Queen’s handmaid will prepare you.” Raze grasped her chin to tilt her face upward. “Do not fail me, musetta.”
“Is that not one of my choices, then?” She could not turn her face away, but she closed her eyes.
Raze left when the Queen’s handmaid arrived. EveStar brought Adelyn a satchel with salve for her wounds and spores to open the way between the worlds. Tiny will-o’-the-wisps orbited around them as they headed down a little-used corridor, and Adelyn wondered if she’d ever see that serene, flawless glow again. Her sob sent the closest wisp spinning on the eddy of her breath.
The handmaid peered at her. “Is this your first foray to the sunlit world, child?”
The sunlit world. The name sent chills across Adelyn’s skin. She clutched her veils around her, but the spider silk felt as light and revealing as...well, spider silk. “My first exile, yes.”
EveStar smiled vaguely. “Such an adventure.” The handmaid’s ethereal golden beauty was rightly called timeless. She was one of the few to endure the Iron Age and the brutal court battles that spawned the steel-born phae. The Queen kept her as a reminder of a lost era. And maybe as a warning. None of the iron-born left the phaedrealii. Ever.
Adelyn’s burst of envy at EveStar’s pristine silk slippers was eclipsed only by her desire to stay in the court too. “I am hunting a Hunter who will likely slaughter me.”
The handmaid clicked her tongue. “Why, I’ve heard a dozen phae have chased after the runaways, never to return. And now a musetta sweet as yourself is cavorting with a dark Hunter? How times have changed.” The soft gold of her eyes glinted with something much harder, something angry.
Unease twisted in Adelyn’s belly. Rumors of insanity haunted the iron-born. Some whispered the handmaid pierced herself with iron to burn off the cold guilt that so many had perished when she had not. “Nothing really changes here,” Adelyn soothed. “Which is just as it should be.”
“Maybe you should change, considering,” EveStar shot back.
Adelyn stiffened in shock. “You know better than most, the phae were devastated in the last upheaval. These fugitives can’t risk revealing us again.”
The handmaid’s vague smile returned. “Change yourself? Is that what I said? Ah, words are slippery as serpents. I meant, be sure to change your glamour, child, lest yet another human sees you and falls in love.”
Adelyn winced at the reminder. Damn her eyes for inspiring that odious ode. And damn her pointless preoccupation with pretty slippers that kept her from asking the handmaid about the sunlit world. After all, EveStar had walked among humans back when the phae had been known and feared and revered. Now she never left the phaedrealii; how was Adelyn, small and steel-born, supposed to survive?
Before Adelyn could ask that plaintive question, the corridor ended in a small, empty chamber.
The end of the road. And the beginning of one.
While wisps drifted in dreamy helixes, EveStar eased the satchel from Adelyn’s tight clutch. The handmaid sprinkled a pinch of spores in a circle. “May you find what you’re looking for, child, what you truly seek.”
Adelyn saw nothing past the rapidly sprouting spores. Tears blurred everything else. When the mushrooms were knee high, a gust of otherworldly air whirled through. Her breath hitched on the overwhelming fusion of wet dirt, hot metal and air chilled to a biting edge. Would she ever again feel the sanctuary of the court’s magic around her? Her thighs twitched with the desire to run. But there was no place to hide in the phaedrealii. Which left her no choice.
Clamping one hand over her nose and mouth, she stepped into the circle, into the sunlit world.
Chapter 2
At the bottom of the river valley, Josh Reimer halted his horse to watch the morning sun break over the hills. The peaks thrust out of last night’s snow, crisp against the blue sky. In moments, sunlight bathed the icy dell, raising curls of mist, straight out of a fairy tale. Eastern Oregon knew how to do late-winter mornings: pure, serene and wide open.
Of course, some people called it barren, boring and lonely as hell. Josh blinked as the snow glare clouded the vision in his one bad eye and reined in the wayward thought with a harshness he’d never use on Bunco. Now why had he gone and thought of his ex on such a pretty day? Probably because last night has been cold as a cast iron commode.
“Could’ve used a hot body in my bunk.” He glanced down at the cattle dog, waiting patiently beside Bunco’s hooves. “Besides you, boy.”
Wolly wagged his red stub of a tail agreeably but kept his gaze on the three-story house at the far end of the field.
“Something up?” Josh drew his rifle from the saddle scabbard. Closing his scarred eye, he sighted down the scope, sweeping the homestead. Nothing. He had already made plans to check his neighbors’ cabin after the hard freeze, so he kept the rifle in hand as he steered Bunco down the valley, skirting the creek that burbled under the retreating ice.
With the Hunters out of town, he’d offered to keep an eye on the place—said he’d use his good eye, which always got a laugh—since that spot of strangeness last spring had left them all on edge. The unexplainable lights and noises had been the last straw for Danielle, though she’d had one foot out of the valley long before that.
“I don’t want my fifteen minute of fame to be a News of the Weird report about getting mutilated by aliens,” she’d snapped.
“Aliens only mutilate cattle, so no worries about those fifteen minutes unless you’re a cow.” As soon as the words cleared his lips, he knew he’d made a mistake.
She packed the next morning—he hadn’t tried that hard to stop her, had he?—and he signed the divorce papers, postmarked California, without another word being exchanged. Still, Danielle had lasted longer than his brother, Cole, who had ditched the valley a week after graduation.
“This place is crushing me, like it crushed Mom,” he’d said as he folded the bus tickets labeled New York into the back pocket of his jeans.
Josh had protested. “The sky goes on forever here.”
“Yeah, that’s even worse.”
Watching them leave—first his mother, then Cole, then Danielle—had torn at Josh like the spring snowmelt undermined the willows along the stream. But nothing could uproot him. As his father had said often enough before dying (another kind of leaving) some people just wouldn’t see the wonders of the valley. They would always want more, and it was best to let them go.
Josh wished he could let go of the memories as easily as they had forgotten him.
Grateful for the distraction ahead, he focused on the homestead. Vaile and Imogene Hunter had built a beautiful place. The huge timbers of the cabin had been harvested seemingly without touching the surrounding old growth, and a three-story picture window flawlessly reflected the valley beyond. The house emerged like a dream from its surroundings.
Vaile had said they might have a few guests, but they had come to the mountain valley to “get away from it all.” Josh’s impression—though they hadn’t been specific—was the Hunters had left some strangeness of their own behind. Hollywood, he guessed, or some other foreign
