chest. A fine mist of rain settled on my bare skin and clung to my lashes.Anger and anticipation and triumph swept through me as I replayed the dinner last night.But it didn’t matter any longer. I would soon be gone from this folkdamned manor, and Iwouldn’t have to worry about the Beast any longer.

I closed my eyes briefly, a vision of Rosehill dancing before me. I’d been gone too long

already. Too much time had passed without seeing my family, without being there for thetownsfolk who needed me. I wouldn’t delay getting home a day longer.

The warm, familiar scent of horse enveloped me as I ducked into the stables. Thesewere human smells, the same smells as the stables in Rosehill—fresh hay, earthymanure, worn leather. My breath quickened in my throat as I peered around the door. Butthere was no sign of the Beast. He must already have left, like Mosswhistle had said.

Wisps of hair had already flown out from my rough ponytail, and I tucked them behindmy ears as I peered into each stall. The first stall was empty, but in the next, liquidbrown eyes met mine. A dappled-gray mare whinnied, probably annoyed I was disruptingher so early in the morning, and without breakfast. The name carved into the stall readRagwort.

“C’mon, girl, we’re going for a ride.” I stroked her velvet nose with a still-shakinghand, uttering soothing words as much for myself as for her as I hurriedly saddled herand packed my stolen items into a saddlebag. She was bigger and sleeker than my ponyback home, and I hoped she wouldn’t absorb too much of my nervous energy. I led herout of the stables, the clop of her hooves ringing out loudly against the hard pavingstones.

We had no time to waste. Thorne might return any moment.Outside, I swiftly mounted Ragwort, who seemed eager to go. I gave the manor a

wide berth, riding her around the back of the stables and then skirting the orchard, incase any prying eyes were watching.

The looming tree line of the Folkwood rose ahead of us, and my blood crashed in myears as I bounced up and down in the saddle. I had no idea how long it would take me toget to home, but I knew we were somewhere north-east of Rosehill, so I would just haveto keep riding roughly south-west.

I gripped the reins tightly. That was if I wasn’t intercepted by the wicked fae roamingthe Folkwood first…

Sudden hoofbeats pounded over the earth. Ragwort’s ears twitched, alert. From theopposite side of the estate, a huge, black horse broke from the tree line.

The Beast.With no saddle on the stallion’s glossy back and Thorne’s black outfit, their lithe,

powerful bodies looked like one huge predator bounding toward us.I kicked my feet into Ragwort’s side, urging her on. She responded immediately,

breaking into a canter, then a gallop. My hair flew behind me, and the damp air beadedon my skin. We thundered down the path, breaking away from the orchard and headingfor the tree line and the wild call of the forest beyond.

I crouched down close to Ragwort’s back as the trees came closer. I could make outindividual branches, leaves.

A heady rush of magic washed over me, and Ragwort stopped so suddenly I lurchedforward, almost flying clean from the saddle.

My breath came in ragged gasps, my neck hot as Thorne’s huge, black stallionstepped in front of us, blocking the short distance between us and the Folkwood.

Piercing hazel eyes met mine. “And just where do you think you’re off to?”

Heat surged through my veins.“Home,” I bit out. “You can’t stop me.”“I think you’ll find I just did, petal.” He leaped down from his stallion in one fluid

motion, his black boots landing lightly on the grass with barely a sound. He walked overand tried to pull the reins from my hands. “You’re in no state to go anywhere, anyway.You look terrible.”

“I look terrible because you poisoned me,” I flared, clinging on to the reins with avice-like grip.

“So dramatic.” The Beast rolled his eyes, but a look of discomfort remained behind hiseyes. “I gave you faerie fruit, not nightshade. It has more of an effect on humans,granted, but no more so than if you’d had several glasses of fine wine.”

“I passed out.” My knuckles strained white against the reins still in my grip. “And I toldyou, I don’t drink.”

“You would have been perfectly fine if you hadn’t gotten yourself so worked up. Faeriefruit only amplifies your existing emotions. It can’t create what’s not there. It’s notinherently bad.” The Beast’s lips curved into a smile, flashing those horrible pointed teethat me. “You know it could have been far worse, petal—think what else you might havebeen feeling in a room with two such handsome males.”

My ears burned as the sudden images of kissing the Beast, then Faolan, flashedthrough my mind. Outrage swelled in my chest, rendering me mute. In my lapse ofconcentration, Thorne slid a hot hand to mine, pulling the reins free from my grip with afirm twist.

He reached back for the reins to his own horse and began leading both animals backtoward the house, carrying me with them.

My knees trembled with anger at the insolent look on his face, like he was trying torepress a smile.

“Is this funny to you?”“There’s nothing funny about my hunt being disrupted by news that my guest is

stealing one of my horses. Perhaps you wouldn’t have been so bold if you could see mystablehands.”

There had been servants in the stables? My mouth dried. Of course. I couldn’t see theservants inside the mansion… Why would I be able to see them outside?

The tiniest twinge of irritation swept through me. Does he have fae watching me thewhole time?

The Beast looked back over his shoulder, his gaze raking over me. “Admit it, you hada little fun last night before boring old Faolan carried you up to your room.”

So Faolan was the reason I had made it back to my chambers in one piece. At leastone of the fae males had some respect.

“Where is Faolan?” I asked, hating the waver in my voice.“Gone.”Gone where? For how long? I bit back the questions, not wanting to look like I cared. I

didn’t care. It was just—if I had to be stuck in this house with one of the Court Fae, I’drather it was the one who didn’t get his kicks from poisoning me.

Was I going to let Thorne just lead me back to my prison? I could still run. Swingingmy leg over Ragwort’s back, I dismounted, my knees buckling as I hit the ground. BeforeI’d righted myself, Thorne appeared in front of me, catching my arms and holding meupright. The rain misted between us, creating a shadowy aura around his whole body.

“I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything else stupid, petal. You know thisnewfound boldness is just the aftereffects of the faerie fruit lowering your inhibitions.”

I hesitated, considering his words. I didn’t recognize the way I was behaving, theoutbursts flying from my lips, the emotions coursing unchecked through my body. It hadto be the faerie fruit.

My legs still itched to bolt away from him, into the woods...but the Beast could movein the blink of an eye. I’d never make it.

I tilted my head up to glare at him, pulling out of his grip. “You will not feed me faeriefruit without my knowledge, ever again.”

A flicker of anger darkened his features as he held my gaze. “And why should I dowhat you ask of me when you don’t do what I ask of you? Just how is my rose gardenfaring, Aster?”

I curled my still-trembling hands into fists. “Give me one good reason why I shouldhelp you.”

Thorne’s lips twisted somewhere between a snarl and a smile. “Because, petal, I takeit you want to leave my Court.”

What does that mean? I swallowed hard. None of the Tithe girls ever came back afterthey’d been taken. There was no leaving this Court.

“None of the other girls ever completed the rose garden,” the Beast added, as if he’dheard my thoughts.

“But if they had?”He inclined his head. “If they had, I would have released them.”I took a step back, my head ringing and my mouth dry. All I had to do to get back to

Rosehill was to work in the garden? As a greenwitch, I had no doubt I could grow theroses he wanted.

I cast a glance back to the shadow of the Folkwood. I wanted to get home. But if Icould get there without facing the horrors lurking within the forest...

“And what if I can’t grow them?” I asked slowly. “What happens to me then?”The Beast’s expression remained hard. “You don’t think you can grow them?”I drew in a breath. I was tired of my questions being answered with questions. I

needed him to be more direct.I crossed my arms. I might as well ask him now, while this unfamiliar boldness still

surged through my veins. “Swear it. Swear if I complete the rose garden, you’ll let me go.I want your word.”

“You want the word of a fae beast?” Heat rose to my cheeks as Thorne parroted mywords from last night. “That’s what you think of me, isn’t it?”

I forced myself not to look away. “I do think that. So I want your word that if I finishyour garden, you’ll let me go, because fae can’t lie.”

His dark brows lowered. “Fine.” The Beast pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes

locking onto my own. “I swear that if you complete the task of growing the rose garden,Aster, I will let you go home.”

C H A P T E R T E N

MY WET DRESS slapped against my legs as I tossed an armful of sticky goosegrass onto a cartpiled high with weeds. I shivered. We’d not seen April showers like these in years, andworking outside in freezing, rain-soaked clothes was miserable.

I glared up at the dark-gray skies, water drumming against my face. The soft roar ofthe rain had been constant over the past few weeks. Still, if I wanted to get home…

I ducked back under the arch into the walled garden, pausing where the bricksoverhead provided slight respite from the deluge. A few tendrils of hair had escaped mybraid and stuck to my wet cheeks, and I brushed them away with the back of my rough,oversized gardening glove.

Spreading before me, the garden was a mass of weeds and mud. I could hardly tellwhere the borders ended and the paved pathways began. Everything smelled of dampand wet leaves. I glowered up at the sky again. The roses would never grow while theloamy soil was so waterlogged...but my first and seemingly never-ending issue was theweeds.

Silver bells, the weeds.Since I’d started work, all I’d done was weed the garden.They sprouted everywhere, between the half-dead rose bushes, on the pathways,

through the cracks in the brickwork...I massaged my thumbs into the base of my back, trying to ease away some of the

tension. While I’d found an arsenal of tools in the potting shed—trowels, forks, andhooked weeding knives—I’d still ended up scrabbling in the soil, picking out wiry rootfragments by hand as they clung stubbornly to the earth.

My whole body ached from a morning on my hands and knees tugging up a creepingmedley of enchanter’s nightshade, horsetail, fireweed, goosegrass, and stinking storks-bill. I hadn’t even started on the bittercress that spread across the pathways like a carpetor the bindweed that grew in vast swaths up the walls, its pudgy, cream roots clinging tothe brickwork.

I slipped off the thick canvas gloves. Beneath, my short nails were lined with half-moons of dirt. I turned to the cart piled high with weeds, inspecting it gloomily as Istepped back out of the garden. I’d managed to drag it here myself, but now, piled high

with the weeds I’d uprooted this morning, it was too heavy to move. I pursed my lips.There was no way I was asking the Beast to help me, so I’d have to unload it into smallerwheelbarrows and spend the afternoon making trips back and forth to the compost heap.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye, like a strike of lightning. A bright lightimprinted itself on my vision. I blinked.

“Faolan!” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice at the sight of the golden faeleaning against the outer wall of the garden.

“At your service.” The sky prince stepped forward and sketched a deep, sweeping bowthat from anyone else would have seemed mocking. He appeared completely dry, despitethe rain still pattering around us. “How have you been?”

My spirits lifted in spite of myself. I hadn’t spoken to the Beast in a while, not sincethis folkdamned rain began. Only having Mosswhistle as company wasn’t quite the sameas speaking to someone who seemed more, well, human.

The truth was, since Faolan had left, I’d felt increasingly alone and more than a littlehopeless about my task. It seemed odd to me that none of the other Tithe girls had evercompleted the garden.

And the question remained over what happened to them when they hadn’t.I mustered a polite smile. In any case, I was hardly about to bare my soul to a fae

male who had just magically appeared in front of me, no matter how lonely I felt. “Theweather has been terrible ever since you left.” I shifted awkwardly on the spot, trying tothink of what to say to a sky prince who’d stopped by to say hello. “It’s not stoppedraining.”

Faolan gave a light, silvery laugh. “Ah, that’ll just be Thorne in a bad mood.”“What do you mean?”Giving me an indulgent smile, the fae raised his brows, as if he’d already answered my

question. “And how is your garden going?” he asked. “I’d offer to help, but whatever goeson within those walls is your burden to bear, I’m afraid.”

My lips downturned as I pictured the mess beyond the walls. “The rain is makingeverything ten times harder. The soil’s too wet, with no time for draining.”

“Well, that I can help with.” Faolan raised a hand skyward, his palm softly glowingwith a white-gold light. Above us, the gray clouds began to dissolve, lances of ambersunlight filtering through the gaps. After a few moments, there was nothing but blue skyoverhead, the midday sun warming my cheeks.

My breath caught as I squinted up, shading my eyes with a palm. The rest of theforest was still covered in thick cloud, but over the Beast’s estate, there was nothing butclear, spring skies.

Aside from Thorne transporting me here, it was the first time I’d witnessed Court Faemagic like this. Awe washed over me.

“H-how did you do that?”“I’m Crown Prince of the Sky Court,” Faolan replied, as if that were explanation

enough. He laughed at the blank look on my face. “You really don’t know much about FaeCourts or the world beyond the Folkwood, do you?”

His words weren’t unkind, so I shook my head in confirmation. “I’m afraid I don’t, no.”

Faolan wandered over to the wooden cart, inspecting the small mountain of weeds I’dpiled on top. “Can I give you a hand with this?”

I pursed my lips and nodded. I didn’t know any more about him than I knew about theBeast, and I had no idea why he was offering to help me. But Thorne had told me thatgrowing the rose garden was the only way I was getting back to Rosehill, so I needed allthe help I could get.

The sky prince lifted the cart as if it were made of feathers. Raindrops beaded anddripped from the damp wood, now shining in the sunlight.

“It needs to go to the compost heap, behind the potting shed beyond the oak tree.” Igestured toward the huge tree that dominated the meadow, still casting a pool of shadein spite of the sunshine.

Faolan nodded once and began dragging the cart in that direction.I lifted one of the far smaller wheelbarrows and followed behind him. The wheels

whirred, rattling as they splashed through the glistening puddles on the ground.I studied the back of the Court Fae. I wondered what it meant for him to be from this

Sky Court. He’d practically arrived in a beam of sunshine and seemed to have control ofthe clouds, so maybe it was linked to his magic. His golden wings shone at his back,iridescent in the sunlight, his honey-colored pants and cream tunic somehow avoidingbeing covered in any mud splatter from the ground.

I ran a quick hand over my braid, brushing back the escaped hairs and tucking thembehind my ears.

As we neared the potting shed, the horses whickered from the nearby stables, nodoubt clamoring to get outside now the rain had finally stopped. I’d only seen the Beasttake his giant, black stallion out during this deluge.

Was that why Faolan was back—to go hunting with Thorne?I pushed the wheelbarrow faster so I was alongside him. “Why are you here, Faolan?”

I asked. “I mean, why did you return? Thorne said you’d left.”“You don’t want my help?”“That’s not what I asked,” I said a little crossly. I was getting used to Faolan

answering my questions with his own, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.He gave me a contrite smile. “It’s not. I’m sorry.” He set the cart down next to the

compost pile and turned to face me, his hands clasped before him. “The truth is, Icouldn’t stop thinking about you when I returned home.”

Something in my chest leaped at the open look in his sky-blue eyes. My mouthworked, but I didn’t know how to reply.

“I took you to your chambers after you collapsed at dinner and left you in the care ofyour brownie. The next morning, I wanted to check on you before I left, but Thornepromised you were fine. I should have insisted.” He shrugged, and the casual motion satoddly on him. “I’m Thorne’s oldest living friend, and my invitation here is open-ended. SoI decided to come back and see how you’re doing.”

I realized I was still holding my own wheelbarrow and dropped it with a thump. “Soyou’ll be staying for a while?”

“I will.”

“And you’re here because of me?”“Yes.”I paused before voicing the question I really wanted to ask. “Do you think I’m in

danger?”Faolan opened his mouth, then closed it again, running a hand through his golden

hair.“Trying to come up with a question to deflect answering?” A knowing half-smile

tugged at my lips.His blue eyes crinkled as they caught mine. “Will you walk with me? To the orchard? I

would like to show you something.”He offered me his arm, and I hesitated for a second before taking it. This close to him,

the sky prince seemed to emanate the same warmth as the sun. I placed my hand on hisforearm, pressing down the embarrassment at the sight of my dirty, calloused fingersresting on the pristine fabric of his shirt.

By the time we reached the orchard, the sunlight was streaming through the trees oneither side of us, warming the back of my neck, the perfect spring day. The apple treeswere all in blossom, the tiny, white petals perfuming the air with a gentle floral scent.Here in the middle of the orchard, I could no longer see the manor or the walled garden.

Faolan stopped at a cluster of trees that weren’t blooming. They were a similar heightto the apple trees, with dark, glossy green leaves, crimped at the edges like nettles. Thetrunk and branches were thick and stocky, gnarled with age, and the thinner branchesarced under the weight of red-gold fruit, not dissimilar in size to a crabapple.

Faolan let go of my arm, the leaves rustling as he reached up to snap one of the fruitsfrom a branch.

“I wanted to show you this. It’s faerie fruit.” He took a bite out of it, revealing the red-gold flesh inside, glistening like honey.

I watched him chew, his lips glossed with juice. “It doesn’t affect you?”“Not in the same way as humans.”I wrinkled my nose as the smell cut through the soft floral notes of the blossom—a

sickly sweet odor, almost rotten.“And it bears fruit in the springtime?”“These trees are enchanted to bear fruit throughout the light half of the year.”He tossed the fruit to me, and I caught it in two hands. It didn’t feel hard like an

apple. The skin felt soft and taut, more like a berry, like I could push my thumb straightinto the flesh. I peered closely at it. Syrupy red juice dribbled from the bite mark and ontomy fingers, and I was filled with the giddy, stupid urge to lick it off.

“Careful.” Faolan held out a hand, and I passed it back. “I thought it would be usefulfor you to familiarize yourself with what it looks and smells like.”

“In case Thorne tries to feed it to me again, you mean.”“Well… Yes.”I wiped the stickiness off my fingers, running my hands down my skirts. “I don’t

understand him. Why poison me when he wants my help?”Faolan tossed the fruit over his shoulder. “I don’t think he meant to hurt you, Aster.

Most humans react to our fruit in a different way—with pure, heady joy. It often helpsthem forget their troubles. It can be a pleasant experience.” He gazed at me, his faceunreadable. “But you have a lot of sadness and anger inside you. It affected youdifferently.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true, I supposed, but it made me feelvulnerable that Faolan knew it. I sighed. I was grateful he’d shown me the fruit, but I stillfelt like I only half understood what was going on.

“Tell me, Faolan. Why does Thorne want me to grow a rose garden? He must wantthe roses very badly, to offer me my freedom in exchange. I guess he can’t grow themhimself because it requires Craft, like cooking. But why does he care so much for roses?”

Faolan tensed, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer. He glanced inthe direction of the house, then his shoulders dropped.

“This Court,” he said softly. “Do you know what everyone calls it?”I shook my head.“Well, everyone in Faerie knows it as the Cursed Court.”The words curled around me like a cold breeze, lifting the hairs on the back of my

arms and my neck.“What does that mean?”“It means a curse lies upon this place. Thorne is trapped here as punishment for

something he did a long time ago.”A curse.“What did he do?” My breath caught. What did this curse mean for me? Was I cursed

too, just by being here?“A human girl died as a result of his actions. The garden is part of the curse, and

growing the roses…”“...is what breaks the curse?” I offered.Faolan nodded stiffly. “The curse binds Thorne to set his Tithe for one human girl a

year. Only she has the power to break the curse.”Faolan offered me his arm once more, and we began to walk back through the orchard

in silence. Birdsong trilled around us and delicate blossoms drifted down from the treeslike snow as I tried to process everything the golden fae had just told me.

I knew he couldn’t be lying, but it still didn’t make sense. Quite a few things didn’tmake sense, actually.

“Why would Thorne be punished for killing a human? The fae don’t care for humanlife.”

Faolan halted, dropping my arm. He stared at me, hurt flickering across his perfectfeatures. “Is that what you truly believe?”

Staring into his sky-blue eyes, my retort died on my tongue. I swallowed. “It’s whatI’ve experienced.”

“You know little beyond this remote corner of the world. The rest of the Kingdom ofFaerie is divided into Fae Courts, each with a ruling family of Court Fae. The humansettlements sit within those lands, and the Alder King, our ruler, ensures the Fae-HumanTreaty is followed. The Treaty allows each Court to set a human Tithe, and the humans

who are chosen go to serve the Fae Courts. But it also requires that the other humans areto be left alone. Fae are not permitted to hurt them in any way.”

Faolan’s words didn’t appease me in the way he seemed to think they would. Igripped his arm tightly. “So there are Tithes all over the land? Not just in Rosehill, Imean?”

Faolan nodded.“And how many humans are taken in these Tithes?”“How often and how many depends on the desires of an individual Court. It can be

hundreds. It can be more. But it’s what’s kept peace between fae and humans forcenturies now.”

A peace that only humans are paying the price for.My head whirled with this information, a sick feeling building in my stomach. I’d

thought Rosehill was the only place to suffer a Tithe, that only the Beast’s wicked Courtdemanded human lives.

I paused as we reached the edge of the orchard, staring across the stables and theformal gardens to the walled garden beyond. “So this Tithe…”

“Giving him just one girl to complete his task—it’s part of the punishment. Mirroringthe human life taken.”

I turned to Faolan, dropping his arm. There was poetry in the punishment, howevercruel. “But what of the rose garden? How does that fit in? I don’t see how it’s apunishment for Thorne if I’m doing all the hard work.”

Faolan leaned forward to pick a blossom caught in my hair. He blew it from the tip ofhis finger, and it whirled through the air, fluttering to the ground.

“Thorne is one of the most powerful Court Fae in our land. Or he was. He could fill theentire forest with blooming roses, like this.” Faolan snapped his fingers. “This way he hasto get a human to help him of her own free will.”

“It’s hardly free will. He kidnaps us.”“He can’t force you to work on the garden. And he doesn’t keep you under lock and

key. You’re free to escape into the woods at any time.”I pressed my lips together. Faolan didn’t know the Folkwood very well if he thought

that was a viable option. With all the vicious fae lurking beyond the tree line, the forestborder might as well have been a hundred-foot wall.

At least here, the Beast needed me alive.My legs suddenly felt very tired, and I sat down on the damp ground, leaning back

against the trunk of an apple tree. “Considering I’m the only one who can break thecurse, Thorne’s not been particularly nice to me.”

Faolan joined me, his shoulder grazing mine as he leaned back against the same tree.“I’ve been to visit Thorne here every time a new girl arrives. At the start, he acted verydifferently. But as the years have gone on. I believe he’s resigned himself to his life here.He’s given up hope of the curse ever being broken.”

A breeze rustled through the branches above us, sending white petals raining down allaround. “How many years has he been trapped here?”

“You will be the hundredth girl, I believe.”

My mouth dried. It still worried me that none of my many predecessors had managedto grow the roses for him. Surely some of them would have had the skill? Did that meanit was an impossible task, a cruel trick of the fae? I needed to find out more.

“Thank you for telling me all this.” I tilted my head toward Faolan, his face very closeto mine, bathed in gold from the afternoon sun.

“It’s probably for the best if Thorne doesn’t know what I’ve told you.”I nodded. My conversations with the Beast were few and far between, so a lie of

omission ought to be easy enough.Faolan got to his feet.“I’m glad you’re staying for a while,” I said. “Because I could do with a little more

sunshine.” I jerked my chin toward the clear skies above us.His lips twitched. “More sunshine? You mean this wasn’t enough for you?”I tilted my face into the brilliant sunshine streaming down. “That depends how long it

lasts. It’s spring. There are showers every day.”“Well, you owe me for one sunny day so far.” He offered me his hand to pull me

upright, those brilliant blue eyes never leaving me. “I’d like to talk more with you whileI’m here. If that’s all right with you.”

Cautious hope warmed my cheeks. It wasn’t just that Faolan’s magic could help withthe garden, but his experience of the curse and the fae world beyond might help me fillthe gaps in my knowledge.

My head was already spinning with everything he’d told me this afternoon.I took his hand. “That’s all right with me.”

C H A P T E R E L E V E N

FAOLAN’S SUNSHİNE had long since sunk down behind the storm clouds gathered over theforest, the buttery warm light turned cool. I heaved the wheelbarrows alongside the wall,leaning them up against the brick so no water would gather in them if the Beast’s badmood meant more rain overnight. In spite of the drop in temperature, I’d cast off thecloak I’d worn earlier in the day to keep the rain from my shoulders and rolled the sleevesof my blouse up to my elbows. I had worked hard today.

Removing my gardening gloves, I wiped the back of my hand across my brow, stickywith sweat, inhaling the sweet, rich scent of earth still clinging to the barrows. My armsand shoulders ached, the small of my back tight, my fingers sore where thorns hadpricked them even through the gloves. Still, a smile spread slowly across my face.

Breaking this faerie curse was my only way home, so I was forced to do it… But evenso, the day had been pleasant. Working in the garden had almost felt like I was back inmy little garden in Rosehill.

I cast a satisfied eye over the weeds I had cleared from the garden, deposited in neatpiles beside the potting shed. They would do well for a compost heap. Even if it wouldn’trot down in time for me to use in the rose garden.

Stooping down, I gathered up the hand trowel, spade, and weeding fork from insidethe final wheelbarrow, preparing to take them inside the potting shed and clean themdown before heading back to the house. No greenwitch would ever leave her tools cakedin mud like this.

I slipped inside the potting shed, so much darker than the twilight outside, anddropped the tools onto the workbench with a clatter. Stretching out again, I exhaledheavily. I hoped Mosswhistle would have a bath prepared for me tonight. I could think ofnothing I wanted more than hot water flooding over my shoulders, soothing my achingmuscles and washing the evidence of my hard work from my muddied fingertips.

But there was still work to finish first. Reaching for the drawer beneath theworkbench, my fingers fumbled for the box of matches. It was already so dark that Iwould have to light the lamps, the spring days not quite lengthened enough to brightenthe evenings.

I moved to the glass lamp on the workbench—then the thunder of hooves made me

pause with my hand hovering over the matches.The hoofbeats slowed to a trot before heavy boots thudded onto the ground, followed

by the sound of a second horse approaching.Without really thinking, I dropped the unlit match and slunk closer to the window,

pressing myself up against the shed wall so I wouldn’t be seen. It was probably onlyThorne and Faolan returning from a ride. But I’d been fooled by the kelpie once already,and I wasn’t about to let another fae trick me.

My ears pricked at the sound of raised voices.“That doesn’t answer my question at all.” The Beast sounded exasperated.“Doesn’t it?” Faolan replied mildly, his singsong voice like a breath of sweet air

compared to the Beast’s low drawl.I exhaled heavily. It was only Thorne and Faolan after all.“You might want to think more carefully about this, Thorne. After all, it’s your last

chance before the next Alder Trials—”“I know.”A silence fell before the Beast spoke again. “At least after this year I won’t need to

keep count any longer.” It seemed like he might be attempting a joke, but the humor inhis voice sounded forced even to me.

“And you haven’t considered that this might be the year—”“She’s my business, Faolan. Not yours. I want to know—”“Where is she now?” Faolan asked sharply. “She could be listening.”I froze. They’re talking about me?The Beast made a dismissive sound, like he was clearing his throat. “Does it look like

she’s here? The wheelbarrows are undisturbed, and the lights aren’t on in the pottingshed.” He sounded uncertain though.

Heavy steps came closer, and I pressed myself hard against the wall, the rough woodgrazing my skin. A shadow fell across the window before lifting again.

“She’s probably lounging in her chambers back at the house. You know she’s alreadypersuaded a brownie to help her out? Quicker than any of the other girls who’ve beenhere. As if the servants I instructed to look after her weren’t enough.”

My chest tightened. Fae beast. I’d had to get Mosswhistle to help me. The otherservants who were supposedly at my beck and call still remained glamoured.

“She worked hard today,” Faolan said firmly. “You should see what she’s done to therose garden already.”

My heart lifted slightly. At least one of the Court Fae on this folkdamned estate caredabout the calluses forming on my fingers, the knots tightening in my back as a result ofthe labor I’d put into the rose garden today.

There was a moment’s pause before, “And just how would you know that?”I shivered at the tone of the Beast’s voice. Somehow the silky soft purr with which he

asked that question was a hundred times worse than when he lost his temper. Distantly,thunder sounded over the forest, and a few fat drops of rain spattered against thewindowsill.

“I went to see how she was getting on earlier today,” Faolan said lightly. “And to

make sure she could recognize faerie fruit in future.”A low growl tore from the Beast’s lips. “I’ve told you, she’s not your concern. The girl

is my problem, not yours.” The rain drummed harder against the windowsill, the windwhistling in through a crack in the door. “What are you doing here, Faolan?”

“I’d have thought you’d be grateful for my company,” Faolan said with a strainedlaugh.

“I’m serious.” Thorne’s voice was quiet. “You never usually return after your initial visituntil Lúnasa. Never take an interest in helping the Tithe girls.”

A faint heat rose in my cheeks. Would Faolan tell Thorne what he’d told me earlier?That he’d come back because he couldn’t stop thinking about me?

My brow furrowed. What did it matter to the Beast why Faolan was back or why hewas helping me? Surely if he helped me to complete the rose garden, that would benefitThorne as well as me? It would mean I got my freedom, and whatever curse had beenplaced on the Beast would be lifted.

“The Alder Trials are this winter, Thorne,” Faolan said in a low voice. “You know whatthat means.”

“But you helping her with the garden could end up being a distraction. Surely you seethat?”

I waited a long time for Faolan’s reply, but none came, and eventually I heard the clopof the horses’ hooves over the soft ground again, gradually growing fainter.

I exhaled.At least they hadn’t found me here. But listening to their conversation hadn’t

answered any of my questions, only raised more. What were the Alder Trials? And whydid the Beast think Faolan’s help with the garden would distract me?

A pot crashed to the floor, shards shattering everywhere as I leaped about a foot intothe air.

Giggling like the tinkling of bells filled the air. Thorne’s invisible servants must be inhere, watching me.

They would know I’d been spying…and they’d report it to the Beast, just like theinvisible servants in the stables when I’d tried to escape.

“Don’t you dare mention this to Thorne,” I snapped at the empty shed, unsure exactlywhere I should be looking.

Another flutter of light laughter swelled around the room before the door to thepotting shed swung open and then slammed shut again.

My jaw set. I’d had more than enough of not being able to see the Little Folk whoinhabited this estate.

It was time I did something about it.

C H A P T E R T W E L V E

MİST ROSE from the wet ground ahead of the sun, the mingling of the Beast’s mood andFaolan’s sky magic producing a dreamy, ethereal light this morning. The groundsshimmered in the soft, lilac haze, giving way to a pale spring light above. I’d be lying if Isaid I didn’t prefer Faolan’s sunshine to the forest storms that apparently had somethingto do with Thorne’s wild tempers, but even I had to admit that the mist looked lovely.

I stomped through the meadow at the far end of the estate, rain-soaked flowersbrushing up against my skirts with every step. Forget-me-nots fought with red campionfor the position of the most vibrant wildflower, while quieter, smaller flowers—violets anddaisies and cowslips—huddled around their skirts. They were beautiful, but my gazequickly skimmed all of them, searching for a flash of pale yellow.

At last, spring had settled in enough that I thought I might stand a chance of findingsome primroses. And then I’d finally be able to see the invisible servants who I nowsuspected were following me around. No doubt on Thorne’s orders.

My shoulders tightened at the thought that the Beast had ordered my every move tobe watched. Had they always been following me, or only since I’d tried to escape? Wassome imp or pixie reporting to him even now, telling him that his Tithe girl—his problem,as he’d put it to Faolan—was currently trampling his wildflower meadow?

At least I could be fairly sure they hadn’t watched me with Faolan yesterday. I cringedinwardly, thinking of what the Little Folk would have said about the two of us wanderingarm-in-arm around the orchard. But as Court Fae, Faolan would have been able to seethrough their glamours, even if I couldn’t.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders, my eyes drawn to the dark tree line that marked theboundary between the Beast’s estate and the Folkwood. I’d been reluctant to get tooclose to the forest since my ill-thought-through escape. But, realistically, I knew shyprimroses wouldn’t be out sunning themselves in the meadow. They preferred the shelterof trees, the cool of the shade, making their homes between root and earth.

There was a reason this flower let you see past faerie glamours. To retrieve it, youhad to enter into fae territory, blind to the dangers that lay in wait.

My steps slowed, my gaze fixed on the shadowy trees. If I wanted to see the servantswho inhabited the Beast’s mansion, I didn’t have much of a choice…

Still, as long as I stayed within Thorne’s lands, I’d be safe, wouldn’t I? It was nodifferent than approaching the tree line back in Rosehill. I’d keep my wits about me. Iwouldn’t be drawn in any deeper.

My shoulders setting, I quickened my pace again and made straight for the Folkwood.The sun disappeared behind a cloud as I drew closer, the long shadow of the treesdousing any remaining light from the sun rising to the east. I shivered. Even in Rosehill, Ihadn’t liked working too close to the tree line.

I stopped a few feet away, ignoring the drumming in my chest, and dropped my gazeto the foot of the trees, to the gnarled roots and knotted grasses.

I’m safe, as long as I don’t step within the trees.I began walking slowly along the edge of the Folkwood, parallel to the trees, careful

not to allow my search for the primroses to distract me from how close I was to thewood. I scoured the ground for any flash of yellow, placing one foot slowly in front of theother, careful to keep my distance.

“Aster!”I jerked my head up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling my name from

between the trees.The rustle of the undergrowth drew my attention to a dark spot within the forest, the

bushes swaying like dancers before they parted.A tall, auburn-haired girl slipped between the trees, familiar lilac eyes seeking out my

own.My heart stopped.Laurel.She spotted me and stopped dead. She looked exhausted, dark shadows etched

beneath her eyes, her pale, freckled face drawn. She was dressed in the outfit she usuallywore on her supply runs through the forest, dark breeches tucked into shining brownboots and a red cloak her mother had left to her, said to ward off the fae.

It wasn’t possible. Laurel couldn’t be—A roar behind me sliced through my shock.From nowhere, the Beast shoved me roughly aside, the air humming with the force of

his rage. The metallic tang I had come to associate with magic flooded my tastebuds, myhead pounding with an intense pressure that surrounded us both.

A low rumble of thunder sounded overhead.Then, in the moment it took me to blink, Laurel vanished.Not Laurel, I realized, with a sickening twist in my stomach. The púca.My head swam. I turned slowly to look at Thorne, his dark eyes flashing with fury, his

face tight, lips lifted in a snarl that revealed his canines.I drew in a ragged breath. The fae’s beauty never dimmed when I saw him.Not even with his expression contorted with rage.He wheeled, glaring at me. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from the Folkwood?”“I—”“I told you it was the one place you couldn’t go, and yet where do I find you?”I took a breath. “Actually, you also told me not to go in the arbor wing.” And just as

he’d instructed, I hadn’t, not even when I’d been making my map.A muscle flickered along the sharp line of his jaw. “Do you think this is funny? Do you

even know what that creature would do to you if you’d crossed the tree line?”“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I snapped. I stopped, catching my breath. Don’t rise.

Don’t react. Stay calm. The Beast had already tricked me into giving into my emotionsonce, by feeding me faerie fruit. I wouldn’t let him do the same with mere words.However determined he seemed to get a rise out of me. I took another slow breath. “Itold you at dinner, I’ve met the púca before,” I said coolly. “We have—a history.” If that’sthe right way of putting it.

The Beast took a step closer, and this time when my breath caught in my throat, ithad nothing to do with my emotions. The wave of power that washed over me senttingles running down my spine, down through my fingertips. It was like being doused incold water, like stepping out of the sunshine and into the cool shade of a forest.

Once again, shadows wavered around him, the dim outline of a shape I couldn’t makeout.

How different from the light Faolan brought with him everywhere.“You’re even more naive than I thought,” he said coldly. “A foolish, human child.”My hands bunched into fists at my side. “I’m no child,” I said in a quivering voice. “And

I’m not naïve. Believe it or not, I know what I’m doing. I wasn’t going to step into thefolkdamned forest. I knew that wasn’t Laurel, and I know the Little Folk will try to temptme into the trees. I’m not about to fall for some faerie bargain.”

“Then enlighten me. Just what were you doing heading right toward the forest’sedge?” His mouth thinned. “Or were you trying to run again? I suppose I should be gladyou didn’t try to steal one of my horses this time—”

“No! No, I wasn’t trying to run…” I tucked my hair back behind my ears, lifting my chinto meet his gaze. “I was...looking for primroses.”

The Beast stared at me, a baffled expression spreading slowly over his face.“Primroses?”

I crossed my arms, a half-smile twitching my lips. “If you will have your servantsfollowing me everywhere I go, I should at least be able to see them.”

Understanding flickered across his face. “You—you know you can use primroses to seepast faerie glamours?” Something uncertain still sounded in his voice. Almost as if hedidn’t believe me. What did he think being a greenwitch meant, if not to understand theproperties of plants and how to use them?

I tutted. “You mean you didn’t?”He gave me a hard stare. “You’re beginning to sound like Faolan,” he muttered,

turning away. “It’s very fae, you know, answering a question with a question.”I sucked in my cheeks, unsure how to respond. Was that a compliment? Faolan was

his friend, after all. So why did he sound so exasperated?The Beast stalked off along the tree line before slipping into the shadow of the trees,

and for a moment I wondered whether that was it, he was off for another hunt with thepúca or whatever else he did to let out his temper in the forest. But barely a few secondslater he reappeared again, something clutched in his hands.

“Here.” He thrust his fist out, and when I dropped my gaze, a few limp, yellow petalswere visible between his white fingers, the briar tattoos swirling down to his fingertips.

I paused, then jerked out a hand. I shivered as my palm grazed his, a rush of theBeast’s immeasurable power shuddering over my skin. Trembling slightly, I raised thehandful of primroses to my mouth and chewed on the petals, the bitter, floral tastecoating my tongue.

I looked around expectantly, but there was no sign of the Little Folk watching myexchange with the Beast. I’d been sure one of them must have sent him after me whenthey’d seen me heading for the Folkwood.

“Did it work?” I asked, still twisting my head to try to spot any fluttering wings,shimmering skin, or tiny flower dresses and seeing none. “Will I be able to see theservants now?”

“I thought you were the expert on primroses?”“I thought you didn’t like people answering questions with questions?”A ghost of a smile flickered across the Beast’s face before his usual stony expression

returned. He took a few steps back toward the mansion. “I think you’ll find all I said wasthat it’s very fae,” he called back over his shoulder.

I didn’t follow for a moment, twisting back to stare into the darkness between thetrees. A fist clenched in my chest. I knew it was only the púca that I’d seen between thetrees, who’d stolen my sister’s image... But for a moment I’d dared to believe it was her,that Laurel had fought her way through the Folkwood to rescue me...

“Who was she?” the Beast’s voice interrupted.I snapped my attention back to him. “What?”He jerked his head back toward the forest. “The redhead. The púca took her form.”“Oh.” I hesitated, uncertain how much I ought to tell him about my family. I knew the

Beast had a temper now, after all. Did I want him to know who I cared about most in theworld? “My sister,” I said at last. “It took my sister’s form.”

The Beast was quiet for a moment. “I can send a bird to Rosehill with a warning. Ifthe púca knows her well enough to take her form, she ought to be careful too.”

I stared at him for a moment, suspicion clouding my mind. “You—you’d help her likethat?”

Glowering at me, he ignored my question and turned to walk briskly back toward thehouse, kicking up glittering droplets from the flowers as he went.

Fine. I began walking slowly after him. I doubted he’d do as he said.Even if the fae couldn’t lie.

C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N

THE LİGHT HAD ALMOST FADED from the sky by the time I returned to the manor. My run-in withthe púca had been playing on my mind all day, so I’d thrown myself into my work,focusing on the burn between my shoulder blades as I dug and pulled at weeds.

The glass doors reflected the twilight gardens as I pushed them open and slippedinside. I paused in the doorway. Usually, the manor was eerily silent at all times, buttoday I was greeted by noise—a murmur of voices, creaking floorboards, the tapping oftalons on stone.

A smile crept across my face.The primroses.Tucked away in the walled garden, I hadn’t seen any of the fae all day. I hadn’t even

come in for lunch, instead sitting with my back against the old oak tree eating an appleand making daisy chains. In my worry about the púca taking Laurel’s form, I’d almostforgotten the reason for eating the primroses in the first place.

Trailing wet, muddy boot prints behind me, I wound quickly through the corridors,following the loudest noises. At the main entrance hall, I halted, sucking in a breath.

A goblin dressed in a butler’s livery strode across the hall, his shiny black boots ringingout across the floor. In the other direction, several brownies the same height and coloringas Mosswhistle hurried by in a long line, carrying linens and silverware, one balancing ateapot on its head, cups hooked onto its long, spindly fingers. They all avoided me, buteach tsked at my muddy boot prints.

I moved closer to the staircase, the odd, flickering light catching my attention. I tookseveral steps up, peering at the lanterns on the wall. They weren’t lit by candles at all.The soft, greenish glow and dancing shadows came from tiny sprites, fluttering aroundlike fireflies.

“Naughty pest.” A soft, ethereal voice floated to my ears.I put my hand on the banister, twisting to see who had spoken. A willowy fae hovered

above the ground, her translucent wings a blur behind her, giving off the soft hum of aninsect. Her skin was the pale blue of a duck egg, her lithe form completely naked,covered in parts by knee-length, ink-blue hair that rippled around her, floating as if shewere underwater.

She flitted toward my muddy footprints, clutching a dripping mop. My skin chilledwhen I noticed that her long, blue fingers ended in sharp, pointed nails, like tiny daggers.

She shook her head again, her hair moving in weightless tendrils. “Naughty mud-child.Foolish, messy girl. Humans always making work for Wispwing.”

I leaned over the banister and tilted my chin. “I’m sorry, but the garden’s a bog. Ican’t help but get my boots dirty.”

She snapped her head up. Her eyes, like Mosswhistle’s, were entirely black, but Iknew they were focused on me.

“I’d leave them outside,” I continued, my voice level, “but the faeries around hereseem to delight in playing tricks on me. If I left them by the door, I’m sure I’d never seethem again.”

Not to mention that whenever I left my muddy boots in my room, Mosswhistle hadthem spick and span by the next morning, no matter what state they’d been in.

“You see me.” She dropped lightly to the ground, her four wings stilling. Their intricatepattern, like the veining in a leaf, caught the light.

I cast a meaningful glance around the hall. “I see all of you, so you needn’t botherwith glamours in the future.”

If they dropped their glamours, it would save me having to eat primroses every fewdays.

I started up the steps again, then paused, looking down at the wet mud glistening onmy boots. The fae servants had done nothing but mess with me or spy on me on Thorne'sorders. But I still had to live with them. And I’d won Mosswhistle over, hadn’t I?

“I’m sorry for making more work for you,” I said politely, turning back. “In the future,I’ll take my boots off at the door and carry them to my room.”

Wispwing blinked, a translucent eyelid sweeping across her large, bulbous orbs.I hurried up the stairs, my heart beating faster despite myself. I had known I shared

the manor with more fae than just Thorne, and I’d hated knowing I couldn’t see them.But now that I could, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the unfamiliarity. It waslike peering into Folkwood, except there was no magical barrier between me and thesefae.

I pushed open the door to my room.At least they wouldn’t be able to spy on me anymore. And they might get less creepy

the more time I spent with them. Hopefully.I slumped into a chair, tugging off my boots and setting them down. Almost as soon

as they’d thumped against the floor, Mosswhistle appeared from the bathroom, the soundof running water splashing into the bath.

“You’re back,” the brownie announced, marching over to inspect my muddy boots.“Busy, dirty day?”

“Very busy.” I sighed, then reached into the pocket of my pinafore, remembering whatwas inside. One of the daisy chains I’d made earlier. Rather than tossing it into thecompost, I’d pocketed it as a gift for the brownie.

I removed the slightly crumpled daisy chain and held it out to Mosswhistle.“This is for you,” I said. “I’m sorry I make so much work for you. I do appreciate

coming back to a hot bath each evening and having clean clothes every morning.”The little brownie stared up at me, its beady black eyes glazing over. “For me?”“Yes, for you. It’s only a small token—”A small whistling sound cut me off as the brownie sprang into the air and grabbed the

daisy chain. It landed with a soft thump, holding the flowers between its hands andmarveling at the length like I’d gifted it a bolt of silk.

“Mosswhistle has never owned human Craft before.” Its voice was low and breathless.“Craft?” I repeated. Did something as simple as making a daisy chain count as Craft?Mosswhistle wrapped the chain of flowers around its neck like a scarf, flicking one end

behind its shoulder with a flourish. “How did you make such a thing?”I explained as I undressed. “Well, I picked the flowers with the longest, thickest stems

and punctured a thin slit with my thumbnail, then threaded the next stem through tomake a chain.”

The brownie bobbed its head and began bundling up my discarded dress.“Mosswhistle is honored to receive this gift from the Lady of the Manor.”

Lady of the Manor? That was a new one. I frowned down at the brownie, sure it wasmocking me, but Mosswhistle was stroking the daisy chain appreciatively, like it was afine fur stole draped across its shoulders.

In the bathroom, I turned off the taps to quiet the thundering water. I slipped out ofmy underclothes and slid into the bath with a groan, the hot water instantly cocooningme in warmth. My hair dangled over the edge of the bath, the nape of my neck restingagainst the smooth porcelain. I closed my eyes with a sigh.

The patter of feet against tiles pricked my ears. Mosswhistle had followed me in. Thebrownie had seen me in every state of undress since I’d arrived here—including dressingme after the faerie fruit incident—so I didn’t open my eyes, let alone bother telling it toleave.

“The other Folk say you can see them now. No more glamours.”I opened one eye. “It’s true.”Mosswhistle stood at the far end of the bath, the top of its wild hair just visible over

the tub. A skinny arm appeared, throwing a handful of fragrant pink petals into the water.“You should know about them…” The brownie lowered its voice conspiratorially,

sidling around to where my head rested against the tub. Beady eyes watched me throughthe steam. “Mothlace no good, Mothlace steals. Dewdrip gossips, so careful what yousay.”

Another handful of petals appeared in its scrawny fist, and it sprinkled them into thewater, the fragrant floral scent instantly filling my nose. “Wispwing thinks she’s Lady ofthe Manor,” Mosswhistle scoffed, moving around the bath. “The imps? Not fun. They pullhair. Claybarrow the redcap is nice, very friendly for a goblin. Only sometimes bites offfingers.”

I closed my eyes again, listening to the brownie rattle off names and tidbits ofinformation about its fellow Little Folk as the warm water kneaded all the tension frommy sore muscles, washing away the grime from today’s labor.

A smile curved my lips as I sank lower into the water, inhaling the floral scent of the

floating petals. I was making progress. Not just with the garden, but here. I could see theservants, so Thorne would have to try a lot harder to spy on me. I had a loyal brownie inmy employ, and Faolan had come back to help me, too.

For the first time since the Tithe, I didn’t feel quite so alone.

C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N

MY HANDS FUMBLED over the key to the door, and I cursed beneath my breath as it fell to myfeet with a clatter. I dropped to my knees, cheeks flaming, fingers scraping against themoss-dappled paving stones.

I wasn’t usually so clumsy. Maybe it had something to do with the gold faelightemanating from Faolan.

I glanced up at him, squinting a little. Even though I’d brushed my hair and wore aclean, light-green gown, being around the sky prince made me feel breathless. He’dreturned to the manor early this morning. I still didn’t know why he’d taken an interest inme, but my days at the Cursed Court always felt lighter when he was around.

It was a beautiful late spring day, the sky as clear and blue as Faolan’s eyes, the airmild. Birds sang in the distance as I swept up the key and pushed open the intricatewooden door to the rose garden. I stepped in and moved to the side so Faolan could peerthrough the arch.

In the stark daylight, the garden looked bare, the walls clear of creeping vines, thepaving stones and borders free of the choking weeds I’d spent months carefully removing.Now, the labyrinthine pattern of the pathways was quite clear.

I glanced toward Faolan and caught the flash of worry that crossed his face, like acloud passing the sun.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I know it doesn’t look like anything yet.” Honestly,I’d hoped the roses might have started to show some signs of life by now.

“Well, it looks more like a garden, not some patch of wilderness. That’s anachievement in itself.” His handsome face pulled into a dazzling smile, the uncertaintyfrom before completely gone.

“But…?” I pressed, bracing my hands on my hips. “Please, don’t let politeness hold youback. I’d appreciate your honest opinion.”

“Well…” Faolan gestured toward the borders near us, at the brown-gray, spindlybranches of a rose bush. “The plants themselves look…” He rubbed the back of his neck.“A little dead? Aren’t they supposed to have leaves?”

“They’re not dead, just dormant,” I explained. “Roses are usually dormant over thewinter months. They do look bare, but if you look here...” I squatted, indicating the bush

in front of us while avoiding the thorns. “The stems—they’re called canes—are still greennear the root. And I’ve checked the roots themselves a hundred times, and they lookhealthy. These plants are alive.”

“So they’ll grow leaves and eventually bloom?” Faolan still sounded a little skeptical.“I’d hoped they’d start growing when the weather warmed, but now I suspect it’s

going to be more difficult than that.” I stood, running a hand through my unbound hair.Every day that I’d come to the garden and the roses had shown no signs of growth, theknot of worry in my stomach had grown a little tighter. I’d weeded and watered them, thesoil was perfect, the late spring weather balmy… These were the perfect growingconditions. And yet…the roses still showed no signs of life.

“The thing is,” I admitted, “I have no idea what kind of roses these are. Maybe I’mmissing something.”

My gaze scanned the vast, walled garden. I wouldn’t be able to identify the exact typeof roses until the leaves started coming through, so up until that point, it would beguesswork as to what the plants needed. I still had the summer to grow them, but eachday that passed and they remained in their dormant state was another day away fromcompleting the garden, breaking the curse, and getting home.

“Would it help you to know what sort of roses these are?” Faolan asked.I turned to him. “Of course, but…” I paused, gauging his broad grin. “You could find

that out?”“Better. I can show you right now on a map.” Faolan held out his arm. “Would you

care to accompany me to the library?”

Faolan pushed open the vast doors to the library, allowing me to step through first.The room was roughly symmetrical, with high ceilings to accommodate two floors of

books, the irregular, branch-like shelves growing and twining straight from the walls.Glittering, floor-to-ceiling windows let in streams of golden afternoon light, pooling on therugs, desks, and armchairs like melted butter.

I’d given the library no more than a cursory glance when I’d first arrived—it hadnothing I needed to help with my planned escape—but now my breath caught in mythroat. It was by far the most beautiful room in the manor.

Faolan moved to one of the desks in the middle of the room while I wandered toinvestigate the closest shelves. The floorboards creaked softly underneath my boots. Itwas so grand and so beautiful, it gave me the uncomfortable feeling that I shouldn’t behere. Like when I visited my sister Ava in her mansion house.

I glanced up, not wanting to dwell on painful thoughts of my far-away family. If Iwanted to get back to them, I needed to figure out what I was missing with the rosegarden. My gaze scanned the towering bookshelves, raking over the spines of thousandsof books. A curved staircase snaked around to the second level where yet more tomeswaited. Despite the peacefulness of the room, we weren’t alone. On the upper floors, twohobs no taller than Mosswhistle climbed ladders to slide books into place on the highest

shelves. On the opposite side of the library, another faerie servant with gray skin andsilvery wings flew along the shelves, dusting the books with a black feather duster.

I moved toward Faolan in the center of the room. “Thorne won’t mind us taking themap?” I asked in a low voice, knowing the servants would probably report to Thorne thatI’d been here.

“I doubt it.” Faolan’s reply came from behind the desk, where he was rummagingthrough the drawers. I could just see the tips of his wings poking up above it. “Thorne’sread everything in here. Twice. Besides...” He righted himself with an armful of scrolls,then set them down with a delicate motion. “He’s out hunting today and won’t be backuntil sundown, so we have a few hours.”

“He always seems to be out hunting,” I commented, walking around to Faolan’s sideand poking through the scrolls. On days when the golden fae wasn’t here, I was almostalways left alone with just the Little Folk for company the whole day. “What is there tohunt in the Folkwood, anyway? He never brings his kills back to the kitchens.”

Faolan lowered the scroll he’d just unraveled, his blue eyes shining. “Our own kind.”He hunts the fae?I swallowed. What kind of person hunted their own kind for sport?Then again, I guessed the Beast wasn’t a person, exactly. He was a fae. And I

shouldn’t forget it just because we’d reached an agreement over the rose garden. Hemight have seemed a little kinder when we’d met the púca, but who was to say thathadn’t all been an act?

Before I could ask another question, Faolan tapped the parchment. “This is it.”He cleared the other scrolls with his forearm, then spread the yellowed parchment on

the desk in front of us. I leaned in, the sunlight pouring through the windows, illuminatingthe paper. The ink was faded and brown, but it was clear the circle was a map of the rosegarden, the sinuous line of the labyrinthine path winding its way to the center.

The pattern looked a lot like a rose in full bloom.“Who drew this?” I asked. The ink was old, but the handwriting had a soft, feminine

slant to it.Faolan pulled a face that suggested he had no idea. “Not a fae.”Of course, this would count as Craft. A human must have made this map. And humans

must have written all of the books in this library, come to think of it.I leaned closer, my hair brushing the desk as I trailed my fingertips along the borders.

The cartographer had labeled each segment like a diagram with rose names. “Heirloomrose, climbing roses, cabbage rose, tea rose, damask rose…” I breathed out as I read.None of the rose species were new to me. In fact, the walled garden contained just aboutevery type of rose I’d ever encountered. So if they were ordinary roses, why were theybeing so stubborn?

When I looked up, Faolan was watching me with a smile curving his lips. He reachedout and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear, his fingers brushing softly against myjaw. “You know these roses?” he asked, handing me the scroll.

I nodded, clutching the map to my chest. “They’re just normal roses. I suppose I’llhave to keep trying.”

Faolan replaced the other scrolls into the desk drawer. There was no question the skyprince looked fae, with his perfect, unblemished skin, the soft glow he seemed to alwaysemanate, his wings tucked neatly behind his back…but he was so different from thebloodthirsty tricksters I’d known from the forest edge. So different from the Beast. Andhe’d helped me so many times already.

He was unlike any other fae I’d ever come across.He stood, clapping his hands together. “Back to the garden, then?”I bit my lip. The rules of the curse meant that Faolan couldn’t set foot in the rose

garden, but I was enjoying my time with the fae lord. And I could do with a break fromthe mysteriously dormant roses...

“Actually…” I drew out the word, trying my luck. “You said before I don’t know muchof the world beyond the Folkwood. Well, I’d like to learn.” I raised my gaze to meet hiseyes. “If you’re not busy this afternoon, could you teach me more about fae magic? Yourworld?”

Faolan raised his brows with a look of faux surprise. “Another favor? You know you’reracking up quite the debt, Aster.” He moved round to one of the huge armchairs andthrew himself back into it, landing lightly. “First, I gave you sunshine. Now, you want meto teach you about Faerie…”

I gave him an arched smile, leaning forward to press my hands against the armrestsof his chair. “And who knows when you might need my help in the future? You said tonever underestimate a human.”

Faolan’s musical chuckle echoed through the room. “That’s very true. Well, if it’s theKingdom of Faerie you want to hear about…we’re in the right place.” He pointed behindme. “Look up.”

I let go of the chair and looked up, a gasp escaping my lips. Every inch of the ceilingwas painted with an intricate mural, a map, the colors rich in the golden afternoon light. Itook a step back, craning my neck to try to take it all in.

“This is the whole of the Kingdom of Faerie?” I tried to remember if I’d ever seen amap so expansive before. Most of the maps I’d ever seen were of Rosehill and thesurrounding Folkwood. The only corner of the world I’d ever known, until I’d come here,to the Beast’s manor.

“Where are we?” I squinted and spun around, trying to orient myself.Warmth emanated against my back. Faolan held my shoulders lightly, turning me so I

faced the far corner of the library, where the paint on the ceiling glistened in a dark greento denote the Folkwood. “We’re there.” His words brushed against my ear.

Then he quickly stepped back, clearing his throat and pushing back the armchairs fromthe plush rug we were standing on. I glanced up to see if any of the servants werewatching him rearrange the furniture, but they all seemed to have disappeared.

When I turned back, Faolan was reclining on the rug, patting the space next to him. Idropped down, my hair spreading out like a fan around me as I lay back and stared up atthe ceiling.

“The Kingdom of Faerie has ten Fae Courts,” Faolan explained, and I allowed my gazeto roam across the land painted with detailed mountains, rivers, and other natural

features defining each Court.“That’s my home, the Sky Court.” Faolan pointed to the north of the map, sounding

wistful. The Sky Court sat at the very edge of a mountain range, decorated withsunbeams and stars. “Although I grew up there, in the Forest Court.”

My gaze followed the point of his long finger to the center of the map, where asprawling forest covered swaths of the ceiling in mottled green hues. A smaller Court satwithin its periphery, painted with blooms. The Flower Court.

“The Forest Court is where the Alder King lives and where Thorne and I both grew up.As for our magic, it’s drawn from the land itself, from the Court we are born in. We’realways strongest when we’re at home.”

Faolan pointed out each Court in turn. The Sea Court foaming in the expanse of blue-green around the edge, the River Court snaking inland like a ribbon, the Metal Courtpainted in shimmering metallic hues, the Mountain Court stretching across rugged peaks.At the edges of the map, at the very top and bottom, sat the remote labels naming thedark Shadow Court and the blindingly white Frost Court. To the far east, a blur of goldindicated the Desert Court.

I tried to commit the map to memory, absorbing how this new, bigger world looked.How vast it was.

Faolan tilted his head away from the ceiling, watching me. If I leaned my head towardhim, our noses would almost brush. I remained staring resolutely ahead, my hearttapping away in my chest. Time slipped by as we lay in silence, studying the map aboveus.

I sucked in my lower lip, my gaze returning to the Folkwood in the far corner of themap. “Why isn’t the Cursed Court labeled like the others?”

“It’s not one of the ten Fae Courts. It was created long after the other Courts, andonly Thorne lives here.”

“So it didn’t exist before the curse?” I propped myself up on my elbows, turning toface Faolan.

He pressed himself up into a sitting position in one fluid movement, his wingsfluttering slightly. “No, it didn’t.” He stood, then offered me a hand to pull me to my feet.

I accepted, my mind whirring with everything Faolan had told me. The whole worldbeyond the Folkwood suddenly seemed much larger. Not that any of this new knowledgewould matter if I never made it home. I gripped the scroll depicting the garden close tomy chest, the parchment rustling. Faolan had shown me two very interesting maps, butthe one in my hand was the only one that might help me get out of here. Seeing Faolan’sworried reaction to the dormant rose bushes this morning had planted a seed of doubt.

What if they never grew? What if I failed to break the curse?“Faolan…” I swallowed, scuffing my foot over the plush carpet beneath my feet. “Why

is it that none of the other girls could finish the garden?” I looked down at the yellowingpaper in my hands. “Was it just that they didn’t have help like yours? No sunshine, nomaps. Or that they didn’t have the gardening experience that I do?” It seemed unlikelythat not one of them in a hundred years had been a gardener. “Or is there somethingabout these roses? Some special trick to make them grow?”

The sky prince didn’t respond, moving the furniture back on the rug, aligning it sonothing looked out of place. Like we hadn’t been there at all.

“What happened to the other Tithe girls?” I squeezed the scroll tightly, my knuckleswhite. My voice dropped to a whisper as I voiced the other concern that had beenhovering at the edge of my mind. “What will happen to me if I don’t finish the garden?”

Based on the slow progress I’d made so far, I might well never get the roses to growby the Autumn Equinox.

Faolan froze, his own grip tightening on the back of an armchair. “I’m afraid that’s aquestion for Thorne.”

“I’ve asked him, but he won’t tell me.” Emboldened by how forthcoming Faolan hadbeen in telling me about the Fae Courts, I took a step toward him, resting my hand on hisforearm. “Don’t I deserve to know what will happen to me if I fail in my task?” My voicecaught in my throat. “Did the other girls all die? Does—does the Beast kill them? None ofthem have ever come back to Rosehill, and I know none of them are still here. I’ve beeneverywhere in the estate.”

Faolan turned to me slowly, arching a gilded brow. “You’ve been everywhere?”I pursed my lips. “Well, everywhere except the arbor wing. Thorne said it was as

dangerous as the Folkwood.” As I said the words out loud, I realized how stupid I’d beento heed Thorne’s warning at face value. Curiosity flickered through me. “I’ll find answersthere?”

Faolan took my hand in his, his smile sad. “You’ll likely find more questions, Aster.”The low-slung sunbeams stretched lazily across the room. We’d been in the library for

hours, and the Beast might be back from his hunt any time. But I was sure Faolan wastrying to tell me something, and I had to know. I had to find out what would happen if Ifailed in my task. “Do we have time to go there before he gets back?”

Faolan let go of my hand, looking at me consideringly before turning away andwalking to the door. I knew he liked to avoid difficult questions with more questions, buthe’d never just ignored me before. Never left mid-conversation.

“Faolan!” I called after him. “Please.”His wings twitched as he opened the door. He glanced up to the second level to make

sure no one was listening in, then turned back to me. “The first night I return for a visit,Thorne and I usually stay up drinking late into the night.” He paused. “It would be a goodtime to…explore.”

Our gazes met, unblinking, and I nodded once before he slipped away.

C H A P T E R F I F T E E N

CANDLES GUTTERED in the cool breeze, their yellow flames losing the fight against themoonlight flooding through the windows, shining silver puddles pooling on the floor.

I pressed my ear against the corridor wall, trying to listen in on Faolan and Thorne’sconversation. I wanted to be completely certain the Beast had sunk several bottles offaerie wine before I went stealing through the house to break into the arbor wing.

I trusted Faolan...but only as far as you could trust any fae.I inhaled slowly, breathing in the heavy stench of faerie wine. It was too difficult to

make out what the two Court Fae were saying to each other, but I could hear the slurringof the Beast’s words, the wild excitement in his voice, the clinking of glasses.

It seemed the sky prince wasn’t trying to play some fae trick on me, after all.Satisfied, I straightened up and hurried back through the mansion.I kept to the shadows, one elbow skimming the wall as I passed the servants still

tending to the Beast’s home. Even by night, Little Folk flitted between the rooms, stokingfires and beating carpets and polishing silver to a shine. I passed a trio of small faeriescovered entirely in black fur scuttling in and out of a chimney, bringing showers of sootdown with them; a fae with the glittering wings of a beetle and the hooves of a goatcarrying a platter piled high with flowers; and a scowling faery dragging a broom sulkilyalong the floor behind her, delicate, white scales covering every inch of her skin.

Thank Folk the servants had all dropped their glamours after I ate the primroses. Icould never have slipped past them otherwise.

As I turned into another corridor, my heart leaped into my mouth as a willowy, blue-skinned fae fluttered toward me, her ink-blue hair streaming out behind her.

I scrambled back against a door, ramming my shoulders into the hollow space in frontof it.

“‘I’ll take my boots off,’ she says,” the faery hissed. “Wispwing shouldn’t be expectedto clean her boots even if she leaves them. Wispwing shouldn’t be expected to clean upafter any dirty human.”

The faint scent of lilac and rain tickled my nostrils as she passed closer, and I wrinkledmy nose, trying my hardest not to sneeze.

Wispwing clenched her sharp fingers into fists, muttering viciously, “All human girls

the same, thinking they’re Lady of the Manor. Wispwing knows better. They never last.”She drifted past, her wings blurring. “The Master never makes any of them his lady.”

I waited until she’d rounded the next corner, my pulse still crashing in my ears, thenexhaled slowly.

Mosswhistle had already warned me to be careful around Wispwing. And it seemedlike the brownie was right.

Not that I wanted the Beast to make me Lady of the Manor, or anything remotely likeit.

I wiped my damp palms down my skirts, taking a calming breath before hastening ondown the corridor. If Faolan was keeping Thorne drinking, I could take my time lookingaround the arbor wing, but I wanted to get out of these faery-riddled hallways before oneof them spotted me and reported back that I’d been sneaking around.

Reaching the staircase that led up to the arbor wing, I stopped, one hand on thepolished wooden rail. It twisted up and away from me, ghostly white flowers shining outfrom the ivy that wound along its length.

This was the one place the Beast had warned me to stay away from and which I’dbeen careful to avoid in my explorations of the mansion so far. He’d warned me about thewing in the same breath he’d warned me about the dangers of the Folkwood, and I’dtaken him at face value. But if what Faolan had suggested was true, the arbor wing wasfilled with Thorne’s secrets, not hidden dangers.

I suddenly wondered whether the Beast had been true to his word and sent amessage to warn my sister about the púca. But I didn’t owe the Beast anything, even ifhe had sent Laurel a bird. He’d kidnapped me and all the other Tithe girls and forced usto come here. Plus, Faolan had as good as told me this was the only place I’d find outwhat might happen to me if I failed at crafting the perfect rose garden. Even though Iwas trying my hardest, there was every chance I’d fail, just like the other girls.

There was more to this curse than either of the Court Fae were letting on, and I wasgoing to find out what it was.

Squaring my shoulders, I hurried up the winding, wooden staircase, then along anarrow gallery overlooking a cavernous hallway beneath us, moonlight streaming inthrough tall glass doors at the far end. If I looked outside, I knew I would see the orchardof faerie fruit Faolan had shown me and the Folkwood beyond.

I stopped at a pair of huge doors. Crafted from briars twisted into two thick slabs,wooden roses pushing out from between the thorns, it was difficult to see how theyopened.

I traced one finger lightly along one of the stems, following it into a crevice betweenthe briars.

There.My hand closed around a cool handle.The door swung soundlessly open, so smoothly that I stumbled forward into the room.

A prickling sensation swept down my spine.The way in which the entire mansion seemed to be a part of the forest was

exaggerated here, a living, breathing center of the house. Trees bowed out like a ribcage

around the room, ending in green-budded bones reaching toward the sky.“Whoa…” I breathed out.My jaw hanging open, I took a few steps forward, then dropped my gaze to the soft

tread underfoot. A thick, emerald moss carpeted the floor. I wriggled my toes in theirboots, longing to feel the springy velvet against the soles of my feet.

The artistry in here… It was incredible.I turned my head slowly, taking in the ivy-wrapped windows, furniture growing

straight out of the tree-like structure, and an approximation of a bed hung with drapesmade out of fluttering petals.

This is where the Beast sleeps? No wonder he doesn’t want me poking around in here.I craned my neck back, a sigh escaping my lips. The ceiling was completely open, the

spread of stars above us shedding their sparkling light into the room, making the leavescircling the treetops glimmer as they caught in the breeze.

I walked slowly forward, then halted. The velvet carpet wound its way into the verycenter of the room in a pattern all too familiar to me. It mirrored the labyrinthinestructure of the rose garden I’d just seen on the map, and in the center…

I froze and swallowed down the lump in my throat, eyes narrowing as I squinted atthe shapes gathered in the middle of the labyrinth. They looked almost...human.

Who else is in here with me?The prickling under my skin grew worse. If the trees looked like a ribcage, the center

of the labyrinth could be a beating heart. The air seemed to pulse, heavy and oppressive,forming a dull ache in my temples.

But I couldn’t stop now. I needed to find out what would happen if I didn’t finish therose garden. I needed to find out Thorne’s secrets, including who these ghostly figureswere convening in his chambers at night.

My feet were silent on the velvet moss as I hesitantly followed the path in the shapeof a blooming rose to the center of the labyrinth. I was greeted by a group of four tallfigures, crafted out of the forest in just the same way the rest of the house was.

Not living, then. My shoulders lowered a fraction.The sculptures grew directly out of the floor, stripped of leaves, the branches wound

tightly together into the shape of the figures like they were woven out of wicker. I stared,fascinated. They were a hideous artist’s impression of what a figure might look like, theirfingers ending in sharp points, the wood twisting in indications of eyes and mouths...andyet at the same time, they were impossibly lifelike.

I trailed my fingers over one of their arms, feeling the rough bumps and whorls of thewood, reassuring myself it was nothing more than a statue. Because without question,these were fae males.

They loomed above me, as tall as Thorne or Faolan, their ears crafted into fine points,their lips raised in snarls that revealed pointed canines. Even without these fae features,the way in which they held themselves, the grace and power in their frozen limbs, wouldhave told me these were fae.

And the way in which it seemed like they might spring to life at any moment… Nowonder I’d thought they were real at first. Perhaps they had been real people.

Then my gaze caught on a fifth figure at the very center of all of them.A tremble stole into my hands.I took a halting step closer, taking in the figure’s shorter stature, the skirts flying out

around her legs. The way her hands were flung up before her, as if trying desperately todefend herself.

A human girl.I cast a glance back at the other figures around her. Standing beside her, it seemed

obvious the fae had her cornered.That they’d been hunting her.Was this what Faolan had meant me to find? Was this what happened to the Tithe

girls who didn’t create the perfect rose garden? They were hunted for sport?I crouched down in front of her, resting on the balls of my feet, the expression on the

girl’s face sending a tremor through my body. Even disfigured by the grain of the wood, itwas easy to read.

Her features were contorted in pure terror.I reached out as if to sweep her hair back from her face, running my hand gently

along the line of her jaw. Who were you?Faolan had mentioned the curse had been triggered by the death of a human girl. Was

this her? Was she the first girl to be sacrificed to Thorne’s whims? And would I be thelatest?

A shiver ran down my spine as a wash of magic swelled in the room, even strongerthan the heavy weight of power in the middle of the labyrinth. A now-familiar metallictaste coated my tongue, the air prickling. Candles hissed to life, and with the flickeringlight crept the scent of smoke and rosewood.

I whirled around and jerked my head up. The Beast lounged back against a woodenpillar, watching me with a face like stone.

I swallowed a lump in my throat.The magic swirling in the air suffocated me as the Beast pushed away from the pillar,

taking a step toward me. “Are you unable to understand basic instructions?” His quietvoice sent chills running down my back.

I swallowed again, hard, the lump in my throat growing bigger. I knew I ought toreply, to make up something, but the words stuck in my throat. A dead weight sat in thepit of my stomach.

“Did you not realize this was the arbor wing?” The Beast prowled forward, a drunkenshine glazing his hazel eyes in the candlelight. “Or,” he breathed, his hands trembling andclenched into fists, “did you simply not care that I asked this one thing of you? To giveme this small amount of privacy in a house I otherwise invited you to treat as your own?”

A low rumble sounded overhead, and when I glanced up, the sky had grown darker,clouds covering the glittering stars and moon.

Very slowly, I straightened up, dusting my hands down my skirts. “I’m sorry,” Iwhispered.

“You’re sorry?” He gave a cold, humorless laugh, the sweet scent of faerie wine on hisbreath. “That’s all you have to say?”

I glanced behind him, hoping that Faolan might have followed him up here. That hemight save my skin if the cold rage roiling off the Beast meant he lost his temper.

“I wanted… I thought…”A fat drop of rain landed on my cheek. The cold water rolled over my skin, down my

jaw, my neck, my collarbone. I shivered as more drops began raining down on us, spotsdarkening the wooden sculptures.

My shoulders set. I wouldn’t apologize for this. Thorne still hadn’t told me why thisplace was forbidden. And I was only in here because he was keeping secrets. I’d agreedto help him. Didn’t I deserve to know the truth?

“Think very carefully about what you say next, Aster.” The Beast’s eyes glittered as hecaught the defiant expression spreading across my face. The shadows I’d seen aroundhim before had darkened almost to black, the inky aura writhing around his body andlingering above his head like horns.

He looked like a beast.I took a step back, my mouth drying as I glanced around the room. “Where’s Faolan?”

My voice came out higher than usual.“Faolan?” Thorne took another step forward, and I almost gasped at the strength of

the magic that hit me, the pressure building behind my temples, ringing in my ears. Hislip lifted, revealed the sharp points of his canines.

“What do you think happens when you disobey my rules, Aster?” The Beast’s voicewas a low rumble, followed by an echo of thunder above us, then a flash of lightningstreaking across the sky.

I flinched back. “I don’t—”“Do you know what happens to fae who break my rules?” The shadows seethed

around him, flaring darker. “I hunt them through the forest. I make them pay.”I shuddered, recalling Faolan’s words about how the Beast hunted his own kind.Where was Faolan?“And if that’s how I treat the fae… What do you think should happen to a human who

disobeys me? Should I hunt you down too?”My gaze flicked to the wicker girl at the center of the labyrinth, and I no longer had

any doubt what had happened to her. It took a certain kind of monster to hunt a humangirl to death in the woods, and another kind to build a shrine depicting that hunt in theirbedroom.

Too late, I realized that the Beast had followed my gaze.“Get out,” he breathed softly. He dropped his eyes from mine, his hands still tightly

clenched into fists.I took a breath, trying to keep calm. Maybe I could still find out what I needed to.

“Faolan told me about the curse. That girl,” I said in a trembling voice. “Is she—”“I said get out,” the Beast roared, sweeping one arm in front of him, and his magic

whipped across my front.Pain seared my chest, hot and hard.I bolted past him.I didn’t look back as I raced through the corridors, the Little Folk staring at me with

wide, owlish eyes as I stumbled over my skirts and crashed around corners in my haste toget away from the Beast.

Thunder roared overhead, rain hammering so hard against the windows that theyrattled in their panes. I flinched each time a crack split the air, tears stinging my eyes. Ithurt to breathe, the bruising across my ribs constricting painfully each time I took ashuddering inhale.

Reaching my room, I collapsed inside, chest heaving as I fumbled for the latch withshaking hands.

The windows flashed bright again, illuminating the key sticking out of the lock.I choked back a laugh.I thought a locked door would keep me safe from the Beast if he came after me?Grabbing my iron knife from the dresser, I curled up in bed with the weapon clutched

in one fist while the thunder echoed through the night.

C H A P T E R S I X T E E N

I STRODE QUİCKLY AWAY from the house, my skirts tangling around my legs as they whiskedthrough the rain-soaked grass. I hadn’t waited for Mosswhistle to wake me this morning,hurrying outside well before dawn, not wanting to answer the brownie’s questions aboutwhy dark circles ringed my eyes, why my hand was hot and pink and smelled faintly ofiron.

Not to mention, if the Beast came looking for me this morning, it was probably best hefind me working in the gardens. It might remind him that he needed me alive if hewanted me to break this curse.

I rubbed my tired eyes with trembling hands, quickening my pace. I wanted to getaway from the house with its horde of cunning faerie servants and mysterious wickerstatues in the arbor wing...and the terrifying Beast stalking its halls.

I stumbled on a dip in the grass and swore softly, my ankle throbbing. As if the bandsof bruising across my chest from where the Beast’s magic crashed into me last nightweren’t enough to contend with. I paused for a moment, slowing my breath, beforecontinuing on through the gardens.

Even in the dark, the first blush of morning only just turning the horizon pink, I couldsee the devastation Thorne’s storm had wreaked upon the gardens. Uprooted flowers layragged across the grass, petals torn and scattered, tangled roots laid bare. Over in theorchards, faerie fruit spattered the ground in wet clumps, the cloying scent winding itsway across the lawns to join that of the ruined flowers and upturned earth. The groundwas saturated, waterlogged with the torrential rain that had battered the groundsthroughout the night.

I faltered when I reached the kitchen garden. It was a mess here too, vegetableswrenched from the earth and haphazardly littering the ground. I picked my way over thebright red smears of radishes and strawberries, my breath catching in my throat as theyreminded me uncomfortably of rose petals.

My steps slowed as I approached the stone wall ringing the roses. As I unlocked thedoor and stepped inside, I suddenly felt very distant from my body.

Loose earth and moss covered the labyrinthine path I’d so carefully uncovered. Waterpooled in the beds, loose branches and uprooted plants smothering where I had cleared

away the weeds, the labels I had dug in identifying the different cultivars swept away.Climbing roses had been ripped from the walls, swaying loose in a lingering wind. Thebare briars caught and knotted together, clinging to each other for safety.

All that was left was a tangle of thorns.Numbly, I stepped back out of the rose garden, pulling the gate closed behind me. I

leaned back against it for a moment, the bumps and ridges digging into my back.The breath seemed to have been squeezed out of my lungs, disappointment coursing

through my veins. My pulse quickened. All my hard work preparing the garden… It had allbeen destroyed in one night.

I couldn’t bear to look at the devastation right now. And I couldn’t go back to thehouse.

Pressing away from the gate, I trudged around the edge of the garden wall, makingfor the potting shed, no longer even taking in the ruined gardens.

No wonder none of the other girls had ever completed the garden, if each time theBeast lost his temper, all their hard work was undone.

I’d been anxious about the dormant roses growing by the end of summer. Now… I’dbe surprised if any of them had survived being wrenched from the ground by force andhurled across the gardens. Everything I’d done up until now… It had all been for nothing.There was no way I could finish the garden by Autumn Equinox.

Reaching the old oak tree, I stopped abruptly.Tears pricked in my eyes. The huge tree had been toppled by the storm. It had

crashed to the ground green leaves still fluttering from its branches. The gnarled trunkpressed against the earth, the roots wrenched out of the ground, just like the poor rosebushes.

The oak tree must have been hundreds of years old, older even than the Tithe.A shiver ran across my skin. For it to have been toppled, roots that grew so deeply

into the earth to have been ripped out, the Beast must have been furious…And in those upturned roots… Dull, cream-colored tubers were tangled amongst them,

caked in soil. Even more littered the surrounding earth.I halted abruptly, a frown crossing my forehead. What were those? Did the tree have

some sort of disease? A fungus that fed off its roots?I moved closer, my boots sticking to the mud where the earth had been upturned, the

hem of my skirt sweeping through the dirt. Whatever they were, there were hundreds ofthem, in varying sizes, just as many scattered loose over the ground as growing out ofthe disturbed roots.

I stopped abruptly, a chill spreading through my blood.All of a sudden I knew. They weren’t tubers...I took a few swift strides to my left and pulled a long, white bone from the earth.For a moment I just stared at it. Then I slowly extended an arm, holding the bone out

alongside it.A shudder wracked my body.They were the same length.My heart beat against my ribs, a ringing sounding in my ears as I realized what I’d

stumbled across.Eyeless skulls stared at me from the earth, bleached faces stripped of age and

features and personality. What had looked like off-white roots were now clearly humanremains. Lots of them.

This graveyard was all that was left of the Tithe girls before me.And to think, I’d decided to stay in the Cursed Court because I’d thought that was my

best bet of getting home. That it was my safest option while Thorne needed me to workon the rose garden.

But now…All of the girls who’d come here before me were dead. I’d always feared that was the

case, but to see it with my own eyes… To hold their fragile bones in my hands…These were girls no older than me. Eighteen-year-old girls who had been someone’s

daughter, sister, or sweetheart.My mouth dried. The newer, whiter bones would belong to girls I had known. Girls I’d

learned with in school, danced with at Lúnasa, healed and cared for as a greenwitch.Willow, who had been chosen last year. Myrtle, who’d been taken in Laurel’s Tithe.

I hadn’t let myself think of them by name before, the memories too painful, but now,confronted with their bones...

The trembling in my limbs grew worse, the ringing in my ears turning into a deafeningwhine.

The truth hit me like a punch. The rose garden was an impossible task, and when Ididn’t finish it on time, I’d end up as the latest clatter of bones buried in the earth.

I dropped the bone I was holding with a soft thump and ran for the Folkwood.

C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N

THE HİGH-PİTCHED WHİNE in my ears blocked out any room for thought. I brushed through thickcurtains of leaves and ivy, stray branches whipping against my cheeks, my arms.

My lungs ached as I forced myself to run faster, farther, my hands fumbling for myskirts to keep them away from the briars and nettles that tore at me as I bolted past. Anydim light the morning sun had cast across the sky was filtered out by the thick canopyabove, leaving me in near darkness. With each painful breath, I inhaled the heavy,mushroom scent of the Folkwood, the place I had always been most afraid of.

Until now.My boots slid over a patch of damp moss, my arms wheeling out on either side of me.

My fingers closed around the rough bark of a tree, tiny thorns spearing my skin. Painflashed through me as I hastily dragged myself back to my feet, the heat of my bloodrising in my palms.

Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed myself away from the tree and raced onward,stumbling over the loose earth and ragged roots strewn across the forest floor.

Just keep moving. Rosehill was south-west of the Cursed Court. So I just had to keepheading in that direction and hope I stumbled across my home...however impossible thatsounded.

The shadows pressed in around me. Even if I could see where I was going, whatdifference would that make, really? I didn’t know the forest. I wouldn’t be able to find myway through the Folkwood even if it were lit by the brightest summer day. And that waswithout accounting for the Little Folk who inhabited the forest. They might be content toremain huddled in the dark places when there was no human to chase for sport, but whenthey saw me, lost and alone…

At least the first time I’d tried to escape, I’d had the forethought to bring supplies.Now all I had were the clothes on my back and the iron knife tucked into my bodice.

I choked back a sob.I just have to keep heading in a straight line.Dashing the tears from my eyes, I put on an extra burst of speed, my mouth

wobbling. My feet thudded against the forest floor, the only sound in the deep dark of thewoods.

A prickle ran down my spine. It’s too quiet. I glanced behind me—and almoststumbled again.

In the shadows, a pair of glowing red eyes narrowed as they fixed on me.The tremble returned to my hands, a dizziness sweeping over me. I should have

known it was only a matter of time before one of the fae discovered me here.If my stumbling, human steps crashing through the undergrowth hadn’t given me

away, the moment I’d pricked my hand on the thorns, the scent of my human bloodwould have been rich in the forest air.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t know what kind of fae had found me, but Irecognized the look it had given me. A predator, sizing up its prey.

Forcing my tired legs to move even faster, I glanced behind me again.A second pair of eyes had joined the first.A third...A fourth…My hand went to the iron knife in my bodice, but I could hardly get a grip on it, my

shaking palm slippery with sweat.The sounds behind me grew louder, and closer, the crack of branches and rustle of

leaves as they hunted me down, behind me, to my left, my right.They’re so close.I swallowed again, my mouth dry. My heart was pounding so fast I thought it might

burst from my chest. There was no way I could outrun them.I blinked rapidly, willing my eyes to see better in the dark, wondering whether I might

be able to find someplace to hide, a tree I could climb or a river the fae creatures mightnot be able to cross.

As if the forest had heard me, I suddenly broke out into a clearing, the pale dawn lightfiltering down to reveal a field of emerald grass, a huge, dead, hollowed-out treestanding upright in its center, wreathed in ivy.

Relief flooded through me as I sprinted through the grass, kicking up a glittering cloudof dew. Maybe the fae wouldn’t leave the cover of the trees.

Then a light, low swell of laughter encircled me, uncomfortably close.A prickle ran over my skin, and in spite of my better judgment, I risked a glance

around.The fae had crept from the shadows of the trees… At least a dozen of them.My stomach turned. I’d never seen fae like this on the outskirts of the Folkwood. They

prowled around the edge of the clearing on powerful limbs, thick, black fur gleaming inthe morning light. They might have been wolves except for the clawed hands at the endof their arms, the eerily human-like faces that grinned at me with sharp jaws. Two long,bat-like ears curved over their backs.

They were like creatures from a nightmare, and I had none of my greenwitchmaterials to help defend myself. Only the iron knife.

My hand fastened around the hilt. Thrusting my arm out, I backed toward the tree inthe center of the clearing, swinging the blade wildly from one side to the other as one ofthe creatures took sly steps toward me, then retreated, before another moved forward in

its place.Their laughter grew louder, grins splitting their faces, revealing rows of sharp teeth.They’re toying with me.I drew in a shuddering breath. If I could reach the hollow tree, force them to approach

me one at a time...A rush of dark fur suddenly blurred toward me, heavy feet pounding in my direction.Letting out a panicked cry, I swung the knife, my feet moving automatically in the drill

pattern my father had drummed into me, my body hunching over to avoid the weight ofthe fae creature landing on me.

The knife connected, a snag of the blade against flesh.The creature howled, staggering away.But it only took a few steps before turning to face me again.My stomach roiled as I realized its grin had contorted into a furious snarl. That all of

them were snarling at me, prowling forward in deadly silence, the laughter faded fromthe air.

I lifted the blade again.“It’s iron,” I said in a high, thin voice, directing my words to the monster directly in

front of me. “It’ll poison you if I so much as scratch you.”The fae I’d already wounded looked back at its kin.Then clawed hands thumped against my shoulders.I toppled backward, my back jarring as I hit damp grass, the air knocked from my

lungs, the knife flying from my hands. The fae’s claws pressed into my skin, threateningto puncture.

I fought to sit up, wresting my head from one side to the other to try to spot wheremy knife had been struck from my hand, but stopped with a cry as the pressureintensified on my chest.

The fae’s red eyes bored into me, inches from my own, its breath hot against mycheek. The scent of decay, of decomposing meat, made me gag, bile burning my throat.

A thick globule of saliva slid from its tongue, dripping hot and sticky onto my skin.I closed my eyes.I’m going to die.

C H A P T E R E I G H T E E N

THE CLAWS PİNCHED TİGHTER on my shoulders as a tremor ran through the earth.I tensed. I could feel it—the swell of magic, the taste of metal on my tongue, the

prickle in the air. It grew harder to draw breath.What sort of magic do these fae have?The ground beneath me shuddered again before the clearing erupted.A violent wind tore the creature from my front, the wolf-fae cast across the clearing

with a furious snarl. The trees around me groaned as their branches thrashed, then thetrunks arched back and away from the clearing, the wood creaking as they strained underthe immense pressure. A series of snaps sounded, the wind roaring louder as it ripped thevibrant green grass from the ground.

I rolled onto my side, still struggling for breath, grit and leaves drumming against mycheeks as the wind roiled.

Fur rippling, the fae creatures clung to the earth at the edge of the clearing, their redeyes narrowed, teeth bared.

“Run,” a cold voice hissed in my ear.I flinched away, then craned my neck around.The Beast towered over me, his hair and cloak whipping out in the wind. The dark

shadows I had seen emanating from him before were almost black against the air now,as though his tattoos had lifted from his skin, making him look more like a beast thanever.

His dark eyes were fixed on the fae creatures battling against the wind, power ripplingoff him in pulsing waves that stole my breath.

My limbs began trembling. I couldn’t have run even if I’d wanted to.He dropped his gaze to me. “Didn’t you hear me?” The Beast ducked down beside me,

his voice laced with rage. “The barghest aren’t the only things hunting you. And believeme, they’re far from the worst things that live in this forest.”

Barghest. I’d never heard that name before. They must live in the deepest, darkestparts of the Folkwood.

I shuddered. What could be worse than these slavering, laughing wolf-fae?“Aster,” Thorne said sharply. “Did you hear—”

He broke off with a hiss of rage as one of the barghest launched themselves at hisback.

Twisting away from me, the Beast lifted one, pale, tattooed hand. The clearing grewdarker, thunder rumbling overhead. A cold, fat drop of rain hit my cheek.

I let out a gasp and scrambled over the grass, grabbing for my iron knife. My handsfumbled over the hilt, trying to get a grip in spite of the shake in my limbs.

Another rumble sounded, and I twisted my head back around.Vines spiraled from the ground, wrenching the barghest from the Beast’s back,

winding around the creature until all I could see was a tight knot of thick, sinewy stems.They constricted until the creature screamed, its cries audible even over the storm.

The trees began to groan again as they bent in the wind, snapping branches soundinglike cracking bones. Rain hammered down, pounding against the lush grass.

The Beast remained perfectly still, his hands held out to either side. The blackshadows around him burned darker, and his power ricocheted around the clearing,rebounding off trees that warped and broke, dragging deep furrows through the earth.

His eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on his brow.“Aster,” he whispered. “You need to run. Now.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I’m going to lose control any second.”Realization shuddered through me. The Beast wasn’t struggling to summon his

power… He was struggling to contain it.And I was hunched right next to him.I rose unsteadily to my feet, narrowing my eyes against the burning wind, my knife

clutched in one hand. I twisted around.Which direction had I come from? And—more importantly—where was I trying to run

to?I took a few unsteady steps away from Thorne, shooting a frightened glance over my

shoulder.The pressure of his magic was unbearable. I could feel it in my blood, a tightness

pulsing through my veins.Every part of the forest was affected by it.I took a few hurried steps away.A loud crack sounded, and I flinched as one of the trees tore from the ground,

crashing to the forest floor, the earth shuddering beneath my feet.“Aster,” Thorne groaned.Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter which direction I ran in. I just needed to get out of

here, before the Beast’s magic overcame him.How had I forgotten it already, after everything I had seen just last night? The Beast

was not my savior. He was the most dangerous forest fae of them all.I’d been running from him in the first place.My feet pounded over the earth. I needed to get as far away from the fae lord as

possible.I’d barely made it any distance before I slipped, the grass sodden with rain. Heavy,

clawed hands barreled into my back.

I collided with the ground, hard, the skin on my palms scraping over wet stones.Talons dug sharply into my shoulder blades, pricking at my flesh.

Tears needled my eyes as the barghest’s hot breath snarled by my ear, teeth scrapingacross my skin.

“Aster!” Thorne’s voice came urgently from across the clearing, and then, in a rush ofshadows, he was at my side again, wrenching the barghest from me with inhumanstrength.

I scrambled for my knife, then stumbled on, not looking back as I raced toward safety.A roar of pain split the air.Thorne’s.My steps slowed.Don’t look back.I gritted my teeth. I owed the Beast nothing. And yet… He’d come after me. He might

be a fae beast, but he had saved me from the barghest, and he was giving me a chanceto escape now...

I stopped beside the hollow, ivy-coated tree and turned back to face him.My eyes met his, and just for a moment, something in his expression looked human.I sank back inside the tree, my iron blade scraping the bark, the ivy crackling behind

me.Somehow, even in the middle of the barghest attack, even knowing that the moment

Thorne’s power was released I was going to die, I drew some comfort from the tree. Itwas an oak, like the one that had stood sentry over the girls’ bones in the gardens.

Oak trees stood for strength and resistance. They kept people safe.From the depths of the trees, a strange medley of screams, shrieks, and laughs

reached my ears, otherworldly chatter that sent a chill rushing through me.Thorne had warned me. More fae were headed toward us, racing to join the barghest

in their hunt.My thumb ran up the hilt of my knife. Even this, the best my father had sourced for

me, would be useless fighting any more than one of the deadly creatures baying for myblood.

I backed farther into the hollow of the trunk. It looked as if my bones would restbeneath an oak tree like the other Tithe girls after all.

I sheathed the knife and looked up into the hollow trunk. Ivy wound and twisted overthe bark on the inside of the tree, too. Maybe it would be safer in the branches…out ofsight of the barghest.

Grabbing fistfuls of the ivy, I attempted to braid it into a makeshift rope, terrorthudding through my body with every breath. I tugged at where its hairy roots clung tothe dead wood, hoping it would hold.

A flicker of warmth tingled in my palms as I clutched the ivy, as though static ranbetween me and the tree, and then, suddenly, the tree shivered.

I froze.Branches and ivy slithered down in front of me, weaving together into an intricate

shield around the opening of the trunk.

The branches braided themselves into a tight web, the ivy winding around them intoclever patterns so that they looked like they had been woven together by a mastercraftsman. Shoots sprang out of their tips before bright-green leaves burst forth, rustlingtogether as the growth finally slowed, cocooning me inside the trunk.

Suddenly, I knew what this reminded me of.The wicker statues in the arbor wing.Did Thorne do this?Tiredness burned at my eyes as I leaned forward to peer through the thin gaps in the

entwined branches to see him staring toward the oak tree.Then he let his power loose.A boom shattered the air, the wind tearing at the earth, the grasses. The trees began

straining at their roots, wrenching themselves forward, lashing at the barghest, smashingagainst the earth.

The barghest began whining, then screaming, as the forest turned on them.I closed my eyes again as the trees shredded the fae, their branches like huge, clawed

hands, tearing at the barghest’s fur, their claws, pummeling their bodies into the earth.The forest groaned, and I huddled deeper within the protective cocoon of the oak,

trying to block out the moans of agony rising above the storm.The roar of the wind grew muffled as my palms closed over my ears, but it didn’t

drown out the wails and howls rising up from deeper within the forest, the cries of terroras Thorne’s magic echoed outward through the Folkwood, eliminating any living creaturein its path. Tiredness swept over me, but the noises sent spikes of adrenaline coursingthrough my body, keeping me alert.

At last, the wind died down, the screams subsiding.Silence fell, and my knees buckled in relief. I pressed my hands against the inside of

the tree.In spite of being the deadliest creature I had ever encountered...Thorne had somehow

figured out how to keep me safe while he destroyed everyone else in the clearing.I blinked my eyes open. The protective branches and ivy that had knitted across the

opening of the trunk unwove, bending back upright.I took in the carnage before me. Stray leaves, twigs, and plants were strewn across

the clearing. All were spattered with blood.My gaze fell on Thorne.The Beast didn’t say a word, surveying me with a wary look in his eyes. He took a

few, slow steps toward the oak, his dark eyes running over the web of branches stillcreeping back from the opening.

He halted right before me, and I shivered, the vestiges of his power still throbbingaround him, like the cool air after a storm.

I tore my gaze from him, looking back at the shadows between the trees, theshredded bodies littering the earth.

I’d run into the Folkwood willingly before, thinking it less dangerous than the Beast.But if he hadn’t come after me...

I slowly looked back at him.

He saved me.He stood facing me with a dark expression that sent another shiver running through

me, a mirror of when he’d chosen me at the Tithe. Except this time, he didn’t grab mywrist. He extended his hand, blood shining across his palm, and waited.

I paused, then reached out and grasped his hand in mine.With a swirl of magic around our bodies, the forest disappeared.

C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N

I DOUBLED OVER, trying to catch my breath from the rush of metallic magic that lingered in mymouth and made my head swim.

I sucked in several steadying breaths, then finally stood upright. The familiar sight ofmy chambers greeted me, a hot hand grasping mine. The Beast let me go before stridingover to the open windows, the floorboards groaning beneath his feet as he paced backand forth, the wind billowing the curtains behind him.

Something tugged at my dress, and I looked down to see Mosswhistle’s bulging blackeyes staring up at me, the brownie’s bottom lip thrust out in concern.

“Is Mistress well? Mosswhistle worried.”“I’m fine, Mosswhistle.” But my breathy voice betrayed me. I felt dizzy and

lightheaded, like I hadn’t slept in days.“You’re fine?” Thorne glared at me from across my bed. “The barghest would have

killed you if I hadn’t come after you. What were you thinking, running off into theFolkwood?”

Mosswhistle gasped, its head twisting between the Beast and me.Shadows flickered like flames around Thorne’s body and above his head, his fists

clenched at his side, the briar tattoos stark against the whites of his knuckles. From onehand, ruby blood dripped to the ground from where he’d been cut.

“Do you not understand what happens to humans who step into the Folkwood?” Theshadows curled toward me even as the Beast held himself back. “The barghest are farfrom the worst fae in that forest, but even they would have ripped you limb from limb.They’d have torn your flesh clean from your bones—”

“I don’t need the gruesome details.” I put a hand to my temples, my head stillspinning. All of the energy seemed to have seeped from my body, my limbs limp, mybreath short and shallow. I didn’t want to listen to the Beast’s reprimands. He might havesaved me, but he was the reason I’d been running in the first place. He was the reasonall of the other Tithe girls were no more than a pile of yellowing bones.

“Oh, you don’t want to hear what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up?” Hebarked a laugh as he took a step forward. “I’m sorry, were you planning to take on theentire pack of fae beasts with your secret iron dagger?”

I still held the iron knife in my hand and now gripped it tightly, the scratches on mypalm stinging. Mosswhistle took a few steps back as if noticing it for the first time, eyeingthe blade warily.

The Beast’s face twisted into a humorless smile. “Or perhaps you were waiting for ourmutual friend Faolan to swoop in? Because he left the moment you ran away, you know.”

I flinched. Faolan wouldn’t have left if he thought I might be in danger. There musthave been some misunderstanding.

I gestured toward the Beast with the knife, my temper rising. “Don’t you get it? You’rethe problem. You and the rest of the murderous beasts that stalk the forest. You’re all thesame.”

He let out a low, threatening growl. “If you think I’m the same as those beasts thathunted you… Maybe next time I’ll leave you to save yourself.”

I hissed in a breath. “If you saved me, it was for your own selfish reasons. Becauseyou still need me to break your curse. But now I know what happens when I fail.” Myheart rattled against my ribcage. “I’d rather die in the forest fighting a pack of barghestthan be buried with the rest of your victims under the old oak tree.”

Thorne’s eyes widened.His obvious shock only fueled my fear. “I discovered their bones after your tantrum

uprooted the tree.”“Bones!” Mosswhistle wailed, staring at the Beast in horror. “Whose bones?”“You’re a murderer,” I flared, panic still coursing through my veins. “You’re the

greatest threat in the Folkwood, and that’s why I ran away. Your magic destroyedeverything I worked so hard on in the rose garden. I’ll never finish it now. And when I failin my impossible task, you’ll kill me, just like those other poor girls.” I jabbed the knifetoward him, the blade trembling. “But you don’t know my family. Wildens don’t go downwithout a fight.”

Mosswhistle shifted protectively in front of me, a small growl emanating from the backof its throat.

The shadows around the Beast lessened slightly, now no more than a light-gray haze.He let out a derisive snort, turning so that he avoided my gaze. “You seriously still thinkI’m trying to kill you? I just saved your life.”

I hesitated. Why did he save me? “The garden is unsalvageable,” I stumbled out, “soyou no longer need me.”

A strangled sound escaped the Beast’s throat before he stalked quickly around thefour-poster bed. I kept the point of the knife trained on him, just like I had with thebarghest in the forest. But the Beast didn’t come any closer. Instead, he perched on theedge of the bed facing me, cradling his bleeding hand in his lap.

“I didn’t kill the other girls,” he said in a barely contained tone.The knife wavered in my hand.He can’t lie.“What?”“I didn’t kill the other Tithe girls.”I fought back the tremble in my limbs, adrenaline mixed with relief rattling through

me. My arm burned from holding out the knife, the tension in my muscles, so I slowlylowered it.

“They ran away,” he continued in a rough voice. “Every single one of them. Thecreatures of the Folkwood killed them. When I found out, I retrieved what was left oftheir bodies and buried them beneath the oak tree.”

The other girls all ran.A prickling sensation ran over the back of my skull. I could well understand what had

motivated the girls to run. There were so many reasons—the call of home, the darknessof the Cursed Court with its impossible task and invisible servants. Then there was theBeast himself, the emptiness of the Court when he wasn’t around and the slow-burnterror when he was, never knowing when he might fly into a rage and loose magic thatseemed to control the very skies and the surrounding forest.

I’d had Faolan, Mosswhistle, and my greenwitch skills, and still I’d chosen theFolkwood. I stared at Thorne. He looked ridiculously large perched on the edge of mybed, his hair mussed, his black-and-red doublet ripped to show a sliver of skin beneath.

Another wave of tiredness flooded over me, the fight leaving my body.Mosswhistle edged back toward me again, one spindly hand resting on my skirts, the

other curled into a fist in Thorne’s direction. The daisy chain I’d made the brownie stillswung from its neck, the flowers looking a little worse for wear. A declaration ofallegiance.

I bent down. “Mosswhistle, will you fetch me some yarrow, chamomile, a strip ofmuslin, and hot water? Quick as you can.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The brownie executed a swift bow, then hurtled to the door, so fast itwas almost a blur. I set the iron knife down on the dresser, exhaling through my nose. Itook a moment, trying to steel myself, then I moved to sit on the bed just along from thefae male, who seemed to be leaning away from me.

“Let me see your hand.”He stared down at my outstretched palm like it was made of iron. “Why?” he replied

with a petulant, boyish note to his voice I’d never heard before.“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” The fright that had been tearing through me gradually

subsiding, I leaned forward and took his hand in both of mine. He flinched. The cut wasdeep. A talon had slashed across his palm, and the bleeding hadn’t stopped.

“I’ll be fine,” he said gruffly, watching me analyze the cut. “Fae heal quickly.”His hand was hot but not clammy, his skin smooth beneath my rough calluses. This

was the first time I’d touched him, other than when he’d used magic to transport us here.“How do you do that, anyway?” I muttered.“What?”I lifted one hand and waggled my fingers. “You know, stepping into darkness.

Transporting us from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Can all fae do it?”He arched an eyebrow. “It’s called shadow walking. Very few of the fae can do it,

actually.”Shadow walking. I grunted, pretending to inspect his hand some more.He glowered down at me. “So you’re not going to thank me for saving your life? If I

hadn’t shadowed us out of there, you’d still be at the mercy of the other fae in theFolkwood.”

I dropped his hand onto my lap, irritation flaring through me again. “Let’s see. Are yougoing to apologize for losing your temper, destroying the rose garden, and scaring meinto a life-threatening situation?”

“Well, are you going to apologize for breaking into the arbor wing after I specificallywarned you not to?”

I scoffed. “Absolutely not.”“Then it looks like we’re at a stalemate.” Thorne’s hazel eyes gleamed, his upturned

palm still resting in my lap.“I have it all!” Mosswhistle kicked the door open with such force it smashed back

against the wall, shaking the whole room. The brownie marched in, skinny arms piledhigh with everything I’d asked for. I pushed Thorne’s hand off my lap and shuffled back asthe brownie deposited the ingredients between us on the bed, steaming water sloshingdangerously in a wooden bowl.

“Thank you, Mosswhistle.”The faery swept into another overblown bow and backed away, pretending to tidy my

closet while still casting furtive glances our way.I inspected the ingredients between us, then set to work, adding a little of the water

to the yarrow to make a poultice, then adding the chamomile to the remaining hot wateras a rinse. Thorne watched my hands in an uncharacteristic silence as I worked.

“Hand.”This time, he offered me his upturned palm without complaint. I carefully washed out

the wound, then packed the poultice over it, pressing the muslin down over the top.I suddenly felt exhausted after a night too terrified to sleep, the discovery of the

bones, the race through the forest.“Are you okay?” Thorne asked, his gaze raking over me.I searched his face, looking for the telltale signs of mockery, and found none.“I’m fine, it’s just…” A wave of emotion swept over me. I hadn’t held out much hope

that the other Tithe girls were still alive, but to find their slender bones in the ground, toknow how scared they would have felt in their last moments in the forest… I couldempathize all too well. “I’m just thinking about the other girls.” My throat tightened, and Istopped talking, the catch in my voice threatening to betray the sadness swelling in mychest, the tears pricking my eyes.

I dropped my gaze to my hands, the wet muslin glistening beneath my fingers. Ibegan wrapping it around Thorne’s palm, weaving it between his thumb and fingers, myhands moving in a neat, methodical pattern. “Why did you save me and not them?”

“I tried,” he protested. “But even shadow walking, I never got there quick enough tosave them. You know what the Folkwood is like—the fae can pick up a human scent inseconds.”

Guilt rippled through me. “So how did you miraculously manage to save me?” Ipushed, not buying it.

“I don’t have an answer for you, Aster.” The Beast’s dark brows furrowed.

Furious that he’d avoided answering my question and guilt-ridden that I’d survivedwhen none of the other girls had, I dropped my gaze back to where I was bandagingThorne’s hand. My fingertips seemed to heat where they touched the poultice, my palmsas hot as his.

“Careful!” He pulled his injured hand away with a start.“I’m sorry, I...” The words died on my lips as he pulled back the muslin, smearing

away the poultice. His skin was unblemished, the twining briar tattoo unbroken. Only thefaintest silvery scar remained.

My brows jumped up, and I snatched the Beast’s hand in both of mine, pulling ittoward me. Impossible. I traced the scar with my thumb. It looked years old.

I swallowed. “When you said fae heal fast, I didn’t think you meant in minutes.”Mosswhistle scuttled over and stood on tiptoes, trying to get a look at Thorne’s hand.“I knew it,” the Beast muttered under his breath, his scowl deepening.“You knew what?”He suddenly stood from the bed, half knocking over the brownie, who gave a shrill,

indignant whistle.“Out, brownie,” he snapped, pointing to the door. Mosswhistle reluctantly bowed

toward Thorne and left as slowly as possible, shooting me a lingering glance.But the fae male wasn’t looking. He held his healed hand in front of him like it

belonged to someone else, pacing back and forth beside the bed and muttering.“I suspected you might be at the Tithe, from the crown you wore. And then at dinner,

after you’d had the faerie fruit and the flowers exploded—it was clear you had no controlover it.” He scrubbed a hand over the sharp edges of his jaw, still shooting me theoccasional glare. “When I saw the tree close around you in the forest...” He held up hispalm. “And now this… There’s no doubt about it.”

“There’s no doubt about what, Thorne?” I couldn’t even muster the energy to sounddemanding. I just sounded tired. All of the adrenaline had drained from my body, leavingme with neither the energy nor the patience for fae riddles. “If you’re not going to tellme, then you can leave and mutter in your own room with your mystery twig statues.”

Thorne stopped pacing, turning to staring at me with an intensity that set the hairs onmy arms standing on end.

“If I tell you this, you have to promise—”“Just tell me.”A muscle twitched in his cheek. “You’re an enchantress.”

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y

THORNE RAKED a hand through his dark hair as he stalked out into the grounds.“Where are we going?” I asked, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You said

you’d explain. You can’t just tell me I’m an enchantress and then leave.”Although that was exactly what had happened yesterday. Thorne had made his

sweeping announcement, then refused to answer any of my questions, insisting it was aconversation to have the next day, when I was rested.

I’d thought it would keep me up, but I had been so drained, I’d fallen asleep almostthe moment he’d left my chambers, sleeping right through the day and then all throughthe night.

After a full night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, though, I was definitely rested, and Ihad a lot of questions.

I hitched up my skirts and picked up my pace behind him. Why did he have to walkeverywhere so fast? Gravel flew from underneath his feet as Thorne marched along thepathway crossing the lawn. Although it was mid-morning, the sun was nowhere to beseen, hidden behind a thick blanket of cloud.

“Are you going to explain what you mean by enchantress? Or would you prefer me tofind out some other way, like I had to about the curse?”

He didn’t slow down but called over his shoulder, “Some things are better kept secret,petal.”

I pressed down the irritation simmering in my core, staring at his back. “Like thosewicker statues in the arbor wing? Are they cursed, too?”

“They’re not cursed, but they are…part of the curse. In any case, they don’t concernyou. Forget about them.”

“For someone who can’t lie, you spend a fair part of our conversations talking invague, mysterious half-truths,” I muttered, flicking my hair behind my shoulder. “Faolan isthe only person around here who tells me anything.”

“Faolan’s not here.”“So you said.”“And he likely won’t be back until the revel, so, unfortunately, you’ll have to do

without his explanations.”

My eyes narrowed. “What revel?”The Beast just kept walking.“You won’t tell me?”Thorne glanced back over his shoulder, his pointed canines scraping against his lower

lip. “I thought you wanted to know about enchanting, petal. Not fae revels.”I dug my nails into my palms. The Beast got under my skin like no one else, but if I

was going to learn about what being an enchantress meant, then I had to keep mytemper in check. I couldn’t keep letting my emotions run away from me. When I did,people got hurt. Or I ended up lost in the forest, surrounded by a pack of bloodthirstybarghest.

“How is enchanting possible?” I tried again. “Humans can’t use magic.”“Some can.” The Beast’s voice was low. “It’s linked to human Craft, although it’s not

the same thing. Craft involves...skill. When a human has mastered their Craft, they canuse it to access the magic of the land. But it’s not easy to do, and not every human whois a master craftsman can learn to enchant.”

I stared at the path beneath my feet, deep in thought. Sage was just as skilled agreenwitch as me, and she’d never mentioned enchanting. And Rosehill was filled withskilled humans—musicians, blacksmiths, dressmakers, artists—but none of them had evershown any sign of using magic.

“Why have I never heard of this before?”Even if enchanting was rare, the fact that any humans could access magic was huge.

It meant we weren’t so different from the fae after all—that we had a way to fight back.Against the other Tithes around the Kingdom of Faerie, which Faolan had told me about.

“Enchanting is a closely guarded secret. Most humans don’t know about it. Nor domost of the fae, for that matter. At least, not those from the other Courts.”

“Does Faolan know?”“Yes.”“It can’t be that secret if you both know about it.” I sounded breathless trying to keep

up with Thorne’s long strides, our footsteps crunching on the path as we cut through thefragrant herb gardens, the scent of lavender, rosemary, and mint lingering in the air.

“The Court where we grew up gave us access to many secrets.”“Another vague, mysterious half-truth. My favorite.”Thorne glanced back at me, his eyes narrowing, but he slowed down slightly, allowing

me to catch up with him. “As I was saying, enchanters are all master craftsmen. Whereaswe fae use our bodies to access the land’s magic, an enchanter channels the magicthrough their Craft. So a piper might play a song that causes children to follow the sound,or a seamstress might enchant a corset to constrict when someone puts it on.”

My mind jumped to my iron knife in my room. My father had said it was made by amaster blacksmith and that the blade was enchanted. I’d never really stopped to thinkhow that was possible before. But I doubted my father knew about enchanters, or hewould have told his daughters.

“So… My enchanting will only work with plants, because I’m a greenwitch.”Which explained why Thorne had brought me to the gardens. Was he going to teach

me how to enchant the plants out here?He nodded. “Your magic is limited to your Craft, so yours will depend on your skill as a

greenwitch. But that’s not to say it’s any less powerful than what the fae can do. WhereI’m from, there are enchanters who can play melodies that lull the listener to sleep, paintportraits that preserve youth, sew gowns so they shimmer with starlight…”

Thorne stopped so abruptly, I almost walked into the back of him. I suddenly realizedwhere he’d led us, and my heart lurched.

We stood at the upturned oak tree. The bones of the Tithe girls were still there,scattered across the uneven mud. A skull peeked out, its eyeless cavities staring up atthe gray skies above. I wrapped my arms around myself, a chill prickling across my skin.

“Why have you brought me here, Thorne? What does this have to do withenchanting?”

“Nothing. I just told you, enchanting imbues human Craft with magic.” He cleared histhroat. “Fae magic, on the other hand—”

“Draws directly from the land,” I cut in. “You just told me. And Faolan said that a fae’smagic is tied to their Court.” And he told me Thorne was originally from the Forest Court.

“I didn’t realize Faolan had been educating you on the fae so well.” Thorne’s voicewas flat as he leaned forward, his long fingers grazing the roots of the oak tree.

His touch was gentle, but a wave of magic rushed out from him, and a gasp caught inmy throat as the force of it pushed me back a step. I threw my hands over my head asthe tree erupted in a flurry of moths, each as large as my hand, their dusty gray bodiesbatting against each other as they swarmed up into the overcast sky and dispersed in theair.

When I dropped my gaze, the fallen oak was gone.Thorne picked up two shovels from nearby on the ground. “I read that humans labor

to bury their dead, as a sign of respect.”I nodded, too dumbstruck to speak. He offered me a shovel, although he didn’t meet

my gaze.I watched him carefully out of the corner of my eye as we began to dig. From what I’d

seen of his magic, Thorne could have created a hole deep enough to bury the bones inthe blink of an eye. So why this?

We dug in silence, patches of pale-blue sky slowly appearing in the clouds overhead.It was mild, and I was hot from the labor. I rolled up my sleeves and loosed the laces ofmy undershirt.

I shot a glance at the Beast, the elegance of his movements as he fell into the rhythmof digging. “Thorne…” I bit down on my lip. “What happens to me at Autumn Equinox?”Even after discovering what had happened to the other Tithe girls, I still didn’t feel like Ihad the answer I’d been looking for. I stopped digging, resting the tip of my shovelagainst the earth. “You said all of the other girls ran away. But if they hadn’t—if I don’t—and if I still haven’t finished the rose garden before then…”

An image of the bare briars flashed before my eyes. I still didn’t know how to makethe roses grow.

The crunch of the Beast’s shovel digging into the ground was the only sound for a

while, the fae giving me no indication that he’d heard my question.Irritated, I dug my own shovel back into the ground, digging furiously. “Fine, just

ignore—”“I don’t know,” the Beast said sharply.I looked over my shoulder, a strand of dark hair falling over my narrowed eyes and

sticking to my damp forehead. I brushed it back. “You don’t know?” I repeatedskeptically.

A pink flush washed over the fae’s cheeks. “None of the other Tithe girls made muchprogress with the garden, and all of them fled long before it ever came around to AutumnEquinox. But none of the other girls was an enchantress.”

I gritted my teeth, dropping my gaze as I continued to turn over the mud. “Thatdoesn’t tell me anything.”

“Look.” Thorne stopped digging, thrusting his shovel into the ground. “I don’t controlthe curse, just like I don’t control the ancient faerie magic of the Tithe. I’m a slave toboth.”

I pursed my lips, focusing on the ground.“I have to be in the clearing for the Tithe, just like the girls do. I have to choose one

of them, even though I’d rather not. I don’t control the Tithe path, or the punishments tothose who attempt to avoid the Tithe.”

I glanced up. “So the year the girls all disappeared into the forest…”“That’s what happens when you disregard ancient faerie magic. I don’t have all the

answers about the curse, I don’t know exactly what will happen to you if the curse isn’tlifted by Autumn Equinox. But I will make sure nothing bad happens to you before then.Is that enough?”

I grunted, still digging, even though we’d already created a hole large enough tohouse all of the bones from under the tree, trying to process what the Beast was tellingme. The fae can’t lie, I reminded myself. So did that mean I really was safe staying here?

I stopped when a pale, long-fingered hand came to rest on my shovel. “We shouldbury them,” Thorne said shortly, sweeping his other hand toward the scattered bones.

I hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. We filled the hole we’d dug with the girls’ remains,and then, when they were all placed at the bottom, we began filling it back up with thedirt again.

“Tell me more about enchanting,” I said at last. Perhaps that’s the key to growing theroses.

“You’ve already enchanted things. Even before you met me.” I watched the muscles inThorne’s back moving as he heaved dirt into a pile with a thump. Unlike me, he hadn’tbroken a sweat. “The crown you wore to the Tithe. Were you emotional when you madeit?”

I thought back to the crown of thorns I’d woven in the woods. I’d been panicked,looking for Nairn. Worried about making it to the Tithe on time to protect Ava. But as I’dwoven the crown, I’d been thinking about the púca and the Little Folk who’d stolen myflowers…

“Angry,” I replied. “I was angry.”

Thorne nodded. “Your anger allowed you to weave a protection enchantment into thecrown. It hurt me when I grabbed your wrist to bring you back here.”

It did?My gaze darted up in surprise. “Is that why you chose me?” I tipped another shovel of

dirt into the hole, the earth landing with a thump.Thorne stopped digging, his eyes searching my face. I felt exposed under his piercing

gaze, my ears heating.“I chose you because you made it impossible not to choose you.”That wasn’t an answer, but before I could scold him for another half-truth, he spoke

again. “When you healed my hand yesterday, what were you thinking about?”My gaze dropped to where his hand rested against the shovel, the tattoo of thorns

winding between his fingers, up around his wrist. “About the girls. I felt guilty that you’dsaved me and not them. And I was angry that you wouldn’t give me a proper reasonwhy.”

I sucked in my lower lip, looking back at the hole we’d just filled. Not hole, grave. Iwould plant a new tree to mark the girls’ sacrifice. A bay tree, which stood for courageand protection.

Thorne was watching me curiously when I turned back to him, like I was a stranger hewas trying to figure out.

“The first thing you need to know about enchanting, Aster, is that you have to reallyfeel what you’re doing. You need to be emotional, and you need to let those emotionsout.”

A scowl crept automatically over my face. Feeling wasn’t the issue. But sincebecoming a greenwitch, I’d spent every day keeping my emotions from influencing myactions. Although, I had to admit I’d been finding that increasingly harder since meetingThorne.

The Beast tossed his shovel to one side, dusting his hands together so that soilshowered to the ground. “Let’s go. I think you’re ready for your first lesson.”

Thorne’s eyes burned into me as I held the stems of the rose bush between pinchedfingers, careful not to prick myself.

“Get it to grow in an arch around the gate,” he instructed.The Beast looked out of place in the garden, leaning up against the wall and watching

me intently. It was the first time he’d been here since he’d told me about my task.Detritus covered the garden from the storm two nights ago, and everything smelled ofsoil and damp. It was hardly different now than when we’d both been in here before.

I closed my eyes, blocking out the ruined state of the rose garden. I inhaled andexhaled slowly, feeling the thick stems between my fingers, the woody roughness againstmy skin. I pictured the pointed brick arch into the garden and imagined the stemsweaving like a braid upward, little green buds appearing, leaves unfurling.

I held the image in my mind for a moment.

Was I supposed to feel different? I didn’t taste the tang of magic in my mouth like Idid when the Beast shadowed us places. Nor did I feel the pressure in the air that I gotaround his dark aura.

“Open your eyes.” Thorne’s instruction was low.I fluttered my lashes open. The climbing rose bush still looked dead. It hadn’t grown

or moved an inch. The stone gargoyles on top of the wall frowned down at me, judging.“I pictured what you told me to,” I said defensively before Thorne could get a word in.He scratched at one of the navy-blue thistles embroidered on his shirt. “First of all,

just thinking isn’t enough when it comes to enchanting. You need to feel.”I resisted the urge to roll my eyes skyward at his vague instructions. “Oh, I just need

to feel? Feel what, exactly?”“ I told you,” he snapped. “Every time you’ve accidentally enchanted, you were

channeling strong emotions.” The Beast took a breath before reaching out for the rosebush, running his fingers lightly along the bare branches. “As it stands, enchanting theroses to grow isn’t something I’d expect you to be able to do just like that, anyway.”

I crossed my arms. “So why did you bring me here?”Thorne remained silent for so long, I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he said

reluctantly, “I think my teaching you how to enchant is our best chance of breaking thecurse.”

I didn’t know why I was surprised to discover he was only helping me now for his ownbenefit. Maybe the real reason he had chosen to save me yesterday and not the othergirls was because he had suspicions I was an enchantress and had decided I was moreuseful to him alive.

The Beast’s hazel eyes focused on the rose bush behind my head. “But it will taketime to get the roses to bloom. You’ll need to weave your enchantments into them asthey grow, which is a slower process than the kind of enchantment you might makethrough arranging flowers or weaving together plants that have already grown.”

I held up a hand. “Hold on. So there are two ways I can use my Craft. I can use plantsthat have already grown—like I did with the flower crown and when I healed your hand—and see the effects right away. Or I can weave enchantments into plants while they’restill growing?”

Thorne nodded. “Still, I think if you practice simpler enchantments, you’ll get therewith the roses.” He straightened. “I can help you with that.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to teach me? I thought you said fae magic wasdifferent from enchanting?”

His eyes narrowed. “Believe it or not, petal, I know a little more about magic than youdo.”

A flush crept over my cheeks, but excitement was already fluttering in my stomach,like petals in the wind. I stared across the rose garden once more. I’d have to replantevery rosebush, and since now they were strewn all over the place, I had no idea whichcultivar was which. I’d never complete the garden in time with human Craft alone.

But if I could enchant them to grow, in the way Thorne seemed to think I could simplywill them to life… If I could learn to do that, maybe I could still save the garden. And then

I could get home to Rosehill.And who knew how I might be able to help my people with enchanting abilities?“Regardless, you won’t be able to do anything unless you...loosen up a little.” Thorne

moved behind me, his smoky scent mingling with the freshness of the garden, remindingme of bonfires. “All of the enchanters I’ve seen at work had to figure out how to be in themoment to weave their magic. When you’re at one with your emotions, you’ll be able tobend the roses to your will, in any way you like, beyond just how they grow. You’ll beable to enchant the thorns so one prick of a finger can send a soul to sleep for a hundredyears.” He moved around me, appearing at my other side. “Or enchant the blooms sowhoever smells the roses will act on their deepest desire.”

I shook my head, doubt snatching away some of my excitement. Everything he wassaying sounded impossible. It sounded like fae magic, not human Craft.

I tilted my chin to meet his gaze. I’d spent so long with my guard up, I wasn’t sure Icould let my emotions out even if I wanted to. Just the thought of it made mefeel...vulnerable. “I’m not good with emotions, Thorne,” I admitted. “They’re not...easilyaccessible for me.”

“You can learn to be.” His eyes met mine. “Besides, you need to learn to control it. Ifyou use too much at once, it will drain the life out of you.”

My stomach dropped. Perhaps he was right. The only times I’d ever enchanted werewhen I was overemotional, and if yesterday was anything to go by, it left me exhausted.

Besides, I had no idea how to access this magic, let alone stop it when it got toomuch.

I cast a sideways glance toward Thorne to find him studying me, still with that sametight, reluctant expression. “Meet me here at sunrise tomorrow. We’re starting yourtraining in the Folkwood.”

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - O N E

I STARED BACK through the trees of the Folkwood, where the pale walls of the manor housepeeked between the trunks. We weren’t so far from the house… Not that being able tosee the house really helped.

Even this short distance into the forest was enough to put me on edge. A poundinghad started in my ears the moment we’d stepped across the tree line and into the coolundergrowth of the Folkwood. It was dangerous in here.

“We’ll stop here.” Thorne stalked past me, then turned, blocking my view of the housebehind him.

A prickle of unease crawled down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, myhead snapping back and forth for any sign of a fae who might be coming for us. The weakdawn light barely made it through the canopy, and everything smelled wet, like summerrain. Cobwebs glittered with dew, and a slight mist clung to the forest floor, raisinggoosebumps on my exposed forearms.

“Here.” The Beast swept a hand toward the shadowy base of a beech tree.Curiosity tugged me forward to peer between the roots. The bush he indicated was

large and dense, with small, tightly furled buds hidden among the leaves.“A tree peony?” I looked back at him.His lips curved up, the glint of his pointed canines just visible. “Well, go on, then. Let’s

see what you can do.”I frowned at him, then my gaze shot to one side at the sound of rustling leaves. My

breath quickened, my eyes darting between the shadows of the trees.But there was nothing.I exhaled slowly before turning back to Thorne. “And what is it you want me to do,

exactly?”He held out one hand, examining his nails. “That’s up to you, petal.”I took a slow breath, irritation stoking in my belly. “Yesterday, you said roses were too

hard and we’d start with something simple. Now you won’t even tell me what you wantme to do.”

His smile widened. “But it’s so much fun watching you try to figure it out for yourself.”I dropped my gaze, trying hard not to snap. He’d dragged me back into the Folkwood,

the place I feared most in the world, and for what? Showing me some peonies andleaving me to figure it out on my own was hardly training me, like he’d promised. And thelonger we were in here, the longer the fae of the forest had to find us.

“I’m not interested in playing your faerie games,” I said stiffly. “If you’re not going toteach me, I’m going back to the house.”

I took a few determined strides back toward the manor before the Beast reappearedin front of me in a blur, leaning down, his face close to mine, his hot breath grazing myforehead.

We hadn’t stood this close since the Tithe, when he’d claimed me. The same darknessclouded his eyes now. “Feeling frustrated, petal? Good. Let’s see if we can channel someof that frustration into these peonies.”

The heat roiling in my veins burned hotter. He’s deliberately winding me up?Who was Thorne to mess with my emotions? Not to mention he knew nothing about

flowers—apart from losing his temper and uprooting them.The smirk on his face made my blood boil.How did this fae manage to get under my skin so easily when no one else could?Ignoring the furious look on my face, Thorne launched into a mild explanation. “Now,

every enchantment requires you to use your Craft. You’ve already woven protection into aflower crown, made a vase of flowers explode by impaling a mallow flower, and healedmy hand by mixing up a poultice… Why don’t you see if you can get the peonies to glowby tying knots in their stems?”

I gritted my teeth. This hardly seemed like any more of an explanation. Just how,exactly, was I supposed to get flowers to glow simply by tying knots in their stems?

I moved around to get better access, taking a deep, steadying breath. I’m here tolearn. I need to get some control over my enchanting. I eyed the bush. The plant waswell established, the stems long and leggy from where they’d been straining up towardthe sunlight. I cupped one between my palms, the bud at the end a tight ball of silky pinkpetals.

How am I ever going to make these glow?I glanced up to find my supposed teacher had disappeared.My heart fluttered, my gaze tracking the trees, looking for any sign of the púca’s

yellow eyes and wolfish grin.We might only be on the borders of the forest, but I had no illusions I wasn’t still in

danger. I would never feel safe in the Folkwood.“Thorne?” I called tentatively.“Don’t worry, petal, I’m watching.” His faintly amused voice came from above. I

looked up.Cheek cupped in hand, the Beast reclined along a thick beech bough like it was one of

Ava’s chaise lounges. “I didn’t want to distract you. I’ve been told the presence of faemales can be very diverting for human women.”

I kept my face neutral, clamping my eyes closed, blocking out Thorne’s infuriating faceand the wood around me. I inhaled deeply through my nose, concentrating on the bud inmy palms. I cleared my mind of all errant thoughts, focusing only on the flower.

Running my hands along the smooth stems, I began twisting them into complex knots.I imagined the pale-pink curve of the petals growing brighter, light emanating from thebud like it was a candle, dispersing into the lingering mist like the flowers’ heady, floralfragrance.

“Remember, it’s more than just concentration.” The Beast’s low voice filled the air.“You need to use your emotions as well.”

Emotions. Okay.It was easy enough to allow my frustration with Thorne to pour through my hands. I

pictured it flowing from the simmering bundle in my belly, through my arms, down intothe flower I cradled between my palms.

I winked open an eye.Nothing.I looked up, my gaze snagging on Thorne, who was half dangling from the branch,

watching me.“I used my emotions,” I said, letting the stem go as I stood and braced my hands on

my hips. “I thought about how annoyed I am with you.”Thorne leaped down from the tree in one fluid motion, landing right in front of me in a

feline crouch. He stood and hooked his forefinger underneath my chin, tilting my face upto his. “Frustration obviously isn’t enough for you. This won’t work if you remain so…” Hiseyes raked up and down my body. “Uptight.”

“Uptight?” I jerked my head away from him and took a step back. “I’m not uptight. I’mlevel-headed. There’s a difference. People depend on me, and I can’t let emotions cloudmy judgment.” I crossed my arms. “Even now, you’re depending on me to break a cursefor you.”

He tilted his head back and forth, stretching out the sides of his neck with anunpleasant crack. “That would be a lot easier if you would listen to what I’m telling youand let go… You know, loosen up a bit.”

A low hiss of breath escaped through my teeth. “Trust has to be earned.” I jabbed afinger into his chest. “And you don’t earn trust by speaking in half-truths, frightening meinto the Folkwood, and then—and then bringing me right back here again.” I gestured tothe trees twisting around us, blocking out the sun. A shiver ran down my spine at thedark forest.

Thorne just snorted. “You need to worry less, petal. How are we going to make anyprogress with your training if you can’t stand to be in the Folkwood even for the shorttime we’ve been in here?”

My pulse quickened. “Why exactly did you bring me here?” I glanced around, suddenlyafraid again of what might be lurking in the shadows. What the Beast might have luredhere. My voice shook as I accused him. “Is this some sort of misguided attempt at gettingme to face my fear?”

The Beast cocked his head to one side. “Your fear?”“If you hadn’t noticed, the few times I’ve come into the forest, I’ve been kidnapped by

a beast, attacked by barghest, and—and stalked by the púca.” Not to mention there wereplenty of other fae that roamed these woods and could smell a human from leagues

away. My breath came fast and loose. “You know—you know what happened in herebefore.” A flood of warmth scalded my cheeks. “I told you at—at dinner. About whathappened to my mentor. With the púca.”

“Oh, yes. That.” The Beast stroked his chin, then shot me an insolent smile that hadme grinding the back of my teeth together. “None of the Folk would dare venture thisclose to my Court in the daylight.”

“The púca already dared once,” I snapped. “Or don’t you remember?”Thorne’s eyes darted behind me, even though his smile didn’t disappear. “You don’t

need to worry while you’re with me, petal.”“That’s not as reassuring as you think, beast.”Thorne leaned back a little, his gaze calculating. “So this is all about what happened

to your mentor. Sage, wasn’t it?”Her name hit me like a slap.A smile twisted his lips. “I do remember you ranting about her before, under the

influence of faerie fruit.”I swallowed hard, ducking underneath his arm. My neck started to heat.“You said that she was killed,” he pressed, following after me.I stared down at the ground, at the wet ferns and nettles gathered around my ankles.

I felt hot and cold at once.“She meant a lot to you.”My jaw tightened as I tried my hardest to shut out my memories of Sage. I pressed

my knuckles to my lips. I wouldn’t let this fae beast get under my skin. I wouldn’t let himgoad me into sullying Sage’s memory by talking about her in this place.

“How did she die, Aster?” Thorne’s voice was quiet but insistent over my shoulder. Icould feel the heat rippling from him, like I’d turned my back to a fire.

He put a hand on my arm, but I pushed it off. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Isnapped.

I tried to dig deep, to steel myself and find calm. But everything had unspooled frommy core. I was a raw nerve.

His voice grew soft. Lethal. Like he’d backed his prey into a corner. “Well, you don’tneed to worry, petal. I’m harder to kill than Sage would have been.”

My face crumpled.Hot, fat tears painted wet streaks down my cheeks.“Yes, well,” I managed to stumble out, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You

didn’t know the old Aster. She was hot-headed and foolish....”“What are you—”I spun to face Thorne, my hands trembling at my sides.“The púca dealt the killing blow.” I choked the words out. “But I may as well have.”Thorne flinched.He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.“Sage always told me I needed better control over my emotions,” I half shouted. “Not

to let them take over. That it’s the responsibility of a town greenwitch to put those thingsaside in order to help people and make the right decisions in the heat of the moment.” I

dropped to the ground, sitting in a hunched position as I yanked up handfuls of dampgrass. “But it was the year of Laurel’s Tithe. My eldest sister. And I thought… I thought Icould stop it.”

The Beast inhaled sharply.“Sage told me it wasn’t possible to fight such ancient faerie magic.” Tears rolled freely

down my cheeks now, my voice growing tight as a lump built in my throat. My handsfound where I had been knotting the peony stems and resumed the movement, savagelytwisting them around one another, not caring if I dislodged a bud. “But I thought… Asgreenwitches, we kept back the Folkwood. We held the tree line. I thought I could stopthe Tithe path from appearing, too. And if I did that, none of the girls would be taken.”

I scuffed my sleeve over my cheeks, the rough material leaving a slight burn againstmy skin. My hand returned to the flowers. “The night before the Tithe, I went into theFolkwood to try. When Sage realized what I’d done, she came after me… But the púcamust have already tracked me. It knew Sage was the more powerful of the two of us,that I was only an apprentice. She was the bigger prize. It took my form and lured herdeep into the Folkwood…”

The words stuck in my throat, and I stopped, unable to go on. What I had seen, whatthe púca had done to her body...

My vision blurred as hot shame pulsed through my veins. “Is that what you wanted toknow? That I’ll never forgive myself for putting her in danger?”

I turned away, dropping the peony stems and leaning back against the beech tree, mybreathing ragged and raw. Tears dripped from my chin.

Sage was the reason I had become a greenwitch in the first place. She’d given me apurpose in taking on the responsibility for keeping Rosehill safe. She’d nurtured my talent.Everything I knew about my Craft, she’d taught me.

Even if losing her had been the hardest lesson of all.I swallowed hard, sniffing back the raw hurt as I wrapped my arms around myself.“Aster…” The Beast’s voice had gentled, a quiver betraying his own emotion.I glanced up at him again, meeting his piercing gaze, a fire burning in his hazel eyes.“I never meant to upset you like that.” The sunlight began to filter through the leaves,

the weak light dappling his high cheekbones, the haughty tilt to his chin.I gave a derisive laugh. “Yes, you did.”“No,” he said firmly. “I didn’t. I was trying to make you angry, not sad.”I stared at him, uncertainty rising in my chest.Thorne loosed a long, slow breath. “I know what it’s like...to lose the people you care

about most. And to blame yourself for it.” He winced, shadows wreathing him, settlingaround him like a heavy cloak. “But what happened to your mentor… To Sage... Shesounded wise enough to make her own decisions. And she chose to enter the Folkwood.It wasn’t your fault.”

I shrugged, hugging my knees more tightly to me. “Would you believe that if I saidthe same to you? That you weren’t to blame.”

He was silent for a moment. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t.”“Then why should I—”

“Look,” he interrupted me again. “I know the púca. I know the Folkwood. And I knowhow...unfair it is that you lose one of your people every year to the Tithe.” He took abreath. “What you did wasn’t wrong, trying to stop it. You were doing what you believedin. And if the púca had set its sights on Sage, it would have found some other way to gether. Believe me.”

Tears pricked in my eyes again, a different emotion swelling in my stomach andbringing a tremble to my limbs.

I never talked about Sage. I hated the púca for what it had done, but...ultimately theblame seemed to lie with me. I had held myself accountable for the two years since herdeath.

I flinched when Thorne spoke again.“Do you really think you could have stopped the púca from taking her, even if you’d

known everything that would happen when you tried to stop the Tithe path?Did I?I sucked in a slow breath, trying to get my thoughts in order. Thorne was a fae. He

could be using his words to manipulate me.“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, more firmly this time.And in spite of everything, I wanted to believe him.I cast a glance up at him, still unable to speak, warily meeting his probing gaze.He dropped down beside me, the heat of his body warming my side even across the

inches between us. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “And I really didn’t mean toupset you. I thought you’d lose your temper… That the strength of that emotion wouldhelp you with your enchanting. I didn’t realize what she meant to you. How you’d react.”He rubbed his lips together. “Anger comes easily to me. I made a mistake thinking itwould be the same for you. I’m sorry.”

He’s actually apologizing?I watched him carefully, mulling his words over, looking for the turn of phrase that

could reveal some hidden fae meaning in his words.I sighed heavily. Even if Thorne was being genuine, he had revealed something about

enchanting that left me feeling deeply uncomfortable. Constantly reliving the grief,shame, fear, panic, and rage of my worst moments… Would that be the cost ofenchanting?

I sniffed and shuffled more upright, twisting to look at him directly. “Does it alwayshave to be the darker emotions? To enchant?”

He shook his head. “No, but they’re often the most powerful.”I grimaced. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Losing myself to my emotions was

something I tried to avoid. Spending time with those that made me miserable soundedeven worse.

“How do you know that?” I grumbled. I sniffed again, wiping my cheeks with thefringes of my sleeves.

The Beast leaned over and nudged me with his elbow. “Look.”I followed the line of his hand to the bush beside us.Oh.

All of the peonies glowed softly on their knotted stems.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T W O

I DUSTED MY HANDS TOGETHER, dislodging the worst of the compost, although a fine layer of theblack matter still clung to my skin, tracing darker patterns over the fine lines of myknuckles, my wrists. Although it was slowly growing later, enough light lingered in the skyfor me to get this additional practice in before sundown. Just like I’d been doing for thepast few weeks, I’d trained with Thorne earlier in the day, spent some time tidying up themess in the rose garden… Now this was for me.

My gaze swept across the workbench, taking in the small propagation pots linedneatly across it, the compost packed in loosely, the seeds I’d selected arranged in neatpiles to one side.

Thorne had said weaving my enchantments into plants that were still growing wasmore difficult magic. That it would take longer. That compared to tying a knot in a stemor arranging flowers or using petals and leaves to make colorful patterns, this type ofgrowing enchanting meant sustaining a certain emotion or intention over an extendedperiod of time.

But for me, this was the easy part. I was at my most relaxed when I was in thegarden, going through the motions of digging and planting and weeding and pruning. Ifound it easier to drop into the creative state that was important for the Craft element ofenchanting work and even to let my guard down, allowing my feelings to run through mybody, into my hands, my palms heating as I worked.

I had quickly learned my hands warming was a sure sign I’d succeeded in balancingthe thoughtful Craft with the thoughtless feelings required to make my enchantmentswork. I guessed that was what Thorne called flow.

In spite of the Beast’s advice that painful emotions were the easiest to call on, for thiswork, I was thinking of home.

A smile flickered over my face as I thought of Rosehill, of the people who wouldbenefit from these enchantments.

I’d selected all the plants I used for healing work, planning to make tinctures or syrupsor teas that I could take home with me when I left the Cursed Court, plus a few that Iwas interested in experimenting with and that I thought might be useful. With my newaccess to magic, I hoped I could brew up drafts to put someone into an enchanted sleep,

soothe a temper, and disguise the taste of the bitter medicines children hated taking.Poking a hole in the first pot, I dropped in the first of the seeds before covering it over

again, making it a warm bed in the compost, a place for it to draw what it needed fromme and its surroundings to grow. And to think, this tiny seed would eventually calm afever, perhaps even save the life of one of the people whom I loved back in Rosehill.

Warmth rushed through my palms.“I thought I might find you here.”I glanced up at the Beast’s dry tones, my hands still hovering over the pot. He

lounged against the doorframe to the potting shed, his eyes roving over everything I’darranged for my work.

I flushed slightly. Compared to when I’d started using it, the shed must look a mess,with drying plants hanging from the ceiling, pots and compost littering the workbench,papers piled high on a tiny table in one corner, and the tools I used most frequentlygleaming in a belt I’d slung over the back of a chair.

But the shed was being used now. It was arranged how I liked it, just like myworkshop back home.

“Still practicing?” Thorne’s eyebrow quirked up.I nodded. “I’m growing some medicines that will be useful back home.” Suddenly

wondering whether he would be happy with me taking the plants from his Court to helpthe people of Rosehill, I forced a wide smile over my face. “And this is good practice forthe roses, isn’t it?”

Not that I’d had much luck with them yet. I’d replanted them all after the storm, soeverything looked back to normal. But no matter how carefully I tended to them, no rushof warmth in my hands indicated I was persuading them to grow.

A frown creased his forehead. “Aren’t you tired?”Caught off guard by the question, I shrugged and returned to poking holes in the

compost. What did he care if I was a bit tired? He wanted me to grow the roses, didn’the?

I stifled a yawn.“Aster.” Thorne moved closer, bringing a rush of his power with him, the air inside the

potting shed suddenly heavier, rich with his magic.The strength of it washed over me, making me dizzy.“Look, you’re swaying on your feet,” he said sharply, extending a hand.I brushed it away. “I’m fine. I just have a little more to finish off here.” I continued

stabbing my forefinger into each pot, trying to ignore the prickle of heat over my skinfrom the fae’s proximity.

Thorne blew out a breath, exasperation written across his face. “You need to becareful. It’s easy to overdo it. Haven’t you noticed how using your enchantments tires youout?”

I paused, one finger lodged in the damp compost.I was feeling tired. But wasn’t that normal after a day’s work?With exaggerated patience, Thorne began listing examples on his fingers. “When you

wove the flower crown, you were breathless by the time you reached the clearing for the

Tithe.”“Because I’d been running,” I interjected.“When you broke the vase at dinner, you collapsed. Faolan had to carry you to your

rooms—”“Because you gave me faerie fruit—”“When you protected yourself from the barghest with the oak tree, you slept for a

whole day and night.”I paused for a moment. “The shock,” I said at last. “It must have been that.”Thorne let out a frustrated growl. “Aster, you know as well as I do I can’t lie to you.

So take it seriously when I tell you that you have to be careful using your Craft. Everytime you enchant, it drains your energy. And enchantments don’t care how much energyyou have left. They’ll keep drawing it from you even if it kills you.”

I swallowed, lowering my hands from the workbench, suddenly nervous. Would I knowif I was about to run out of energy? And if I used my enchantments by accident again, inone burst—could that really kill me?

The Beast surveyed me with a hard expression, his lips pressed into a thin line, hisjaw tight.

Then he asked in a rush, as though he’d been waiting to ask this all along, “Will youjoin me for dinner?”

My jaw dropped.First he lectures me, and now he wants to eat together?I arched an eyebrow, surveying him warily. It seemed unlikely he just wanted me to

join him for the company. So what was he after?The fae glared at me when I didn’t immediately reply. “Well?”I was hungry… What have I got to lose? I slowly dusted my hands down the front of

my apron. “Promise there’ll be no faerie fruit this time?”Thorne’s expression grew more pinched before he suddenly seemed to relax. “That’s

it? That’s all you’re worried about?”I frowned. “What else would I be worried about?”He pulled himself up even straighter. “I don’t know—whatever it was that gave you

cause to decline my invitation on your first night here.”A grin crept across my face, recalling how furious he’d been when I’d shut the door in

his face. “Oh. That.”“Yes,” Thorne snapped. “ That.” His tone turned sour. “And there’s no Faolan here this

time to—”“Relax.” I swatted him with the back of my hand, leaving a smudge of dirt on his

pristine coat. “I’ll join you for dinner.”The fae’s high cheekbones flushed pink, and to my surprise, I felt heat creeping over

my own face in response, something blossoming in my stomach at his obvious pleasurethat I’d accepted his invitation.

Could it really be he just wants to have dinner together?I resisted the urge to lift my hands to my face, wanting to hide the emotion visible on

my features.

“Good,” Thorne said, straightening up. “I’ll see you at sundown, then.”I nodded mutely, suddenly all too aware of the compost darkening my arms from my

fingertips to my elbows, the strands of escaped curls sticking to my forehead where I’dgrown hot concentrating on my work.

I halfheartedly attempted to wipe my hands down my apron again, knowing it waspointless. It would take one of Mosswhistle’s scented baths to get this off me.

Since when do I care what Thorne thinks about how I look?“Oh, and Aster?”My gaze jerked up to meet Thorne’s.The humor gone from his eyes, the fae spoke seriously now. “I wasn’t joking when I

warned you earlier. Don’t overdo it, okay?”With that, he swept from the shed, leaving me with only my plants to help dissect the

unsettling thought that I no longer had any reservations about dining with a beast.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T H R E E

I PEERED into the dining room, a frown creasing my brow. Empty. The long table haddisappeared, the hearth was bare, the thick curtains drawn.

Thorne had said to meet him for dinner at sundown, hadn’t he? I hitched my skirts inmy hands, feeling a bit silly as I wandered back into the corridor. Perhaps I’d spent toolong getting ready, and Thorne had given up on waiting. I’d needed a long bath, and thenMosswhistle had fussed with my hair before dressing me in the same gown that had beenlaid out for me on my first night here, the soft lavender-gray one I’d discarded afterfinding it filled with pins.

The smell of roast meat caught my attention, and I sniffed, following the scent until Ialmost bumped into several smartly dressed hobs balancing steaming silver dishes ontheir hairy heads.

“Apologies, Mistress!” one squeaked before scuttling in the opposite direction of thedining room, toward the gardens.

I followed them, stepping outside onto the terrace between the house and the lawns.The dusk sky was a pale blue, peach clouds streaked above the tree line. I turned to seewhere the servants had gone, and a gasp caught in the back of my throat.

The dining table had been moved outside, surrounded by flickering, floating lanternsthat hovered in the air by magic. Their glow illuminated the pretty floral brocadetablecloth laden with food and fine silverware, silky petals trailing between the dishes likea colorful runner. At the far end, Thorne leaned back in his chair, his long legs crossed upon the table, sipping from a goblet, just as he had been when I’d come down to dinnerwith him and Faolan.

“I thought you’d changed your mind,” he drawled, setting down his drink and swinginghis legs around to stand. He dusted the front of his dark-gray shirt, the silver embroideryaround the cuffs glistening in the lantern light.

“I was getting ready.” I toyed with the sleeve of my gown, running the lace cuffbetween my fingers. “I thought you’d prefer me like this—not dirty and smelling ofcompost.”

Thorne walked alongside the table toward me, then paused, his voice low.“Unfortunately, I think I might like you either way.”

I laughed. Then, remembering he couldn’t lie, a hot blush rose to my cheeks. Hemoved to the back of a chair, pulling it out and gesturing for me to sit.

I eyed him curiously before stepping to take a seat. “How uncharacteristically gallant,”I observed, smoothing my dress underneath me before lowering myself into the chair.“Has Faolan been giving you pointers on dining etiquette?”

Thorne scoffed as he tucked me in. “Something to drink for the lady?” He dipped intoan overblown bow, which wrung a smile from me. One of the hobs gave a squeak andhurried to his side, presenting a silver jug with both spindly arms.

“It’s elderflower cordial, not faerie wine,” Thorne added quickly, seeing me about todecline.

I held out my goblet, and he poured the sparkling liquid into it. I took a slow sip of thefresh, floral drink, watching him slink back to the far end of the table.

My stomach growled. After a day of enchanting, I was famished. I didn’t wait for aninvitation to begin heaping food onto my plate, wafer-thin slivers of steaming roastpigeon drizzled with honey, peppery salad leaves studded with tiny flowers, still-warmbread rolls and slabs of butter. Bowls of ripe fruit bursting with juice cast flashes of brightcolors between the platters.

I looked up before starting, waiting for Thorne.“Go ahead, petal, don’t wait for me,” he said in a sarcastic voice, eyeing the mountain

of food I’d served myself.I didn’t need telling twice. I started with a modest bite of bread slathered in butter

before tucking into the pile of food before me. I usually only took a quick break to bolt mymeals during my enchanting lessons or working on the garden, or would scarf downsomething quickly in my chambers at Mosswhistle’s insistence.

Savoring food for once was nice. Even if it had been created by a mysterious,enchanted kitchen...

I looked up from my plate to take a sip of elderflower and caught Thorne watchingme.

“What?” I asked self-consciously, dabbing a napkin at the corner of my mouth, thenglancing down to check I hadn’t spilled anything on my gown.

“You eat like an animal,” Thorne drawled, before adding in a considered tone, “butthat dress suits you. It brings out your eyes.”

I lowered my lashes, battling between a frown and a smile. Knowing the fae couldn’tlie made every comment feel…more intense. “Thank you,” I said finally, deciding to focuson the compliment. I covered my sudden shyness with another sip of my drink.

Thorne cupped his chin in his hand, still surveying me through narrowed eyes insteadof eating any of his own food. “I didn’t think lilac eyes were very common in Rosehill.”

I shook my head. “They’re not.”Thorne frowned. “But the other girl at the Tithe—the one you stood in front of—she

had the same eyes as you.”“That was my sister, Ava.” I raised my voice to make sure it carried along the table.Thorne picked up his fork and impaled a slice of pigeon, shooting me a confused look.I tucked a curl of hair behind my ear. “Half-sister, I should say. Same father, different

mothers. It’s how we ended up in the same Tithe year.”“Ah,” was all he offered in reply, not batting an eye at the scandal that had been the

talk of Rosehill for years. Instead, he returned to cutting his food. “It’s very fae, youknow, to have irises colored like that.”

I couldn’t tell if he meant that as a compliment or an accusation, but before I couldask, he had jumped to his feet, picked up his chair, and carried it the length of the table,setting it down closer. The heavy weight of his magic washed over me.

“It’s easier to talk like this,” he explained as both hobs lurched forward from wherethey had been waiting alongside the manor wall, arguing over who would carry Thorne’sgoblet down to his new place setting. Thorne didn’t so much as glance at them, his gazepinned firmly to my face, looking at me expectantly.

“What were we talking about again?” I asked, thrown off by such an intense look.“Your eyes.”I cleared my throat. “Both my sisters have the same color eyes—we get them from my

father’s side. Although, if you met him, you’d never accuse him of having fae blood.” Asmile tugged at my lips at the image of my father meeting Thorne in a social setting.“He’s the total opposite to fae.”

“What do you mean?”“Just that he’s very mortal. He’s grounded…and always says what he means.”Thorne looked stung. “Fae always tell the truth, too.”“Well, yes, because you have to. Dad chooses to cut straight to the point. And you

know, he looks very human as well. Sort of, manly, with a beard and a hairy chest.”“Do human women…prefer that?” Thorne’s tone was nonchalant, but his eyes sparked

with amusement as he glanced down at the sliver of his own smooth chest revealedbeneath his shirt.

“Some do.” I helped myself to several strawberries from a bowl closest to me, carefulnot to glance at his chest. “Not all, though,” I added, nibbling at the end, the sweetnessrushing over my tongue.

My sisters were proof enough of women’s differing tastes in partners. Laurel liked thekind of men who joined my father’s gang, brave, rugged warriors who could give her arun for her money when it came to fighting, drinking, or gambling. Ava, on the otherhand, had decided she deserved nothing less than a faerie prince or, if she had to settle,a fabulously wealthy lord. Although where she thought she would find one of those in atown as tiny and isolated as Rosehill…

My throat suddenly constricted at the vivid memory of my sisters, my eyes watering.Talking about my family… It made them feel so real, like they could pull up chairs andjoin us for dinner. I set down the strawberry, sniffing, a tear escaping and rolling downmy cheek.

“I’ve upset you. Again.” Thorne flinched, quickly picking up a napkin and handing it tome. “I’m...sorry. We don’t have to talk about your family, not if you don’t want to.”

I shook my head, picking at the strawberry leaves with one hand. “No, it’s okay. I justmiss them, I suppose.”

Thorne leaned forward as if to pat my shoulder, then hesitated last minute and sat

quickly back again.I dabbed my eyes with the soft napkin, soaking up the unshed tears. Spending so

much time with my emotions for my enchanting work must be having an effect on me. Inever usually cried like this. “What about your family?” I asked. “Do you miss them?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and I wondered if he wouldn’t answer. I’d beenaway from my family for months, but Thorne had been here for a hundred years.However painful this was for me, it must be even more painful for him. At that thought,my tears dried again, a flash of sympathy for the Beast replacing them.

Perhaps this curse wasn’t so different for the two of us.“My parents were very busy, and my siblings were a lot younger…” Thorne dropped

his gaze, stroking a finger along the tablecloth. “I was closer with my friends than myfamily. We spent almost all our time together.” His throat bobbed. “I am sorry you missyour sisters...because my friends were like brothers to me.”

I hesitated a moment, then asked, “Including Faolan?”Thorne huffed a laugh. “Faolan was usually around, too. He was my family’s ward and

grew up with us in the Forest Court.”I remembered the map on the library ceiling, the huge, green sprawling mass at the

heart of the Kingdom of Faerie. “Do you miss the Forest Court? Is it very different fromthe Folkwood?”

Thorne glanced toward the garden to the dark silhouette of trees beyond. “The ForestCourt is ancient, and much larger than the Folkwood. The Court itself is far grander thanthis. Many fae live there, although others choose to live wild, solitary lives deep in thewoods.” His gaze was unfocussed and dreamlike. “It’s a beautiful, wild place.”

I nodded, although I remained privately unconvinced. It just sounded like a largerFolkwood to me. I popped another strawberry into my mouth, the sweet juice coating mytongue, making the back of my jaw ache.

A mild summer breeze curled through the garden, tiny sprites humming lazily aboveour heads like fireflies. I leaned back in the chair and yawned loudly, covering my mouthwith the back of my hand.

“Tired, petal?” Thorne’s eyes snapped back to me.“No,” I lied.He smiled, his canines flashing. “I’ll never get used to you humans being able to lie,

just like that.” He snapped his fingers.“It’s very useful.” I gave him a sidelong smile before I repressed another yawn. “I am

tired… I’m just having a nice time.” To my surprise, it was true. I was having a nice time,talking to him like this. Learning more about him. That perhaps we weren’t so dissimilar,after all.

Thorne hesitated, an uncertain look flickering across his face, before replying. “There’llbe more dinners, but you need to get some rest. Enchanting draws on your physicalenergy, and I have lots planned for our lessons over the next few weeks.”

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled, standing. “I’ll get some rest, if you insist.”Thorne lurched to his feet. I thought he might bow, but he just stood there, watching

me.

I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Goodnight, then.”“Goodnight, petal.”I took another strawberry from the table for the walk back to my room, rolling the ripe

fruit between my fingers and smiling at the promise of more dinners like tonight.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R

THE SPRİTE VANİSHED in a puff of glittering smoke, shooting me one last furious look over hershoulder as she disappeared into the mouth of the flower.

I felt Thorne’s eyes on me and tried to concentrate. After his initial invitation to dinewith him on the terrace, I’d begun to look forward to our leisurely evening dinners. But hewas still pushing me hard in our lessons, taking me deeper into the Folkwood to workwith different plants.

I rolled my shoulders, exhaustion sinking in. Even without Thorne pushing me, a dayof enchanting in the Folkwood always drained me of energy, and today’s lesson on plantand flower meanings was no different.

I was using foxgloves to capture the sprites buzzing around the clearing. I’d chosenthese flowers because they were so intoxicating to bees, and I hoped I could magnifythat quality to make them attractive to the sprites…and it had worked. Then, I’d made achain of bindweed for captivity, threading the flowers just like daisies, stringing thembetween the foxglove stalks.

Thorne had told me it would be different working with wildflowers than the cultivatedspecies I had grown myself. I thought of the potting shed and the little seedlings justpoking their heads out of the soil. I gave them my energy a little bit at a time, weavingenchantments into them as they grew. These foxgloves were already grown, whichmeant it took a short, sharp burst of energy, and I had to be cleverer about the Craftelement. But Thorne said that weaving their stems together and hanging the chainsbetween them, careful not to touch the flowers so toxic to humans, would be enough.

I dropped my hands again, satisfied, as another sprite drifted too close to one of thefoxgloves, drawn in by my enchantment, before being snatched out of the air by theflower, like the mouth of a hungry snake.

I cast a glance toward Thorne, hoping for a word of praise and getting none. Not asingle sparkling wing fluttered free in the air, every last sprite gobbled up by one of myenchanted foxgloves. Bright, wicked eyes glared at me from the centers of their petalcocoons, like a string of lights hung around the clearing. As the daylight faded, it lookedmagical.

Raising my arms above my head, I stretched out, every muscle aching. A day working

in the garden was physically tiring, but I hadn’t been prepared for how much of a tollcasting enchantments would take on my body. Thorne had told me it was due to the waythe body was tied up with my emotions, but having spent the past two years since Sagehad died suppressing my emotions through force of will, I still struggled to believe itwasn’t entirely a mental faculty.

My back cracked loudly as I curved farther over to one side, stretching out my achingmuscles.

“Mosswhistle better have a bath ready for me when we get back,” I grumbled. “I don’tremember the last time I worked this hard.” I bent down to inspect the flowers closest tome, smiling at the cross fae faces poking out of the pink-and-purple petals.

“I thought you were used to hard labor, petal?” Thorne drawled. “Or has living in thelap of luxury in a Fae Court made you soft?”

My gaze snapped up to find Thorne’s eyes crinkling at the edges. He was teasing me.Planting my hands on my hips, I tossed my braid back behind my shoulder. “You’re

lucky I’m so patient, with you as my teacher.”Thorne snorted. “You, patient?”I gave him a haughty stare. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a master at controlling

myself.”The fae lord took a step toward me, light dancing in his eyes. “Well, we’ll have to

work on that. An enchanter needs to be able to let go, to be in the moment.”At the look on his face, a shiver ran down my arms, a fluttering sensation stirring in

my belly.Thorne stalked closer, stopping just a hairsbreadth away from me. Slowly, he reached

out a hand, his fingers tracing my jawline.I gasped in a breath, his touch making my skin tingle.“We’ll work on a new, wild Aster.” His fingers reached my hair, tugging one curl gently

loose from my braid. “I’d like to see what she’d do if she lost control completely…”My heart thudded heavily, my blood seeming to slow in my veins.My gaze roved Thorne’s face, looking for any sign in his expression that he was still

teasing me. But his angular eyes were serious. This close, I could see a fine line of greenaround their edges, which I’d never noticed before.

If I moved my hand even just a few inches, I could trace my fingers along the tattoosswirling over his hands, up his arms, to where they trailed up the back of his neck. Whatwould it feel like, to fist my hands in his thick, dark hair?

I swallowed, my fingers twitching.Where were these thoughts coming from? I clamped my hands to my sides. Thorne

was fae, as different from me as the angry sprites we’d spent all day trapping in flowers.Had my body suddenly forgotten he was a predator?

Thorne stepped back, the spell broken.I sucked in a breath, suddenly aware I hadn’t been breathing.“Are you—are we h-heading home?” I stammered out. I stopped, breathing in and out

again. Silver bells, I was so dizzy I could barely stand. The thought of Thorne taking myhand to shadow us back to the manor was almost too much. I needed to keep my

distance from him.He cocked his head to one side. “We are. But I’m not going to take us.”I blinked, his words reaching me very slowly as shivers still ran up and down my body.

“We’re going to walk back through the Folkwood?”Thorne gave a derisive laugh. “Sure, you can walk if you want to. It’ll take you three

days to reach the manor from here, though.”I scowled, some of my senses returning to me. “What, then?”He gestured to a ring of toadstools at the base of the foxgloves, the red caps of fly

agaric mushrooms vivid against the green grass. The sprites had been dancing aroundthem when we’d gotten here, leaving a dark, trodden-down circle between themushrooms.

“You can use those.”I hesitated, childhood warnings ringing in my mind. “It’s not safe.”“No?”“In Rosehill, we were told stepping into them would mean we were spirited away to

faerie lands.” I drew in a shallow breath. “We’ve lost children that way before.”Thorne shrugged. “You’re already in faerie lands.”I crossed my arms. “This sounds a lot like faerie magic and not a lot like enchanting.”He let out an exasperated sigh. “It is faerie magic. I want you to weave an

enchantment that will direct it. Think, Aster. How could you make sure the faerie ringtakes us back to the manor?”

I shot him a glare, not appreciating his condescending tone. “If you’d just explainedthat to begin with, this would’ve been a lot quicker,” I muttered, skirting around the edgeof the clearing.

This final task was a test, after I’d spent the whole day learning how to enchant usingthe naturally occurring properties of wild plants. I could guess what I needed; that wasalways the easy bit. Wild roses, which reminded me of the manor, and speedwell, for itsassociation with travel. Spotting the roses in between the trees, I plucked them from thebase of their stems, weaving them together into small posies with the speedwell thatcrawled across the forest floor.

“Better not get it wrong, petal,” Thorne drawled. “I wouldn’t want us to end upsomewhere unexpected.”

Irritation prickling down my neck, I slowly arranged the last of the posies around theedge of the faerie ring, allowing my annoyance to build and feeding it into my Craft, myhands heating as the enchantment flowed through them.

“Maybe I should just have shadowed us home,” Thorne goaded, examining his nails.“Honestly, human enchantments are so slow compared to fae magic.”

I cast a scathing glance back at him. He thinks he can just make snippy commentsand then travel in my faerie ring?

I gave him my sweetest smile. “See you there.”A confused expression flickered across his face.Reaching out one hand, I snagged away the bindweed chains I had strung between

the foxgloves, then hopped inside the faerie ring.

The last thing I heard was Thorne’s outraged yell as the cloud of glittering spritesdescended on him.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F I V E

I LOUNGED BACK in an armchair in the corridor outside my room, feeling the soft pillows andlayers of blankets cushioning my back and shoulders. I had tucked myself away in thislittle nook, where the tall glass windows made the cool evening light feel warm on myface. I couldn’t prevent a grin as I pictured the outrage on Thorne’s face the split-secondbefore I’d disappeared earlier. The moment he’d realized I’d left him behind.

I knew part of the reason why he wound me up was to try to bring out my emotions,to help me with that element of my enchantments...but sometimes, the fae lord neededreminding he wasn’t some puppet master controlling everything I felt and did. That I wasmore than capable of standing up to him if I wanted to.

My damp hair dripped down my neck. After a hot bath, I’d wanted a moment out herealone before Mosswhistle began vigorously pulling the wet strands into somethingresembling a braid, ensuring it would dry curly. After a long day battling and enchantingthe Little Folk, I was tired. But I wasn’t ready for bed quite yet.

From my position at the window, I had a view out across the lawns, across the kitchengardens to where the stables nestled behind them. As my fingers wrapped around thewarm cup, my gaze traveled farther, to the dark trees of the Folkwood.

I would wait up for Thorne to return home. To see his reaction to my leaving him inthe Folkwood.

I thought he’d arrive back seconds after me, grumbling and scolding. His shadowwalking took him from place to place in the blink of an eye. He’d shadowed us out therefirst thing this morning, so he could easily return the same way—I hadn’t reallyabandoned him. Even so, I couldn’t stop the jiggle of my knee, the restlessness thattickled my limbs...

Why isn’t he back yet?I sighed again, blowing gently on the steam drifting above my cup as I nestled back

into the pillows, my gaze still fixed on the garden.“Comfortable?” a mild voice asked.A thrill ran through me as I glanced back to where the fae lord lounged against one of

the walls. His hair mussed, he was still in the same clothes as earlier, now ripped andspattered with mud, almost as if lots of tiny little fingers had been pulling at them. He

clearly hadn’t even taken the time to change before seeking me out.“You took your time,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. “I thought I’d take advantage

of finally having the manor to myself for an entire evening,” I stretched out, suppressinga yawn.

“An entire evening? I think you’ll find it’s only been an hour or so since you so cruellydeserted me, petal.” A satisfied grin lit Thorne’s face, his eyes gleaming. “So you waitedup to make sure I got home safely? I’m flattered you care so much.”

Scowling, I dropped my gaze, annoyed he’d seen through the reason I was sitting outhere.

“Well, at least I know you’re quite at home in the manor when I’m not here…” Hisgaze dropped lower. “And I have to admit, I’m glad to see you here in one piece.”

My cheeks heated as I suddenly realized I was in my dressing gown. “What do youmean? You didn’t think I’d be able to enchant the faerie ring?” I dumped the cup back onthe table with a clatter, pulling my robe tighter around me.

“Oh, I had no doubt you’d be able to do it. I worried that you might not enchant it tocome back here.”

I caught the look of relief that flickered across Thorne’s face as he sank into the chairopposite me.

He’d thought I’d use the faerie ring to try to escape him.My stomach flipped. I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d been so delighted with my trick

on Thorne, I hadn’t considered using the faerie ring to take me elsewhere. To take mehome.

I studied Thorne carefully, his gaze settled on the rose garden through the windows.“It’s tradition, in the manor, that for Lúnasa, some of the Fae Courts travel here to

celebrate,” he announced.I stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. Other Courts were

traveling here...for a party? From what Faolan had said, I’d thought Thorne had beenbanished here.

“Lúnasa is at the beginning of August,” he added. “So it’s just over a month away.”“I know,” I said. “We celebrate in Rosehill too.”Thorne shrugged. “Not like the fae celebrate it, trust me.”I frowned. “How do the fae celebrate it?”He continued to stare out the window, avoiding my gaze. “We’ll be hosting a revel

here.”A revel—he’d mentioned that before. “You said that’s when Faolan would be back.”His fingers clenched the arms of his chair. “Yes, that’s when Faolan will be back.” He

took a slow breath, wrenching his gaze away from the window to look at me. “And,actually, another friend of mine will be arriving just before the revel to help prepare.”

Another friend?“Some punishment this is,” I said lightly, “hosting parties, friends dropping by on a

whim. First the sky prince… Who are we expecting next? A mountain prince? A prince ofthe seas?”

Thorne didn’t laugh. “Aster,” he said softly, “you should know that the only reason

humans are invited to fae revels is for sport. You’d be made to dance in red-hot shoes,force-fed more faerie fruit. Trust me, this isn’t some party you’re missing out on—”

“Hold on.” I held my hands up in protest. “You think I’d want to go?”His brows lowered in suspicion. “You’re not going to fight me on this?”I let out a mirthless laugh. “Believe me, I’m more than happy to sit this one out.” I

picked up my tea again and took a sip, grimacing when I found it had gone cold. “So whatdo I need to know?”

Thorne gave me a severe look, then said grudgingly, “You’ll need to stay in yourrooms.”

I arched an eyebrow, replacing my cup on the table. “And your guests won’t comelooking for me? Won’t they want to see your latest Tithe girl?”

He jerked his head back to stare out of the window, a sorrowful look flashing acrosshis eyes. “They won’t expect you to be here… None of the other girls were still around bythe time we held the revel.”

Oh.All of the other girls… They’d all run to the forest by now.I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Okay, so I’ll stay in my rooms. Anything else?”“Nothing,” he sighed, “as long as you mean it when you say you’ll stay out of the way.

The other Court Fae and the rest of the Folk who’ll be attending… They won’t be like me,or Faolan. They’ll want to hurt you.” Thorne got abruptly to his feet, not meeting mygaze. “I just wanted to tell you, as it means I won’t be around for our lessons so much.There’s a lot to prepare, and I can’t… I don’t have much of a choice about it.”

Disappointment roiled in my stomach. I had gotten used to our daily practice, to ourtrips out into the forest or around the grounds. Silver bells, I’d been bored after an hourwithout him this evening. I didn’t reply for a moment, trying and failing to contain theemotion swelling in my belly, in my chest. I bit down hard on my lip.

Since when did I let myself feel so strongly about anything, let alone the fae lordholding me captive here?

“Sorry, petal. I’m afraid this means more hours in your own company.” Thorne said itas though it were a joke, but the expression in his eyes was humorless, and I didn’tlaugh.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S I X

THE WATER HİSSED over the smooth stones, sending up a white spray that hung like mist in theair. A series of shallow pools dropped down the slope like huge glass steps, the shiningwaterfalls dancing between them to a huge lake below.

I shot an unhappy look back at Thorne. In spite of being increasingly absent as thedate of the revel grew closer, he was pushing me harder than ever in the snatchedlessons we managed together. But if he was expecting me to use some sort of waterplant in today’s enchantments, he was going to be disappointed. I couldn’t swim toretrieve any of the plants he might want me to use, and if I were being honest, I didn’twant to so much as dampen my hair or wet my feet. The only emotion I would be able totap into for enchantments that involved rushing water like this was fear, and that hardlyseemed like a lesson I was about to enjoy.

The Beast sauntered to a stop beside me, head tilted back to drink in the sunshine.The light turned his fair skin golden, his dark hair taking on a faint reddish sheen. It washard not to stare, his otherworldly beauty accentuated by the warm summer light.Sometimes I forgot how different he was from anyone I’d met back in Rosehill, how suchcasual, savage beauty was unique to the fae. He had the cold allure of a predator, ashoned as a new-forged blade but as feral as the forest.

I swallowed hard as a faint breeze lifted the lapels of his shirt, revealing a sliver oftoned chest, and as though he’d heard me, the fae’s eyes snapped open.

As he caught me staring, the corners of Thorne’s mouth tugged up, revealing the pointof his canines. Something in the curve of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes, left me withno doubt that bringing me here was his way of taunting me. A challenge.

I gritted my teeth. That was almost always how he got me casting my strongestenchantments. Somehow, this fae always knew exactly how to get under my skin.

My shoulders set. It isn’t fair. I’d been working hard in our lessons. I finished eachsession exhausted, as though I’d been put through the most grueling paces in the trainingring with my knife. I’d been getting better, too—my enchanted seedlings were growing inthe potting shed, and even Wispwing had seemed impressed when I’d enchanted a dockleaf to wipe the mud caked on my boots. Or at least, she hadn’t made any snarkycomments as I’d returned to the house, which from her was as much of a compliment as I

was likely to get.And I thought Thorne and I had been getting on better, too, when we managed to

find time for our dinners in between all the demands that preparing for the revel seemedto place on him. I’d almost grown to enjoy our teasing exchanges...but fear wasn’t anemotion I wanted to learn to draw on for my enchanting.

“Well?” I asked, casting another nervous glance at the water. “Are you going to tellme why we had to come here for today’s lesson?”

Thorne slowly placed the pack he’d brought with us on the ground. “And ruin theanticipation?”

I didn’t laugh, wrapping my arms around myself and taking a step away from thepools. “Did Faolan tell you I can’t swim? Is this to—to scare me into getting better atenchanting?” I hugged myself tighter, my shoulders hunched. “I’m doing perfectly well sofar, aren’t I? I don’t need you prodding at different emotions whenever you feel like it.”

The sun passed behind a cloud as a flicker of irritation crossed the Beast’s face. Ishivered, the summer warmth fading quickly.

“Actually,” he snapped, “I know I haven’t been around much these past weeks, whatwith the revel planning. But I’ve noticed how hard you’ve been working. I thought youdeserved a break today.”

I paused, my lips pinched together in suspicion, accusations dying on my tongue. “Abreak?”

He gestured toward the pools. “It’s a hot day. It’s nice to swim when it’s hot. And afteryour display with the kelpie… I thought mastering this basic life skill might help you. If Itaught you how.”

“Teaching me to swim is hardly a break,” I complained, blood pounding in my ears.“It’s just a different kind of lesson.”

“You’d prefer to drown next time you’re out on the boating lake and precious Faolanisn’t there to save you?”

I glared at him, fear and frustration sending a prickling heat up my neck. “Winding meup might be your new favorite pastime, but you can’t force me to learn if I don’t want to.”

In an instant, Thorne was by my side, disappearing and then reappearing in wisps ofdark shadows, the scent of smoke and rosewood washing over me.

My heart skittered, my breath catching. Even after almost two months of lessons withthe fae lord, the power that rolled off him always sent shivers running through my body,making my blood quicken and my muscles tense, ready to run. My body never hesitatedto warn me he was a predator.

His eyes flicked between me and the pools, a smirk that I definitely didn’t likespreading slowly over his face.

“You can’t just—”Long fingers closed around my wrists, and then, with a twist of my stomach, the Beast

shadowed us. We reappeared at the top of the pools. I hung right over the edge wherethe water poured down, only remaining dry thanks to the strong fae hands fastenedaround me.

A glint shone in Thorne’s eyes. “What were you saying about not being able to force

you to learn?”Fae beast.I swallowed, my throat constricting. As furious as I was, I didn’t dare contradict him. I

glanced back down to where the water rushed over the stones before plummeting downto the pools below. A sparkling blue death trap.

If he drops me, I’ll drown.As my breath quickened, Thorne rolled his eyes skyward. “Relax, petal. You think I’d

actually let you fall?” He gave a sharp yank on my wrists, and I stumbled forward, awayfrom the edge, before he shadowed us back down beside the lake at the bottom of thepools. “All the whining I’d hear about it afterward would hardly make it worth it.”

I exhaled very slowly. “You wouldn’t hear any whining at all if you decided to drownme.” Steadying my breath, I smoothed down the front of my skirts, trying to regain somecomposure. “Of course, then you’d have to find someone else to enchant your roses intogrowing for you.” I delicately brushed a leaf from my front. “I’m sure there must bedozens of girls who can do it? It’s not like you’ve been waiting a hundred years for theright person or anything…”

Thorne’s smile turned wolfish. “Perhaps I should find someone else. Someone whoappreciates my generosity.”

I gave a derisive snort. “Bringing me here just to torment me is hardly—”“Someone who isn’t afraid of the tiniest splash of water,” he spoke loudly over me.

Dropping into a crouch, he swished one long finger through the water before flicking afew drops in my direction.

I flinched back, using the cuff of my sleeve to scrub the droplets from my face.He tilted his head to one side. “So what’s this really about, petal? What are you so

afraid of?”I clamped my mouth shut. It wasn’t that I was afraid...“I can’t believe you’re that reluctant to dip your feet in. The water’s cool, and it’s a hot

day…” As if to emphasize his point, the sun broke out from between the clouds again,thick golden light streaming down upon us. All of a sudden, I found that I was too hot inthe layers of my dress.

I squinted up, watching the clouds scud across the sky. Sometimes I wonderedwhether Thorne didn’t have a little of Faolan’s Sky Court magic.

“You went out on the boat.” Thorne frowned, half talking to himself now, his browfurrowed as though he were struggling with a difficult puzzle. “You offered yourself inyour sister’s place at the Tithe. You faced the barghest. You stand up to me. You’vedemonstrated yourself to be quite brave—if not completely reckless—at times. And I’m anexcellent teacher, of course.”

I had to resist rolling my eyes at the casual fae arrogance.“So why kick up such a fuss about learning to swim?” Leaping back to his feet,

uncertainty suddenly flickered across the fae’s face. “Unless it is me that’s the problem?You don’t trust me?” The shadows around Thorne began to climb around his shoulders,the sunshine dimming again. “I suppose you’d leap right in if Faolan asked you to.”

I chewed my lip, surveying him through narrowed eyes. I knew I couldn’t be entirely

sure that Thorne wasn’t trying to manipulate me. I knew that after spending so muchtime together, I was getting used to his presence. Thinking of him like...well, like hewasn’t fae.

I knew I shouldn’t forget that he’d taken me from my home. He hunted other powerfulfae for sport and had fought off an entire pack of barghest. He was the most dangerouscreature in the entire Folkwood.

But when he’d suggested maybe I wouldn’t swim because I didn’t trust him… Theworried expression on his face had looked almost human.

Drawing in a breath, I bent down and began unlacing my boots.“What are you doing?” he asked sharply.I shot him a glare, my fingers picking at my laces. “You made me feel bad, okay? So

I’ll try your stupid swimming lesson. Are you happy now?”A baffled look swept across his features. “I made you feel...bad?”I kicked off my boots and reached around my back to untie my pinafore. “I don’t want

you to think I won’t swim because I’m here with you. I mean...” My cheeks heated. “Youhave been a good teacher, up until these last weeks with all the planning for the revel.”Shrugging off the pinafore, I pulled my heavy, green dress over my head, my voicemuffled beneath the layers of cotton. “I don’t like to swim because… Well, it’s the samereason why I don’t like feeling emotional. I don’t like being out of control. But I supposeyou’ve promised to help me use my emotions to learn about enchanting. Even if so far,you seem to take an irritating pleasure in doing so by winding me up…”

I trailed off, glancing back at Thorne, who remained suspiciously quiet.The Beast was staring at me. The puzzled look he’d worn when I’d tried to explain

why I’d had a change of heart had been replaced with a hard, predatory stare.I glanced down at myself. I was still wearing the delicate silk slip Mosswhistle had left

out for me, not wanting to swim just in my underclothes. But the way Thorne was lookingat me, it felt like I’d stripped off every item of clothing, leaving myself bare before him.Self-conscious, I lifted my bundled dress up in front of me.

My already hot cheeks burned as the Beast’s gaze raked over me, an unfamiliarsensation coiling in my stomach.

I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.Slowly, Thorne began unbuttoning his shirt.I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t help it. The tattoos winding and writhing over

the backs of his hands and up his arms continued across his collarbones and the top of hischest. There was something about the way ink cut across his cool, glowing skin. Eventhough the design was elegant, no doubt the work of some master craftsman, against theBeast’s perfect fae form, it looked like weeds tangled around a flower bed.

My breath hitched as the shirt slid from his shoulders and he twisted, revealing moretumbling briars running down his perfectly sculpted back.

It wasn’t fair. Fae beauty was designed to bewitch mortals.Thorne shrugged off his shirt, then stepped out of his pants, leaving just his

underclothes.I swallowed. The stories didn’t suggest fae had much concern for things like personal

boundaries around nakedness. Just how many more layers was he going to shed?With a hot look that had my stomach flipping, the Beast extended a hand, raising one

eyebrow in question.I didn’t dare reach back to him. I thought I might combust if I stepped close enough to

touch, felt his palm slide over mine.When I didn’t take his hand, something flickered behind his eyes.Striding into the pool, he bent over and dunked his head and shoulders under,

splashing the water over his back. When he straightened, the glistening drops slid slowlydown his skin.

The curling sensation in my stomach grew tighter.He looked back over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to join me?”Still clutching my dress in front of me, I glanced down at the shining pool. I took a

tentative step forward, then another, until the cool water kissed my toes. I stopped. Thetickle of the water sent tingles running up my legs, pooling in my stomach.

I took another slow step, the shallows lapping at my ankles, silt soft beneath the padsof my feet. I cast a glance back toward the bank. I was going to have to drop my dresssooner or later, but the thought of Thorne seeing me so exposed…

As heat rushed over me, I suddenly tossed the dress onto the bank, and slosheddeterminedly forward, goosebumps rising on my arms. As quickly as I could, I duckedbeneath the water, my breath catching as the cold slipped over my shoulders.

I tensed...but nothing happened. No kelpie grabbed hold of me, no water weedstangled around my ankles to pull me under, no sharp teeth sank into my skin. I glanceddown. The lake was perfectly clear, so I could see there was nothing reaching for mylimbs. It was a strange sensation, the sun beating hot upon my dark hair while my bodygrew cold, turned a ghoulish green underwater. My long braid floated alongside me, theends fanning out in a way that reminded me uneasily of Wispwing.

“See, petal, it’s not so bad really,” a drawling voice carried across the water.I remained where I was but tilted my head up again, eyes narrowed at the fae

swimming smooth, elegant lengths across the middle of the lake. Thorne’s dark headducked beneath the water before he erupted in a spray of silver a few feet away fromme.

“Well, don’t you look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he said wryly, his gaze resting onmy rigid, stationary body. “Have you thought about actually swimming?”

I gritted my teeth, spreading my hands out experimentally, the water gliding silkilyover them. “You know I don’t know how.”

He shrugged, broad shoulders slicing out of the water. “Show me what you do know.”I shook my head frantically, drawing my arms closer again.“Hollow hills.” Thorne sighed, raking his wet hair back from his forehead. “You’re

making this so difficult.”I glared at him. “I thought you said you were going to teach me?”He arched an eyebrow. “And you’re actually going to do what I say?”I huffed a breath. “Thorne, I’m up to my neck in pond water, rigid with fear that some

water fae is suddenly going to drag me underwater and drown me. Tell me, what am I

doing here if not waiting for this promised lesson?”He didn’t reply for a moment, then darted back underwater with a splash. His dark

head cut a line across the silver-surfaced lake as he struck out toward me, his muscledarms gleaming with water each time they broke the surface.

My pulse quickened as he drew up just before me, the clear water not doing anythingto hide his striking fae body. Or mine.

Suddenly self-conscious, I wrapped my arms around my chest.“The water’s cold,” I snapped as his eyes tracked the movement.His lips twitched. “Let’s warm you up then.”He extended both hands toward me, palms up. His briar tattoos undulated beneath

the water, as though they were writhing across his skin.“What are you doing?” I took a quick step back, the cool water sloshing up my back.Thorne let out another exaggerated sigh. “I thought you said you wanted my help?”

He didn’t pull his hands back, but gave me a firm look, one brow raised. The light dancingoff the water’s surface brought out a bright honey color in his eyes, and my stomachsomersaulted.

I swallowed. “You want me to take your hands?”He grinned. “It looks that way, doesn’t it?”I slid my hands into his waiting palms, conscious that my fingertips were already

wrinkled while his had remained smooth and soft as petals.His fingers closed gently around mine. “Now, kick your legs up and I’ll pull you

forward.”“What?” I jerked back.His hands clasped me tighter. “I won’t let go.”“I can’t,” I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. I wriggled back, but his hands

held me firm. “My head will go under. I just—I can’t, Thorne.”“I’ve got you,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on mine. “Don’t you trust me, petal?”Thorne’s thumbs swept over the backs of my hands, a ripple of heat searing my skin in

spite of the cold water. My mouth dried, my heart slowing, thudding more heavily.Not tearing my eyes from his, I clutched his hands tighter, and kicked my legs up,

putting all of my faith in Thorne not letting me go.

Even as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the heat of it remained, drying the cold drops ofwater that still clung to my skin.

I rolled onto my front, surveying the snoozing fae lord before me, sprawled flat on hisback. My eyes trailed over his long, lean frame, the curl of hair lying loose over hisforehead. In spite of my reservations… I’d had fun today.

Even if there had been something in the air between us since I’d taken his hands.Something that meant we each raced to be the first to look away whenever our eyesmet. Which meant something warm blossomed inside me each time I thought his skinmight brush against mine under the water.

I watched as a dandelion seed drifted lazily over the grass before landing on his nose,making him startle awake, sneezing.

I hid a smile behind my hand.Realizing I’d seen him jump, Thorne glared at me, pink rising on his cheeks. “Missing

my company so much you had to disturb my slumber, are you?”I held my hands up. “I didn’t blow the seeds at you. But please, do let me know how

you’d prefer to be woken. Would you like me to organize a chorus of birdsong to sing youawake? A silver platter of fae delicacies to tempt you with?”

A lazy grin spread across his face. “I can think of several enjoyable ways you couldwake me up, if you’re offering…”

Heat flooded my cheeks at his suggestive tone. “Typical,” I muttered, a flusteredfeeling sending shivers down my arms. “The fae lord brings me here under the pretenseof a swimming lesson, then tries to trick me into making some faerie bargain.”

“Now, now, petal,” he chuckled. “There’s no need to get so flustered.”“Now, now, beast,” I shot back. “There’s no need to sound so disappointed.”He let out a snort of laughter and rolled onto his front, turning to face me.I raised my eyes to meet his, then slowly reached out and plucked another fluffy

dandelion from the grass, rolling the stem between my thumb and forefinger.“You know, in Rosehill we have all sorts of stories associated with dandelions,” I said

lightly, not meeting his gaze. “Children blow on the heads to see what time it is inFaerieland.” I cringed inwardly, wondering whether such innocent-sounding stories hadcontributed to my sister Ava’s belief in some fae prince who was going to whisk her away.Not that Thorne had turned out to be quite the beast I’d imagined him to be, in the end. Imoved the dandelion closer to my lips. “They’re a flower associated with memory, too.The floating seeds are supposed to be like lost thoughts…”

An idea flickered across my mind. My lessons with Thorne had focused on using myenchantments in ways he thought might be useful—that might make me powerful. Butwhy not try out something for my own entertainment?

Shooting a look at Thorne, I focused on the strange new feeling in my belly, thewarmth spreading over my skin. The emotion for this enchantment would becontentment.

I blew on the seeds, watching them float away, and heaved a sigh. I closed my eyesas the memory shone vividly before me.

A glazed, fruit-studded loaf, painted eggs, and the arrangement I’d made of daffodils,violets, celandine, and willow sat in the center of the table, overflowing with food forSpring Equinox. Laurel was seated opposite me, her bright copper hair glowing like acandle. My heart swelled each time I glanced up at her. Last Spring Equinox, it had beenLaurel’s Tithe, next year it would be mine and Ava’s, but right now, all three sisters couldbe together.

Laurel stabbed a piece of lamb with her fork and shoveled it into her mouth, jawworking furiously as she scarfed her food.

“Honestly, Laurel,” Ava said primly. “You’d think you hadn’t eaten in a month.”Even Ava was with us today, granted a rare visit by her mother.

Laurel grinned with her mouth full, making Ava pull a disgusted face. “I’m making upfor lost time. I couldn’t celebrate last year.” She swallowed. “Walking down the Tithepath… When you come back again, it’s impossible not to think you’ve been gone foryears.” She shuddered. “Time always feels strange in the dark of the Folkwood, but whenyou’re waiting there in the clearing, the Beast prowling back and forth before you… I lostmy appetite for days. Honestly, Ava, you’ll understand when it’s your turn.”

“Let’s not think about Aster and Ava’s Tithe,” my father interrupted in a firm voice.“This Spring Equinox, we’re together.” Snatching up his tankard, he stumbled to his feet,tears shining in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his belly and sniffed loudly. “Today, wecan celebrate Spring Equinox as a family.”

Her cheeks flushing pink, Laurel shot to her feet after him, grasping her own glass inher hand and raising it skyward. “To family. And the Beast’s good sense in not daring topick any of the Wilden sisters.”

Ava got more delicately to her feet, her little finger raised from her glass as she held itup.

As I looked around at my father, my sisters, a warm feeling spread through me, sostrong I thought I might burst. Last Spring Equinox had been the worst time of my life,but this year, surrounded by the people I loved...

“You really must be getting better at this.” Thorne’s drawling voice interrupted myreverie. “From the rapt expression on your face, I take it you invented your ownenchantment there?”

I opened my eyes, smiling at him. “Summoning a happy memory.”“And what emotion did you tap into to create that enchantment?” he asked, his gaze

running over my relaxed posture. “You certainly don’t look sad, or angry, or frustrated.”I didn’t answer but plucked another flower from the ground and held it out toward

Thorne, my breath quickening as my hand moved closer to his lips. No way was I aboutto tell him that I was feeling content.

“Want to try?”A dark look passed over his face. “I don’t think so,” he said, bitterness creeping into

his voice. “I’m afraid I don’t have very many happy memories. At least, not since comingto the Folkwood.”

I paused, my hand still hovering in midair between us. The warmth that had beenpooling in my core cooled a little as I remembered what Faolan had told me aboutThorne. That he was cursed to be here as punishment. That a human girl had been killedas a result of what he’d done.

My shoulders sagged, the hand holding the dandelion flinching back. Had I beenstupid, falling for his fae beauty, for something as simple as a swimming lesson? Had thatreally made me forget everything I knew about the fae—everything Faolan had told meabout Thorne?

He blew out a breath. “It’s my own fault I’m trapped here,” he said in a halting, stiffvoice. “Something terrible happened. And my actions, my part in it, are something Ideeply regret.” His gaze slid to me. “I’m a prisoner here, and I have to meet...certainconditions for the curse to be lifted.”

The rose garden. Thorne rolled onto his back again, staring up at the wide, blue skies darkening as the

sun set. “But I’m trying... I do try to make up for it. The Folkwood isn’t only a prison forme. The other fae you’ve seen in the forest—they’re all banished here, too. For theircrimes against humans.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Crimes?”“I told you, dark things live in the forest, Aster.” Thorne’s soft voice made the shivers

worse, goosebumps rising on my skin. “The very worst of our kind, who have doneunspeakable things to humans, forbidden by the Treaty between our kinds that dictates afae shall not harm a free human—those not taken in a Tithe.”

Faolan had mentioned a Fae-Human Treaty when he’d first explained the curse andthe Tithes to me in the orchard. Since then, he’d also shown me the map of the ten FaeCourts in the library, and I’d become very aware how small my experience of the worldhad been. Rosehill was so isolated, and while I’d known the Fae Courts existed, I’d hadno idea of the scale, structure, or rules. I could never have imagined there were Tithesdemanding hundreds of human prisoners taken every year. And I’d definitely had no ideathe Folkwood was a prison for murderous fae.

“I know they still try to prey on the humans living in Rosehill,” he murmured, notlooking away from the sky. “And when they do, I make sure they don’t do it again.”

I went rigid. I’d thought him a monster for hunting his own kind...but he was trying toprotect the borders of the Folkwood, just like I had been, from the other side.

He finally looked back at me, his eyes haunted. “It’s not enough, but I’m trying. Tomake up for what I did. For those who paid the price for my actions.”

I sat up, feeling cold, suddenly aware of how low the sun had sunk in the sky. It feltas though something were tangled in my chest. I couldn’t work out this wild, brooding faelord.

“Thorne…” I got to my feet, smoothing out my skirts. “You might have donesomething terrible before, but from what I can see...you’ve changed.”

Thorne stood abruptly, raking a hand through his hair as he struggled to avoid mygaze. For a moment, silence hung between us.

“Come on.” Pink spots had risen on his cheeks, and I couldn’t help thinking heregretted what he’d told me.

“Back to work?”He shook his head. “No enchanting today. I have preparations for the revel to

oversee.”I tried not to pout. “You’ve done nothing else these past weeks but prepare for the

revel. I’ve had to practice by myself most days.”His eyes slid sideways, his lips quirking up. “No need to fret, petal. Things will get

easier in a couple of weeks. The friend I told you about is arriving then. They’ll help withgetting things ready for the revel, so you won’t have to suffer without me much longer.”

I waved a hand, feigning indifference. “Oh, good, another fae lord to plague me withriddles and half-truths any time I ask the simplest question.”

Thorne’s grin widened. “You mean you don’t enjoy our wordplay?”

“I’m terribly sorry if I’ve given you the mistaken impression I enjoy you answeringquestions with questions, if not avoiding answering me altogether whenever it pleasesyou.”

He rolled his eyes.But the truth was, I had been enjoying our wordplay and the one-on-one time we

spent together when Thorne wasn’t preparing for the revel. And while Faolan’s companyhad been welcome when I’d first come to the Cursed Court, now I wasn’t so sure I likedthe idea of Thorne disappearing off into the Folkwood with his friends to hunt for days ata time.

Giving a wide yawn that exposed his canines, Thorne reached a hand toward me.“Let’s go home.”

I hesitated, then took his hand.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S E V E N

I FOCUSED on the flowers bathed in morning sunlight on the table before me. Today, Ithought I could both practice my enchantments and help ready the manor for theimminent arrival of Thorne’s friend.

In spite of everything, I’d grown comfortable here, falling into a pattern of trainingwith Thorne and working in the garden. Using my newfound feeling of contentment tosettle into the state of flow I needed to weave my enchantments, I selected another longstem and placed it carefully in the vase, the chrysanthemum nestling between thearrangement of larkspur, soft heather, and clouds of blue-lilac hydrangea. Sincechrysanthemums were associated with long life, interspersing it with the others wouldmean that the arrangement would last forever. Something magical to decorate the roomsof the fae lord arriving to help Thorne with the revel.

My hands heated, my skin prickling as the enchantment hummed around the flowers.“The Lady of the Manor is so talented, so extremely skilled at her Craft,” a piercing,

trembling voice announced from beside me. Mosswhistle had abandoned its cleaning ofthe guest chambers to creep up beside me, the brownie’s inky, orb-like eyes and longnose just visible over the top of the table. “Never has Mosswhistle seen flowers arrangedin this way. How does Mistress do it?”

I blushed at the brownie’s gushing words.“Silly human girl is no Lady of the Manor,” hissed another fae voice before I could

reply. Wispwing tossed her dark blue hair back over her shoulder and began scrubbingher mop over the floor so hard the wooden handle creaked. “Oh, Wispwing knows thehuman thinks she is the lady here, with her enchantments and her flowers, but she’ll gojust the same way as all the other humans who come to the manor.” A dark smile passedover the faery’s face, her black eyes lit with delight. “Before long, she will be hollowbones rattling in the earth.”

Mosswhistle let out a furious cry and charged toward Wispwing with its fists raised.The faery shrieked in outrage, spreading her wings and fluttering into the air above

us, her mop falling to the floor with a thud. She settled on the chandelier, looking like ashining blue beetle in the shimmering light of the candles.

“Wispwing will not speak about the Lady of the Manor in that way!” Mosswhistle

shouted, waving its fists in the air, pink tinging its cheeks and the tips of its large, pointedears. “Boundless is Mistress’s generosity, faultless is her Craft, limitless is her talent. TheMaster will be happy when he sees what his lady can do! He is lucky to have such ahuman in his house!”

Around us, the other Little Folk preparing the rooms for Thorne’s friend slowed to ahalt, tinkling laughter swelling around the room as they hopped and fluttered about,eager to watch the fight between Mosswhistle and Wispwing unfold.

“The human girl is not his lady,” Wispwing called mutinously, the chandelier swingingback and forth as she beat her wings. “The Master doesn’t need a lady, not when he hasWispwing and all the others to help him.” Her gaze slid to me, her black eyes narrowing.“We keep the house perfectly. So why does she help the servants with their work now,instead of skulking off to her garden? Does she just want to show off?”

“Mistress is no show-off!” Mosswhistle yelled back. It scrambled onto the table,hopping up and down as though it might be able to reach Wispwing if it only leaped highenough.

Scooping the flowers to one side in alarm as the brownie’s clawed feet thudded on thetabletop, I wondered whether I would even have any arrangements to show Thorne atthe end of Mosswhistle and Wispwing’s argument.

“The brownie thinks it is a lady’s maid!” Wispwing screeched.“Wispwing thinks she is a lady!” the brownie screamed back, its voice reaching a

painfully high pitch. “Should Mosswhistle attend to her instead?”Abandoning the flowers, I planted my hands over my ears, wincing at their piercing

voices.“Mosswhistle,” I pleaded, my voice sounding muffled. “The flowers…”The brownie looked down at where it had been stamping around the flowers I’d laid

out on the table, their stems bruised and broken, and gave a gasp of horror.“Forgive me, Mistress!” It scrambled off the table before reaching back up and clearing

imaginary dust from the tabletop with a rag. “Mosswhistle only wishes to defend yourhonor.” It shot a glare up to where Wispwing fluttered from the chandelier to the top ofone of the tall windows, still unwilling to come close to the irate brownie.

“Thanks, Mosswhistle. Consider my honor defended.” I looked anxiously at where itsrag swept close to the remaining flowers. “Do you think you could fetch me anothervase?”

Sweeping into a low bow, the brownie scurried off to where I’d left the vases at theedge of the room.

A prickle suddenly swept through the air, an increase in pressure that I knew all toowell. I shuddered at the swell of power that filled the room.

“Hiding out with the servants, are you?”I stiffened for a moment, prepared to launch into a defense if Thorne was here to

chide me for not practicing enchanting, but when I turned, a smile split his face.A shiver ran through me at the sight of him. The fae lord had swapped his usual loose

shirt and breeches for something more formal, shirt tucked into pants for once, anembroidered green jacket slung over the top. There was something about seeing that

wildness contained… He looked good.Thorne quirked up one eyebrow. “Or are you just considering a career in servitude

with your new gift for enchanting?”I stuck my tongue out and gestured to the flowers. “Ingrate. I’m doing this for you.”“Oh?” He took a step closer to the table, reaching out to touch the petals of the

larkspur in my arrangement. He glanced back up at me, a wry smile hovering over hislips. “I guess if you really were considering a place among the Little Folk, you wouldn’t becausing so much trouble between the other servants.” He looked pointedly up at whereWispwing still flitted around the top of the window.

Mosswhistle hurried back to my side, a glazed blue vase clutched in its hands.“Mistress caused no trouble! But never would she be considered one of the servants.”Thumping the vase onto the table, the brownie made a great show of fluffing out myskirts, a simple, pale-green dress it had picked out for me this morning.

Satisfied, Mosswhistle stepped back before shooting a sly look at the two of us. “Sideby side, you look like Lord and Lady of the Manor.”

A shriek of laughter sounded from high above us, and I glanced up to see Wispwingbarely hanging onto the window as she doubled up with laughter. “A human, match a fae!Such plain, ungraceful creatures. The brownie’s mind must be addled with faerie fruit.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks.Wispwing dropped down to the windowsill, her long fingers clutching the edge as she

leaned forward to croon, “Perhaps the brownie thinks any animal would look appropriatebeside the Master. Would it welcome a rabbit from the meadow to wait on?”

The chiming laughter started up around the room again, the sunlight glinting offdozens of bright, round eyes as they all fixed on me.

Wispwing’s pitch rose. “Perhaps if I glamoured away my wings the brownie would waiton me?”

I glared up at her as the laughter in the room grew louder, simultaneously grabbingMosswhistle with one hand to prevent the brownie from leaping back onto the table andsacrificing yet more of my flowers in the name of defending my honor.

“Feckless, mushrooms-for-brains she-imp!” it yelled, scrambling up the table leg.“The human-fancier must have the sight of a bat!” Wispwing howled back, her wings

vibrating furiously.A low rumble of thunder sounded above us before Thorne’s silky tones interrupted,

“Now that I think about it, we do look like a matching set.”The laughter stopped instantly, Wispwing’s sapphire face turning ashen.I jerked my head to look at Thorne. We were dressed in complementary colors with

my pale-green skirts and his emerald jacket, but a moment before, the thought hadn’tmade my head spin, my mouth dry, my words lost somewhere between my head and mymouth.

His gaze roved slowly back up from my dress to meet my eyes, and my breathquickened. “So what are you doing in here, Aster?”

Letting go of Mosswhistle to gesture to the flower arrangements, I was horrified torealize my hands were shaking.

I hastily clasped them behind my back, willing my voice to sound even, my expressionto remain neutral. “They’re f-for your—your friend,” I stammered out, my words coming ina rush.

The quizzical look returned to Thorne’s face.I drew in a slow breath before attempting to speak again. “They’re enchanted,” I

explained. “They’ll never wilt. And I used hydrangeas, larkspur, and heather for gratitude,happiness, and protection.” My lips twitched. “I thought they’d need the latter if this revelreally is as dangerous as you’ve made out. And if nothing else, they make the room lookprettier.”

Thorne was silent for a moment, dropping his gaze from mine, an expression I didn’trecognize flickering behind his eyes.

My heart lurched. Had I overstepped my mark?Or perhaps he misunderstood. In the past, Thorne had been touchy when I mentioned

Faolan. Was he worried I’d show more affection for the latest fae lord to arrive at themanor than for him?

“I’m afraid the one vase will have to do,” he said at last.I chewed on my lip. “You don’t like them?”He shook his head. “No—it’s not that.” Extending an arm, he gestured for me to follow

him to the window.Wispwing darted away, shooting me a venomous look before scooping up her mop

and making a halfhearted effort to scrub at the floor, not taking her black eyes fromThorne and me.

I stepped after him. “Should I have used different flowers? I was only joking aboutthem needing protection—”

“I told you, Aster, there’s nothing wrong with the flowers. It’s—Vanna’s already here.”Vanna?I peered out of the window, then immediately flung an arm up to shield my eyes as I

was almost blinded by a golden star shooting from the sky, brighter than the sun.It sped straight for the house, kicking up a cloud of glittering dust motes as it

screeched to a halt in front of the main steps. Squinting, I could just about make out theshape of a fine golden chariot in the glow of light before a dark figure leaped down fromit.

A dark, curvaceous figure with long black braids that cascaded down her back.The fae glanced up, as though she’d known exactly where Thorne would be waiting,

and blew him a kiss.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - E I G H T

I STOOD STARİNG at the door to the guest bedroom, a teacup and saucer clutched in myhands. I’d volunteered to get Vanna some refreshment so she could have some timecatching up with Thorne alone. And also, if I were honest, so I could catch my breath.

When Thorne had said he had another friend coming, I’d been expecting a male. I’dpictured someone polite and courtly, like Faolan, or another brooding fae lord like Thorne.

Vanna was…neither. She was the most striking female I’d ever seen, with gold bodypaint daubed over glowing ebony skin and wide, honey-colored eyes accentuated with acat-like flick of paint over their lids. She dressed even more extravagantly than Faolan, inrobes that looked like they were made of liquid bronze, the embellished materialcascading over her curves.

Not to mention she was unlike anyone I’d ever met, an unnerving combination ofLaurel’s open confidence and Ava’s graceful femininity. There was a freeness to the wayshe moved that set me on edge.

Laughter rang out from the room. I took a quick step to the side as four squabblingbrownies pushed past me, carrying Vanna’s bags between them. The door flew open,framing Vanna and Thorne standing close together by the windows, breaking away froma hug.

Something in my chest wilted.“Aster, you’re here!” Vanna noticed me first. She beckoned me in, then clasped her

hands together.I forced a smile onto my face and stepped inside the room, holding out the tea in

offering.“You’re a jewel. Just what I needed.” Vanna cupped a warm hand to my cheek before

taking the tea and setting it down on the dresser without taking a sip. “Thorne said youarranged these flowers for me? That’s so thoughtful.”

Vanna reached out long, delicate fingers to stroke one of the hydrangeas. The lilacpetal quivered, then turned silver, the metal spreading across the entire arrangement andthe vase until the whole thing looked like a statue, glinting in the sunlight.

I swallowed. It was quite clear what sort of magic the fae of the Metal Court had intheir arsenal.

“Now they’ll last forever.” Vanna beamed down at me.I opened my mouth to tell her I’d already enchanted them to last forever, but Thorne

cut in, steering her away from me.“Save some of it for the rest of the house.” He paused, his hands still on her

shoulders. “Unless you’d rather rest first?”“I’m here under the guise of helping prepare for this revel, aren’t I? So lead the way…”I cast a lingering glance at the silver flowers on the table, then followed them into the

corridor, several paces behind. Vanna’s wind-chime laughter floated back, and she hadone arm draped around Thorne’s waist.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, making the metal accents on her clothesglisten and the strands of gold woven through her hair shimmer. Walking side by side, thetwo fae appeared perfectly matched in every way. In height, grace, beauty…

Thorne’s deep voice carried back to me. “I’m glad you came early this year. So I canat least speak to you while I’m…you know.” He shot a look back my way before gesturingvaguely above the top of his head.

“I’m glad too. Although from what you tell me, Faolan has been breaking the rules andvisiting more than usual.” Vanna tutted. “How very unlike the perfect golden prince.”

Something in her tone told me she didn’t much care for Faolan. I couldn’t imagine thepolite lord next to Vanna. Despite both being beautiful, golden fae, they were totalopposites.

“Well, I have to admit.” She swept a slender arm through the air. “It’s not bad for acursed treehouse.”

Thorne huffed. “I wish you’d stop calling it a treehouse.”“Why? It’s technically correct. You should hear the stories the other Court Fae spread

of you. They say you live like the Little Folk, in a tiny house built at the top of a singletree. Only big enough for one.” She smirked. “Actually… I may have started that rumor.”

“Your Court lives underground, Vanna. You’re hardly in a position to be criticizing myliving arrangements. Cursed though they may be.”

Vanna chuckled, looking back over her shoulder at me. “Ignore him, Aster. He’s neverbeen to visit the Metal Court. It’s much more pleasant than he imagines.”

Thorne scoffed. “You can’t hold that against me. I can’t leave.”Vanna slipped her arm through Thorne’s and leaned into his side, patting his hand.

“Well, you had plenty of time to visit before you got yourself cursed.” She turned back tome. “What do you think of the manor, Aster? I hope Thorne’s been keeping youcomfortable here.”

I gave a faint smile, unsure how to reply. Vanna must be aware of why I was here,that I was one of the Tithe girls. That her question was like asking a bird how it liked itscage.

Still...although I’d found everything about the manor house unnerving at first, with itsinvisible servants and furniture that seemed to grow from the forest, I supposed it hadbecome familiar to me now. Not home, like Rosehill, but less like a prison.

“I’m comfortable here,” I replied, forcing a lightness into my tone. She was trying toinclude me in their joking, after all. “But if you want to make the other fae feel really

sorry for Thorne, you should tell them his bedroom doesn’t have a ceiling.”Vanna snorted a laugh. “I’ll bear that in mind.”She turned back, giving Thorne a playful nudge and mouthing something I couldn’t

quite see.“Only once. And that’s none of your business, Vee.” Thorne’s reply was so quiet I

barely caught it.I pursed my lips. They were talking about me like I wasn’t right here. Something deep

in my stomach burned at their ease with one another. The affection. I’d convinced myselffae weren’t like that. Faolan and Thorne hadn’t been.

But this… This relationship felt human.Thorne was more at ease than I’d ever seen him, laughing openly at Vanna’s biting

comments. The dark aura that usually clung to him like a shadow was nowhere to beseen, his shoulders loose.

Vanna reached a hand around to sweep her hair over her shoulder, revealing herbackless gown. An elaborate golden tattoo swept up her spine and around her delicateshoulder blades, the metallic ink gleaming against her dark complexion.

I leaned closer to get a better look. The tattoo was formed of vines and curling ferns,the leaves unfurling across her shoulder blades. It was a pattern that reminded me of theforest, like Thorne’s briar tattoo. But if Vanna was from the Metal Court, why would shehave a tattoo with a forest motif?

She stopped so abruptly in front of me, I almost walked straight into the back of her.Vanna turned to the wall, waggling her fingers. “I’m thinking a little gold leaf to spruce

up the place.”“You have free rein.” Thorne raised his hands and stepped back. “Do your worst.”Vanna pressed her hand to the wall, and metal began spreading from her fingertips.

This time it was gold, a light coating gilding the living beams of the corridor, like frost ona windowpane.

As we walked through the manor, everything she touched turned to gold. The walls,lanterns, the banisters, the door handles. When we reached the ballroom, Thorne threwopen the double doors with unnecessary drama.

I considered taking the opportunity to slip away and leave them to it, but Vanna’svoice rang out from inside, “Aster, aren’t you coming?”

I took a deep, steadying breath and followed them.I’d never spent any time in the ballroom. When I’d peeked in before, it had always

seemed vast and cold and empty. But this morning, the tall, garden-facing windows wereall thrown open, letting in the sun and a floral summer breeze.

It seemed every servant in the house was in here, pulling back the white sheetscovering the furniture, carrying chairs, beating carpets. Those with wings flew back andforth above our heads with black feather dusters clutched in their hands. Wispwing dartedaround the grand chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, sending motes of dust spiralingto the ground through the shafts of golden sunlight.

The room was already beautiful, with a mirrored ceiling, paneled walls, and, at the farend, an upper level with two staircases sweeping down to the floor. How was Vanna

planning on improving it?“Everyone off the ground.” Vanna clapped her hands as she strode to the center of the

room. “Unless you want gold toes.” Every faery with wings lifted into the air with a softbuzz, while several of the others yelped and jumped up onto tables and chairs. Thorneand I backed into the doorway. Our shoulders bumped together, and I stepped awayquickly, clearing my throat.

Vanna dropped gracefully to her haunches and tapped a single slender finger againstthe wooden floor. Gold spread out from the point of contact, swirling and growing in anorganic pattern. The faerie servants sucked in a collective breath.

It was only when the pattern came closer to the edge of the room that I saw what itwas—entwined leaves and vines, just like the tattoo on her back, with a huge golden sunat its center.

When she was finished, Vanna stood with her hands on her hips, admiring herhandiwork. From above her head, Wispwing began clapping. “Most beautiful, LadyVanna.” The other Folk joined in, clapping and admiring the sparkling golden pattern thatdecorated the floor.

The applause rang hollow in my ears.I followed Thorne sullenly as he strode toward her, a bounce in his step.“For Gael,” I caught her murmur before she pulled Thorne into another hug.Was everything an excuse to hug for this fae?My gaze scanned the room as I tried to distract myself from the burning sensation in

my belly. Above us, Wispwing began conducting a swarm of sprites to hang floating,green ribbons from the ceiling, while two hobgoblins wearing crimson waistcoats wheeledin a large, rattling trolly. Crystal decanters of amber liquid clinked against slender bottlesof red, yellow, and pale-green wine.

Behind them, a line of brownies marched in, silver bowls filled with delicate bundles ofmeadowsweet balanced on their heads, a heady, floral smell wafting with them.

Fine alcohol, decorations, flowers… This looked more like a party than the wild,frightening revel I had imagined. For the first time, I felt left out that I wasn’t involved inthe Lúnasa celebrations, resentment that I wouldn’t be attending the ball with Thorneand Vanna burning in my chest.

I shot another look at the fae female, her arm still draped around Thorne’s shoulders.The room suddenly felt too bright and too warm as I tried to ignore the truth burningthrough my veins, whispering at the back of my mind.

Vanna moved closer to Thorne, and I crossed my arms over my chest.“Maybe I should come to the revel,” I blurted, my eyes fixed on the way their bodies

melded together.Thorne’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “What?”“Well, I was just thinking it would mean I could get to know your friends better,” I

lied, my mouth dry. “And Faolan will be there. He’s my friend, too—”“None of the guests are your friends, Aster,” Thorne snapped, a muscle twitching in

his jaw. “Very few are even my friends.” He ran an agitated hand through his tousledhair. “I don’t understand why you’re suddenly—”

Vanna patted Thorne’s arm in a motion that suggested he leave the talking to her.“Aster,” she began, her voice light. “Trust me, you’re not missing out on a thing. This

revel is not what you think it is.” She shared a glance with the fae lord. “Thorne has nochoice but to throw it. And many of the attendees… They’re not fae you would want tomeet.”

“They’ll be Court Fae like you, won’t they?”“Some of them will be Court Fae, but you’ll find not all of them are like us,” she

replied.I bristled at her tone, my jaw aching from clenching my teeth. Vanna didn’t know me.

She didn’t know what I was capable of. I’d lived through run-ins with the kelpie and thepúca and the barghest… I was an enchantress. Who was she to tell me I couldn’t face aroom of drinking, dancing fae?

She flashed me a warm smile, her teeth blindingly white. “Perhaps you can show methe garden later, and we can get to know each other a little better then, instead of at therevel?”

Of course, as far as she was concerned, I was only here as a gardener.“Aster,” Thorne said in a low voice. “It’s too dangerous for you. You must realize that.”I wrapped my arms around myself, hurt and humiliation and envy all tangled up

inside. He was right, of course…I didn’t want to go to a revel full of wild, dangerousfae...and yet…

“I’m sure you’d rather spend your time catching up with Thorne,” I said snippily toVanna, my voice rising a pitch. “But you’ve reminded me I should be getting back to thegarden, anyway. I have a lot of work to do.”

Vanna’s smile flickered. She threw a worried glance at Thorne, who was looking at meoddly, a sharp eyebrow lifted.

When he didn’t say anything to stop me, I spun and left, his silence ringing in my ears.

I lugged a sloshing watering can into the rose garden and slammed the wooden doorclosed behind me. For once, I was glad for the garden’s high walls sealing me off from themanor and hiding me from fae eyes.

I paced back and forth along the paths, watering the rose bushes. The sun was highabove the walls, the summer skies clear and bright. It hadn’t rained in several days, andthe soil was bone dry. I usually watered them first thing, in the cool of early morning, butright now, I just needed an excuse to stay out of the manor. I focused on the soft hissand splatter of the water each time I tipped the watering can forward.

Water splashed up the hem of my gown. I’d been in such a rush to get out of there, Ihadn’t even bothered to change into my usual gardening pinafore.

I moved around the garden with a knot in my chest.I knew what this feeling was, although I’d rarely felt it before.I was jealous.I gripped the handle of the watering can tighter. I hated seeing Thorne and Vanna

together. They clearly had a long history together that I could never be a part of, and Ihated how she put Thorne at ease in a way I’d never seen before.

Over the last few months, learning enchanting with him had been hard, but I’d cometo enjoy our lessons almost as much as our bickering. I’d grown used to the dark, headymagic that swelled around me in his presence, even though I was certain I’d never growaccustomed to the perfect lines of his face or the lithe movements of his body.

When I looked at Thorne, I no longer saw a beast. He brought something out of me Ithought I’d lost when Sage died. A lightness I’d thought was gone forever.

The same sort of lightness Vanna brought out of him.The wet rose bushes stared up at me, taunting. They looked just as bare and spindly

as the day Thorne had first let me into the garden. Not one leaf or flash of a red budsuggested they were going to grow at all, despite all my hard work.

I shook my head. I felt increasingly confident using my intuition and greenwitchknowledge to create all manner of enchantments, but the stubborn roses still held out.There had to be something I was missing. I’d tended to the plants using every emotionfrom my lessons. I’d tried tapping into anger, sadness, frustration, happiness…and rightnow, I supposed, jealousy.

Thorne had told me this sort of growing magic was slower than the kind ofenchantments I wove with already grown flowers, but if any of those emotions wereworking, surely I’d have seen some sign of it by now?

Perhaps the curse was preventing my enchanting from working.The last few drops of water dribbled from the watering can. I scowled. The rain barrel

was all the way by the potting shed, and I didn’t want to leave the rose garden in caseThorne and Vanna had moved on to the grounds. The lake was closer, but not worth therisk with the kelpie lurking there.

I wandered back to the entrance, setting the can down with a clunk, then leaned backagainst the wooden door and slid down to the ground, facing the garden.

The sun warmed my skin and hair, the rich, earthy scent of damp soil lingering in theair. I wrapped my arms around my legs, pulling my knees up to my chest.

I wished Laurel were here to talk to, or even Ava. Neither of my sisters would letVanna get under their skin like I had. I tried to imagine them sitting on either side of me,Laurel’s auburn hair flashing in the sunlight, Ava’s perfect spiral curls bouncing around hershoulders. Both would force the truth from me. The truth about Thorne.

The fluttering in my stomach intensified, and I let my head knock back against thewood. Even just thinking about him, a warm feeling spread through my body that hadnothing to do with the sunshine streaming in above the garden walls.

I wanted to get home to my family, and I wanted the Rosehill Tithe to end, but I hadto be honest with myself. Those weren’t the only reasons I was trying so hard to fix therose garden anymore.

I cared about Thorne getting his freedom.I wanted to break the curse for him as much as for me.Holding on tightly to that feeling, I got back to my feet and began to tend the roses.

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - N I N E

I BLEW out every candle on the candelabra I’d carried from my room. I didn’t want any ofthe guests looking up at the balcony and noticing me.

Ever since the sun had dipped below the trees, pale-blue skies fading to a duskybruise-gray, fae had begun arriving for the revel in hordes.

The cacophony of noise had reached me even in my chambers where I’d been hidingout all evening, and curiosity as much as irritation had pulled me from the safety of myroom and out onto an upper-floor balcony overlooking the main driveway.

I dropped down onto a bench and pressed up against the edge of the balcony. Mywhite cotton nightdress stirred slightly in the mild evening breeze, my hair pouring looseover my shoulders as I folded my arms over the lip of the balcony, settling my chin on myhands to watch the drama unfold far below. The evening air was muggy, ripe with themetallic tang of fae magic as more and more guests arrived for the revel, their crunchingfootsteps and high, lilting voices floating up to where I watched them, unseen.

The fae arrived in all manner of ways. Some crept in straight from the Folkwood, whileothers seemed to step through a rip in the air, like Thorne did, dark shadows coilingaround them like smoke. Others still popped up in the middle of toadstool rings thatsuddenly appeared in the grass, while many simply flew in. In the twilight, they appearedas tiny shadows, skimming the tops of the trees in the Folkwood. So far, I hadn’t caught aflash of Faolan’s golden hair and wings.

When I’d first arrived at the Cursed Court, I’d wondered what it could possibly needwith such a vast gravel driveway that led straight to the dead-end of the Folkwood, butnow I understood.

Just like Vanna’s yesterday, shimmering chariots appeared in the sky, glinting withjewels. They landed heavily and at speed, sending a hiss of gravel spraying across thelawn. Close behind them, two fair fae rode in on the backs of white, winged horses. Theyglided elegantly toward the manor, lower and lower until their silver hooves touched theground, then they trotted toward the house, their stark bodies shining like moonlight.

At the front of the manor, Vanna greeted every fae who arrived. From my position, Icould only see the back of her. An elaborate golden headdress made of intricateinterlocking metal rings rose high above her head, and her golden dress swayed like it

was made of fine chains, flashing bare skin every time she moved.I pursed my lips.Where was Thorne? Shouldn’t he be greeting his guests, not Vanna?My gaze scanned the driveway below, looking for his familiar form. I rubbed my lips

together. I’d stayed in the garden all day avoiding him, turning over the troubling feelingsVanna’s arrival had stirred up. But just because I didn’t want to speak with him, it didn’tmean I didn’t want to see him. To know what he was doing.

In the distance, a jet of orange-gold fire erupted from the Folkwood, catching my eye.The trees swayed and groaned, and a low, rumbling roar raised goosebumps along thebacks of my arms. What in the Kingdom of Faerie was that?

“Naughty little spy.” An ethereal voice brushed my ear in a rush of hot breath. I jerkedmy head away. Wispwing hovered next to me on the balcony, mimicking my pose, herdelicate face planted in her hands, elbows resting on the balcony’s edge. “Those aredragons from one of the other Courts. They have to stay in the Folkwood. Last year theyate the horses.” Wispwing’s bulbous, black eyes swiveled to pin me with a stare. “And theslower guests.”

I exhaled through my nose. Whenever Wispwing talked to me directly, it was never agood thing. The blue-skinned faery was the last person I wanted at my side giving me arunning commentary on the arriving fae.

As she gestured below, her inky blue hair swirled around her head like the air waswater. “See how Lady Vanna greets the guests?” She gave me an indulgent smile, baringher sharp teeth. “Wispwing thinks she makes a striking Lady of the Manor. Much beauty.Much grace.”

There it is.I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want to dwell on the reason why Vanna was

outside greeting guests like she really was the Lady of the Manor, and I didn’t want togive Wispwing the satisfaction of appearing to care.

“Vanna does look beautiful,” I agreed blandly, hoping that the faery would leave if shecouldn’t get a rise out of me.

Shrill cries, whistles, and tinkling, manic laughter floated through the air, still thickwith the scent of magic. Truth be told, I was glad I wasn’t in Vanna’s shoes right now.From the assortment of creatures I’d seen arriving, in various states of wild dress—andundress—Thorne had been right. This revel was no place for a human. I was far safer uphere, even if it meant sharing the balcony with Wispwing and her snarky comments.

“Don’t you have something better to do, Wispwing? Wouldn’t you rather be at therevel with your friends rather than here, harassing me?”

The faery gave a shrill laugh. “Wispwing is not invited. Master says servants must stayaway on this dark night.” Her translucent wings twitched. “Mosswhistle hides under yourbed.”

It was news to me that the servants from the manor were also banned from the revel.“No servants and no humans. Looks like we finally have something in common.”

I turned my gaze back to the arriving guests. Maybe Wispwing really had just snuckout to the balcony to watch the guests arrive, like me.

A new circle of mushrooms sprang up in the middle of the lawn, their thick, pale capsglowing with a greenish phosphorescence. A woman appeared in the middle. My breathcaught in my throat as I leaned closer for a better look.

Unlike the other fae, she wore a dress in a passably human style, a strapless corsetwith a full skirt. But instead of material, it looked like it was crafted from the forest itself.Her corset was made of strips of woven bark, the voluminous skirts fanning out in layerupon layer of lacy foliage—delicate ferns, sprays of willow, and velvety lamb’s ear. Herlong, bone-white hair was half pinned up in intricate braids, the rest falling in soft waves.

She moved toward Vanna, where clouds of sprites glowed brightly, lighting the wayinto the manor. Around her neck she wore a necklace of fresh blooms, three blood-redroses at her throat instead of jewels.

“The only human at the ball.” Wispwing’s hissing voice brushed my ear again. When Iturned, her face was inches from mine, her black eyes unblinking.

“What did you say?”“The white-haired one. She is human.”I gripped the edge of the balcony, half hanging over to get a better look at the woman

Wispwing claimed was not fae. I’d missed Vanna greeting her, but the Metal Fae hadturned to glare after the human as the foresty train of her dress disappeared from sightinto the manor.

“Thorne said no humans were allowed at this revel.” I spoke out loud to myself morethan Wispwing, but the faery answered anyway.

“She is an enchantress. Works for the Alder King. She is allowed.”My mouth dried as I stared at Wispwing. She couldn’t be lying to me; I knew that

much. Her wings had stilled, and she perched on the edge of the balcony in a crouch,staring down at the ground like a living gargoyle.

“You’re sure that woman is a human enchantress?” The words rushed from me in abreath.

Wispwing gave me a haughty look. “She comes every year.”I narrowed my eyes. “Thorne told me the other Courts don’t know about human

enchanters. Why would an enchantress come here?”With a flutter of her wings, the faery swung back up onto the balcony, shooting me a

disdainful look. “Other fae don’t know that she is an enchantress. Just that she is amaster craftsman in the employ of the Alder King.”

I turned my back on the view below, heat coursing through my veins. There really wasanother enchantress in the manor... Possibly one with a skillset similar to mine, if herdress was anything to go by. This might be an opportunity I couldn’t afford to miss…

“A greenwitch?” I questioned, and Wispwing nodded.I chewed my lip. Thorne had said enchantresses were really rare. When would I next

get the chance to speak to another one? And she might be my only chance of breakingthe curse. The roses were still stubbornly refusing to grow, in spite of how hard I’d beenworking in my training with Thorne. Perhaps I was missing something—something onlyanother enchantress, another greenwitch, could understand.

I had to find her.

Howls and shrieks rose up from below as I bit my lower lip. The revel might bedangerous, but I wouldn’t need to be there long. I just needed to find the enchantressand ask to talk to her about the roses elsewhere, away from the fae. I’d be in and out.

I had to at least try.I glanced back toward my rooms.If I was going to a fae revel, I needed to look the part to draw the least attention

possible—I needed a gown, jewelry, shoes. I glanced toward Wispwing, only to find hergone and the balcony empty. No matter. I wouldn’t have trusted her to find suitableattire, anyway.

But there was a brownie hiding under my bed who would know just what to do.

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y

THE PRESSURE WAS UNBEARABLE, the metallic scent of magic overwhelming. The house pulsed withthe beat of fae magic in time with the drums reverberating through the air, the onlymusic bar the chiming, hollow wail of fae voices. I guessed without any humans to play,there would be no musicians at the revel.

I hovered in the doorway into the foyer, my fists bunched in the layers of goldenorganza drifting from my waist. I had no idea where Mosswhistle had found me a dressworthy of a faerie ball, the golden gown embroidered with roses that drifted and sparkledin the candlelight...but even in a dress spun from gold, next to the fae creatures that hadassembled to celebrate, I felt plain.

Mostly it was Court Fae in attendance, more human-looking than the Little Folk I’dseen working in the palace or encountered in the forest, although such perfect, glowingskin, long limbs, and angular eyes could never be mistaken for human. I’d pinned up halfmy hair in an intricate knot and applied a light touch of cosmetics, but I could nevercompete with the striking faces and otherworldly costume of the fae with their paintedskin, gossamer wings, and dresses of spider silk and ribbons.

They were beautiful, bewitching, captivating. Terrifying.My fingers tightened on the floating golden material. I’d begrudgingly left my iron

knife behind, worrying the scent of the metal might attract the wrong kind of attention.I shrank back as a faery with long, insect-like limbs and the spiraling horns of a ram

prowled past, the scrape of sharp nails along the floor audible even over the drums. Mynose wrinkled at the cloying, swampy scent lingering in its wake. It seemed some fae hadeven come crawling out of the Folkwood tonight, intent on the feasting, magic, andmischief that saturated the candlelit air.

An emotion I hadn’t felt for some time coursed through my blood as I watched trollsand grigs, pixies and imps, hobs and goblins scurry along corridors made bright byVanna’s golden, whirling patterns.

Terror.I took a slow breath. I knew what I had to do. In amongst so many hot fae bodies, the

whirling dancers, the creatures of the forest who had slunk inside to join in with therevelry, I would be able to slip by unnoticed. I would act like I was meant to be here, just

another body in all the chaos. I would be quick. No one would notice me.I just had to find the enchantress and persuade her to speak to me away from the

revel.Taking another breath, I stepped out of the shadows and hastened toward the

ballroom, my eyes roving over every figure for a sign of the forest-and-roses dressWispwing had pointed out to me, for the enchantress’s long white hair, examining everyface for the soft curve of a human jawline.

My heart rattled inside my ribcage as I slipped from room to room, past tables ladenwith sugared violets, honey-drizzled pigeon with bilberries and roasted apricots, pastsilver bells that rang out in the evening breeze, past windowsills heavy with frothy,fragrant meadowsweet, sprigs of mint, and golden-flowered calendula like tiny suns.Every room, corridor, and gallery in the manor had been utterly transformed by Vanna’sgolden touch and the fae cavorting through them.

I passed a group of Court Fae sprawled in a tangle of bodies over a heap of plumppillows, not a scrap of costume left on any of them, folkshade powder staining their lips atelltale blue, their eyes bright and sightless. My father had sourced this rare powder forselect clients in Rosehill before.

My breathing eased. In spite of my fear of the shining, deadly beauty of the fae, somepart of my mind was still working, still analyzing.

Drawing strength from that thought, I slipped inside the ballroom.Thousands of candles made Vanna’s golden embellishments glimmer, the occasional

flash of the gold, floral pattern just visible between the dancers. The fae whirled and flewaround the room in steps too fast and wild to follow, steps I had never seen in anyhuman dance, a blur of horns and hooves and flowers and pearls.

Childhood stories of humans dancing beneath faerie mounds until their feet werebloodied and raw flitted through my mind. Suddenly panicked I’d get caught up in thedance and find I couldn’t stop, I shifted back behind a long table propped up on bundlesof straw and sheafs of wheat all turned to gold. The table creaked under the weight ofhundreds of pitchers of drink—mead, honeyed wines, and a deep red liquid, which Idecided not to investigate too closely—more clouds of meadowsweet at its centersending wafts of the sweet, fragrant smell swirling around with the dancers.

The fae moved in a circle, dancing around the sun Vanna had painted in the middle ofthe room, leaping in time to the heavy beat of the drums. As they whirled past me in ablur, my eyes flitted between a huge pair of shining wings like those of a carpet moth, afae wearing a swarm of glittering beetles instead of a dress, another with a headdressdissolving into smoke, being spun around by a male in shimmering coattails. A group oftall, tan-skinned males riding stags clattered past, fine fae armor encasing their bodies.

And overseeing it all…On a throne of woven branches sat the fae monster that had haunted my nights

before I’d been chosen at the Tithe.Twin antlers rose from the creature’s head, erupting above a long, white skull that

tapered down into a snout, vicious fangs lining its jaw. Its long, sinewed limbs werecovered in dark fur, finishing in clawed hands with skin like bark. It sat, hunched upon the

throne, narrowed hazel eyes darting between the dancers as its head snapped back andforth.

I stared, rigid with horror. Even in my darkest nightmares, I had never imagined acreature like this might emerge from the deepest, darkest parts of the Folkwood. Andthese fae seemed to be celebrating it.

The creature’s eyes snapped toward me, and I dropped to the floor, hidden behind thetable.

My heart stuttered.Thorne had been right to warn me not to come here.The worst of the Folkwood had come out tonight.My head spinning, I crawled back to the doorway, praying the stamping feet around

me would miss my hands, then scrambled back to my feet in the corridor, racing awayfrom the ballroom. I squeezed my eyes shut, a tremble running through my limbs. Mystomach heaved, the scent of spilled wine, of floral perfumes, of sickly-sweet flowerssuddenly too rich, too heavy.

It had been a mistake to come here. Even if I could find the enchantress, I wouldnever make it out of this crowd of dancing, drinking fae, never forget the sight of thatcreature—

I collided with a soft body, and my eyes snapped open.Staring back at me was a woman with long, white hair, her gray, human eyes fixed on

me, her lips parted in shock.The enchantress.Her fingers closed around my arm.“We’ve got to get you out of here,” she hissed.“I know, I—”My breath caught as she dragged me along the corridor with surprising strength for

such a slight figure, then halted outside a narrow wooden door leading into a study.Flinging it open, the enchantress strode straight inside to where a gaggle of green-

skinned pixies was slowly pulling the wings off the backs of tiny, screaming sprites beforecasting them like fluttering petals into a roaring fireplace.

“Out!” the enchantress commanded, flinging one finger in the direction of the door,and with a loud squeal, the pixies fled, sprites still held tight in their fists, shooting herwicked glares as they went.

They listened to her? Had she used some kind of enchantment Thorne hadn’t told meabout?

Shutting the door with a soft click so that the sound of the drums faded behind it, theenchantress spun around to face me. Up close, there was something not quite human-looking about her, after all. Beneath the makeup painting moons and stars across herface, she had the lineless, smooth face of a maiden, but somehow...she felt older.

My gaze flicked to the door behind her. “How did you do that? Get them to leave?”She gave me a grim smile, her red lips cutting a stark line across her pale face, and

tapped a golden pin at her breast, in the shape of a cone from an alder tree. “Working forthe Alder King has certain advantages.”

Wispwing had told me that the enchantress worked for the Alder King. But I hadn’tquestioned then whether that had been a choice. I stared at her, wondering whether wemight have even more in common than I’d first thought. “You were chosen in a Tithe?”

She shook her head. “No, I offered my services willingly. Master craftsmen are valuedvery highly by the fae… It can be a lucrative line of work.”

I’d never heard of any human working for the fae willingly. And not just any fae, in hercase…the Alder King, who Faolan had told me ruled the Kingdom of Faerie…

Pressing away from the door, the enchantress took a cursory glance around the studythen dropped into a chair by the fireplace, waving a hand for me to take the seatopposite her.

“Did any of them recognize you?”I shook my head. The strength suddenly fleeing my limbs, I staggered over to the

armchair she’d indicated, sinking into it. “I don’t think so,” I mumbled. “I don’t think anyof them were in a fit state to notice one small, insignificant human in their midst.”

“Dear,” she tutted, “are you all right? How did you even come to be here?”The shaking in my hands worsened at the flat, human rhythm of her voice, devoid of

the light, musical singsong tone the fae possessed. I hadn’t realized how much I missedthe cadence of a human voice.

I leaned forward again, my hands clasped together, my elbows resting on my knees. Isucked in a slow breath, trying to calm the emotion flickering through my body.

“Forgive me—living among the fae has robbed me of human etiquette. I shouldintroduce myself.” The enchantress kept her voice soothing, reassuring, and as she did,the warmth of the fire brushed over me, easing the tension in my muscles. “I’m Yvette.And what’s your name, dear?”

“Aster,” I said at last, my hands loosening slightly, some color returning to myknuckles. “I was chosen at the Tithe. I come from Rosehill.” My gaze flicked up as Iwondered whether the name of such a small town would mean anything to anenchantress who worked for the Alder King.

“Poor dear,” the enchantress sighed. “We never do think enough about the girls. Andof course, after being taken from your family, you’ll have found yourself quite at themercy of that fae beast… It must have been dreadful for you.” Reaching across, she tookone of my hands in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You seemed terrified when Ifound you.”

“Thorne? He’s not so bad,” I found myself saying. “I mean, at first I thought… But as Igot to know him…”

The enchantress stared at me as though I had gone quite mad. “My dear,” she saidslowly, “I must have misunderstood you. I thought you were suggesting that the Beastisn’t so bad. But you saw him tonight, didn’t you?”

I frowned. Come to think of it, even though I’d been planning to avoid him, I hadn’tseen Thorne while I’d been prowling around the manor, not even when Vanna had beengreeting the guests outside. Had he been lurking in some dark corner? Or had I justmissed him with so much revelry going on?

I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is.”

“But I saw you come out of the ballroom.” The enchantress’s brow creased. “You musthave seen him.”

A shudder wracked my body as I recalled the sight of the monstrous fae creature onthe throne, watching the dancers.

She sucked in her cheeks. “Oh, dear. I think I understand…”Confused, I raised my gaze to meet hers.Wetting her painted lips, the enchantress gave my hand another squeeze. “On a

throne, there was a beast…”A cold, hard fist clutched in my chest at her choice of word.“A beast of the Folkwood,” I whispered. “Not my Beast.”The concerned look didn’t leave her eyes. “Aster,” she said. “They’re one and the

same. Tonight, you got a glimpse of the Beast’s true nature, his character made flesh.”I shook my head violently. “That’s nothing like his true nature. This place, it’s cursed.

It must be something to do with that. That—that creature… The Thorne I know is nothinglike that.”

She gave me a pitying look. “I’m afraid you’re deluding yourself if that’s what youthink.” She patted my hand, the rings she wore on every finger glinting in the light of thefire. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about the curse, but it was a punishment forsomething the Beast did. Something terrible, to a human girl, just like yourself.”

I withdrew slightly. I still didn’t know exactly what Thorne had done to be banishedhere. But whatever it was, he’d changed. I was sure he had.

“Tell me,” the enchantress said. “What makes you so sure this Beast is better thanwhat you saw of him this evening?”

“He…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.When had I stopped thinking of Thorne as the Beast? When he had saved me from the

barghest? When he had listened to me talk about Sage, told me that it wasn’t my fault?When he had offered to help me learn enchanting so I could grow more powerful?

I gave a slight shake of my head. I would worry about that later. Never mindanswering the enchantress’s questions, I had things I needed to ask her, about the roses.Things that could help Thorne.

“Listen, Yvette,” I said breathlessly, grasping her hands more tightly. “I actually camehere—to the revel, I mean—because I was looking for you.”

She stilled beneath my touch. “Oh?”“You’re an enchantress, aren’t you?” I gabbled out. “I need your help.”Uncertainty flickered across her face, her ageless features creasing as she wrinkled

her nose. She shot a glance back toward the door, as though concerned we might beoverheard. “And what would you need the help of an enchantress for?” she asked, givinga light laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t get you out of the Tithe agreement.”

“No.” I shook my head frantically. “That’s not it.”Her lips pursed slightly. “You don’t want to go home?”“No—I mean, I don’t know—of course I do—but what I wanted to ask you about is

growing roses.” I paused, trying to slow down my racing thoughts, to make herunderstand. “You see, I’m an enchantress too.”

A rush of breath hissed in between Yvette’s teeth. “You’re...what?”“I didn’t know before I came here, but I’ve learned how to use my Craft to cast

enchantments. Only, I’m struggling with the roses…”I trailed off as Yvette’s expression darkened. An ugly look had spread across her face,

something about her making me think of sweetly rotting leaves.I swallowed. Even the roses around her neck seemed to be wilting. Maybe it hadn’t

been such a good idea to just ask her what I wanted to know outright.Maybe enchanters carefully guarded their magic like secrets, not to be shared with

any stranger who asked.“And just what is your Craft?” she asked in a frozen voice.The fire suddenly felt too hot, my skin prickling as the flames leaped up.The door slammed open, and the curvaceous outline of a female fae adorned from

head to toe in fine metal chains appeared before us.I jerked away from the enchantress, my hands leaving hers.“Aster!” Vanna barked. “Thank Folk.”She closed the distance between us in three long strides, then did a double take when

she saw the enchantress sitting opposite me. She hastily inclined her head, although herhand still reached toward me. “Yvette,” she said stiffly, her gold lips turning up into asmile that didn’t reach her eyes.

The enchantress didn’t reply, her gaze still fixed on me.Vanna’s fingers closed around my arm, and she yanked me to my feet. “What a relief

you haven’t been pulled apart by fae already,” she said lightly before turning back toYvette. “As I’m sure you’ll understand, Aster shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous for her.I’m here to escort her back to her rooms.”

The enchantress sank back in her chair, her gaze flitting between us. “So you’ve metAster already, then?”

Vanna’s fixed smile wavered.Yvette lips curled into a smile that sent a chill through my blood. “I see.”Vanna’s long fingers burned against my arm. “Come on, Aster,” she said, pulling me

along behind her. “You shouldn’t be here.”I followed Vanna wordlessly, feeling Yvette’s narrowed gaze boring into my back.I hadn’t found out what I’d wanted from the enchantress...but something told me she

wasn’t about to tell me anything about the roses, even if she knew how to make themgrow.

The moment we left the room, Vanna’s smile faded. “I didn’t believe it when Faolantold me he’d seen you.”

So Faolan is here. My shoulders relaxed.Vanna shot me a glare, the gold glitter spread around her eyes not softening the

expression even a little bit. “Of all the stupid, reckless things you could do—”“I’m sorry,” I said instantly, before I even knew what I was apologizing for. “Wispwing

told me there was a greenwitch here tonight. I thought if I asked her for help with theroses—”

“You asked her for help with the roses?” Vanna closed her eyes, her fingers digging

into my skin.“Why shouldn’t I?” I asked defensively.“Aster, Yvette is not your friend.” Vanna’s eyes snapped open again, frustration edging

her voice as she urged me even more swiftly along the corridor. “Not to mention, youshouldn’t be here at all. Do you understand what any one of these fae would do to you ifthey noticed you here? How defenseless you would be if they decided—”

She broke off, slamming me against a wall and pressing her body against mine,trailing her fingers down my hair.

My breath caught in my throat as the armored fae I had seen riding the stags in theballroom galloped past, letting out fierce, hollering cries that set a wildness pulsingthrough my body. The scent of bonfires, cold nights, and blood whipped past with them,followed by a trail of Little Folk whooping and cheering in their wake.

Vanna remained pressed against me, her breath hot against my neck, until the soundof hoofbeats faded, the wild, otherworldly cries retreating.

She pulled back again, shooting a worried look after the riders.I eased away from the wall, my heart thudding heavily in my chest, my arms hanging

weakly at my sides.Catching the frightened look on my face, Vanna’s expression softened. “See?” she

said, nudging me gently. “It’s not safe—”“It most certainly isn’t,” a voice ragged with fire and excitement cut in.Vanna turned slowly, horror written across her face.A huge, muscled fae rider sitting atop a rippling black stag had halted beside us, his

eyes fixed on me.

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - O N E

STRONG, hot hands gripped my arm, pulling me toward the towering stag and its rider. Faefrom the hunt gathered around us, filling the corridor, their darting eyes dark withbloodlust.

“Leave her,” Vanna warned, her hand tightening like a vice around my wrist. “She’snot—”

Her words were cut off with a cry as the fae tugged me forward.I twisted back. Blood poured from Vanna’s nose, staining her teeth, which she’d bared

into a snarl. The chains of her dress swayed and hissed, the metal seething in thecandlelight as she squared up to the fae closing in on her.

“We have no fight with you,” one of them rasped.“Vanna!” I yelled as clawing hands hauled me onto the back of the stag like a sack of

grain. The air was crushed from my lungs, my arms pinned behind me. My hair flippedforward over my face, and I kicked out beneath the layers of my skirts, trying to throwmyself off the stag’s back. The animal’s musk filled my nose.

“She’s Thorne’s!” Vanna cried. “He’ll kill you if you harm one hair on her head.” A hissrose up from the gathered Folk as they closed in on her.

“She belongs to the Hunt now,” a too-close voice rumbled. I heard growling, then thesound of flesh hitting flesh.

I needed to help Vanna. She was outnumbered, and these fae didn’t seem to carewho she was.

But there were no plants for me to enchant, and I didn’t even have my iron knife. Ihad nothing to fight with.

The stag bucked and leaped forward.The animal broke into a crazed run. I cried Vanna’s name again, but we’d already left

her far behind us. My stomach lurched as the corridors rushed past me in a blur, myribcage bouncing painfully up and down as my legs flailed.

“Faolan!” My cry was muffled. With Thorne transformed into a beast, the sky princewas the only other person at this revel who could help me.

The armored rider roared as we rode, the other Folk stampeding in our wake, crowingand hissing and screeching in delight as they paraded me around the corridors, in and out

of the manor’s rooms.The arms that held me down suddenly pulled me upright. The blood rushed from my

head, my vision swimming. I sat sidesaddle across the stag’s back, my arms pinned to mysides by the rider’s muscled grip. Black armor covered most of his body, but a dark pair ofeyes bored into me through the slit in his helmet.

“Drink.” A goblet was thrust against my lips, the rich, cloying smell making my eyeswater. Faerie wine.

I clamped my lips closed, arching my back away. I’d sworn I’d never drink it again.The rider’s arm fastened more tightly around me, the cold metal rim sliding between mylips and knocking against my clenched teeth.

Something small launched itself at the back of my head, climbing my hair like a rope. Igave a muffled shriek behind closed lips. Tiny, clawed hands reached around my face,pinching my nose so I couldn’t breathe. I writhed and fought until my lungs swelled tobursting. When I opened my mouth to suck in a breath, the wine tipped into my throat.

“No!” I spluttered, coughing some of it up, but I’d already swallowed half. Morepoured down my throat, the sweet, burning taste like rot in the back of my mouth.

After a few moments of arching and fighting, my muscles slackened, a fuzzinessbuilding in the back of my head. I still tried to push the goblet away, but my arms movedfeebly.

I couldn’t stop the wine filling my mouth, burning my nose and throat, spilling fromthe corners of my lips and trickling from my chin.

“The Queen of the Revel!” the fae rider roared, his arms loosening around me as hemoved my now-pliable body to sit properly in front of him. Wicked shrieks of delight rosefrom behind us.

The stag moved again, its thick, black antlers framing the corridor in my increasinglyblurred vision.

“Queen! Queen! Queen!” Voices rose a pitch behind us, chanting loudly. My headsagged forward, and when I lifted it again, the Hunt had burst back into the ballroom,charging toward the middle of the dancefloor. The throne from earlier was empty, but theroom was packed with frolicking fae, the heat from their gyrating bodies warm and sultry.

Someone pulled off my shoes. Hot hands dragged me down from the stag.The chant shifted in time with the wild drumming pulsing in my head.“Dance! Dance! Dance!”My bare feet hit the cool floor. My limbs were itchy, wanting to leap and sway and

spin. Spikes of adrenaline were quickly swept away by clouds of apathy. My heartpounded in my throat, my arms thrown above my head, moving in slow, languorous linesas my body twisted. Naked flesh in a rainbow of shimmering skin tones writhed andpressed around me.

I could dance like this forever.Manic laughter bubbled in my chest. The chandelier sparkled as it spun above my

head. My head lolled back, my hair pouring down my back, my throat exposed to tiny,nibbling teeth as Little Folk crawled over me.

Soft voices goaded me, telling me to keep dancing. Not to stop.

But I didn’t want to stop.My focus tunneled to a distant corner of the ballroom, where the white-haired

enchantress—Yvette—whispered to the Beast. His skull-like head snapped up, his gazelocking with mine. Then he roared, overturning an entire table. Bottles and glasses andfood crashed to the floor.

Another blurred figure leered close, blocking them from view. Its hot, fetid breathsmelled like wild garlic and raw meat. A rough, raspy tongue licked at the syrupy winethat lingered on the corner of my lips.

More faces flashed before me in quick succession. Black eyes, eight of them blinkingat once, like a spider. Dark horns curving along a neck. Strings of saliva stretchedbetween pointed teeth bared in a wild, vulpine smile.

Sharp claws caressed my skin, raking through my hair. Bony fingers dug into the softparts of my flesh—my arms, my stomach, my hips.

Caught in the tangle of bodies, my skin grew hot and feverish. I tried to paw the faeaway, but they just caught my arms and twirled me around, like it was part of the dance.

What had started as sensuous writhing was now violent spinning. Nausea churned inmy stomach from the constant movement, faces blurring past.

I can’t stop.Blood crashed through my ears in time with the drumming.I can’t stop.How long had I been here, dancing? It could have been minutes…or hours.As I spun, the fae began ripping away the organza layers of my skirt, waving ribbons

of gold material above their head like banners. My feet burned like I was dancing on hotcoals.

I looked down. Bloody footprints marred Vanna’s golden sun in the middle of thedance floor. My feet were bleeding.

A roar shuddered through the air, and then a dark blur split the crowded fae. Thescent of rosewood and smoke enveloped me as the Beast leaped over the crowds of faeon all fours. His claws slashed down my arm as he pulled me from their clutches. White-hot pain flared through me, momentarily cutting through the mist in my mind.

The long, white skull filled my vision; one furred arm gripped me tightly around mywaist as the Beast bared his teeth and snarled over my shoulder. The dancing fae backedfarther away with whimpers and indignant howls. My feet were still moving, the Beastspinning me around the dance floor in the space he’d cleared. Droplets of my blood flewout in our wake.

A high-pitched whine rang in my head, my thoughts still foggy. I should be terrified tobe in the Beast’s clutches, but my body sagged against him, my knees weak.

He opened his jaw, growling at me.I held his gaze even as my head swam. He blinked once. He might be a beast, but his

eyes were unchanged, still the crushed greens and browns of the forest floor.“T-Thorne?” The words felt wooly in my mouth. He growled again, softer this time.He’s in there still.“Help,” I pleaded. “I can’t stop.” Tears slid from my eyes. He followed my gaze to my

bleeding feet.Thorne bellowed a roar that rattled the whole room. My shredded gown fluttered

limply as he scooped me into his arms. He twisted toward the closed glass doors,charging toward them at full speed, tilting his antlers forward.

I screamed, pressing my face into his fur as the sound of shattering glass blocked outeverything else. Cool night air enveloped me, a balm to my feverish skin.

We were outside, away from insistent, grabbing hands. My restless feet pulsed, butthe urge to keep dancing had drained away. My broken skin on my feet, my arms, burnedand stung.

“Put. Her. Down.” A cool, staccato voice cut through the air.My brain took a moment to recognize it.“Faolan?” I called, my voice cracking in relief.Thorne twisted, his hackles raised. His furred arms loosened around me, and I slid

from his grip. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the ground, limp, my cheek resting onthe grass. Faerie wine still coursed through my blood, my listless, drugged body not myown.

Faolan’s voice rang out again. “Good. Now, step away from her…”Thorne moved in front of me, but no farther. He bared his claws at his side.Fear prickled over me. His silhouette was huge against the glow of the manor. A

predator backed into a corner.“Thorne… You’ve already hurt her. Look, she’s bleeding.” Faolan’s voice was low but

firm. “You know you can’t control yourself like this. Just walk away. Go back to the revel.”Whispering fae poured through the smashed doors into the night like a black wave,

watching the two males square up to each other.Thorne scuffed a cloven foot against the ground, a snarl rattling in the back of his

throat.“I don’t want to fight you, Thorne. But I will,” Faolan warned, his golden wings flitting

to life and lifting him from the ground.Light, cool rain began to spit around us. I squinted up to see dark clouds gathering

and churning overhead.I cried out to tell Faolan it was okay as the sky prince threw his arms skyward to draw

on his weather magic.That even as the Beast, Thorne wouldn’t hurt me.That the cuts on my arms had been an accident.Thunder cracked through the air, drowning me out.Rain began to lash down. More of the fae had scurried outside with vicious shrieks and

cries, chanting for a fight, just like when they had shouted for me to dance.With a roar, Thorne launched forward, then threw himself to the side at the last

second as a bolt of lightning lanced through the sky, exploding as it struck the ground in ashower of dirt. I blinked away the light, temporarily blinded.

When my vision cleared, Thorne had somehow caught Faolan by his ankle and waspulling him down from the sky. The golden fae strained upward with a pained look, hisgolden wings a blur.

Wind howled through the gardens, whipping my hair into my eyes and ruffling theBeast’s fur. But still he yanked Faolan down, pinning him to the ground with a growl. Hegripped the sky prince’s delicate wings in his claws.

“Don’t hurt him!” I cried, finding my voice.Thorne looked back my way, and Faolan headbutted him with a sickening crunch,

wriggling free and zipping up into the sky with a bleeding nose.Lightning speared down again, this time catching Thorne’s leg. He let out a roar of

pain, swiping talons at the fae hovering above him. But he still didn’t fight back with hisown magic.

Because he can’t.The realization moved through me sluggishly, my wine-addled body struggling to sit

upright. Thorne wasn’t fighting back because he didn’t have magic in this beast form. Allhe had was brute force and a monster’s body.

That meant he couldn’t protect himself from Faolan’s sky magic...and equally, ifThorne caught Faolan in this feral, untethered state, he’d rip his wings off, or worse.

They could both kill each other.“Stop it, both of you!” I cried out, but my voice was weak, carried away in the

onslaught of wind, rain, and scream of fae voices.I might still be drugged and unable to stand. But I was not powerless, not anymore.I was in the garden.I staggered forward so that I kneeled in a patch of briars, raking my fingers through

the sodden earth. I didn’t have to reach for an emotion. The faerie wine had broughtevery single one to the surface. My whole body was a raw nerve.

My mind buzzed. Heat flowed through my limbs, cutting through the stupor of thewine. I reached out wildly, my only thought to break the two fae apart. To save themfrom themselves.

The bramble bushes erupted from the ground, rising up in a dark mass in between thetwo fae. Tendrils of thorns lashed out at the gathered crowd, sending them scurryinginside for cover.

The thorns grew into a dark, snarling cloud, magic seeping into me even as my energydrained out. I pulled my burning fingers from the soil, and the bushes stopped growing.

I remained on all fours, panting hard, my palms flat against the earth. My wet hairhung around my face, my heart fluttering weakly. A wave of dizziness washed over me.

I’d never enchanted like that before.Then strong arms wrapped around me, a warm glow against my back. Suddenly I was

weightless. Faolan held me gingerly, the rain around us parting like a curtain.He flew up above the sea of thorns I’d raised, toward the upper levels of the house.“It’s okay, Aster. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his body warm as sunlight, a beacon

in the storm.I looked down for the Beast, but all I could see was a writhing mass of thorns.I tried to call his name, but my mouth didn’t move.Black dots danced across my vision before Faolan’s golden glow faded away and

darkness swallowed me whole.

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - T W O

“HERE.” Faolan placed a steaming cup of herbal tea beside my bed. “Drink this.”I breathed in the heady scent of meadowsweet, and my stomach heaved as blurred

memories washed over me.The feel of hot, hard bodies pressing against mine. The tart taste of faerie fruit on my

tongue. Drums pounding in my ears.Meadowsweet was used to numb pain, but right now it reminded me too much of the

revel, of the flowers cascading down from the windowsills, over table centerpieces. Thefight outside in the rain. How I’d almost died using too much magic at once.

I exhaled slowly through my teeth.“Thank you,” I said anyway. I owed Faolan for what he’d done for me that night. He

probably hadn’t even realized the manor had been decorated with the flower.The sky prince inclined his head and sank into a chair at my bedside, which for the

past three days had mostly been occupied by an anxious Mosswhistle, feeding me breaddipped in milk and honey and letting out a low wail whenever I said I was tired and goingback to sleep.

Three days. That was how much time had passed since the revel, and still I couldn’teven summon the energy to get out of bed.

Not to mention I’d still seen no sign of Thorne.“You’re looking better,” Faolan offered, sweeping his hands down the front of his

jacket to smooth out the wrinkles, a dark gray embellished with bright silver thread. “If abit...tense.”

I realized my fingers were clenching the coverlet and slowly released them.“Sorry,” I said. My voice came out in a growl, and I hastily cleared my throat. “I’m still

not feeling all that well. Has Thorne..?” I trailed off.Concern lined the sky prince’s features. “I hope he’s feeling guilty,” he said in a colder

voice than usual. “When he whisked you out of that ballroom—out of reach of Vanna andme…”

Faolan had told me that Vanna had survived her confrontation with the fae of thehunt, but I hadn’t woken in time to see her before she’d had to leave. I’d been jealous ofher before, but she had tried to protect me that night, and I was grateful to her.

“Oh, yes. That.” I smiled weakly. “You know I’ll never be able to repay you both forwhat you did for me then. For trying to keep me safe.”

The fae tilted his head to one side, his sky-blue eyes searching mine. “You really thinkthat’s true? Don’t forget I saw your little display, Aster. You’re quite the enchantress. I’msure someone with your talents could think of some way to thank me, if you wanted to.”

I let out a low laugh. To the gathered fae, I had put on quite a show with the thornsbursting dramatically from the earth. “I suppose you’re right.” Thorne had told me Faolanalready knew of the existence of human enchanters. I wondered whether the other faeguests had any idea what had happened, or whether they just thought it was some faemagic gone awry.

Faolan smiled, and the sun seemed to shine more brightly, golden light streaming intothe room, making the dancing dust motes visible. “So it’s a deal? I’m owed a favor by oneof Faerie’s greatest enchantresses?”

My lips lifted higher. The sky prince somehow always knew how to lift my spirits.“Well, I don’t know that I’d call myself a great enchantress. I’ve been bedbound for days.But it’s a deal. I’d be happy to repay you if I can.”

“You know, I saw leaves on the rosebushes when I peeked in this morning. And Ihaven’t seen any more than a tangle of thorns in that garden in the century I’ve beenvisiting.”

I startled. It worked? They’re growing? It seemed like a lifetime ago that I’d tried toenchant the roses while avoiding Vanna, pouring that unfamiliar, unsettling new emotioninto my Craft...

“Don’t look so surprised,” Faolan said with a wry smile. “It seems enchanting comesvery naturally to you.”

My smile faded, and Faolan’s expression immediately mirrored mine. “What’s wrong?”I toyed with the edge of the coverlet, feeling silly for even thinking about Thorne.He still hadn’t come to check I was okay, even if Mosswhistle had sworn the Master

hadn’t stopped patrolling the corridors outside my room wearing the snarling expressionof a wounded animal.

And yet...“What is it, Aster?”“It’s just…” I exhaled slowly. “In this state… What if I can’t finish the rose garden?”Surprise clouded Faolan’s features. “You still mean to finish it?”“Of course… I still have to finish it if I want to get home,” I said, “but I don’t even

have the energy to get out of bed.” The worry rose in my chest, a tight band that mademy breath shallow and ragged. “I’ve only just learned how to use enchantments... What ifI’ve lost it again?”

Faolan barked a laugh. “Oh, so that’s what you’re worried about.” His jaw was stilltight, but the smile returned to his face. “You overextended yourself, Aster, that’s all.When you use your enchantments, it takes a lot of energy from you.” His face darkened amoment. “I should have hoped Thorne might have mentioned it in the lessons he’sapparently been giving you, but you have to be careful when you’re castingenchantments. The enchanters and enchantresses bound to the Forest Court wear jewels

and amulets where they can store additional energy when they’re weaving really complexmagic, to prevent themselves from burning out, like you did. Sometimes they join forcesto weave larger, more complicated enchantments. Sharing each other’s Craft.”

“How did I use so much energy in one go? The growing enchantments in my pottingshed, and the roses, it’s slow magic. It only takes a little bit at a time…but thistime...when the brambles shot from the ground, it all just poured out of me.”

“This time, you were under the influence of faerie wine. Enchanters have been knownto use it to access the emotional state they need for their enchantments. But it’sdangerous. You have little control over yourself.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled.“Luckily for you, we got you out of there before you took it too far. This is only temporary.Once you’ve recovered, you’ll be just as powerful as you were before.”

I swallowed. “Thorne told me I’d die if I used too much magic at once.”A new voice growled out a reply. “Yes, and you almost did.”I twisted to face the doorway, and my heart leaped at the sight of Thorne leaning

back against the frame, his face unusually pale.Faolan got to his feet and stalked across the room in one smooth movement. “What

do you want?”Thorne’s eyes flicked to me.The sky prince crossed his arms. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”Thorne didn’t reply, a shadow passing over his face. The usual darkness I often

noticed curling around him lifted from his shoulders, forming a larger, blurred outline…With a sinking feeling, I suddenly realized what the shape resembled.

“I told you she was recovering,” Faolan said in a strangely stiff voice. “But of course,you had to come and see for yourself.”

“And what’s so wrong with that?” Thorne took a step forward. “She’s my—my guesthere. Shouldn’t I check on how she’s doing?”

“Since it’s thanks to you that she’s bedbound, I’m not sure you should, no.”More color drained from Thorne’s already ashen cheeks. “It’s not like that... I didn’t do

anything,” he breathed, his fists clenched.“You don’t know what you might have done if you’d lost control,” Faolan snapped.The air between them prickled, the heat and swell of a summer storm.“Faolan,” I said, propping myself up onto my elbows. “I—I should talk to Thorne.”The pressure in the room eased as my voice cut through the air, and after a moment,

the sky prince swept into a low bow. “As you wish.” Taking a few steps past Thorne,shooting him a warning look as he went, he left the two of us alone.

For a moment, I just looked at Thorne, taking in the messy dark hair tumbling overthe points of his ears, the tattoos whirling over his skin. He wore a loose, billowing shirtundone to his collarbones, the lace cuffs frayed at the edges.

He was just...the same.“No antlers today, then?” I quipped, trying not to let my nerves show.Thorne shot me a dark scowl, then looked quickly away again, turning to prowl back

and forth in the room.“How can you joke,” he murmured, his voice low. “How can you speak to me at all,

knowing what you know… Having seen me…”My eyes followed him around my chamber, the hairs on my arm prickling upright.“Faolan’s right.” He ran an agitated hand through his mop of dark hair, abruptly

stopping his pacing to stare down at the floor, shadows haunting his eyes. “I’m a dangerto you—”

“Thorne,” I barked. “You are not a beast.” Thrusting my hands down against the bed,I forced myself to sit upright. “Whatever...costume this curse forced you to wear at therevel, that’s not you.”

“You don’t understand,” Thorne breathed, still staring at the floor. “That costume isn’tonly for the Lúnasa revel. I’m forced to host that event, become that beast for one night,to remind me of what’s to come later in the year.”

“What do you mean?”He slowly raised his eyes to meet mine before speaking in a flat tone. “You’ve heard

me talk before of the dark half of the year. But I’ve never told you what happens if thecurse remains unbroken by the Autumn Equinox. It’s more than just being trapped here.Every winter, when the Tithe girls are unable to grow the roses, that’s what I turn into.”

I hissed in a breath through my teeth.“I spend the dark months of the year as a beast in the most literal sense of the word

you can imagine. The Cursed Court becomes vulnerable to the dark fae of the forest. Ilose my magic, my ability to reason. I retreat into the Folkwood with the Little Folk andhope the fae imprisoned in the forest don’t wreak too much havoc here and on your town—Rosehill—before I regain control.”

I wet my lips, my throat tight. Of course, the fae attacks on Rosehill had alwaysgotten worse over the winter… I’d never known the reason why. “But that’s not you. Thebeast is only because of the curse. This is you, here, now. With me.”

“Is it?” he asked bitterly, sinking into the chair Faolan had vacated, his long fingerscurling around the ends of the arms, one boot tapping rapidly against the floor.

He was quiet for a moment, then he looked me directly in the eyes, the ring of greenvivid around his hazel irises. “As soon as you’re better,” he said in a firm, even voice, “Iwant you to leave.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered. “Into the Folkwood, you mean? What did I do—”“No,” he said slowly. “Back to Rosehill. You can travel by faerie ring so you won’t get

lost.”I blinked, confusion sweeping through me. “What are you talking about? You told me

you’d only let me go if I completed the rose garden. You can’t lie.”Thorne cleared his throat. “I didn’t lie. I said I would let you go home if you completed

the rose garden...but I have been able to let you go any time I wish.”I stared at him, conflicting emotions coursing through my tired, battered body.Every year, the curse turned Thorne into a real beast. And he’d lied to me this whole

time about that and about my ability to leave. Or at least, he’d concealed the truth.Too exhausted to process any of these confessions, I flopped back onto the pillows,

staring up at the filigree ceiling, pulling my coverlet tighter around me. The pressure inmy head worsened, and I wondered whether I could stomach the mug of meadowsweet

tea.“Not that I expect you to forgive me,” Thorne continued, “but I would like to explain.”I reached for the cup and forced some of the numbing, floral drink down my throat.“Yvette—the enchantress you spoke to at the revel,” he said. “She put the curse upon

this place, on the orders of the Alder King. I cannot leave the Folkwood. I must return tosleep in the arbor wing every night. And when the year passes into its darker half, I turninto the beast you saw at the revel.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing another large mouthful of the tea. How could I havebeen so naïve at the revel? Yvette was the enchantress who had cursed Thorne. Thiswhole place.

The rose garden, the manor that seemed to grow from the forest… It all made sensenow. I opened my eyes again. “I knew she was a greenwitch...but I had no idea she wasso powerful.”

“She has the same skills with plants as you. Except, of course, she’s had years to honeher Craft. She works for the Alder King in the Forest Court. As you can imagine, there, herpowers are most heightened. She’s one of the most powerful enchanters in the Kingdom.”

“But how could she do all this?” I gestured to the room, the four-poster bed grownfrom real trees. “It would have taken decades to grow these trees into a house. And you,how does she turn you into a beast?”

“She draws on other sources of energy beyond her own body—amulets and jewelswith vast reserves of energy. They allow her to enchant at speed, much like you did withthe brambles at the revel. As for the beast, for that, I imagine she drew on anotherenchanter whose Craft is associated with animals.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip, the mug gripped tightly in my hands.“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before. About Yvette, the curse. I was selfish,”

Thorne said, a savage note creeping into his voice, “in keeping you here, when you sodesperately wanted to go home. I know that. But when I saw your ability in the garden…When I realized the Tithe had brought an enchantress here, an enchantress whosetalents lay in working with plants… It seemed like a sign. I thought I’d finally found thegirl who could break the curse. I still think that. But...” His voice caught. “It’s not safe foryou here. And...I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

At those words, the tension that had been building in my chest melted away again,the warm, blossoming feeling that had allowed me to enchant the roses flooding into itsplace.

Thorne finally looked me in the eye, and his expression was fierce. “Do youunderstand what I’m saying, Aster? You’re free to go.”

I understood.There was just one small problem with what he was saying.“I’m not going,” I announced in my firmest voice.“I think you’ll find you are. As soon as you’re well enough, I’m sending you home.”I shook my head, sitting bolt upright again. “I’m not going anywhere.” I bunched the

coverlet in my fists, glaring at the fae. “I’ve got a rose garden to finish, remember?”Thorne let out a frustrated growl. “I just told you. You don’t need to finish the garden

in order to go home.”“I’m already feeling better,” I lied, ignoring him. “I’m sure it won’t be more than a few

more days before I’m well enough to get out of bed. Then, instead of going back to ourlessons, I can focus on the rose garden. I think I’ve finally figured out what I need to do.And Faolan told me he’s seen leaves appearing on the briars.”

“Aster,” Thorne said in a low, furious tone, “you don’t have to do this.”I lifted a finger, pressing it into his chest. “Oh, don’t think I’m doing this just for you. If

I’ve understood you correctly, when you turn back into a beast on the Autumn Equinox,it’s the people of Rosehill who’ll suffer the worst for it when you lose control over the evilcreatures stalking the Folkwood. As town greenwitch, it’s me who has her work cut out forher every winter.” Feeling a little woozy after my outburst, I sank back against the pillowsbut continued to give Thorne the evil eye. “Besides, seeing you as that creature once hasalready given me nightmares. I wouldn’t wish that on any other girl you might bring herein future. If I break the curse, I stop the Tithe once and for all, right?”

Thorne was silent for a moment, then the slightest smile twitched his lips.“We’re agreed, then,” I said before he could reply. “I’m staying to finish the garden.

And nothing you can say will change my mind.”

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - T H R E E

IT HAD BEEN two weeks since I’d agreed to stay at the manor, but today was the first day I’dconvinced Thorne I was strong enough to come outside. The fresh air felt like it wasdoing me some good, the strength returning to my limbs as I breathed in the late-summer scents of chicory, wild marjoram, and blackberries starting to ripen.

Thorne and I had settled in a pair of wooden chairs overlooking the steps at the frontof the house, the long gravel driveway stretching out to where it disappeared before theFolkwood. A not-so-subtle way of telling me I absolutely was not to think about startingwork in the garden at the back of the house. Even if Autumn Equinox was now only amonth away. Thorne had brought me a long-stemmed rosebud earlier in the day, stillgreen and tightly furled, but proof that Faolan had been telling the truth—the roses weregrowing.

The sky prince had left soon after the revel, once he was satisfied I was recoveringwell. I sighed. I had no doubt he’d have let me return to the rose garden already.

I held the smooth stem between my fingers as the sun beat down, warming the skinon my neck and arms, the light streaming between the trees to fall across the lawns inlong, golden stripes. Thorne had been overprotective, to say the least, since the revel. Iglanced over at where he was sitting with an open book resting on top of his long thighand felt warmth spreading through my chest.

He’d been to see me in my chambers every morning and evening since I’d promisedhim I would stay to work on the rose garden, reading me strange faetales from the booksin the library or showing me maps of the places he wanted to see.

I smiled down at the rosebud in my hands. The long-term enchantment seemed tohave taken root, the plants finally showing some promise. But they still needed thepractical element of my Craft. I had to water them, prune them, perhaps add somefertilizer, all while pouring my magic into them. Maybe if I could persuade Thorne I wasdoing better than he thought, he’d let me go at least see the rose garden today.

I was sure that by tapping into that same feeling, I would be able to make the rosesbloom all the more quickly, breaking the curse. Yes, it would be easy now to replicate theenchantment I had used on the roses before. The warm feeling in my chest had settled infor good.

I bit back a smile at the sight of the sprawling fae lord, eyes closed, head tilted backup to the sun, his usual smirk replaced by a relaxed, almost happy expression. Thegolden light caught on the sharp angles of his face, softening them, making his glowing,fae skin look warm to touch.

I could hardly still kid myself I only wanted to break the curse to go home...“What is Mistress thinking?” Mosswhistle’s shrewd voice interrupted, its eyes flicking

pointedly between me and Thorne.I jumped, disturbing the cup of medicinal tea in my lap, cursing as the hot liquid

spilled over my knees. Had I really been staring at the fae lord so obviously?Thorne opened one eye, surveying us as the brownie began scrubbing at my skirts

with a rag, dislodging the cup with a clatter.“It’s okay.” I tried to shoo Mosswhistle away, my face aflame as the wet material

stuck to my knees. “It was almost empty,” I lied, reaching down to scoop up the cup fromthe floor.

“Mosswhistle sorry!” the brownie gasped, slapping my hands away and gathering upthe cup itself. Very carefully, it placed the cup onto the little table beside me. Turningback, it groaned at the sight of my wet skirts, clawing at its face in despair. “Dressruined!”

“It’s okay,” I repeated. “It doesn’t matter. And it’s not my dress anyway. It belongs tothe manor. Where there are countless others I can change into.”

“It’ll dry in the sun,” Thorne’s voice cut in. A smile played around his lips. “I daresaythe dress won’t be ruined by a splash of tea. Mosswhistle, why don’t you fetch heranother cup?”

To my delight, Mosswhistle didn’t immediately obey but looked to me for confirmation.I nodded encouragingly. “I’d appreciate that.”The brownie swept into an impossibly low bow before me, spreading its twig-like

arms, its nose almost brushing the floor. “Then Mosswhistle hastens to the kitchens withthe speed of a diving kestrel, Mistress.”

True to its word, the brownie bolted inside, a swirl of glittering dust motes left in itsplace.

The fae lord’s lips twitched up even higher. “I’m beginning to think you might haveenchanted that brownie.”

I cut him a scathing look. “Love has to be earned, not magicked. You’re just jealousthat your servants prefer a human mistress to their fae master.”

Thorne leaned forward, a glint in his eye. “I can’t exactly say I blame them. Even onyour sickbed, you’ve got an air of imperiousness about you.” His gaze traveled lazily overme. “I imagine it would be rather lovely to be at your beck and call.”

My neck heated as I swung my gaze away from the handsome fae, shading my eyesand staring out at the distant forest. “If you’re interested, you’ll have to fight Mosswhistlefor the position. But I imagine…”

I trailed off, my gaze catching a flash of copper between the trees.“What is it?” Thorne asked, a sharp, worried edge to his voice.I didn’t take my eyes from the movement in the forest, a golden flame streaking

through the shadows.“Aster!” a voice called in the sweet, growling tone of my sister Laurel.My heart wrenched. The púca again. This time, it had learned to copy her voice. Had

it somehow discovered that I’d promised to stay here and help Thorne, so it had to cometo guilt me with visions of my family? And how much bolder had it gotten, to approachwith Thorne right by my side?

My chest constricted. Were we still safe here, in the driveway?“It’s the púca.” I grasped Thorne’s arm with a damp palm. “It’s come back again.”He gently dislodged my hand, although he stared at the tree line with his brows high,

a wary expression giving way to shock. “It’s okay, Aster. Don’t worry.”“Don’t worry?” I repeated in disbelief. I returned my gaze to the forest. “Maybe you’ve

forgotten what the fae did to me at that revel, but I sure haven’t, and if that thing comesfor me—”

“Aster,” Thorne said sharply. “That’s not the púca.”My gaze snapped back to the flicker of auburn hair in the Folkwood. “Then what—”“Aster!” the cry came again.Laurel.My head swam. How could she be here?“How…” I said aloud, my voice light and breathy.“A good question,” Thorne replied, his expression grim.My sister broke free from the trees, her red cloak cutting a swift line across the lawn

as she cast darting glances around her for the sign of any faerie guard who mightchallenge her.

Her shoulders bunched as she held her bow aloft, one arrow ready and nocked.Pointing at Thorne.Too stunned to stand, I remained in my chair, my eyes scanning Laurel’s body for sign

of any injury that might have been inflicted on her in the forest, for any cloudiness in hereyes that would suggest she had been ensorcelled. To my relief, I saw nothing but thesweat and dirt of a long journey, her lilac eyes just as fierce as I’d known them.

She halted at the bottom of the steps up to the house, her gaze traveling swiftly downmy body.

She caught her breath as her eyes found Thorne’s, the fae’s magic roiling up in the airlike the pressure before a storm, but her shoulders set, and she didn’t lower her arrow.

Steeling myself, I placed the rosebud from Thorne on the table, pressed up from thechair, and rose on wobbling legs, taking a step toward Laurel.

“Aster,” Thorne barked sharply, reaching for me. “You’re still recovering—”Waving my hand dismissively at him, I took another swift step toward my sister. Then

another. I forced back a grin, finding I was stronger than I thought.“You can lower the bow, Laurie. I’m fine.”Laurel wavered a moment, her eyes flicking between Thorne and me, then she

hooked the bow over her arm, instead reaching out to help me back into my chair.“Sit,” she said firmly. “You’re obviously not fine.” I could feel her arm muscles taut

beneath her shirt, the urge in her body to defend me from Thorne as she sized up the

predator seated just across from me. The power in his long limbs, the magic ripplingaround him in the air.

When I had first met Thorne, every instinct had told me to flee. I knew Laurel’s wouldbe to fight.

Her lips pressed together, the strain showing in the set of her jaw, the flicker of a veinin her forehead.

I swallowed. How to explain all that had happened in the five months since I had lastseen my sister before the Spring Equinox? Where should I even begin? Enchanting?Thorne? Not to mention, how much about the curse was I even allowed to share withher? My eyes slid to the fae lord, questioning.

Catching my look, he snapped his fingers, and a hob appeared as if from nowhere,bowing and kneeling before him. “We have a guest,” Thorne said in an even voice. “Bringout another chair, and send word to the kitchens that Mosswhistle is to bring tea forthree.”

Only the slight widening of Laurel’s eyes, the flare of her nostrils, betrayed hersurprise at being invited to tea with a faerie lord.

I offered her my most reassuring smile, then opened my mouth to speak.“Shut it.” Laurel lifted a finger, shaking her head before taking a step back again and

clutching at her bow. “I don’t need to hear whatever speech you have prepared. Whathappened, Aster? What’s wrong with you? What did he...” Her gaze flicked to Thorne.“Silver bells, if that Beast has hurt you, at all—”

“He’s never hurt me, Laurie,” I said quickly. “He’s never hurt any of the Tithe girls.He’s not—he’s not what we thought. He’s good.”

I heard the slightest hiss of breath from Thorne, and a flush rose to my cheeks.“I mean, he’s also a pain in the ass, and I know he feels frightening with this I’m-the-

scariest-thing-in-the-forest image he likes to think he has going on, and silver bells,Laurie, you should see his temper…” I trailed off. Where was I going with this again? Igave a low cough. “This is Thorne. Thorne, this is my eldest sister, Laurel.”

“Enchanted,” Thorne said drily.Laurel ignored him. “I’d think you were pixie-led, only I’ve seen more faerie

ensorcellments than you can imagine over the past weeks, Aster, and you don’t seemaffected.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, faerie ensorcellments? On your supply runs?”The hob Thorne had sent away suddenly reappeared with a heavy wooden chair

perched precariously on its tiny back, tottering over to deposit it with a crash beside me,making Laurel flinch back. “For the human guest,” it squeaked. Turning and bowing toThorne, it announced, “Mosswhistle is making tea, Master.”

Laurel stared at the hob with a mixture of horror and hostility.Of course, I’d have reacted that way too if I’d been able to see the servants when I’d

first arrived.“Thank you,” I said to the hob, still frowning at Laurel as I indicated for her to sit.

“Laurie, what’s going on?” I swallowed. “Why are you here?”“Of course.” She perched on the very edge of her chair, still not putting her bow aside.

“I fight my way through the Folkwood to find you, only to find you’ve tamed the Beastand are taking tea together on the lawn. Why am I here, honestly…” She shot anothercutting look at Thorne. “You remember he’s a beast, right, Aster?”

Thorne gave a thin smile. “What a pity I didn’t pick you at your Tithe. I can seealready what a delightful time we would have had together.”

Laurel glared at him once more, then delicately placed her bow down beside her,tossing her auburn hair back over her shoulder. “You sent me a bird,” she said to Thorne,a line creasing her brow, “warning me about the púca. I didn’t understand why at thetime…”

I twisted to face the fae. “You really sent that to her?”A faint blush rose to his cheeks. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”“Not that it was much use,” Laurel said savagely, a dark look clouding her expression

again. She leaned forward, her entire body a weapon pointed at Thorne, her fingersclutching the edges of her chair. “You couldn’t have warned us about what else wascoming?”

My heart quickened, dread settling heavy in my chest. “What else?” I repeated. “Whatdo you mean?”

“Yes,” Thorne added sharply. “What do you mean?”The anger that had been simmering in Laurel since she’d arrived boiled over, her face

flushing an angry red and her fingers clenching into fists. “You’re the so-called Lord of theFolkwood, aren’t you?” She glowered at Thorne. “Do you really not know what’shappening to the border between Rosehill and the forest, or do you just not care?”

Very delicately, Thorne steepled his fingers together, a savage glint shining in hiseyes. The curls of dark shadows began uncoiling from his shoulders, and I quickly lookedaway before I saw any reminder of the antlered beast I’d seen at the revel.

“I assure you,” he said in a cold, contained voice, “I care very much about the borderbetween Rosehill and the Folkwood.”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything about it?” Laurel hissed back.“About what?” I asked impatiently.She twisted back to me. “The border’s breaking down, Aster. Whatever magic kept the

fae to the Folkwood, it’s not working anymore.” Laurel’s eyes suddenly filled with tears,and she slumped back in her seat. “And Ava…”

A chill swept down my spine, goosebumps prickling my arms in spite of the sunny day.“What about Ava?” I whispered.

Laurel turned her exhausted, red-eyed expression back to me. “The fae are crossingeasily between the forest and the town. No one understands how. The usual ways ofkeeping them out just don’t seem to be working.”

“And Ava, Laurel?” I pressed.“She’s faesick,” my sister said in a flat voice. “Her and—and a whole load of other

girls. The madness we’ve seen before, like they can’t see the human world any longer, alltrying desperately to reach the forest...only none of them have set foot in the Folkwood.”She bit her lip, so hard I saw a bright bead of blood swell up, like a flower blooming. “Idon’t understand it, Aster. We’ve only ever seen faesickness in people who’ve entered the

forest before. And…”She didn’t need to finish. I knew what she was going to say.And we’ve never seen someone recover.The humans who were either tricked or foolish enough to enter the forest and caught

the faesickness had sometimes been found after they’d vanished. They were draggedhome, kicking and screaming, back to Rosehill, where they would lie, staring vacantlyaround them, muttering strange words nobody could understand. Not sleeping and notwaking, they would slowly waste away while their families watched helplessly on.

Until eventually, they either died or clawed their way back into the Folkwood.No one knew what happened to them then.“And it’s not just the faesickness,” Laurel continued, taking a deep breath. “Aster, it’s

chaos. The town will be pulled to pieces before too much longer. And without agreenwitch…”

“Thorne?” I asked desperately. “You keep the forest fae in check—can’t you dosomething?”

He gave a slight shake of his head, a muscle feathering along his jaw. “I have nocontrol over the magic at the Folkwood border, and the curse prevents me from travelingto human territory.”

I cast my gaze down, tears stinging my eyes.Ava was faesick. And with the skills as a greenwitch I’d learned from Sage, and now

my new abilities as an enchantress, I was the only one who had any chance of saving mysister, not to mention fighting back the fae plaguing Rosehill.

But if I left now, I wouldn’t be able to complete the rose garden. The curse wouldremain unbroken. And I still didn’t know what that meant for me...

“Aster,” Thorne said gently. “You have to go.”The prickle in my eyes burned hotter. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Thorne

knew what my leaving meant as well as I did.“You’d just—let her go?” Laurel’s surprised tone cut the thread of tension between us.I pushed myself out of my chair again, standing and staring at Thorne.His eyes were guarded, but he lifted his chin to give me a cool look. “You know it as

well as I do. You have to go.”“I’ll come back.” I reached for his hand, then allowed my arm to drop back to my side,

suddenly self-conscious in front of Laurel. “I swear it. I’ll make a faerie bargain so I haveto—”

“I don’t need a bargain from you, Aster. You need to go home and save your sister. Ialready told you to go, remember?”

His abrupt words stung, but I ignored the crushing weight in my chest. “I’ll comeback,” I said again. “I promise, I’ll be back in time to grow the roses before the equinox.”

Thorne sat back in his chair, his body rigid. “I can shadow you both to the border.”“You’re not using magic on either of us,” Laurel snarled.A muscle in Thorne’s jaw ticked, and he glanced at me. “It’s a long, dangerous

journey.”I looked between the fierce expressions on both their faces. With everything going on

in Rosehill and a lifelong distrust of fae magic, I could understand why Laurel washesitant. Convincing her to let Thorne shadow us back would take longer than the two ofus walking there. Mustering a smile, I turned to the fae lord. “It’s okay. We’ll go throughthe Folkwood. Laurel travels through the forest all the time on supply runs for our father.She knows how to protect herself against the fae.”

“Aster,” Thorne said in a tight voice. “You’re still weak from overexerting yourself atthe revel. If I take you, I can keep you safe.”

“She doesn’t need a fae beast to keep her safe,” Laurel snapped, her eyes narrowedat how close I stood to Thorne. “I’ve been doing that her whole life.”

He huffed an exhale before continuing with exaggerated patience, “If I take you, you’llbe back instantly. If your sister’s as sick as you say she is, the time you’ll save travelingthrough the Folkwood on foot will be valuable.”

Laurel let out a snarl, her fingers curling around her bow, but I could see from theflush in her cheeks that she wouldn’t argue with that. Not if it meant getting back to Avamore quickly.

“Thank you,” I whispered to Thorne. I swallowed. “I’ll come back,” I said again. “Assoon as I’ve figured out how to help my sister and fixed the barrier with the Folkwood.”

He nodded and jerked to his feet. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready. Take whateveryou want from the house—clothes, food, weapons. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

My gaze dropped to the pale-green rosebud on the table beside me. I could think ofnothing I wanted more than this reminder of Thorne. But there were other plants I’d beenworking on which might help me, too.

Slipping the long stem into my pocket, I turned to face Laurel. “Let’s go to the pottingshed so I can pick up some of my bottles, then we’ll leave.”

As I led my sister around the house, her bow back in her hand, I wondered whetherThorne doubted that I meant what I said. If that explained the stony expression on hisface, the tight set of his jaw.

But I would come back to finish the rose garden.I just had to save my sister first.

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - F O U R

WE REAPPEARED near the forest border, light shimmering between the trees. Laurel stumbledaway from us, her cheeks pale, one hand reaching for a tree to support herself. Of course,I’d been dizzy the first time Thorne had shadow walked with me, too. There was nothinglike feeling that wash of power running over you, as if you’d been caught in summer rain.

I didn’t step away from Thorne as I caught my breath. My eyes found his, and I heldhis gaze for a moment, trying to memorize the exact color of his eyes, knowing that Inever could as his hazel-and-green irises shifted like light on the forest floor. Even thoughI would be back as soon as I had healed Ava and secured Rosehill’s borders, everymoment away from him was going to be agony.

He looked away, his face carefully devoid of emotion.Fighting to breathe against the rapidly tightening band around my middle, I stepped

away from him, a wave of cold air sweeping into his place. Just moments ago, we hadstill been in the Cursed Court. And now, already, we were here, only a few steps awayfrom breaking out of the forest.

“I have to leave you here,” Thorne said in a halting voice. “The curse doesn’t permitme to travel any closer to Rosehill.”

I nodded, my chest constricting. “Thank you. For bringing us here.” I reached towardhim. “And like I promised, I’ll—”

“Don’t say it, Aster.” His words came out in a breathy exhale. “You don’t owe meanything. Just look after your sister, okay?”

Fighting back the tears pricking at my eyes, I shook my head. “I promise, I’ll—”Before I could finish, Thorne disappeared in a wisp of black smoke.My hands clenched into fists.I knew he didn’t believe me. That I would return to break the curse. But I would. I

was already so close...the roses were already growing.Shaking off my hurt that Thorne hadn’t even let me finish my promise, I took a few

steadying breaths, then moved quickly to the border, peering out between the trees.Smoke trailed into the sky, hazy against the bright afternoon sun, the town walls a

dark smudge where they rose up on the slight hill in the distance. The sounds and smellsof farm animals wafted through the air, the light so much clearer in such a staggeringly

huge break in the trees, the half-harvested golden fields of wheat reflecting the sunshineback up from the ground.

Home.Yet something was bothering me. My heart had never swelled and hurt when I had

looked across Rosehill before. I’d been trying to get here for months, back to my home, tomy family...but I hesitated to take that final step out of the shade of the trees, the darkforest wrapping around me like the embrace of a shadow.

Laurel drew alongside me, following my gaze out across the farmland. “Silver bells,what a horrendous way to travel.” She reached for my arm, giving it a squeeze. “I knewwe’d see you back in Rosehill again,” she whispered, emotion making her voice catch. “Iknew that Beast wouldn’t be able to keep you for good. Not our Aster.”

I couldn’t meet her gaze, guilt pooling in my stomach at the thought that I couldn’t tellmy sister what had made me hesitate at the border.

That for the first time in my life, it was stepping out of the tree line that bothered me.“What is it?” Laurel glanced behind us, as though I might have heard something in the

trees. As though it were what was in the Folkwood that frightened me. But while I wouldalways be on my guard with the fae of the Folkwood, now that I was an enchantress, Ifelt most capable of protecting myself surrounded by so many trees and plants. InThorne’s domain.

A low sigh escaped my lips, and I told her a half-truth. “Nothing. Just dizzy afterThorne shadowed us here.”

Laurel’s expression darkened. “If I never have to travel that way again, I’ll die a happywoman. It might be quicker, but still...” Her hand slipped from my arm, returning to herbow. “I’d have gotten us back safely, too. I travel through the Folkwood unbothered allthe time on supply runs for Dad. Most of the fae stay away when they see the ironarrows.” She rapped my arm with one of them, then hesitated, the arrow hovering in theair between us. “At least, they used to…”

Resolve pinched in my chest. It didn’t matter what was pulling me back into thedepths of the trees, rooting me here. Rosehill needed me. Ava needed me.

I stepped across the tree line.A soft sigh escaped my lips, a shiver running down my back. In spite of stepping out

into the sun, I suddenly felt cold. Like I’d shrugged off a warm cloak.Laurel gave me another odd look. “Aster, are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?”“I told you, I’m fine,” I said in a falsely bright voice. “Let’s go check the town hasn’t

been torn to pieces before we made it here.”My words fell flat, my sister’s cold silence chilling the summer air. I kept a tight hold

on the bottled enchantments I had brought with me, the ones I had prepared in thepotting shed with Rosehill in mind, ready to use them to defend us if I had to. Seeing asI’d already enchanted the plants, it wouldn’t take any of my slowly recovering energy touse them...and it looked like I might need them.

At intervals, the ground was overturned, crops raked up and exposed to the air, likehuge claws had been dragged through the earth. At least some of the smoke I had seenfrom the forest was drifting up from the farms, whole fields of wheat and barley reduced

to smoldering black ash. Cattle should still have been out grazing this time of year, butthe distant fields usually dotted with their brown-and-white hides were empty. Not tomention...

“Where is everyone?” I whispered. The fields should have been full of extra labor fromwithin the town, bringing in the harvest to see us through the winter. I’d never seen themdeserted like this.

Laurel cut me a weary look. “Everyone’s inside the town walls.”I startled, my steps halting. “What?” I’d expected there to have been attacks on the

farms, which bordered the Folkwood. But if the fae were actually coming into Rosehill,right up to the walls inlaid with iron that ringed the rich inner area of the town...

“You’ll see,” Laurel said grimly.“But what—”A loud whirring suddenly sounded above my head, the clack of jaws snapping shut as

a shadow passed over me.I ducked as Laurel let loose an arrow.It thudded into the faery above me with a dull thwack, and the creature dropped from

the air, sending up a cloud of dust as it thumped to the earth right in front of me. Itstwisted, black body writhed for a moment, heavy jaws still chomping the air, then it laystill.

A shake stole into my hands. Laurel had told me the border was compromised, but toactually see a faery out of the woods...

“Come on.” Laurel cast a wary glance at the skies to make sure no other Little Folkhad snuck up on us. “We need to move quickly.”

We hurried through the quiet fields, the nausea building in my stomach as we passedploughed-up fields, crops rotting in the ground, splinters of farm tools sprayed across theearth. Laurel fired arrow after arrow at the Little Folk who swooped and crawled andcackled in the fields, coming for us with teeth bared and claws outstretched.

When we reached the outskirts of town, it only grew worse. A sour smell hung in theair, like milk gone bad. Smashes and cracks from within the wood-and-stone buildingspunctuated the eerie silence, worried animals and curtains hanging in rags the evidenceof the Little Folk’s mayhem.

Laurel held her bow taut as we hastened through the streets, making for the gatesinto the inner town.

“Stay close,” she murmured. “They’re not so bad in the middle of the day—it’s at duskthings get worse—but you never know.”

We picked our way over the rubble until the walls enclosing the center of town cameinto sight, the sheet of iron that encased the stone beneath gleaming in the sunlight. Myshoulders sagged. My whole body ached, and my heart throbbed as I recalled whatRosehill had looked like before I’d been taken on the Tithe.

I moved faster, keeping in step with Laurel, the gates in sight.The clop of hooves sounded on paving stones behind us. I whirled, cold creeping over

my shoulders as my gaze focused on a rider in ragged black robes, a bone-pale whip thatlooked unnervingly like a spine gripped in one hand.

It didn’t have a head.The dullahan.I’d heard of this fae before, the headless horseman who heralded death. It was told to

children as a cautionary tale to keep them away from the Folkwood at night. But thestories said it rode through the night...and the dullahan had never been seen in Rosehill.

Laurel’s hand gripped the back of my dress, shoving me behind her as we both backedtoward the gates.

Sweat slipped down my spine, the soft hairs on my arms rising as the skeletal, blackhorse pawed at the ground, the bone whip rattling as the headless creature readied itsweapon.

Laurel reached for an arrow—and her fingers closed on empty air. The quiver wasempty.

A creaking, wheezing sound hissed from the air above the creature’s shoulders.Laughter.

Barely pausing to think, I dug into my bag, fumbling for the bottle of decoctedcomfrey, which made such excellent fertilizer for the plants I grew in the garden, andwhich I had enchanted to aid with fast growth. The rosebud from the garden snagged atmy fingers, but then I had it.

I threw the glass bottle, and it smashed, the enchanted liquid splashing across thestone slabs.

For a moment, nothing happened.Then, just like at the revel, plants began twisting from the ground, the earth

grumbling as the slumbering weeds pushed their way up, the paving stones crackingapart under their force.

The dullahan’s phantom-horse reared back, the snaking brambles startling it.I didn’t have any more comfrey in my bag, and I still hadn’t recovered enough to keep

the plants growing myself. Not waiting for the fae to realize I had nothing left in myarsenal, I grabbed Laurel’s arm and dragged us both through the gates.

Slamming them closed behind us, I leaned back against the cool sheet of iron,inhaling the rich metallic scent as I tried to steady my breath.

Laurel crashed back against them beside me, her breathing as labored as mine.After a moment she twisted her head to look at me, her eyes wild. “How did you…

What was in that bottle? That wasn’t your usual greenwitch work…”“No—it was an enchantment.” My words caught in my throat, a faint smile lighting my

face. “Thorne taught me to do it.”Instantly, the brightness in my sister’s eyes faded, her jaw setting. “He taught you fae

magic?”I shook my head. “No—it’s human Craft. It’s different, but it allows you to access

magic.”Her lips still thin, Laurel pressed away from the gates and cast a look up at the sky.

“It’s almost noon,” she said in a tight voice, offering no further comment on theenchanted weeds outside the town gates. “We need to go.” She gestured down a widestreet lined with shops, in the direction of the town square. “Everyone will be going to the

town hall. We meet daily to try to figure out where the worst of the damage has beendone. What we ought to do next. We need to go there, let everyone know you’re backand what you can do.”

I nodded and followed behind her. “Okay.”Even before we reached the square, people began flooding the streets. As we neared

the town hall, it became more difficult to push our way through. Crowds of people hadgathered outside the ornate building of pale cream stone in the center of the square, acrush of warm bodies clamoring for information, murmuring between themselves whenthey saw me.

Laurel forced her way through all of them, earning several dark glares before thetownsfolk caught a glimpse of her copper hair and lilac eyes and looked hastily awayagain. Even in these frantic times, people still feared my father and his crew. Not tomention Laurel was formidable in her own right.

Using her bow to sweep people aside and giving them a hard thwack when they didn’timmediately move, Laurel got us into the town hall, where we slipped into an even moretightly packed room.

I cast my eyes around the gathered crowd, searching for any sign of the friends orfamily I’d left behind. From the back, it was difficult to tell who was who, but on stage atthe front of the hall sat the town elders, those who always steered the rest of us in timesof crisis or celebration.

My father sat among them. Our gazes met.“Aster!” His gasp boomed around the hall, bringing an eerie silence down upon the

room.The crowd turned as one, hundreds of glinting eyes coming to rest on me, reminding

me uncomfortably of the fae servants in the manor.Then my father leaped straight down from the stage, barreling through the room

toward me.The crowd parted before him, slight looks of alarm crossing the faces of those forced

to dive from his path. My father didn’t stop and apologize, didn’t so much as look back atthose who suffered bruised ribs or squashed feet.

When he didn’t slow, I stepped back in some alarm of my own. He collided with me,his arms wrapping around me, clutching me tightly to his chest. I breathed in the familiarsmell of sweat, ale, and fine cologne and squeezed my eyes shut. I was with my family.

This is home.Uncomfortably, I realized the knot in my stomach hadn’t loosened. I still couldn’t

shake the cold, creeping feeling that had cloaked me since I’d stepped out of the forest.Doing my best to ignore it, I hugged my father harder.Pulling back, he gave Laurel a slight nod. “Well done, girl. I hope you showed that

Beast what happens when you take what isn’t yours.”“He’s not a beast!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.The silence around us turned into a susurration of hushed voices. I knew what they

were thinking.My father’s head snapped to look at my sister. “She’s pixie-led.”

Laurel’s brow pinched. “She’s not.”“I’m not,” I confirmed, stepping forward. “It’s… Well, there’s a lot to tell you. But

Thorne let me go the moment he knew Rosehill was in trouble.”The murmurs grew louder.“Aster.” My father leaned forward, as if merely embracing me again, but his hot,

whiskery breath tickled my ear. “I don’t know what happened to you after you weretaken, but think where you are now. What these people need.”

I flinched, hearing the reprimand in my father’s voice. But he was right. No onewanted to hear what Thorne had done for me. No one wanted to know about hiskindness. To learn that he was as much a prisoner in his manor as the Tithe girls. Thatwouldn’t bring the girls back, and it wouldn’t help save Rosehill now. Even Laurel, whohad seen for herself how he treated me, how he’d brought us safely back here, stillnarrowed her eyes each time I spoke of him.

My father kept one arm clamped tightly around my shoulders.I straightened, then turned a warm smile on the gathered, anxious faces. “I’m so

pleased to be home.”His arm relaxed. But why did the words taste like ashes on my tongue? Why did they

ring hollow?My father steered me through the path cleared by the crowd, beckoning Laurel to

follow us. I smiled and nodded to the people who greeted me as we passed, many ofthem patients whom I had tended, gardeners I’d advised, farmers I’d assisted in keepingback the Folkwood. The relief in the air was palpable, and a heavy weight formed in mystomach as I realized what they must all be thinking.

I was their greenwitch, come back to save them.I had escaped the Beast of the Folkwood—how could I fail to stop the fae attacks on

the town?Halfway to the stage, I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at a small, dark-haired boy

who wriggled through the press of bodies to beam up at me.“Nairn!” I gasped. The boy who had been taken by the púca on the morning of my

Tithe.Impossible.A heavy hand clamped on the boy’s shoulder, and I turned my stunned gaze up to

Farmer Hawley.“You found him,” I bleated. “How…?”“Boy says a tall man cloaked in shadow scared off the púca.” The farmer’s hand

clutched tighter on his son’s shoulder.A tall man cloaked in shadow, whom even the púca was frightened of...Tears stung my eyes. “When?” I asked.Farmer Hawley’s throat bobbed. “Eight days after the Tithe.”My mind worked rapidly. Eight days. The day after I’d had dinner with Thorne and

Faolan, when I’d told them that Nairn had been taken.I found I couldn’t speak.“It’s okay, Aster.” My father dropped back, the heavy presence of his arm returning

around my shoulders. “You’re home now.”The cold splintering down my spine settling into my bones, I followed him silently to

the stage.He settled me into a chair beside him, Laurel towering at my shoulder, then cleared

his throat. “Our troubles have been going on for three weeks now. Since the Lúnasacelebrations. We’ve not known how to stop the fae breaking into the town.”

A frown danced across my face. The fae had started breaking out since the revel,then. Could Yvette have had something to do with the barrier breaking down? She was anenchantress and a greenwitch, after all. And she had been in the Folkwood when theattacks had started.

“We’ve seen our homes destroyed. Property stolen. Our daughters—our daughterssuccumb to faesickness.” My father’s hands bunched into fists. He took a pause beforecarrying on. “We’ve done our best, every man and woman has worked hard, but withoutour greenwitch, we’ve not been able to keep them out.” His eyes traveled to me. “But mydaughter Aster has proven herself a true Wilden, the first Tithe girl ever to return toRosehill. The first to escape the Beast.” His eyes flashed, warning me not to challengehim. “With our greenwitch home again, we can draw on her knowledge and skill to sendthe fae scuttling back into the forest, and to make sure they stay there.”

A smattering of applause filled the air, the sound of raised voices, a tone of hopebrightening the anxious, heavy atmosphere of the room.

With a creak of his chair, my father turned and gestured for me to stand. “Aster?”I got slowly to my feet, feeling everyone’s attention returning to me. My throat

bobbed, feeling tight. The words dancing on my tongue were not a rousing speech aboutthrowing out the Little Folk, but protests at how my father had described Thorne, thepicture the townsfolk had always painted of him.

I swallowed them.I didn’t know whether I would be able to keep the fae out, but I had to try. My people

needed me.This was why I’d come home.“I need to know exactly what’s been happening.” I took a slow breath, trying to inject

charisma into my flat voice. This was what my father would demand of me. What Sagewould have advised, too. No emotion, no niceties. Just clear, confident instructions so thepeople knew that I would save them. “But first, we need to secure the town. Salt—wecan use salt to create a temporary barrier while I figure out something permanent.”Taking a step forward, I didn’t allow the slightest tremor of doubt into my voice. “Thenwe’ll take back Rosehill from the fae.”

“Aster!” a familiar male voice called after me as Laurel and I hurried away from the townhall, heading to Ava’s mansion.

I turned reluctantly, watching my father’s crewman hasten to catch up.Layton drew to a halt before us, his broad chest puffed out, his fair hair pulled back

into its usual ponytail. He shot me a conspiratorial smile, as though he was certain I’dbeen waiting to speak to him. As though I owed him something more than I owed therest of the town.

I bit back a groan. One of the things I definitely hadn’t missed about Rosehill was myformer lover still chasing after me like a lovesick puppy.

And I didn’t have time for this now. Not when I still needed to see Ava and assess howbad the faesickness really was.

Layton smoothed back his hair, glancing down at himself to check on the state of hisclothes, then turned his handsome blue eyes on mine. “I’m so pleased you’re back withus, Aster.” His cheeks flushed a little pink. “I thought… I mean, everyone thought youwere never coming back again… I’m afraid to say… But the main thing is you’re back, andnow we can…”

What is he talking about? I’d never heard him sound so unsure of himself.“What do you want, Layton?” I asked a little sharply.His chest deflating, my father’s crewman scrubbed a hand across his nose. He looked

at Laurel, as though hoping she might provide the answer, then stumbled out, “I want tobe useful. What can I do?”

I fought down the irritation rising in my blood. My sister was faesick, and I was beingbadgered on the street because Layton wanted to feel useful? “Get together as many ofmy father’s crew as you can,” I improvised. “Map out exactly where the worst attackshave been. We can use that to figure out where we need to start building up ourdefenses first.”

Straightening up again, Layton lifted his chin. “Consider it done.”I should have thanked him, but instead I swept around without so much as saying

goodbye, rushing to see Ava and the other girls where they were all being held securelyin my sister’s mansion house. I did need to know what exactly had been going on inRosehill so I could plan how to reinstate the barrier with the Folkwood…but not as muchas I needed to see my sister.

“You know what that was about, don’t you?” Laurel nudged me with her elbow,interrupting my worries about Ava.

I turned to frown at her.“He’s been courting Eluned ever since you were chosen at the Tithe.” Laurel

snickered. “Now you’re back, he’ll drop her like a hot stone. Especially with yournewfound savior of Rosehill status. Poor Eluned.” Her eyes gleamed. “Or maybe luckyEluned. I can’t imagine anything worse than that puffed-up muttonhead dithering aroundme all day.”

I gave my sister a slight shove. “Ava’s faesick, and still you find it in yourself to makejokes about my love life. Incredible.”

Laurel’s teasing smile faded, her expression turning somber.“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t—”“I know.” Laurel exhaled slowly. “Just… When you see Ava…”Neither of us spoke again, but at the same time we increased the pace of our steps.

My palms grew sticky, a fluttering sensation making my breath shallower as we got closer

to Ava’s mansion.I slowed automatically, waiting for the sneers of Ava’s servants as they were forced to

allow her half-sister entry to the mansion, but to my surprise, Laurel didn’t even knockwhen we reached the door.

“People are constantly coming in and out,” she explained, “since all of the girls arebeing kept here. Family checking in on them, hoping for a miracle…” She dragged me inafter her and turned straight up a polished wooden staircase to our left. “But even LadyCicely wouldn’t object to you being here today, Aster. Ava’s our sister, and, well… Youmight be the only one who can save her.”

The icy feeling that had been with me since I’d left the Folkwood thawed a little as Ipounded up the staircase after Laurel. No matter what it was compelling me to turn andrun back into the shadow of the trees, back to the manor and the fae lord I had leftbehind me, this was why I had returned in the first place.

For my sister.Laurel led us down a long corridor lit by dull lanterns, but even before we reached the

sickroom, I knew we must be close to where the girls were being kept.Hair prickled up along my arms at the haunting, keening sound of girls’ voices wailing

and crying and calling out words I couldn’t quite hear.I glanced at Laurel, who didn’t look back at me, her shoulders hunched and her

expression pinched.The chattering grew louder as we progressed along the corridor, and the prickle over

my skin grew worse as I began to make out the words.Faerie queen.Forest.Shadows.I halted outside the door, a tremble stealing into my limbs. I had seen faesickness

before when I’d been apprenticed to Sage...but rarely. And never in so many all at once,their voices ringing out like bells chiming together. Never in my own sister...

Laurel laced her fingers through mine, gripping my hand tightly, and pulled me intothe room after her.

Candles cast a soft, flickering light, lending a dreamlike quality to the room. The girlswere bound fast to single beds that had been lined up along the walls, Ava’s vastchambers transformed into a makeshift healing room. I didn’t know which was worse—the girls who lay so still they might be dead, their eyes glazed and staring into space, orthose who thrashed and pulled at their restraints. The latter were the ones crying to belet go, to get to the forest, to return to the shadows so they could be crowned as queens.

“It starts with them getting overemotional, throwing tantrums and acting out. That’sthe first clue to the sickness. Then they seem to lose control over their bodies,” Laurelwhispered beside me, her hand still pressed damply against mine. “When they’re morelucid and they realize they’re restrained, they scream. But they grow gradually quieter.Like they’ve left the real world behind, somehow… Like a part of them made it back tothe forest in spite of us keeping them here…”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and looked wildly around for Ava. I had no

idea how long my sister had been suffering, whether she would be screaming andshouting or lying still with that dead, haunted look in her eyes.

My gaze fell on a bed by the window, the late summer light illuminating my sister’sdark skin, glazing her with gold. She lay with her head turned away from the sun, herblack hair spilling out over her pillows. Her lilac eyes stared vacantly across the room.

As if in a trance, I glided to her bedside, the sounds of the other girls fading away.“Ava…” I reached out to tuck a dark corkscrew curl back behind her ear, my eyes

brimming with tears. But my sister flinched away from my touch.I pulled my hand slowly away again.“It’s only been a week for her,” Laurel said in an unsteady voice. “She didn’t stop her

wild chatter at first. Now we get breaks like this for an hour or two at a time.”Lifting my eyes, I suddenly noticed the slim, dark woman sitting at the other side of

Ava’s bed, tears rolling silently down her brown cheeks and darkening the collar of abeautiful, red velvet dress.

Lady Cicely raised her eyes to meet mine. I automatically flinched back, but therewere no harsh words for me today. “Aster,” she whispered. Her hands twisted anembroidered handkerchief on her lap, shining rings clacking together as her fingersmoved. “Please. What can you do for my daughter?”

I shifted uneasily from foot to foot. If I were honest, I didn’t know. Sage had triedmultiple remedies to cure past cases of faesickness, and none of them had ever worked.

But it wouldn’t help Lady Cicely to know that.“Laurel…” I turned back to face my sister. “Is Dad still doing his supply runs into the

Folkwood?”Laurel jerked her head in something approximating a nod, giving a loud sniff as she

did so. “Yes, for necessities like food and iron weapons.”“Good. Because I’m going to need some new ingredients...” My hand strayed close to

Ava’s. “Don’t worry,” I whispered fiercely to her. “There will be a way to save you.” Iraised my eyes to meet Lady Cicely’s. “And I’m going to find it. I swear.”

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - F I V E

I LİT A CANDLE, the flame casting a dancing light across the four walls of my workshop. Mytired eyes burned and my back ached as I pulled another of Sage’s journals toward meand flipped through it.

It had been just over a week since I’d returned to Rosehill, long days that blurred intorestless, panicked nights. Although we still didn’t know why the barrier was failing, Itentatively hoped the worst was over. With my new, stronger enchantments, fewer faewere breaking through, and patrols marched the borders of the Folkwood, replacing thetemporary protective measures with more permanent ditches. Young rowan trees nowlined the perimeter, hung with bundles of daisies, St. John’s Wort, and red verbena tokeep the fae away. Just as I had done for the arrangements in Vanna’s rooms, I’d wovenchrysanthemums through them, casting an enchantment to ensure the posies would lastforever.

But while no one else had gotten faesick...I still couldn’t work out how to cure Ava andthe other girls.

I brushed away the journals, which I’d read for the hundredth time, tilting my headback to glare at the ceiling.

When my basic tonics hadn’t worked, I’d tried enchanting. I’d been tentatively callingon my new power after I’d overexerted myself at the revel, but this time, my energyhadn’t been the problem. I didn’t know what kind of enchantment could cure them.

I emptied my satchel onto the workbench and picked up one of the poppets that hadtumbled out. I’d enchanted the tiny dolls made from strips of bark and dried grasses,pouring my protectiveness for my sister and the other girls into each one as I knottedtogether rowan bark to ward against fae, forget-me-nots for remembrance, brassica forhurt, daisies for lost innocence, and sage for good health. The poppets had hung undereach girl’s bed for a week, and it had made no difference.

But I had to keep trying.I would remake the poppets with a new enchantment. I stood, moving to the huge

cabinet with hundreds of drawers, my handwritten labels faded from the sun. I picked outsprigs of heather for protection, then grabbed the basket of chrysanthemums I’d cut frommy overgrown garden earlier in the day—they stood for truth as well as long life. Lastly,

I’d add lily of the valley for the return of happiness. The pretty white flower was out ofseason, although my father had promised he and Laurel would source it for me somehow,and Laurel had promised she’d get it to me by the end of the day.

Sitting back at the workbench, I lined the poppets in a row. I could start arranging theother flowers in the meantime.

The garden gate creaked, and I lifted my head to peer through the window into thedusk beyond. Perhaps that was Laurel now. If so, I might still get the new poppets to thegirls before nightfall.

A dark head flew past the window. I set down the flower in my hand, frowning. I’donly glimpsed the figure for a second, but it had been too dark for Laurel or my father.

One of Ava’s friends, Marcia, had been helping me with my work, desperate to helpthe faesick girls, and I’d let her, thinking that it could only benefit Rosehill to have anapprentice greenwitch when I went back to break the curse. But she was keeping an eyeon Ava and the other girls this evening. And aside from that, no one ever disturbed me inmy workshop.

If Layton had come to give me another unnecessary report about the state of theFolkwood defenses…

The door creaked open, long, pale fingers sliding around the edge. A figure appearedin the gap.

Shock seared through me, followed by a rush of fluttering warmth.“Thorne?” I gasped, a stupid grin spreading across my face.It can’t be.He ducked under the doorframe, clicking the door closed behind him as he glanced

around the chaos of my workshop, batting away drying herbs strung from the ceiling.It was him, his dark hair tousled, the harsh lines of his angled cheekbones prominent

in the dim light. His beauty looked even more ethereal in such a human setting, amongall my tools and plants.

His tall frame seemed to fill the whole room, and I clutched my hand to my chest,staring up at him. I half wanted to run into his arms, although disbelief rooted me to thechair.

“How did you get past—” I began, then stopped. Unlike the Little Folk, Thorne couldshadow walk past the new defenses being put up around the town. He’d said the cursebound him to Folkwood, but perhaps he’d found a way around it. I changed my question.“Why are you here?”

His lips pulled back into a wolfish grin, his hazel eyes narrowing. Still, he didn’t speak.“Are you okay?” I asked hesitantly. There was something about the way he looked at

me that was unfamiliar. Wrong.“Aster…” My name was a susurrant whisper from his lips, nothing like his usual drawl.My mouth dried, realization hitting me in a hot spike of panic. I jumped up from the

chair, knocking it to the ground in my hurry to get away from the intruder.This wasn’t Thorne.And there was only one shape-shifting fae in the forest…“Púca…” I spat, clenching my fingers at my side. I’d left my iron knife on the table

near the door, but this workshop was packed to the rafters with plants and herbs I couldenchant. I just needed to keep the fae distracted long enough to use them.

“I saw you at the revel,” he said, his eyes glinting in a way that brought out theyellow-gold in Thorne’s irises. “You should dance for us again, Aster. I can get you morefaerie fruit. I know you long to join us.”

I edged along the back of the room, trying to reach the drying rack where I kept mySt. John’s Wort. To hear this soft, whispering voice coming from Thorne’s mouth feltwrong.

“You were at the revel?” I didn’t know what the púca’s true form looked like. It couldhave been any one of the fae I’d seen at the revel. Bile rose in my throat as I thought ofall the faces that had flashed past me when I was dancing

“We danced together.” The púca stepped toward me. Even though he wore Thorne’sbody, he carried none of the Court Fae’s raw power. There were no shadows dancingaround his body, no pressure in the air.

I should have known it wasn’t Thorne from the moment he stepped inside.The púca’s lips lifted into a cruel smile I had never seen on Thorne’s face before. “If

you won’t join me in the Folkwood, then perhaps your sister might be more interested?I’m sure she’d be more amenable after a taste of faerie fruit…and I would prefer to dancewith her, you know...”

“Ava and the other girls aren’t going anywhere with you,” I flared.“Ava?” The púca chuckled, advancing on me across the room. A flicker of movement

outside caught my attention through the window, but the púca didn’t notice. “No, I meanyour eldest sister. The redhead. Laurel.”

The door to the workshop burst open, slamming back against the wall and shaking therafters.

Laurel stood in the doorway, an iron arrow nocked in her bow, aimed at the púcahovering in the middle of the room. He turned to face her, raising his hands in innocence.

“Why are you here?” my sister snarled. “You said Aster was free to leave.”“It’s not Thorne,” I said hurriedly. “It’s the púca.”Laurel’s jaw clenched, her fingers tightening around her bow. “You again.”The corners of Thorne’s mouth curved into a smile. “Me again.” He took a step back

from Laurel toward me.“Take one more step closer to my sister, and it’ll be your last, I swear,” Laurel

warned. She narrowed her eyes, aiming for his heart. The iron tip of the arrow glinted inthe candlelight.

The púca paused mid-step. “Until next time, then, huntress.”Laurel fired the arrow at the same moment the púca launched itself onto my

workbench, transforming into something shaggy and furred as it smashed through thewindow. The arrow thwacked into the wall at the back of my workshop, not far from myhead.

Laurel cursed loudly, turning on the balls of her feet and already reaching for anotherarrow from her quiver.

“Laurel, wait!” I grabbed the small pouch of powdered primroses and St John’s Wort

I’d been edging toward. I tossed it to her, and she caught it in one hand. “Put it on yournext arrow.”

She didn’t ask why, just nodded once and bolted from the room.Flickering orange flames caught my attention, a whorl of dark smoke rising from the

floor. The workbench had overturned when the púca had leaped from it, the candlecatching light to one of Sage’s journals. I rushed to grab a pail of water and put it outbefore it spread.

Even though he’d gone, my blood thundered through my veins at the thought that thepúca had been behind Rosehill’s walls, in my workshop—my safe place. It felt like aviolation.

I spent the next hour picking up glinting shards of glass by candlelight and hangingburlap across the window frame. Of course, not only had the púca invaded my workshop,he’d had to smash a window, too.

The door creaked again, and I jumped, but it was only Laurel. Her cheeks were pink,wild tendrils of hair escaped from her braid and framing her face. Her lilac eyes flashed. Iknew that look.

“He got away?”Her lips thinned. “I nicked his upper arm just before he slipped back into the

Folkwood. But at least I figured out how he got in. I tracked him back to the far easternedge of Rosehill. Layton is already on his way there to patch the gap.” She tossed meback the pouch of powder. “What will that do?”

“Combined with the iron, it should stop his arm from healing as quickly as fae usuallydo. It’ll be harder for him to take human form and sneak back in.”

Laurel unslung her bow and set it on the workbench, her eyes running over the row ofpoppets I’d rescued from the destruction.

“The púca has been stalking me all summer. Looking like you.” She met my gaze.“The first time I saw it, on a supply run, I thought I’d gone mad. I spent hours looking foryou.” She sighed, pulling out the wooden chair and slumping into it.

A chill skittered down my spine. The last time the púca had taken my form, it hadbeen to lure Sage into the forest. To kill her.

And of course, I’d seen the púca since then...I swallowed. “It did the same to me.”Laurel’s lilac eyes darted up. “Really?”I nodded. “It’s why Thorne sent you the warning. I saw the púca on the edge of the

Folkwood, looking like you. Thorne said you ought to be careful if the púca had taken aninterest in you, and I have to say I agree with him.” I gave her a watery smile. “I thoughtyou’d come to rescue me at first.”

Laurel returned a sad smile. “I did try, you know. Straight after you were taken. Butthen the púca started tracking me…and I stopped.” Her throat bobbed. “I only venturedout again when Ava got faesick. I’m sorry I gave up on you.”

“I don’t think that, Laurie. It’s the Folkwood. And besides…I did the same. When I firstgot to the Cursed Court, my only plan was escape and get back home…but I lost sight ofthat along the way.”

Laurel toyed with one of the poppets, holding it by the arms and spinning it around. Iperched on the workbench next to her.

“The púca always takes your form for me.” Her voice was low.I shuddered. “He takes the form of the person you care most about. He knows he can

lure you in that way, that it makes it harder to hurt him.”Laurel nodded slowly. She bit down hard on her lip, then asked in a rush, “Then why

did it look like the Beast for you?”My heart lurched.“Thorne,” I corrected lightly. “And you saw… He’s not what we thought. He’s not a

beast.”I pressed my lips together, my mouth drying. I’d spoken little of Thorne to the rest of

my family since I’d returned, other than to tell them he’d let me go willingly and that he’dbeen the one to bring Nairn back safely.

“I care about him,” I admitted. The words felt odd in my mouth. I’d never said it outloud before.

“Do you love him?”I exhaled softly. The warmth building in my core confirmed the answer I’d known for

some time now. I glanced at my satchel, which contained the drying rosebud Thorne hadplucked from the garden for me, which I’d kept by my side ever since I’d returned toRosehill.

“I have to go back to him,” I replied, evading her question. “And I will, as soon as Avais better. I need to break the curse.”

I’d barely had time to dwell on my promise to Thorne since coming back. I’d beenswept off my feet trying to fix all of the defenses around Rosehill, not to mention trying tosave the faesick girls.

But there were still a few weeks until the Autumn Equinox. I still had time.Laurel watched me carefully. “What did the púca say to you when it was pretending to

be Thorne?”“It told me it had seen me at a fae revel under the influence of faerie wine.”Laurel’s brows raised. “You drank faerie wine?”I shuddered, remembering gagging on the syrupy liquid as the Hunt forced it on me.

“Not willingly. It brings all these emotions to the surface. You lose control of your body,your mind. You…”

I paused, staring down at the poppet in Laurel’s hand.The symptoms of eating faerie fruit were the same as the initial stages of faesickness.My mind raced. Sage had taught me how antidotes worked. Often you needed a tiny

amount of the original poison as part of the concoction.I suddenly knew in my gut that if I could get my hands on faerie fruit, I could enchant

it to make an antidote for the girls’ faesickness.“You’ve thought of something.” My sister watched me carefully. “I know that look.”I reached out to squeeze her hand. “Do you still have the bird Thorne sent to warn

you about the púca?”She nodded, her brows lowered in confusion.

“Good, because I’m sending it back to the Cursed Court. I need to ask them for afavor.”

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - S I X

CHATTERİNG voices floated through the Gilded Hare, the windows misted with early morningcondensation. My father had arranged a crack-of-dawn briefing with his crew every daysince I’d returned.

“The northern border is completely secured.” Layton stood on top of the bar at thefront of the group, his golden-brown hair tied back from his face, his chestnut eyes tired.“We finished planting the rowan saplings yesterday. They’re ready for your posies to bestrung up, Aster, if you’ve got more of them ready.”

I nodded. I would send Marcia with them. It would be good for the people of Rosehillto see more of her attending to the duties of the town greenwitch.

Orrin wove in between the chairs we’d dragged to face the bar, handing out steamingtankards. The rich scent of coffee masked the usual musk of ale.

Laurel yawned widely, stretching her arms over her head. Her auburn hair wasmussed and loose instead of in its usual braid, like she’d just rolled out of bed. Most ofmy Father’s crew were in a similar state, looking like they’d just woken up or, as in mycase, like they hadn’t slept at all.

The chair next to me creaked as my father leaned forward to squeeze my knee. Imustered a tired smile. I was pleased the border to the Folkwood was secured, but I’dheard nothing back from the Cursed Court in the days since I’d requested they send thefaerie fruit. I’d prepared a tincture that I knew would work with the addition of the fruit,but until then, it was useless, and Ava and the other girls were wasting away before oureyes.

I tuned back into Layton’s report.“After we patched up the eastern corner, where Laurel told us the púca broke through

the other week, that was the final stretch of the warding.” His chest seemed to swell ashe swung his gaze to me. “We’ve done everything according to Aster’s instructions, sothere’s no way any fae is getting through now.”

At this announcement, there was a low cheer and a smattering of applause. No doubtmy father’s crew was delighted they’d no longer have the back-breaking work of diggingtrenches and planting miles of trees at my instruction.

A faint scrabbling at the front door caught my attention. Orrin’s ginger tomcat was

probably returning after a night roaming the streets of Rosehill. Rina noticed the noiseand got up to let him in.

She lurched back with a scream, tripping and hitting the floor. “Faery!”Heads snapped toward the door.Then, chaos.Everyone jumped up, voices raised, chairs screeching back as tankards dropped to the

floor in a rush to unsheathe weapons.A familiar, irritated whistle trilled through the air.It can’t be.I elbowed my way through the jostling crowd, trying to avoid the medley of weapons,

all raised and pointing toward…“Mosswhistle,” I breathed.The brownie shook a clenched fist at the glittering daggers and knives and arrows

pointed in its direction before Layton loosed a stone from his catapult. It bounced off ofMosswhistle’s head with a hollow thud, like knocking on wood.

“Mosswhistle kill you!” The faery lurched forward and bared its tiny, sharp teeth, itsblack eyes narrowing.

“Stop!” I pushed through the rest of the crowd to plant myself firmly between thebrownie and everyone else, glaring at Layton. “Put your weapons down.”

“Mistress.” Mosswhistle’s voice cracked with relief.“Thank Folk you’re here.” I dropped to my knees and pulled the brownie into an

awkward hug. Low mutters rippled through the crowd as Mosswhistle’s spindly, bark-likelimbs pressed clumsily around my sides, the aroma of moss and fresh rain swirling aroundme.

“Squishy,” the brownie observed, not unkindly, as it pulled back. “Mosswhistle hasbeen trying to reach Mistress for days. Master says it will be easy to cross from theFolkwood to find his Mistress. Easy!” It let out a whistling hoot. “Mosswhistle uses thecunning of a thousand foxes to sneak through, but the town is covered in nasty, nastyiron.” It cast a furious look down at dark, sore-looking bands across its brown arms.“Hurts Mosswhistle very badly.”

“Aster.” My father’s voice was soft but tinged with concern. “What is this creature?Why is it here?”

I turned to see my father and his crew gathered in a semi-circle around the door,weapons still held aloft. “This is Mosswhistle, Dad. A friend. It's here to help.”

“What help can we possibly need from a faery?”I avoided meeting his eyes. I hadn’t told my father about the faerie fruit yet. I knew

he wouldn’t approve when the fae were the reason Ava was sick in the first place.Laurel came to stand at his other side, her bow lowered. “Did it bring what you need

for Ava?”I turned back to the brownie, who glowered up at my father and sister. “Same eyes,”

it observed.“They’re my family,” I explained. “I’m so sorry you had a hard journey, Mosswhistle.

But I’m glad to see you. Did you bring what I asked for?”

The brownie nodded, pulling a damp-looking parcel from the inside of its mossyjacket. I reached forward, but it pulled it back out of reach, its bulbous black eyes glazedwith tears.

“Mistress forgets about us.”“I haven’t forgotten about you,” I promised, “but my sister is very sick.”Mosswhistle appraised Laurel with a glare. “Looks fine.”“My other sister.” Irritation edged into my voice. I didn’t have time for Mosswhistle’s

complaints. I had to get the antidote to Ava and the other girls. “Please. She’s dying.”Mosswhistle sniffed but handed over the package. Beneath the paper it felt mushy,

and I could smell the sickly, honeyed scent even through the wrapping.Laurel crouched down beside me and wrinkled her nose. “Is that it?”I nodded, then looked up. Mosswhistle was slowly walking to the door, hanging its

head and dragging its claws against the floorboards, still sniffing loudly.“Wait, where are you going?”“Home.” It sniffed again, turning its head over its shoulder and giving me a long,

pained look. “Today Autumn Equinox. Dark times begin. Mosswhistle must return.”An icy horror rushed through my veins.Mosswhistle had to be wrong—I’d hardly been here any time.I spun back around to face my family. “Laurel, it’s not the Autumn Equinox today, is

it?”Laurel shook her head. “I couldn’t even tell you what day of the week it is, Aster. It’s

been a blur since we came back.”“Dad?” I turned to my father.“It’s today,” he confirmed. “But I don’t think we’ll be celebrating this year, Aster.”My throat constricted, my lungs too tight.I’d promised Thorne I would break the curse, that I wouldn’t condemn him to living as

a monster. Or let the creatures of the Folkwood run rampant in his Court and spend thecoming winter trying to break through our new barriers to get to Rosehill.

Instead, sleepless nights in my workshop meant I’d lost count of the days. And now itwas almost too late.

I fought back the panic rising in my chest, staring down at the package in my hands. Istill had to go to my sister. Mosswhistle leaned its head against the doorframe, wailing.“All is lost, Mistress.”

It’s not true. It couldn’t be.I still had the day.Grabbing Mosswhistle’s arm, I hauled the brownie through the door after me.

The sickly smell of faerie fruit swelled in the room, cutting through the stale, sour scent ofsweat. I hunched over Ava’s dresser, using my iron knife to cut the fruit. It was mushyand overripe, the juice dribbling down to my wrists.

Sweat slid down my forehead as I frantically worked. The last time I’d stood at this

dresser, I’d been looking at Ava’s crown of roses for the Tithe, trying to convince her notto wear them to save her from the Beast. Now I was trying to make an antidote to saveher again.

Only this time, it was so I could get back to that same Beast.Behind me, the girls moaned and whimpered in their beds, tossing and turning, a

sheen of sweat coating their brows. They looked worse every time I visited. They were sofrail now, their restraints had been loosened. There was no danger of them running offinto the Folkwood when they could barely stand. Each of their faces looked gaunt againstthe soft pillows, their slight bodies outlined beneath the covers.

My hands shook as I turned back to my work, my eyes glazing with tears. It was theAutumn Equinox, and I had broken my promise to Thorne. And even though he must havethought I’d prioritized saving my sister over breaking the curse, he had still sent the fruitto save the girls.

Instead of pushing my sadness and guilt down, I let it course through my body. A tearplinked into the saucer in front of me. I squeezed juice from the fruit with the flat of theknife on a saucer, then tipped it into the waiting teacups one at a time. As if I were aboutto serve them afternoon tea.

A wry smile crept across my face. When I’d asked for cups to feed the girls theantidote, I hadn’t expected the maid to return with a tray of fine, patterned teacups. Butthey would have to do.

A sweep of tiredness told me my enchantment was working, my fingertips warmingagainst the sticky juice coating them.

As I worked, Mosswhistle paced the chambers, its claws clacking against the varnishedwooden boards, momentarily softened by a plush rug, then clacking again.

“Poor Master Thorne,” it wailed. “Too late now. Court fills with forest monsters.Mosswhistle must hide all winter.”

Cringing at its high-pitched, piercing moans, I nodded toward the window.“Mosswhistle, make yourself useful and let in some fresh air.”

The brownie leaped up to the windowsill, fumbling with the latch. “Woeful curse,unfair curse, hateful curse.”

I took the first cup and saucer over to Ava’s bedside. I felt confident, but I would testthe antidote on my sister first to make sure it worked before instructing the servants toadminister it to all the other girls. I set it down on the bedside table, perching on theedge of the mattress.

My sister’s usually warm, glowing complexion was dull and lifeless. Her long eyelashesflickered against her cheek, her face twitching like she was having a bad dream.

“I cannot love him,” she murmured, then thrashed suddenly. “Let me home. Let meleave the shadows.” Her brow creased. “The wheel is spinning. The briars are spreading.”

She stilled, her lips still moving but no words coming out.A rush of cool autumn air billowed the loose curtains. Mosswhistle perched on the

windowsill, staring dolefully out of the window toward the Folkwood, rocking back andforth and mumbling to itself.

I lifted the teacup to Ava’s lips, tilting her head forward with my other hand. She

wrinkled her nose, then coughed and arched her back away, the tawny liquid tricklingfrom the corner of her mouth.

“Come on, Ava. You have to drink. Please.” I set the cup down and wiped her facewith the corner of my sleeve.

In the past, my bedside manner had been described as frosty—detached at best. Butas I sat beside my sister, holding her frail body in my arms, I couldn’t stop the tears fromtracking down my cheeks, dotting her white, down coverlets.

So much time training with Thorne had clearly affected me more than I’d thought.I brushed my tears away with the crook of my elbow and tried again, tipping some of

the antidote into her mouth more firmly.This time, she swallowed, the long column of her throat bobbing.Relief rushed through me. I set down the empty cup with a clatter, clutching my

sister’s clammy hands between my own.Mosswhistle’s clacking claws started up again, pacing around the bed. “Mistress

finished now? We leave?”I didn’t tear my eyes from Ava. “I have to make sure she’s okay first.”Mosswhistle wailed loudly, beating its tiny fists against its mossy tunic. “No time!

Master is lost to us again.” It gripped the bedpost, trying to shake it. “Unjust curse, vileenchantress. Imprisons the Master. Sentences his friends to death. Blames him for whatthey did.”

My gaze snapped from my sister’s face to the brownie at the foot of the bed.“What? What did you say about the curse?”The brownie twisted to face me, pulling fretfully at strands of its shaggy, brown hair.

“Mistress knows the Court is cursed.”“But what do you mean, the curse is unjust? Whose friends died? Thorne’s?”“Most unjust!” Mosswhistle beat its fist into a cupped hand.I bit down on my lip in frustration. “But what happened, Mosswhistle? Faolan told me

Thorne was cursed as punishment for breaking the Treaty, killing a human girl.”“Human girl dies, yes.” Mosswhistle nodded earnestly. “But by accident. The Master

does not kill her.”“How did she die, then?” My words sounded breathless.“Accident!” Mosswhistle flared. “She falls. There was a chase. Master Thorne’s friends,

four of them. All killed! Wicked enchantress curses the Master.”I turned over this new information in my mind, my breathing ragged. Mosswhistle

couldn’t lie, but neither could Faolan. Could the sky prince have been mistaken? Was itpossible that Thorne had been punished for something he hadn’t done?

I tried to remember Faolan’s exact words when he first told me about the curse. He’dmade it sound as if Thorne had killed a girl in cold blood.

Something hollowed in my stomach. If what the brownie said was true, Thorne hadbeen living this nightmare for almost a hundred years because of an accident. And now,because of my failings, the curse would continue.

“Aster…” My name was a croak from my sister’s lips.My gaze dropped back to the bed, my chest heaving in relief.

“Ava...” I squeezed her fingers between my own, staring down at her face. Her lilaceyes opened, and she looked up at me in confusion.

“Fetch Lady Cicely. Tell her Ava’s awake!” I called for the servants, my voice high-pitched. My sister’s maid didn’t even curtsey as she ran from the room, leaving the doorwide open.

I brushed back Ava’s dark hair as more tears tracked down my cheeks. She wasbetter. She would live.

“Am I dreaming?” Her voice was strained. “How are you here? The Beast took you.”“He did. But then he let me go.”“You escaped?” Ava tried to sit up.“Careful, you’re still weak.” I leaned around her to rearrange the pillows at her back.

“I didn’t escape. He let me leave.”Ava shifted against the pillows, her throat bobbing. Her gaze found the dregs of the

antidote in the teacup. “You saved me. Again. The Beast—you let him take you instead ofme.”

“I’ll always save you, Ava.” My voice cracked. “You’re my sister. I love you. I’ll sacrificeanything to save you.”

The truth of those words rattled through me, to my very bones.I would sacrifice anything to save those I loved.“The others…” Ava’s gaze roamed the other beds where the other girls still moaned

and slumbered.“I have enough antidote for all of them. I just gave it to you first.”She rubbed her temples, her shoulders untensing a little. “I had such dreams, Aster…

They felt so real. Like I’d been elsewhere for so long...”Mosswhistle’s claws reached up to grip the edge of the bed. “Sister alive? Go now?”Ava screamed, pressing back into the pillows and pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“No more fae, please!”“Ava!” I reached out a hand in alarm, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay. This is a friend.”“Keep that ugly, awful creature away from me.”A frown pinched at my brow. “Mosswhistle helped save you. It brought the final

ingredient I needed.”Ava’s chest rose and fell rapidly, color spreading to her cheeks as her expression

hardened. “What are you thinking, befriending such a thing?” she hissed. “You spent yourwhole life warning me about the fae. Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

Before I could protest, the door burst open. Lady Cicely rushed in, two maids in herwake. I’d never seen the lady dressed in anything less than the finest gowns and jewels,but today she wore a plain, striped frock, her hair loose. I stood and moved out of theway as she sank onto the bed in a cloud of rich perfume, pulling her daughter into herarms and kissing her brow.

I glanced at the clock ticking on the mantelpiece. It was almost eleven.I instructed the maids to give the rest of the girls the antidote, handing out the

teacups carefully.Mosswhistle tugged at my skirts. “Go now?” The impatience was heavy in its voice.

Lady Cicely clutched Ava to her, rocking back and forth. I felt guilty leaving just as Avahad woken up and before the other girls took the cure…but I knew they would be okay.They were surrounded by their families, by people who loved them.

And Ava had been wrong about the fae.I grabbed my satchel and slung it over my shoulder. “Come on,” I whispered to

Mosswhistle. “We’re going to the Folkwood. Now.”

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - S E V E N

I FLEW over the freshly dug ditch, the brownie in my arms, my dark curls streaming outbehind me, then thumped down on the soft, mossy grasses on the other side.Mosswhistle scrambled out of my clutches, a thin veil of sweat shining on its skin, a flushcoming over its bark-like cheeks.

“Hurtful, burning enchantments,” the brownie mumbled, turning back to glare at therowan trees strung with posies planted in a long line between the town and the forest.With a savage whistling noise, it stopped to kick stones over the edge of the ditch,watching them tumble into the dusty earth of the trench.

“Not now, Mosswhistle,” I groaned, reaching back for the brownie’s twiggy arm anddragging it along behind me.

Of course, my enchantments didn’t know the difference between the fae who meantus good and those who meant us ill. I felt guilty the brownie had suffered for bringing methe faerie fruit, and now suffered again as we left Rosehill, but I didn’t have time to worryabout that now.

I needed to find a toadstool ring.For once, I didn’t pause before stepping into the Folkwood, the shade of the trees no

longer as frightening as it had been. I shot a glare into the shadows around me as Istrode deeper into the undergrowth.

“I’m an enchantress now,” I snapped at no one in particular, holding up one finger incaution. “And I’m working for the Lord of the Folkwood. So don’t even think about tryingto slow me down.”

No chiming laughter rang out between the trees, no glittering swirl of pixie dustglimmered in the corner of my eye. A pressure built, the air thickening, as though the faeof the Folkwood were all watching me, but for now, it seemed, they would hold back.

“Mistress wastes her time.” Mosswhistle slumped forward over a tree stump, its bonyfingers clutching at its long ears and pulling them down either side of its face. “Too late.Took Mosswhistle two days to travel from the Master to the human town, and Mistressvery slow.”

Doing my best to shut out the brownie’s moaned accusations, I began wading throughthe undergrowth, swatting away the leaves and insects that clouded my vision, my eyes

seeking out any patch of light that would suggest a break in the trees, where I might findthe faerie ring I needed.

My hand drifted to my satchel. I already had dried wild roses and speedwell with me. Isaw no reason why dried flowers wouldn’t work as effectively as their fresh counterpartshad done when I’d traveled by faerie ring after my training with Thorne.

Now, I just need one tiny ring of mushrooms…My eyes darted over the muddy forest floor, traveling over mosses and roots. I walked

swiftly, mentally cataloging the shy wildflowers, the rare lichens clinging to the trees, thewinding trails left by animals who lived in the forest. The leaves were already crisping onthe branches, the forest shimmering with a golden light that heralded the changing of theseason. But not a single toadstool.

“It is too late, Mistress,” Mosswhistle wailed again, trudging a few steps behind me.“Dark days here now.”

Then I spotted it.I froze in my tracks. It wasn’t as pretty as the red-and-white ring of fly agaric I’d found

with Thorne. These gray, slimy mushrooms didn’t look as though any of the Fair Folk hadbeen dancing around them, the dark grass at their base sludgy against the red leavesbeginning to carpet the ground. But nonetheless, it was a ring of toadstools, and I coulduse it.

I paused, taking several slow breaths, running over my plan.I would use the toadstools to travel back to the mansion. I might only have a day left,

but I didn’t need a day to grow the roses now. I had seen that at the revel, when I’dmade the thorns burst out of the ground. I just needed one strong burst of energy, and Iwas sure I could make the roses bloom.

And if it took more energy than I had left…If it meant using the faerie fruit, even if it meant risking myself, I would do it for

Thorne.I’d made him a promise.“What now, Mistress?” Mosswhistle squeaked, grabbing onto the backs of my skirts

and twisting its head back and forth. “Folk of the forest are dangerous. No stopping.”“We’re going home, Mosswhistle,” I whispered. Brushing aside the thick foliage to cut

a path through to the faerie ring, I dropped to my knees beside it, hastily assembling thedried flowers into pretty patterns around its edge. It was easy to slip into the work, guiltand panic still running hot through my veins, and by the time I’d finished, I could feel theheat in my hands, the urge to yawn as the enchantment sapped my energy.

Getting back to my feet, I dusted off my hands and turned to the brownie, who wasstaring at the ring with wide, reverent eyes.

“Mistress is truly the most talented human Mosswhistle has ever seen,” it said in atremulous voice. “Mosswhistle is honored to be her servant, to see such Craft, to ownsuch Craft…” Something tugged at my heart as the brownie reached into a dirty pocketand retrieved a wilted chain of daisies, barely a few petals still clinging on to each flower.

I never did make an enchanted chain.“Come on,” I said, trying to quell the fresh pang of guilt. “Time to go.”

Grabbing the brownie’s arm, I dragged us both into the ring.There was a brief moment in which the world around us seemed to spin, my stomach

lurching, and then we were stumbling forward again, out into a very different part of theforest.

Except, I hadn’t meant for us to end up still in the forest…Silver bells.Every muscle in my body went rigid with terror at the sight that greeted us. The forest

was moving, creating an undulating shade like shadows flickering in candlelight, briarsand roots erupting from the earth and constricting around everything in their path. Thetrees had ripped free from the earth, trunks split in two at the base to make huge, roughlegs, the bark splitting beneath golden crowns of autumn leaves to form eerieresemblances of human faces.

I swallowed, taking a step backward on trembling legs at the groan and creak of thetrees as they twisted around, branches whipping as they turned, as though they mighthave heard me.

We were deep in the Folkwood, perhaps at its very heart. I glanced down atMosswhistle, who was clutching at its long ears again, shaking its head and moaningsoftly. Was it that I’d been distracted by the brownie, guilt spearing my chest at the sightof the mangled daisies? Or had the dried flowers not worked the same way as fresh?

Either way, it was my fault the brownie was now also in whatever folkdamned placeI’d brought us to. My enchantment that had gone wrong.

I dropped to a crouch as shadows crept out from between the trees, revealing acreature with six arms, spiders on threads of silk dangling from each of its fingers, its facehidden beneath an antler-topped mask. The creature was followed by a winged horse, itsmiddle all exposed bones. Then a flock of tiny faeries with scarlet wings and skulls hidingtheir faces fluttered up from the forest floor, filling the gaps between the trees.

These must be the fae Thorne kept in check during the summer months, who werereadying to fight their chains over the dark of winter...

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean—”“Mosswhistle tried to tell Mistress.” The brownie’s voice had grown so high-pitched it

was almost a shriek, cutting through the deep groans emanating from the earth. “Is toolate.”

“We can still get there…” But how? I’d used all of the dried flowers to get us here.Mosswhistle’s face creased, tears pricking its eyes. “Mistress wants to leave?”“You want to stay?”The brownie began howling, shrill shrieks of anguish piercing the air.I hastily clamped one hand over the brownie’s mouth, my fingers fastening over its

rough, bark-like skin. “Silver bells, Mosswhistle!” I glanced back at the fae crawling outfrom between the trees, anxious they had heard us. Darker creatures skulked in theshadows, horns rising above their heads and blood dripping from their hands.

I shuddered. “Look, I can still do this. I’ll figure something out. I can get us to themanor. I just need to work out what went wrong with my enchantment.”

The brownie stilled beneath my hands, its eyes bulging.

“You need to be quiet, okay?” I hissed before releasing my hands.“Mistress,” the brownie whispered in a voice so low I had to bend forward to hear it.

“This is the manor.”I flinched back, ice gripping me. “Wh-what?”“The curse,” Mosswhistle rasped, still in an almost imperceptible whisper. “This is

what happens in the dark months, Mistress.”I jerked bolt upright again, my gaze running along the moss-covered earth to where

gravel was churned up with roots wriggling free from the soil.I did recognize this. We were standing where the driveway had once been.“The manor…”“Folkwood takes it back every year.” Mosswhistle hunched low to the ground, shifting

closer to my feet.“But—but Autumn Equinox isn’t over yet…” I trailed off, flinching at the sound of

windows shattering in their frames.A cold sweat broke out along my spine even as my shoulders set. It can’t be too late.“The rose garden,” I said. “I have to get to the rose garden.”If it hasn’t been reclaimed by the forest already.Without waiting for Mosswhistle to agree, I stumbled forward from the faerie ring,

heading toward the manor—or what was left of the manor. I had no idea whether I wouldbe safer heading directly through the house than I would skirting the estate’s perimeter,but it was the most direct route. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder, at the shadowedcreatures still prowling between the trees, scarlet blood dripping from their hands andpooling at their feet like fallen leaves.

The creatures coming out of the forest had to be worse than whatever I’d find in themansion.

I picked my way over the writhing roots and fallen leaves, moving as quickly as I couldwhile trying to avoid drawing the attention of the fae of the Folkwood. Shadows rose andfell as the earth shuddered, swallowing the manor back into the forest. Mosswhistlefollowed close at my heels.

Skidding to a halt outside the disintegrating building, I lifted my chin, staring up at theivy tumbling down from the walls, the huge trunks like pillars wrenching themselves fromthe ground. The fae servants had cloistered themselves at vantage points around thewalls, ripping vines free from the stone and whipping at the forest-creatures bearingdown upon them.

I drew in a shaky breath and plunged into the mansion.Inside, it was even harder to tell that this had ever been a grand manor, the sickly,

oppressive scent of rotting leaves forcing its way into my nostrils. The groans from theforest turned into deafening creaks, the fine furniture decaying, the press of autumn asheavy inside the manor as it had been outside. If you could even call this inside anymore,great chunks of the roof rotted away to reveal a swirling gray sky overhead.

I stared as a swarm of fae that looked like beetles skittered up what had once beenthe staircase, the wooden steps disappearing beneath their sharp jaws.

“Mistress!” Mosswhistle squeaked from my heels. “This way!”

Jerked out of my horrified stupor, I dropped my gaze to see the brownie speedingaway between two walls that had collapsed into each other to form a rough tunnel.

I raced after it, leaping over fallen, splintered blocks of wood, crunchy dry leaves, andslimy, trailing vines, some still glittering with the gold of Vanna’s magic. My feet kicked updusty earth, which rose in a dull cloud around my skirts.

I lost track of where we were in the myriad of corridors and rooms I had once knownso well, focusing all of my attention on not losing sight of the twig-like Mosswhistle in therapidly growing grasses.

It was only when we reached the hallway overlooking the gardens I stopped, thecooler rush of breeze telling me we were nearing the outside once again. Another groupof servants had gathered in here, using pieces they had torn off the house to fight backyet more shadowy fae slipping in through the gaps in the windows, shards of glassglinting in the dull light.

Tears pricked my eyes at the sight. They must have known it was hopeless, that theycouldn’t fight off these hulking, dark fae—much less hold back the enchantress’s will. Butit seemed the servants were as miserable about the curse as the brooding fae lord whowas at the center of it.

My gaze caught on a familiar, blue-haired faery, her wings buzzing furiously as shegrabbed hold of a shining candelabra still dripping with wax and hauled it from the wall,the piece breaking free with a loud crack.

Wispwing’s inky black eyes widened when she saw me. Our gazes met, and for amoment, the noise and the chaos around me stilled.

She hurled the candelabra at me.I dropped to the floor, then gasped as a heavy weight landed on my back. Scrambling

forward, I dragged myself out from under a hot body thick with fur. Horror shudderedthrough me as I took in the twisted wings crumpled behind a fae I couldn’t identify, itshands ending in long, black, serrated nails.

If Wispwing hadn’t thrown the candelabra at it, I’d be dead.Pressing myself up, I twisted back to look at Wispwing. Her eyes met mine once more

before she disappeared back into the chaos of the fight, now clutching a heavyornamental clock as a weapon.

“Mosswhistle,” I said, my voice catching, “you should stay here. With the others.”“Mistress—”“Go after Wispwing,” I instructed. “Now.”The brownie’s eyes shone with tears, then, with a brief nod, it disappeared after her.I turned back to face the gardens, distorted through the spikes of broken glass.I took a breath. Outside, seedlings were already sprouting up across the lawn, wild

plants wriggling over the grass so it looked more like a woodland clearing than a garden.The trees pressed in ever closer, their shadows running like lines of dark poison acrossthe grasses.

Squaring my shoulders, I ran.I didn’t look left or right as I hurtled through the whirling chaos of leaves and petals

and sticky sap that splattered against my cheeks, the wind tearing at my hair, my skirts.

My vision tunneled on where I knew the rose garden was.I can still stop all this.I just had to make it to the roses.I lifted my head, staring ahead of me to where the rose garden still stood, the walls

intact, the grotesque gargoyles still staring imperiously down, eerily precise against theblurring boundaries of the rest of the estate.

It’s still standing. That meant I still had time to stop all of this—it had to.My lungs burned as I put on an extra burst of speed, my chest heaving. When I

reached the door, I almost slammed into it.I pressed against the rough wood for a moment, my breath coming in rapid gasps. I

rested my forehead against the door, eyes closed, trying to steady myself before drawingon the energy I would need to create the kind of huge enchantment required to grow theroses here and now.

Reaching for the handle, my fingers closed around the cold metal.Nothing happened.I shook it, slamming one hand against the wood.But the door still didn’t open.

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - E I G H T

I POUNDED my fists against the door, staring up at the arch.“Let me in! Please.”I didn’t even know who I was addressing. This magic was the work of the curse, and

the enchantress wasn’t here. I spun around and leaned back against the wood, my heartrattling against my ribcage as I looked back the way I’d just run.

Instead of the manor’s lawns, the deep, writhing forest crawled before me like a livingcreature, a weak light diffusing through the trees knotting overhead. Dark, watchfulpillars of oak and birch and ash stared back at me from the shadows, their branchesbared like claws.

There was no green left in this part of the forest. It was a nightmare of dim,indiscriminate shadows, autumn leaves leeched of life, yellow and crisp, others fallen tothe ground in crimson rings, like pools of blood.

What now?My legs twitched from all the running, my breathing ragged and painful. Coming back

here on the day of the Autumn Equinox had been cutting it fine, but I was here. I shouldhave had a chance to fix things.

Amid the distant shrieks of the servants, the wrenching of roots being ripped from theground in a shower of dirt, the creaking of ancient wood, a chorus of howls tore throughthe forest, chilling the marrow of my bones.

I knew that sound.The barghest had come. And they were close by.My fingers trembled as I stood alert, gripping my iron knife tightly. Last time I’d faced

a pack of barghest, I’d almost died.I swallowed, trying to muster some semblance of courage. This time, I had more than

just a blade in my arsenal. This time I was an enchantress.Leaves rustled. A blur of dark fur flew from the trees into the narrow clearing before

me, as if thrown. The creature hit the tree with a crack and a whine, landing in anunmoving heap draped across the tree’s thick, raised roots. Its red eyes were vacant, itshorrible, almost-human face lolling toward me.

My mouth dried, a cold sweat breaking out at the base of my spine.

Something was already fighting the barghest.The attacker backed into the clearing, the long, white skull of its face snarling and

baring fangs. Twin thickset antlers rose from its temples and snagged on branches above,sending dead leaves raining down.

Thorne.Or rather, the Beast of the Folkwood.The pack of barghest advanced slowly, red eyes gleaming in the shadows. Thorne

bared his claws, pivoting quickly in an attempt to face all of them at once.Despair clawed up my spine, a frantic hopelessness building in my chest. Not only had

the manor been enveloped by the Folkwood and the garden sealed, but Thorne wasalready a beast again.

And it was all my fault.He was too far away or too distracted to notice me, his gaze never leaving his enemy.

Two of the barghest leaped at the same time. Thorne ducked under the first, then lockedhis horns with the second, colliding with its underbelly and tossing the creature into atree with a sickening crunch.

There were no crawling shadows around Thorne’s body, no recognizable tang of hismagic in the air. He was fighting with raw strength alone.

I watched him attack, lithe and light on his cloven hooves, racing in and out of thetrees. I was ready at any moment to leap to his aid if he looked in trouble.

My mind churned. I’d been so certain I could save both my sister and Thorne. Eventhough it was the last day the curse could be broken, I thought I’d have some time tomake things right here. I’d have given everything to the enchantment, all of the energy Ihad left, to save Thorne from his fate.

And now I couldn’t even talk to him to explain, or tell him how I felt. I’d seen him inthis feral state before. He couldn’t speak. He was a beast by nature.

Thorne hurtled back into the thick of the trees, followed by the snarling pack, threefurred bodies lying in the clearing in his wake. I started after him then stopped. A newscent cut through the earthy damp of the forest, the odor of rotting leaves and fallen fruitleft to decay.

Tendrils of mist crept toward me, low against the woodland floor. They snaked andpoured over the tree roots as if they were liquid, as though the Folkwood were warningme, secrets whispered through the leaves and bare branches.

A shadow appeared in the mist, the trees parting before it.My stomach clenched. The slight silhouette looked human.Yvette.The enchantress stepped into sight, wrinkling her nose at the dead bodies of the

barghest. She lifted her skirts in her hands as she stepped over the entrails, clad in aflowing dress made of layers of autumnal leaves in crimson and umber and gold. Herwhite hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, the front braided away from her sweet,ageless face, a regal headdress with a fan of twigs and matching leaves adorning herhead. The bronze bodice of her dress glinted. It was plated like armor and studded withglowing amber jewels.

This was the woman capable of all this carnage. A woman powerful enough to turnthe forest into a manor house and back again and to transform a beautiful, powerful faelord into a monster.

And all for a crime he hadn’t committed.As the enchantress stepped toward me, clusters of fleshy, red-and-black-capped

mushrooms sprang to life at her feet, quickly shrouded by the mist that followed,carpeting the ground.

My jaw set. I should be scared of her. But all I saw was the key to undoing this unfaircurse. I sheathed my knife.

I had to talk to her enchantress to enchantress.Greenwitch to greenwitch.Woman to woman.“Yvette!” I cried out, running toward her, my boots sinking into the soft, muddy

ground.The mist swirled and pooled around me, cool, vaporous fingers gripping my ankles.“Aster, dear,” the enchantress greeted me calmly, dipping in a curtsey, her leafy skirt

rustling. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. Look at this.” She nudged one of thebarghest corpses with her toe, silhouetted against the white-gray mist. “So much deathalready.”

“Yvette, listen,” I began. There was no time for formalities. “I need you to let me intothe rose garden. I know how to make the roses grow. I can still do it before the day isover!”

I reached into my satchel, retrieving the single rosebud Thorne had picked me fromthe garden, proof that they were starting to grow.

I knew I could get them to bloom if I tapped into the same power as I had the night ofthe revel. The kind where I gave myself over completely.

The enchantress laughed softly. It set the soft hairs rising on the back of my neck,worse than the howls of the barghest ringing in the distance or the crashing of themoving trees. The earthy odor of mushrooms caught in the back of my throat.

I took a step away from her, dropping the rosebud back into my bag.“You’re too late, dear. The curse breaks at midday on the Spring Equinox, when

Thorne turns into his fae form and must choose a girl at the Tithe. The curse enacts againat midday on the Autumn Equinox. And we’re well into the afternoon.”

My jaw worked, but no words came out. No one had told me that.She smiled gently at me. “The fact that you’re late, that you neglected Thorne and his

Court in favor of your responsibility to others, while you claim to know the key tobreaking the curse, just shows that you do not. Of course, I assumed you’d put yourfamily above a beast...and you proved it when you returned to them, after I lessened themagic holding the border between Rosehill and the Folkwood.”

My stomach dropped. Yvette was the reason Rosehill had been attacked by the fae.She was the reason Ava had gotten faesick.

“How could you weaken the barrier? It’s ancient fae magic.”She examined her nails. “The tree line keeping the fae of the Folkwood contained

within their prison is an old enchantment of mine, far older than the one on this manor.”Her lips lifted. “You are not worthy of breaking the curse on Thorne, dear, and I’m glad ofit. He deserves this.”

I clenched my fists at my side. “No one deserves this. And Thorne is a good person.”“Thorne no longer exists. For the next six months, there is only the Beast of the

Folkwood. A wild creature with no name and a base, animal intellect. If you value yourlife at all, sweet girl, you will leave him to roam the forest and not give him secondthought.”

“He protected me at the revel,” I protested. “Even as a beast.”“A dog will protect its master. That doesn’t mean it’s capable of behaving like a

human.”“Yvette, please.” My voice rose a pitch, simmering anger building in my core. “If you

just let me—”“Dear, sweet, innocent, ignorant Aster,” she crooned, cutting me off. Her gray eyes

sharpened, her crimson lips downturned.The gems studded on her armor-like bodice glowed brighter as she raised her arms.

The mist rose up from the forest floor in tendrils, snaking around her like smoke. Thetrees hissed and rustled, yellowed leaves spiraling and falling to the ground in droves.

The sickly daylight filtering through the trees grew weaker, diffusing into the mist.I clenched my fists at my side, itching to use one of my enchantments in my satchel.

But would they even work on Yvette? If she’d made the entire manor from the woods andcreated the curse for the rose garden on behalf of the Alder King, then she was far morepowerful than me.

“I’m afraid you’re ignorant of a great many truths, Aster. Of which you mustn’t blameyourself.”

“What do you mean?”“How do you think a curse is created?” Yvette’s voice took on the low, testing tone

that Sage used to employ in our lessons. She tilted her head to one side. “What’s thedifference between a curse and an enchantment?”

I swallowed hard. I had no idea of the answer, except that curses were negative,while, as far as I had seen, enchantments were inherently neither good nor bad.

She didn’t wait for me to venture a guess. “It’s the emotions used in the enchantmentthat turn it into a curse. The intent with which one draws upon the magic of the land.True, I enacted this curse with the support of the Alder King. But there is far more to thisstory than you know. I bound this curse with rage and hate and grief.” Her voicesharpened with the last word.

Grief?“The girl who was killed…”“Was my daughter.” The enchantress’s pale face was a mask, her gray eyes boring

into me.The mist swirled up around us, walking wet fingers up my arms and stroking my

cheeks. My lungs grew tight, the air heavy with moisture and the lingering tang of faerieblood.

That’s impossible.I twisted at the strap of my satchel. “But I’m the hundredth Tithe girl. The girl who

died… That happened at least a century ago. And you’re human.” Suddenly, my wordswere hesitant.

My gaze swept over Yvette’s oddly ageless face again, her smooth porcelain skin, herfair, almost invisible lashes and brows. Her sharp, knowing eyes.

“I am older than I appear,” she said in a cool voice. “There are some advantages toliving in the Fae Courts.”

My vision swam. The enchantress was the dead girl’s mother. No wonder she didn’twant me to break the curse, wanted Thorne to remain a beast forever…

A brisk autumn breeze rattled through the trees, tugging dark hair from my braid andwhipping it across my vision. “Why curse Thorne to take a human girl each year?” I triednot to sound accusing, the bitterness at every girl who’d been lost to the Tithe before meseeping into my tone. “You know what it is to lose a daughter. Why would you weavethat into a curse, knowing another mother and father would lose their child, every year?”

Yvette picked at her nails, unable, or unwilling, to meet my gaze. “It was a necessaryevil, dear. And as I said, you still do not know the full extent of the curse. It needed ayoung, impressionable girl to prove a point.”

“Which is?”“Better you don’t know.” The enchantress’s composure twitched, the gems in her

bodice flaring brighter. Her deep red lips curved into a smile that sent ice rushing throughmy veins. “Right on time.”

Between the dark, silent pillars of the trees, four shadowy figures appeared in themist. They moved toward us with a jerky, lurching gait. My mouth dried. They were tallenough to be fae…but why would Yvette summon fae?

“Your daughter’s death…”“Eila,” she said coldly.I swallowed, trying to force my gaze to stay on the enchantress’s face and not dart to

the advancing figures. I still had one piece of information up my sleeve, which mightmake a difference. The version of the story Mosswhistle had told me.

“Eila’s death… It was an accident.”“An accident?” Yvette spat, her nostrils flaring. “She was pursued through the woods

by five fae males hunting her for sport. Thorne and his cadre, who assumed they wereuntouchable because of his position. So untouchable that when Rowdon fell in love with ahuman girl, he believed that meant he was entitled to her.”

I barely breathed.“Eila ran from them. Of course she did—some girls can see through the shallow mask

of fae fairness.” Her voice took on an accusatory pitch. “They can see the beast behindthe beauty. My Eila ran from them. And they tracked her, like she was one of the animalsin their fae hunts. She never came back out of that forest.”

The shadowy figures were so close now I could make out their wicker bodies. Mybreath caught in my throat.

The fae statues from the arbor wing.

They stood, two on either side, flanking the enchantress. They were taller than her bya head, their pointed ears and snarling faces just visible in the mist. Their knotted wickerbodies seemed to writhe like a rotten log crawling with maggots.

“Aster, meet Rowdon, Gael, Arden, and Ren. Four of the fae responsible for killing mychild. Of course, this is just my interpretation of them. The real fae are long since dead.”

“But your daughter died in an accident—”“My daughter died because her beauty caught the eye of a fae beast.” She

straightened her spine. “And now, Aster, you must die, too.”At her words, the wicker fae prowled forward.Terror seared through me, and my stomach constricted with panic as I backed away,

fumbling for my satchel. The statues weren’t real fae, so my iron knife was useless.Clinking bottles fumbled beneath my numb, trembling fingers. How did I fight anotherenchantment?

Before I could select one of the bottles, wicker hands gripped at my arms, as strongand firm as if they belonged to real fae. The smell of damp, rotting wood seeped into theair.

“Yvette, I’m human,” I pleaded. “An enchantress, like you.”“I know,” she sighed. “I take no pleasure in killing you. But you have to understand,

dear, you’re a threat to all this.”She gestured around, but I could see nothing beyond the mist. My body screamed, my

joints straining as the wicker limbs pulled me tightly from either side, threatening to ripme apart.

“Goodbye, Aster.”“Yvette!” My pleading cry was choked from my lips as damp, wooden fingers wrapped

around my throat, tightening like a vice.

C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - N I N E

I REACHED for the wicker fae’s hands, my fingertips scrabbling at the knotted wood thatformed its knuckles, trying to prize its grip from my neck.

It was like trying to pull a tree free from its roots.My throat burned. I tried to swallow, my mouth opening and closing, my airways

forced closed.Stars danced before my eyes as my movements grew weaker, slower, my fingers

losing purchase on the wooden hands slowly clamping down on my neck. My breathstopped, quick, choked sounds I didn’t recognize escaping my mouth.

I can’t breathe.Shadows crept across my vision, my chest burning as my hands dropped to my sides,

the life fading from my body, my limbs loose.I went somewhere far away from myself, my mind drifting free of my aching, dying

body.Then the hands around my throat were ripped away with such force I flew to the

ground.My side thudded against the earth, hard.I gasped in air.For a moment I lay still, painful bruises blossoming along my side, each inhale like fire

coursing down my throat as I sucked in more and more air, my body frantic for breath.Tendrils of plants crept over my body, tickling my arms, the forest still very much alive,the mist trailing damp fingers over my skin. My lungs ached as I drew air into them, but itwas the ache of relief as life flowed back into my body, my thoughts turning crisp andcoherent again.

Slowly, I put my hands to my neck, the skin tender, my movements sluggish.A roar thundered through the air, and I flinched back, hunching my shoulders and

dropping my head as I waited for the next blow to come.Yvette surely had only stopped the wicker fae from strangling me so she could kill me

some other way.She wanted me dead because I was a threat to all this.Because I can still grow the roses?

Hope fluttered in my chest like new shoots stirring in the earth, and when no furtherattack came, I pressed myself away from the ground on shaking arms, blinking rapidly.My vision swam, the mist still swirling around us, bright-yellow leaves whipping throughthe air like flickers of flame. But beyond it all, I could make out the blurred shape of ahuge, antlered beast fighting the wicker fae.

Thorne.The hope in my chest bloomed.He’s still in there.My hands moved from my throat to my eyes, rubbing them, trying to regain my vision.

I squinted back at the dancing, fighting figures.My heart leaped into my mouth.Thorne was latched onto one of the wicker fae, using his teeth and claws to shred it to

pieces, the sheer strength of his beast form turning the enchantress’s creation intowoodchip.

One already lay in splinters on the ground—the one who’d tried to strangle me, Iguessed—its head ripped from its body, the wood strangely dull against the shiningautumn leaves now that the enchantment had been destroyed.

Thorne let out another savage growl as he tore more lines of wicker from the fae’schest, the shredded wood spraying out like blood.

The fae was fighting back, though, raking its wooden fingers against Thorne’s back.Drawing real blood.

And the remaining two wicker fae were closing in…I stumbled to my feet. I had to do something. To help him.The roses.Thorne had told me that my enchantments would be stronger when I took my time

over them, over the course of a growing season, when a plant was imbued with my Craftat every stage of its growth. And I’d already poured so much of myself into the roses—literally my blood and sweat from physical labor and pricked fingers—my energy, and ofcourse, the feeling for Thorne I hadn’t been able to name.

I knew what that feeling was now.And that feeling might be strong enough for them to break free of the walls

imprisoning them.I flexed my fingers, rolling my shoulders. I cast a quick glance at the enchantress. She

wasn’t watching me, her steely gaze fixed on Thorne and the wicker fae, her red lipsparted.

I dropped back to the ground. I’d never tried something like this—before, I had eitherused my Craft on already grown flowers, weaving enchantments into them as I arrangedthem into posies or poppets, or I had woven enchantments into plants as I had grownthem, like those in the potting shed, so that the plants’ effects might be more potentwhen used as bottled enchantments. Now, I needed to combine both. To draw on thepower I had woven into the roses as I’d grown them and to enchant them into behavingunlike any normal roses.

I knew it must be possible. Wasn’t that how the enchantress had woven this curse,

grown an entire mansion out of the forest itself?I didn’t know whether I had the energy in me to do it.But I had to try.With trembling hands, I drew the rosebud back out of my satchel and planted the end

of the stem deep into the earth.The heat built in my fingertips, so hot I thought it might scorch the flower. I allowed

myself to slip into a dream, to linger on the feelings that had taken root in my heart.Feelings for Thorne.

The earth shuddered beneath me, and a silence fell. Thorne and the wicker fae bothhalted their movements, and the enchantress whipped her head around to look at me.

The roses burst out of their garden, over and under the walls, erupting through thelocked door.

The flowers were in full bloom, the scarlet petals bright against the misty forestcolors. They emerged joyfully, hurriedly, the last remnants of summer, as if to say, herewe are. We’ve been waiting for you.

I shot a triumphant look at Yvette.I did it.The roses snaked over the earth, their thorns carving deep scores into the ground,

slicing through the tangled knot of forest plants covering the meadow, racing for thewicker fae closing in on Thorne.

Realizing what was happening, Thorne returned with renewed vigor to fighting thewicker fae, his frantic movements tearing the wood to pieces.

My roses slithered up to the remaining two, coiling around them like serpents andfastening tight until the pressure forced the wood to crack, then to shatter.

“Was that what it felt like when you killed them the first time, Beast?” Yvette’s voicecut like a hot blade through the air.

My gaze snapped back to Thorne.He froze at her words, his shoulders still rising and falling as he caught his breath. His

claws curved in on themselves in the resemblance of fists.“Funny how it always ends this way, isn’t it?” the enchantress purred. “You tried to

refuse to punish them in life for what they did to my Eila. And you were forced to killthem in the end, anyway.”

My chest tightened. Thorne had been forced to kill his friends…The enchantress cast a rueful glance at the remains of her wicker fae. “Then I

recreate them in this form as a reminder for you of what they did. Of why you’re here.And you destroyed those, too. Can you never escape this cycle of destruction, Beast? Ofcourse, that’s the point of the curse…”

“You made him kill his friends,” I interrupted, fury lacing my voice. “Wasn’t thatretribution enough? Why curse him on top of that?”

Very slowly, Yvette turned to face me. “Foolish human girl. With your roses, you havetold me exactly what feelings you have for this murderer. For this Beast.”

“End the curse,” I snapped. I gestured to the roses. “I did what I had to. The rosesbloomed.”

The enchantress’s mouth twisted into a smile. “You fulfilled part of the curse. Butpoor, stubborn Aster, there’s more to it than that...only I’m afraid you’ll never find out.”

Fleshy vines of ivy flew up from the forest floor, hissing toward me like the lash of awhip—only to be met with my roses.

Ivy tangled with briars, the plants twisting around each other as they fought fordominance. They wrestled, filling the air with a sickly green smell, stray tendrils tearingaway from the growing knot of stems, reaching out for me, the enchantress, desperate tocoil around us, to strangle the life out of us.

I raised one hand to my already sore throat.Only it seemed to take an effort just to lift my arm.The blood drained from my face. My energy was fading. Fast.Already, a tremble had stolen into my limbs that had nothing to do with fear.

Tiredness crept up the back of my neck, a sharp pain tightening around my eyes. My bodyturned soft, and I longed to lie down on the spongy mosses beneath my feet. To close myeyes. To sleep.

“It’s pointless, Aster,” the enchantress taunted. “I have more power than you. Asidefrom the fact I’ve been enchanting for centuries, I have these…” She waved one handdown her front, indicating the gems studding her armored bodice. “Enchanters who workfor the Alder King all wear these. And do you know what they do?”

I didn’t reply, my chest heaving as I fought to draw in more air through the thick,damp mist, to summon the energy to keep fighting. I hadn’t slept last night, and I'dalready used enchantments to heal Ava, on the toadstool ring, now on the roses. I wasexhausted.

“They contain energy, Aster. Extra reserves for us to draw on, sometimes from otherenchanters. It’s how I could create all this without killing myself in the process.” Shegestured to the gardens, back to the mansion, almost entirely swallowed by the Folkwoodnow. She cocked her head to one side. “And it’s how I know I will destroy you.”

A low growl sounded by my ear.I flinched back as I turned to see Thorne right beside me.Even though I knew it was him, it was impossible to ignore the fear that the sight of

him ignited in my body. As my gaze ran over the twisting antlers rising above the whiteskull, the hulking, black body, my blood pounded hot through my veins, a pricklingsensation running down the back of my head.

I began to tremble.He turned that terrible skull toward me...and in the sockets of the skull, two hazel

eyes met mine, dancing with all the colors of the forest floor.My fear was washed away like a flood of cool, summer rain.Thorne held out a clawed hand.“No,” the enchantress said sharply.Meeting her eyes with a defiant glare, I clasped hold of the Beast’s claws.A rush of energy flooded through me, like I’d drunk tea sweetened with honey, my

body flushed with raw, bright power. I lifted my chin, my hand gripping Thorne’s tighter.Thorne might not have his magic, but he had raw, bestial energy that, to my exhausted

human body, felt endless.“Keep your gems,” I spat at the enchantress. “I don’t need them.”My roses ripped the ivy to shreds, the scent of plant matter in the air overpowering,

sap raining down on the meadow.The briars raced for Yvette, thorns clawing at her skin, tearing into her flesh, the

blood on her pale skin like rose petals on snow.So why didn’t she look more afraid?“So close, Aster.” The enchantress laughed, despite the attacking plants coiling

around her arms.Her gaze wasn’t on me. She was looking behind me, triumph lighting her eyes.I twisted around.A fifth wicker fae was just visible through the mist, still whole, still moving.No—not a fae. The girl I had seen cowering from the rest of them in the arbor wing.

The figure Yvette had created to represent her daughter. Eila.She was holding a huge wicker bow and arrow, the string pulled taut.A thwang pierced the air as she loosed it.The arrow thudded into Thorne’s chest.

C H A P T E R F O R T Y

I SCREAMED as Thorne staggered back with a roar of pain, the whites of his eyes flashing.His claws slipped through my fingers as he clutched at the shaft of the arrow. He

gripped it and yanked it straight back out again, crimson droplets spraying through theair.

He took a step forward, swiping his talons in Yvette’s direction, then his legs buckled,and he crumpled to the floor.

Blood poured from his wound, matting his fur and soaking into the moss below.I watched the blood pool in horror. In this form, without magic, Thorne didn’t have the

fae ability to heal himself. He would bleed out like any other wild animal shot throughwith an arrow.

I looked frantically around for any healing herbs I could use, then, seeing none,snapped my gaze back to the enchantress, the wicker girl frozen at her side.

“Aster. It’s better this way.” Yvette shook her head, faux sympathy turning down herlips. “Fae kill humans. Greenwitches protect humans. You have a duty to your own kind toprotect them with your knowledge and your new powers.” She turned to the wickerstatue, trailing her fingertips along the woven hair. “Do you think Eila would have died ifI’d been there to protect her that night? Would the púca have been able to kill yourmentor if you’d known how to enchant then?”

I stiffened. “H-how do you know about Sage?”“The point is, you have a responsibility. We both do. Do you understand what I’m

saying, Aster? Human enchanters can be just as powerful as the fae. We have access tothe same magic. We must do what is required of us to protect our own kind.”

Thorne pressed his claws awkwardly over his wound, panting heavily.I glared up at Yvette. “That’s rich, coming from a minion of the Alder King.”The enchantress pinched her red lips together. “You think you care for Thorne.” She

swept closer, her leafy gown whispering across the forest floor. “But you do not knowhim, not even in his fae form.” She swept an arm toward him, malice sparking in hereyes. “Did he tell you he’s the son of the Alder King? Prince to all of Faerie?”

Prince?My mouth fell open, my knees watery.

That can’t be true.“Silvius, the Alder King, has other, younger sons, of course.” Yvette continued. “And

while Thorne is cursed and banished, he can never truly be an heir. He and his cadrebroke the Treaty when they killed my daughter, and Thorne’s punishment was to kill theothers. But instead, he brought them here, to the distant edges of the Kingdom, to thewilds of the Folkwood. This forest has long been a place of banishment for any fae whokilled a human. For Thorne and his cadre, it became a playground for their wickeddelights.”

I shook my head, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. She must be twisting thetruth, trying to turn me against Thorne.

She took a step closer, her expression darkening as she looked down at the Beastsprawled out on the ground. “When they were discovered, I insisted Silvius punish his sonmore severely than just any fae who had flouted the Treaty. And so Thorne was forced tokill his friends and cursed to remain here until he could prove that he understood thevalue of a human life. Until he proved himself worthy of being called prince once again.”

Yvette was at my side now, unsheathing my iron knife and pressing it into my hand.My fingers twitched, blood pounding in my hands, my head, my ears.

“Does this story tell you, Aster, how little this Beast values human life? He has lied toyou time and time again, even if just through omission. He lied to you about who he trulyis, he lied to you about the true nature of the curse.”

All this time, Thorne had been a banished Prince of Faerie.My fingers wrapped around the smooth hilt of the knife, cool and damp from the forest

floor.“If you kill the Beast now, no other girls must be taken for the Tithe,” Yvette

murmured, her breath hot against my ear.I swallowed the lump in my throat.Her voice softened. “You’re a greenwitch, Aster. You know when death lingers. Look

at him. He’s already lost too much blood to be saved. He’ll die slowly and painfully unlessyou help him.” She reached out, stroking a curl of hair back from my face, tucking ittenderly behind my ear. “It would be a kindness.”

Her words filled my head, surrounding me like a sickly, floral perfume. A thought tookroot, burrowing deep into my mind.

“One way or another, Aster, the Beast dies tonight. But you don’t have to die withhim. Kill him, and I’ll let you live.”

My jaw set at the threat in her words.I turned and stabbed.The motion was neither wild nor passionate, but calm and smooth. The enchanted

blade slid through the bronze armor of Yvette’s bodice like butter, the metal giving waywith a hiss and a thunk—then no sound as the knife pierced the soft, yielding fleshbeneath.

I let go of the handle, my palms damp but my hands steady.The enchantress staggered back, her crimson lips opening and closing in short, sharp

gasps. “You…”

The final wicker statue, her daughter, rushed forward to catch her as she swayedbackward. But the wicker whorls of the statue’s limbs were already unraveling like frayedrope. Yvette thudded to the ground, cushioned by the unbound strips of wood.

The mist around us thinned, dissipating with a sound like a long, throaty exhale.Slithering vines slowed, then hung motionless. In the distance, the huge, moving treesthat had been groaning like ships in a storm quieted.

The enchantress lay motionless.An eerie stillness blanketed the Folkwood as I dropped to my knees at Thorne’s side.The wicker statues had disintegrated, the forest had calmed, and yet he was still a

beast.Blood matted his fur, his huge frame shaking. He lay awkwardly on the ground, his

proud antlers knotted with roots and undergrowth, his skull tilted toward the canopy ofleaves.

I ripped fistfuls of moss from the ground and pressed it against the wound, trying tostem the bleeding.

He stirred, tugging my hands from the moss and taking them between his claws. I ranmy thumb across the rough pads of his paws.

“Thorne,” I began, my throat thick and painful.He let out a soft growl, tilting his skull to look at me.Tears needled my eyes. “It’s over. She’s dead.”But the curse hadn’t completely died with her—whatever magic she had drawn from

the land lingered, tying him to this form.Thorne’s eyes glazed. He opened his mouth and whined.My heart twisted as his eyes flickered closed.I made him press his own claws against the moss, laying my hands gently on top of

his as hot tears rolled down my cheeks.If I’d stayed and poured my feelings into the roses—if I’d been honest with myself

earlier, this would never have happened.I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment I’d stopped thinking of Thorne as a beast. But as

I’d learned to channel my emotions into my enchanting, I’d freed something—the wildsong in my heart.

Opening my heart to Thorne had changed me. It had stripped me back to my veryessence and built me again.

A stronger Aster and a softer Aster, all at once.I balled my hands into fists.A terrible beast lay before me, all sharp edges, with talons and fangs and horns. And

somehow, I loved him as dearly as I loved the beautiful fae beneath. A Prince of Faerie, ifwhat Yvette said was to be believed.

Now that she was dead, his true form might be lost forever, but that didn’t meanThorne had to die.

I pressed myself to standing, a fierce resolve surging through my veins. I was agreenwitch and an enchantress. I was Aster Wilden. And I did not let people die on mywatch.

Especially not those I loved.

C H A P T E R F O R T Y - O N E

“DON’T DİE ON ME,” I demanded, my eyes darting around the woods. I’d healed Thorne beforewith an enchanted poultice, after the barghest, and I would do it again.

I just needed to find some yarrow.Thin needles of light pierced the trees, making the forest floor glitter. All I could see

was a muddle of red and gold leaves peppered with mushrooms. “Just hold on, Thorne.”My voice sounded more strained than reassuring as I dropped to my knees and begancrawling through the damp leaves, looking for any sign of the feathery, green stems, thetiny bundles of white flowers that would stop Thorne’s blood soaking into the moss androses. I scrambled across the soft ground, brushing aside dead leaves and scraps ofwicker, ignoring the mud and gore soaking into my skirts.

This is useless.I stumbled back to Thorne’s side, my tears pouring faster as I accepted the inevitable.There were no plants left that could save him now.“Thorne, stay with me. Please. Please don’t leave me. I came back for you. I will

always come back for you.” Tears dripped from my chin.The roses I’d summoned before stirred, weaving around his skull and antlers, cradling

him with silky, fragrant petals as my heart simultaneously felt like it would burst and ripapart.

“I love you,” I whispered, burying my face in his chest and holding him tightly.The forest held its breath, the silence ringing in my ears. Then a brisk autumn breeze

sighed through the trees, filling the air with the soft murmur of leaves, the trill of distantbirdsong, the hum of insects.

His body was warm beneath me, the rise and fall of his chest slowing.“Aster...,” Thorne croaked.“I’m so sorry,” I murmured, squeezing my eyes closed tighter, hot tears tracking down

my cheeks.Then I froze.He’d spoken.I pulled back suddenly, my head spinning at the person lying in front of me.Not the Beast, but my Thorne, fae once more.

“Thorne?” My voice throbbed with disbelief. He pulled himself up to sitting, his skinashen against the plants surrounding him, protecting his modesty. My gaze found his barechest, free of tattoos but still streaked with blood. My fingers reached toward the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s healing,” Thorne half whispered.The puncture was still there, red and angry, but he was right. The bleeding had

stopped. The heavy tang of his magic shimmered in the air.My shoulders dropped, relief shuddering through my limbs. He was immortal again. He

was going to live.I leaned forward and threw my arms around him, pressing myself against his hot

body, burying my face into his neck. The thought of losing him now, after everything, hadbeen too much to bear.

His arms wrapped around me, one sliding around my waist, the other around my back,his hand stroking my hair. Every muscle in my body relaxed as I breathed in his familiarrosewood and smoke scent.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” I murmured into his neck. “I was going to save you.”“Aster.” He moved his hands to my arms, leaning me back gently. Hazel eyes met

mine. “You did save me. You saved me from the first moment you stepped in front ofyour sister at the Tithe, and you’ve saved me every day since.”

I trembled at his words. “Do you remember everything that happened just now?”He nodded. “My emotions were limited. But even as a beast, my only thought was to

protect you.”“So you heard what I said…”Color flooded his cheeks, the same color as the roses stirring around us.“I feel the same way, Aster.”My heart leaped. “Feel what way?” I wanted to hear those words more than anything

else.Thorne leaned forward, running his thumb along my cheek, my chin, sending pleasant

chills running down my neck, my arms. “You already know.”The heady bloom of roses filled the air, every single bud in full blossom. My gaze

dropped to Thorne’s lips—lips I’d watched frowning, snarling, and smirking, but which hadalways looked soft and inviting against his sharp, angled features. He tugged me closer.

His long fingers slid into my hair, and I leaned closer, those soft lips parting for mine.He kissed me gently at first, then urgently, his hand raking through my hair and pullingme closer.

His touch was heat. A wildness flamed through my body, every nerve, every musclealive. His lips kissed a line to my neck, grazing the tender skin.

When he finally pulled away, he left me half breathless, my pulse racing.“I love you, Aster.” His voice was low and firm, his flushed face serious.I stared into those hazel eyes, their crushed forest greens, sunlit golds, and rich,

earthy browns. Those colors were home to me now.“What now?” I asked.“Well…” Thorne smirked. “You should stay here and keep kissing me until I’m healed

enough to stand. And then I should probably find some clothes…”

C H A P T E R F O R T Y - T W O

THE BLOODTHİRSTY FAE of the forest scattered back into the depths of the Folkwood as soon asthey sensed Thorne’s magic had returned.

The Cursed Court was no more.The enchanted trees that had made up most of the manor house had just gotten up

and walked away, leaving the rest looking like a crumbled, abandoned ruin, halfreclaimed by woodland.

When we’d arrived back at the mansion, hand in hand, the servants had whooped andcheered to see Thorne in his fae form once more. None of them seemed put out that theirpowerful master was half naked and wearing pants fashioned from leaves and bits ofmoss. Mosswhistle had even complimented them.

Thorne had used his magic to lift some of the biggest fallen trees, and now theservants puttered around clearing the rubble, making enough space for us to lodge in, atleast until we decided what to do next. I’d been tending to the fae servants, healing cutsand breaks for the last few hours—using traditional greenwitch methods after I’d almostfainted when I’d attempted to use my enchantments.

I brushed my hair back from my face with my forearm as I finished tying a bandagearound a hob’s spindly arm. Instead of blood, I was covered in a sticky green substancethat looked and smelled like sap. The Little Folk didn’t have the same healing powers asthe near-immortal Court Fae, and many of them had been injured in the fight.

“Mistress needs more calendula?” Mosswhistle appeared at my side clutching someslightly ragged-looking amber flowers salvaged from the garden, mixed with a fistful ofuseless weeds.

“Thank you, Mosswhistle. You can leave them just there.” I indicated the rudimentarypile of healing poultices and tools on the ground next to my satchel.

The brownie limped over to them.“Mosswhistle, let me take a look at your leg,” I demanded.“Leg fine,” Mosswhistle insisted. “No hurting. Only one thing hurt in the fight.” It

pulled out a fistful of crispy petals, black eyes pooling with tears.It took me a moment to realize it was the daisy chain. Or what was left of it.“No matter, I’ll make you another one,” I promised. “But only if you sit down and take

the weight off of your leg.”“But Mosswhistle helps.”“You can help me by sitting down.”The brownie huffed and hopped up onto the log next to the hob.I scooped up a long, sturdy twig from the ground. “And if you must walk around as

soon as I turn my back, use this cane.”The brownie accepted it with an unimpressed look. A long shadow fell over us, and I turned to see Thorne. As always, his beauty knocked

the breath from my chest. Perhaps even more so now that he was mine. That I couldreach out and touch him. He was dressed in a dark-green shirt, the laces half undone, hisusual black pants tucked into leather boots. There was nothing to suggest he had almostdied a few hours ago. He looked exactly as he always had, minus the briar tattoos thathad disappeared from his skin.

“You found clothes,” I observed.“No need to sound so disappointed, petal.” He flashed me a wolfish grin.I brushed a thumb over the back of his hand, my lips tugging up. “And the tattoos?”“They were a marker of the curse.”Of course, they’d disappeared as soon as it was broken. “I’d gotten used to them. You

look bare without them.” I gave him a small smile. He offered his hand. “If you’re finished with your patients, will you walk with me?”I interlaced my fingers with his, looking back over my shoulder. Mosswhistle had

already discarded the cane and clambered down from the log. Being helpful was in abrownie’s nature. It seemed resting was not.

Thorne led me toward the crumbling remains of the manor. At the top of the steps leading up to what used to be the front door, he sat and patted

for me to sit next to him.How was it only six months ago I’d arrived on the gravel driveway, still half in shock

from the Tithe?I settled beside him. Insects droned in the background, the evening light dusky and

dim, the tips of the trees lit gold from the setting sun.Thorne cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you properly, for breaking the curse.”I scoffed. “You don’t need to thank me, Thorne.”“I do.” He nodded slowly. “After I lost my friends, being trapped here year after year…

I’d given up hope.”“Well, if I knew killing Yvette was all it would take…” I trailed off with a dark laugh.

What would I have done differently? Would I have tried to kill her at the revel? I wasn’t amurderer; I was a healer. I’d only stabbed Yvette because she’d threatened to kill me if Ididn’t stab Thorne.

Thorne cocked his head. “Aster, that’s not how you broke the curse.”“What do you mean?”He ran a hand through his hair. “There was more to the curse than I could tell you.

Than anyone could. It wasn’t growing the roses… The roses were just a clue. They werealready enchanted, and they would only grow if the person tending to them fell in love

with me. Wholeheartedly. That’s what broke the curse.”“So it was only when I said it out loud…”He nodded. “The enchantress made that the key to the curse,” he continued,

“because she believed a human girl would never willingly fall in love with a fae like me.Her daughter Eila never did, even growing up at the heart of the Alder King’s Court.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, an inhale swelling my chest. The first time I’d stoodbefore Thorne, I’d had the same bodily reaction as any prey, to run. His powerful bodyand the heavy drag of magic that followed him around had terrified me.

But I’d seen past all that to a male who used his immense power to protect those whoneeded him.

“You should know, Aster… We never meant for anyone to get hurt. Eila… It was anaccident. Rowdon was convinced he was in love with her. The hunt that night…it was justsupposed to be a game. A kind of courtship. But she tripped and fell.” His throat bobbed.“I realize now how much it would have scared her. That Rowdon was wrong to havepursued her at all. And what I did… It was worse. As a Prince of Faerie, it was all themore important that I behaved well toward humans. That was why my punishment wasdifferent from the others.” He let out a low breath. “Sometimes, I believe I deserveeverything that happened to me.”

“That you can say that now… It shows how much you’ve changed.” I squeezed hishand, emotion swelling in my chest. “So what will you do now your punishment is over?” Idropped my gaze to my lap, a flutter in my stomach giving rise to the question I wasafraid to ask. “You’re free to leave the Folkwood for the first time in a hundred years.”

“That’s true.” Thorne’s tone was contemplative. “It’s only a matter of time before theAlder King realizes the curse has lifted and summons me home.”

“To the Forest Court?”“Yes.”My mouth suddenly felt dry, and I was grateful my head was leaning on Thorne’s

shoulder so I wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.What did that mean for us? Would he ask me to come with him to the Forest Court?

As long as Rosehill was protected with my enchantments, and with Marcia tending to thetown as an apprentice greenwitch, I supposed I wouldn’t mind leaving, explore the huge,sprawling world I’d learned of from the library ceiling.

“In the Forest Court…are humans and fae…allowed to be together?” I askedtentatively.

Thorne cleared his throat. “It’s quite unusual. Humans tend to stay in theirsettlements, and we stay in our Courts. The Tithe humans—the servants—are generallyconsidered beneath the fae.” Thorne tapped his boot against the steps. “However, thecraftsmen who work in the Courts are often taken as consorts.”

“And the enchanters?”Thorne shrugged. “It must happen sometimes, although very few fae know of them as

enchanters. As I told you before, enchanting is a well-kept secret.”“And you only know about it because you’re the Prince of Faerie?” I lifted my head, my

gaze meeting his.

“Yes. Only the Forest Court knows of their existence.”Of course, not only had I had to fall in love with a fae, but I’d had to fall in love with

the Alder Prince. His eyes softened, those dark brows lowering. “And what about you? What will you do

next?”“I’ll go back to my family in Rosehill and check they’re okay—that Ava recovered from

her faesickness. I’ll speak with the new greenwitch, Marcia. And after that…” I smiledcoyly. “It depends, I suppose.”

“You know, Rosehill is the only part of the Folkwood I’ve never been to. I’ve alwayswanted to see it…”

“You have?” A line of worry creased his brow. “Do you think I would be welcome there? After the

Tithe?”“Uh… I’m not sure about being welcome. They might take some convincing. Luckily, I

can be very persuasive.” I bumped my shoulder against his with a smile, trying to wipethe anxious look from his face. “After I explain the curse and that the Tithe is over, they’llprobably want to celebrate Rosehill’s freedom.”

“A revel?”I raised an eyebrow. “A party. And not the kind where people dance until their feet

bleed or you launch yourself through a window…” I laughed at Thorne’s unconvincingattempt at looking contrite. “You can meet my family.”

He brought my hand to his lips, brushing a hot kiss on the back of my knuckles. “Ifthey’re anything like Laurel, consider me nervous, petal.”

I chuckled. “Well, you should be worried, beast. The rest of them are far worse.”“And afterward…” Thorne leaned closer, pressing my hand to his heart. “Perhaps you

might accompany me to meet my family?”Thorne’s family.The King and Queen of Faerie. The biggest Faerie Court in all the Kingdom.His invitation was both unnerving and reassuring. I couldn’t imagine being presented

to the Alder King, but not only did I want to go wherever Thorne went, I wanted to knowmore about my powers, too. About Yvette’s role at the Court and the human-faerelationship in the rest of the Kingdom of Faerie. Rosehill might be free of its Tithe, butthe other Courts weren’t so lucky.

Yvette had been right about one thing. I had the power to help more people than I’dever thought.

Maybe I could even petition the Alder King himself to strengthen the barrier of theFolkwood, to keep the people of Rosehill safe forever from the imprisoned fae.

But those were all conversations for the future. Right now, I wanted to concentrate onthe impossibly handsome fae sitting beside me, who currently looked more nervous thanI’d ever seen him.

“You don’t have to,” he added. “I’ll go wherever you go. Or stay wherever you want tostay. I’ve just found you, Aster. I won’t leave your side until you ask me to.”

I leaned forward, grazing his lips with mine. “I won’t leave your side, either,” I

promised.

C H A P T E R F O R T Y - T H R E E

COOL DAWN LİGHT splintered through the open ceiling above us.Reluctantly, I rolled onto my back and cracked an eye open. The sky had lightened to

a soft, pale blue, faint pinpricks of stars just visible still. My breath fogged in the air. Inestled closer to the fae male beside me, instinctively seeking his warmth against thechill of the autumn morning.

I twisted my head to look over my shoulder as I felt my body bump against another, agoofy smile spreading across my face.

He’s still here.I could hardly believe that this fae lord—this fae prince—loved me like I loved him. My

gaze trailed over the muss of his dark hair over the pillows, his full mouth relaxed, longlashes sweeping down over angular cheekbones as he slept. His perfect, inhuman beautystill made me feel giddy. It had been a chaste night, both of us too exhausted to stayawake after our battle with the enchantress and all of the work that had been required tomake some of the rooms habitable, but I had slept cocooned in Thorne’s arms. Feelingthe press of his body against mine, I didn’t ever want a scrap of distance between usagain.

My stomach let out a loud grumble, and I winced back from him. Well, maybe I wouldcope with a bit of distance in the name of eating some food. Was it too much to hopethat there might have been some food left in the kitchens before the enchantmentended?

I looked toward the doorway—and my eyes snagged on a tray left out on a table,holding a teapot with steam spiraling from its spout, a chipped teacup, and a pile ofapples shining next to a bowl of bread soaking in milk and honey.

Mosswhistle.How had the brownie managed to salvage a china tea set from the wreckage of the

manor?Slipping out of bed without waking the slumbering fae beside me, I reached for

Thorne’s cloak slung over a chair. I wrapped myself in it, breathing in his scent of smokeand rosewood that clung to the soft material, and padded over to the tray. Pouring myselfa cup of tea, I cradled it between my palms, feeling the heat soaking into my skin.

The sleepy smile on my face widened, warmth pooling in my chest. I had a handsome,perfectly infuriating fae whom I hoped to wake up next to for a long time to come. And aservant—no, a friend—who was still looking out for me, even after I’d come so close toletting the curse remain unbroken. I set the cup back on the table as a thought occurredto me.

I could never thank Mosswhistle enough for looking after me when none of the otherservants would, for bringing the faerie fruit that had saved Ava, for hastening me back tothe mansion to save the fae I loved when it had almost been too late to break the curse.

But I knew of something that would show my appreciation for the brownie...I glanced back at the graceful fae still slumbering on the bed. No wonder he hadn’t

stirred, after all he went through yesterday. He wouldn’t miss me for a few minutes.Slipping an apple into my pocket and pulling Thorne’s cloak tighter around me, I

headed outside to seek my namesake flower. Aster. I’d thought over and over again thatI would weave a fresh daisy chain for Mosswhistle, enchanting it so that it never wilted—and so that it offered protection to the brownie. Mosswhistle had more than earned it.While the time for daisies had passed, asters bloomed in the early autumn. The daisy-like, purple flowers would be perfect.

The ruined mansion had a strange air to it this morning, streaks of gold creeping inthrough the shattered walls as the sun broke above the horizon, the plants that hadovertaken the house already dying back, past their full summer bloom. I crept over thetrailing ivy, the crumbling brick, the wood sage and ferns that had slipped inside beforethe curse had broken, wondering whether this crumbling building would remain forever inthe Folkwood now and how long it would take before the trees reclaimed it altogether.

I caught my breath as I stepped outside, the cold piercing my lungs. Either theremaining walls of the manor or some of Thorne’s magic must have kept the insidewarmer, because it was freezing out here, the lawns mostly in shade where the Folkwoodhad constricted around the manor.

I began walking slowly up and down what remained of the lawns, my gaze raking thegrasses for any sign of the lilac flowers I wanted for Mosswhistle.

A heavy, floral scent caught my attention and I lifted my head. I’d wandered close tothe rose garden. Scarlet petals invaded the edges of my vision, a reminder of theenchantment I had cast just yesterday.

I drifted toward them, the memories of yesterday’s fight interrupting the warm, giddyfeeling that I had woken up with.

The gate to the walled garden was nowhere to be seen. I stepped through the arch, asoft exhale leaving my lips. Despite the roses that had flown beyond the walls in mybattle with Yvette, plenty remained. The garden was an explosion of blooms in white andpink and red, flowering briars climbing the stone walls and velvet petals carpeting theground. As I wandered through the labyrinthine pathways, the roses tilted their headstoward me, the result of the lingering enchantment.

I’d done this. I’d made them all bloom with my love for Thorne.“Hello, Aster, Breaker of Curses.”

I leaped about a foot as a rich, cool voice cut through the air.“Faolan!” I pressed a hand against my heart at the sight of the familiar golden fae

standing in the arch. He’d appeared as if from nowhere. I took a step back, my breathslowly returning to normal. “You know, you really need to start announcing yourselfbefore you just fly in.”

He stalked toward me, translucent wings settling at his back, casting a look aroundthe blooming roses. “Almost a hundred other Tithe girls before you couldn’t manage it.”His gaze returned to me, his sky-blue eyes resting on the too-large cloak I had bundledaround myself. “And yet here you are, wandering the rose garden wrapped in the cloak ofthe beast who kidnapped you, a hundred-year curse in tatters.”

“Typical,” I said with a wry smile. “The moment Thorne’s curse is broken, you startcalling him beast. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call him that before.”

Faolan didn’t smile back. He tilted his head to one side. “I was right, Aster. You’repowerful.”

I flushed, running a hand self-consciously through my hair. “Not really,” I mumbled,the roses’ heavy perfume thick in the air. “I could only defeat the enchantress withThorne’s help.” Unease flowed through me as I recalled all that had happened yesterday.

Wicker fingers closing around my throat. Briars battling with ivy. The sharp spike ofterror when the arrow had pierced Thorne’s chest.

The enchantress had tried to kill us both...until I’d killed her.Faolan gestured at the red and pink flowers blooming around us. “It doesn’t matter

what you think, Aster. The Alder King’s own enchantress cursed this place. And you brokeit. You used your own enchantments to defeat her.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No—in the end it was just a knife. She spent so muchtime with immortal fae, she forgot she was human.”

Faolan didn’t seem to have heard me, his eyes glazed as he looked around us, his lipspressed into a thin line. “You know, even when you grew the roses, even when theyfought against her ivy, I still didn’t think you would be able to overpower her.”

“Wait…” My brow furrowed. “You were here? When it happened?”Faolan’s head snapped back to face me. “Of course I was. You think I’d allow the

single most significant moment in recent fae history come to pass without being here forit?” He shook his head. “You really have no idea what this means for the Kingdom ofFaerie, do you?”

My sense of unease grew, spreading through my body like rot through a tree. “If youwere here, then why didn’t you help—”

“Even then, I thought if you overpowered Yvette, she would still find a way to talksense into you. A fellow greenwitch.” He seemed to grow taller, and I realized his wingswere spread behind him, casting a faint shadow where the sun filtered through them. “Itold her you’d lost a mentor to the Folkwood. Sage. You told us about her the very firstevening I arrived here. Not that you could have known what valuable information youwere letting slip.”

Something cracked in my chest, and my voice dropped to a whisper. “Why would youtell Yvette about Sage?” My hands clenched into fists, clutching at Thorne’s cloak around

my shoulders. “Why would you help her?”Faolan examined his nails. “I had no interest in helping Yvette. But we both had a

vested interest in the curse remaining.”I drew in a long, slow breath. I must have missed something, must have

misunderstood what Faolan was saying.“Why are you talking like this?” I asked in a shaky voice. “Why wouldn’t you want the

curse broken? You’re Thorne’s friend.”His pale eyes narrowed, golden light flaring out around him. “None of that matters

now, Aster.” His lips curved up into a smile that sent a shiver running through me. “I toldyou not to trust the fae, but it seems you didn’t listen. And now I’ve come to collect onour bargains.”

“What?” I blinked, stepping back again, confusion clouding my thoughts. I gave astrained laugh. “What are you talking about, Faolan? We never made any bargain.”

This had to be some kind of joke. It had to be—Faolan was my friend. He wasThorne’s friend. He had helped me with the roses, had brought me sunshine and warnedme about faerie fruit and taught me about the Kingdom of Faerie.

His eyes turned steely. “Oh, but we did, Aster.”In a flash of gold, he was right in front of me.I stumbled back as the fae held up one long finger. “First, you asked for sunshine, and

I told you that you would owe me for one sunny day.”Did he? I couldn’t remember what we’d said at the time. But I was sure it had been

nothing more than joking around.“I—”“Second,” Faolan held up another finger, taking another step closer, “you asked me to

teach you about the Kingdom of Faerie. And you offered your help in return.”My heart skittered faster, like autumn leaves blowing in the wind. There was no

question that Faolan had done both the things he’d listed, had helped me over and overagain while I’d been at the manor. But I was a greenwitch. I’d never be so stupid as toenter into a faerie bargain. Any child in Rosehill knew that you didn’t make a deal withthe fae.

Surely—surely striking a faerie bargain required more than just a few words? Surely Iwould have to know I was striking a bargain?

Even as I thought it, my stomach hollowed out.Fae were masters of using words to trick humans...“Finally,” Faolan said, so close I felt the brush of his breath on my face, “we struck a

deal after I saved your life at the revel. You told me I was owed a favor by the greatestenchantress in the Kingdom of Faerie.”

I swallowed the lump building in my throat. That, I did remember.But we had only been joking around. I hadn’t thought it meant anything. That Faolan

would use it against me.“You owe me three favors, Aster.” The sky prince’s smile turned wolfish. “And you’re

going to pay them now.”Lifting his other hand, he blew sharply on his palm.

Glittering pixie dust billowed in my face.My head spun, like I’d drunk a gallon of faerie wine, shining dust motes dancing before

my eyes. The light was dazzling, sparks flashing all around me. I felt woozy, the strengthebbing out of my limbs. Shadows crept over my eyes as I moaned Thorne’s name,knowing he couldn’t hear me.

Hot hands fastened around my arms, sweeping up my legs, and we hurtled into thesky, away from the garden.

The last thing I saw was the blur of the Folkwood far, far beneath me.

The End

Aster and Thorne’s story continues in book two: A Trial of Thorns.

T H A N K S F O R R E A D I N G

Dear reader,

Thank you so much for reading An Enchantment of Thorns. We hope you’ve enjoyed thisfirst instalment in Aster and Thorne’s adventures as much as we enjoyed writing it! Co-writing this book has been a complete joy for us as we love all things fae and fairy tale.

Luckily, you don’t have to wonder what that pesky Faolan is up to for long…as you cancontinue Aster’s story in the next book: A Trial of Thorns!

Want to help us out?

If you enjoyed the book, we’d love it if you left us a review on Amazon. These reviewshelp more people find our books and keep us writing more in the A Court of Fairy Talesseries!

Free bonus scenes

Want to know what’s going on inside Thorne’s head? Then you’re in luck because we’vewritten two bonus scenes from our brooding hero’s point of view.

Sign up to Elm’s mailing list for a bonus scene of Thorne and Aster’s explosivefirst meeting at the Tithe.Sign up to Helena’s mailing list for a bonus scene of Thorne and Aster’sflirtatious al fresco dinner.

Thank you again for reading,Helena and Elm

A L S O B Y H E L E N A A N D E L M

T HE DE S E RT NIGHT S S E RIE S

Kingdom of Spirits (prequel)

Throne of Sand

Palace of Wishes

Princess of Smoke

Queen of Djinn

A C O U RT O F FA IRY T A LE S S E RIE S

An Enchantment of Thorns

A Trial of Thorns

A Promise of Thorns (forthcoming)

A LS O B Y HE LE NA RO O K W O O D

The Carnival of Fae series

The Sword and the Star (prequel)

The Prince and the Poisoner

The Thief and the Throne

The Carnival and the Crown (forthcoming)

The Faerie Awakens series

Legend of the Fae

Power of the Fae (forthcoming)

Queen of the Fae (forthcoming)

Shadow of the Fae (forthcoming)

Heir of the Fae (forthcoming)

Kingdom of the Fae (forthcoming)

www.helenarookwood.com

A LS O B Y E LM VINC E

The Star Cast series

Promise of Stars (prequel)

Tapestry of Night

Herald of Fire (forthcoming)

www.elmvince.com

A B O U T T H E A U T H O R S

Elm and Helena have been friends since before they were old enough to read. Their mothers were friends before that, andtheir grandmothers were friends before that.

Over the years, they’ve started a school magazine on literature, hosted Alan Rickman and Pirates of the Caribbean-themed sleepovers, run text-based RPG forums set in fantasy worlds, and co-founded a website about making more roomfor books in your life.

Some might say they were destined to end up writing together.Today, having ended up living in the same city in Scotland, they’re both still mad about books. They both love fairy

tales, strong female leads, and hate-to-love romances, so these feature in all the stories they write. Recent fantasy booksthey haven’t been able to stop chatting about include those by Sarah J. Maas, Holly Black, and Naomi Novik.

If you want to chat books or anything else with Elm or Helena, the best thing to do is to send one of them an email, oryou social media butterflies can also connect with them online.

Contact Elm:hello@elmvince.comwww.facebook.com/elmvincewww.instagram.com/elmvince

Contact Helena:hello@helenarookwood.comwww.facebook.com/helenarookwood