LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER ONE

      PREDICTION

      I stood at the end of the Road, feeling the frigid breeze and watching the leaves rustle in their dizzying patterns. I had a jerkin and cloak to keep me warm, a long-knife to protect me, but I knew how many souls haunted this place, and it was impossible to feel at ease.

      The path and trees were white with snow, but in my mind I saw them red with soldiers’ blood. It ran down the trunks like sap and flooded the walk. There was a legacy burned into the core of this place, and the passage of years could not see it forgotten. Fae and human alike were reluctant to set foot here.

      It was not my first time traversing the Bloody Road, the site of the historic battle between human and Fae, so some of its mystique was lost on me. But as my legs were stroked by the hands of the lonely and the angry, of those who could not leave this place, a chill seeped into the marrow of my bones. I walked on, passing into the Realm of my people, for though the lonely and the angry of this Road had taken many, they could not capture me. The power of the elements that ran in my blood spared me.

      Despite my long journey, my exhaustion fell away once the city came into view. The human world, though fascinating, could be wearying, whereas Chrior, the ancient cradle of Fae magic, was rejuvenating. Nothing had been destroyed to make these homes possible; centuries ago, when the Faerie race had been even closer to the elements, the trees had been manipulated by Earth Fae, the ground had been raised and dropped where necessary, and a city had been constructed while the forest had been allowed to go on living.

      Snow shimmered around me, falling and filling my footprints. I dropped my magical shroud and unfolded my membrane wings, which glinted green, gold, and ice-blue like oil in sunlight. Hovering skyward, I let the thin cold air of winter test them as I flew to the Great Redwood, which had long ago parted its trunk for the royal Fae who protected and inhabited it, calling themselves the Redwood Fae. The ancient tree’s orangey bark was coated with icicles, but I felt warmth radiating from inside. I ran my fingers over the love-carvings that surrounded the entrance—artistic tributes left by Fae, tiny designs across the surface of a bark that ran deep—and contentment filled my soul. It was good to see the world. It was better to come home.

      Far beneath me, on the ground inside the Redwood, the Queen’s Court was in session. Revelers with wings in myriad colors feasted and danced, their laughter, music, and conversation bouncing joyously around me.

      On her throne of twined roots, Queen Ubiqua presided, and on both sides she was joined by her closest followers:

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