Chapter 1 — The Bargain

The path to the Unseelie Court did not exist on any map Elara Vale had ever read, and she had read every map in Highmoor’s restricted archives. She had also read every grimoire, every diplomatic transcript, every footnote-strangled treatise on fae bargains the Academy permitted scholars to touch — and three more that the Academy did not.

None of them had prepared her for the smell.

The mist-path opened between two iron-grey birches at the seam of the moor, and beyond the seam, the world smelled of crushed iris, frankincense, and something darker she could not name — something that made the small hairs on the back of her neck rise to attention and stay there.

“You came alone.”

The voice was at her shoulder before she had finished crossing the threshold. Elara did not flinch. She had practiced not flinching in front of mirrors for three weeks.

“You said come alone,” she answered, and turned.

Prince Kael Velvain was taller than the diplomatic sketches had suggested, broader in the shoulder, and considerably more amused than any reasonable Unseelie heir had a right to be at the sight of a mortal scholar in travel boots. His eyes were the wrong color — too dark, too liquid, the pupils dilating slightly as they found her face. His hair was black as wet ink. He had not bothered with a crown tonight, but the air around his temples shimmered like something invisible refused to admit he wasn’t wearing one.

“I did say that,” he agreed, mild. “I am not, however, accustomed to mortals who actually listen.”

“My sister is dying,” Elara said. “I listen when it matters.”

Something flickered across his face — not pity, she would not have permitted pity, but a sharper thing. Recognition, perhaps. Hunger dressed in patience.

“Then we should not waste either of our time,” he said, and gestured her toward a clearing she had not noticed a moment before. “Walk with me, scholar. I will explain my terms. You will decide whether your sister’s life is worth them. And then —” his mouth shaped a smile that was not, strictly speaking, a smile “— we will see what kind of woman you become by the seventh night.”

Elara walked with him.

She did not yet understand that the bargain had begun the moment she stepped through the birches.