Chapter One

SOMEDAY Princess Evangeline was going to learn to look before she leapt.

Today, however, was not that day.

Nor had it been any of the days leading up to her current predicament.

For now, Evie could only huddle deeper into the abandoned burrow and eavesdrop shamelessly on the mercenaries gossiping a few feet away. 

“I’m not sure sticking with Tort is the best idea. He’s still planning to rendezvous with the Grey Enchantress.”

The sniveling whine of the man’s complaints had been going on for several minutes and Evie could only roll her eyes.

“Eh, she’s unhinged for sure. But the reward will be worth it if she finds whatever it is she’s looking for at Usslyn Manor.” 

The second voice, at least, sounded more upbeat. Although excitement at getting back into the good graces of a cruel sorceress seemed misplaced in Evie’s opinion.

“Not sure we’ll survive the trip to Usslyn,” the first voice answered morosely. “The Enchantress is going to be furious about the failure at Alcys. And I’ve heard stories of how she deals with failure.”

A momentary flush of pride distracted Evie from the discomfort of cramming herself into the shallow hollow. Her sisters had been more than a match for Velia. And she would regret her decision to attack Evie’s family for a long, long time.

Not that Evie had been any help in repelling the Grey Enchantress or her minions. She’d been helpless to do anything but hide in the shadows and watch the events unfold.

When she’d heard one, if not both, of her sisters were in imminent danger, Evie rushed to Pip’s home, hidden on the outskirts of Alcys. She hadn’t given a single thought to the repercussions until she arrived at the edge of the forest.

Just in time to see the approaching squad of dragons. To watch as they swooped in to battle the troop mercenaries and renegade drakes led by Velia and her latest lackey, Mayor Tort.

Only in that moment had Evie realized how big of a mistake she’d made.

Pip stood on the tower, magic glowing fiercely as she held off the attacking dragon-shifters.

And Bea watched from the far side of the battlefield, poised and ready.

This was the closest Evie had been to her sisters in years.

For a good reason.

If she’d rushed even a few steps closer, there would have been no stopping the chaos.

As it was, Evie caught the edge of Bea’s gift from where she stood. Not quite close enough for Evie to get completely absorbed in the tempting visions of the power she saw. Just enough to glimpse the ribbons and edges of what Bea clearly saw on the battlefield between them. Especially the dark power dripping from the Grey Enchantress and the more brilliant, blinding magic Pip wove in the air above them.

Thankfully, the distance was enough for Evie to resist the call of Pip’s more demanding magic. That desperate urge to create and change that was a relentless challenge to the opposite nature of Evie’s own gift.

Evie had forced herself to stay put and fought the impulse to throw herself into the fray and defend her family from Velia’s invasion.

“It’s not our fault,” the second merc insisted. “We couldn’t have anticipated that kind of magic storm. Not even Velia stuck around in the face of it.”

Neither had Evie, though forcing herself to retreat back into the woods had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

When Pip hitched a ride on the white dragon and flown toward Bea, Evie had known she needed to leave. The distance between them closed fast and the siren call of their magic had beat at her resolve like a drum.

Evie knew, when Bea and Pip finally came together, the pull on her own gift would be undeniable.

So she’d run, deep into the forest until the glittering wafts of magic faded and the demanding call of her sisters’ power eased.

She’d been far enough away that she hadn’t been able to see the results of the storm they’d unleashed.

But she’d heard it. Felt it.

And watched the aftermath as Velia and her mercenaries tucked tail and ran.

Evie should have kept going too. Should have returned to her secluded cottage and her solitary mission. 

But she’d realized a group of mercs, led by Tort, remained hidden in the forest instead of fleeing with the rest. 

And Evie couldn’t make herself leave.

Not until she knew what they were up to. Not until she was sure her sisters were truly safe.

So Evie had spent the past few days carefully watching the movements of Tort’s men. Waiting and searching for the perfect spot to listen for any scrap of information they might let slip.

Now, here she was, curled up tight in a hole dug beneath a long-rotted tree on the outskirts of Tort’s secret encampment. Staying still and silent, despite her protesting muscles, to eavesdrop on soldiers whining about their job and their commanders.

“Look, it’s not as bad as it seems,” the second merc continued. “Tort’s been watching the manor. He thinks they’re going to transport the guy who got turned into a statue by wagon. We’re going to snatch him and hand him over to the Enchantress like a gift. Tort figures it will appease her enough to continue paying us.”

Evie wanted to growl. Or lash out with her own power. Instead she held her breath and her temper as they discussed the planned abduction of a man who’d already sacrificed everything.

She would never forget the way the prince had looked. Furious and determined, throwing insults into the face of the Grey Enchantress. Infuriating her until she cast a spell that transformed the prince into solid stone.

As foolish as it seemed, Evie understood exactly why he’d pushed so hard.

Caleb of Ardell was desperate to save his parents from a curse gone wrong. To have any hope of making that happen, they needed to understand the magic Velia had used.

That meant Bea needed to see the spell.

Through the temporary sharing of her sister’s gift, Evie caught a glimpse of the magic as well. Enough to know her gift could help Caleb.

It was the second, more important reason Evie had remained in the woods. Hoping to find an opportunity to get to the cursed prince without risking getting too close to her sisters.

“Right,” the whiner scoffed. “How are we going to get the statue away from them? They’ve got reinforcements now. And more coming. They aren’t going to transport it without a whole squadron of guards.”

“Tort’s already planned out the perfect place for an ambush. And he has some magic thing that will freeze the wagon in place. We’ll attack in the confusion. They won’t know what hit them.”

Evie pressed her lips tight to hold back the squeal of excitement that wanted to escape. Finally, something was going her way. Tort’s greed was her opportunity to kill two birds with one convenient stone.

With luck and planning she would thwart Tort’s plan and get close enough to Caleb to undo the magic binding him.

***

For Caleb, the world came and went in blurred snatches. His last clear and distinct memory was the shock of Velia’s dark magic slamming into him. The burning cold racing up his limbs and freezing him in place. The weight of it turning every inch of him into unmoving, unfeeling stone.

He remembered the fury that had driven him to confront the Enchantress. The satisfaction when he pushed her to do exactly what he’d wanted. And the acceptance of the terrifying consequences of that success.

Before the fear truly gained a foothold though, Caleb had already started to drift. His awareness slid into dark numbness, floating to the top now and then. Just long enough to catch a few stray sounds or a glimpse of what was right in front of him before sinking again.

Long enough for frustration to be fueled by his inability to move. To speak. To breathe.

Long enough for panic to ignite. 

Long enough to remind Caleb he was helpless to do anything about it.

Once before, Velia had trapped his mind with her magic while his body roamed free. Now, his body was held prisoner while his mind was left free to understand the true horror of the existence awaiting him.

In those moments of lucidity, he strained for air that wouldn’t come. His thoughts thrashing inside a body that refused to do his bidding, Caleb desperately reached for freedom denied him.

Then the darkness would swallow him up again. And Caleb would gratefully sink into it.

Every time his awareness surfaced, Caleb calmed himself by recounting each memory he’d collected from the moment Velia cursed him. Desperate to believe that as long as he held on to those moments, he could hold on to himself. Hold on to his sanity.

The first was a maelstrom of magic rushing across the battlefield. Followed by the furious shrieks from the Grey Enchantress when she was forced to retreat. The gleeful satisfaction that suffused Caleb knowing he’d played a part in forcing her to abandon the victory she’d believed already in her grasp.

Next, he remembered coming to himself in a garden, surrounded by his family. Grateful to see them safe. And impotently furious at his inability to speak. To ask the questions he desperately wanted answers for. To find out if it had been worth the sacrifice he made.

Later, he recalled the jostling and the terrifying vertigo as he’d hung suspended in the air above a wagon bed lined with quilts.

Now, he came aware again to a jolting, bumping ride. Overhead, sunlight filtered through the canopy of branches and leaves above him.

Once again cursing his inability to so much as shift his eyes, Caleb focused on the sounds around him to give him a hint of his fate.

The wheels squeaked and clunked against the rough terrain, jostling him with every inch forward. The rhythmic clop of horse hooves and the quiet drone of half a dozen conversations surrounded him, hinting at a mounted escort.

Caleb presumed he was in the same wagon he remembered from before. But he had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Days?

The horrifying possibility that it wasn’t the same wagon at all slithered into his thoughts. That maybe he had drifted for years. Or centuries.

Before the panic set in yet again, the movement beneath him jolted to a sudden, complete stop. And the murmur of voices became shouts of outrage and fury.

Followed by the familiar hiss of weapons drawn and the ring of steel on steel.

Caleb strained with every fiber of his being to shift his gaze away from the unchanging vision of leaves wavering in the breeze.

But the heaviness was absolute.

He couldn’t so much as blink, let alone turn his head.

Couldn’t sit up.

Couldn’t lift his sword to join the fray.

Instead, he remained stuck and unmoving. A useless anchor staring futilely up at the sky.

Until a face slid between Caleb and the trees.

A familiar face. Wide eyes set above a delicate nose and soft pink lips. Beatrix. Crown Princess of Glicien. And fiancée to Caleb’s youngest brother.

Except. There was more copper in the golden braid of her hair. The grey eyes were more storm cloud than pale smoke. Though he’d only met Bea briefly, the fighting leathers and fierce excitement seemed out of character for the reserved heir to the throne.

Yet, it couldn’t be Penelope, either. He’d caught only a glimpse or two of the second princess, but it was enough to know her hair had been paler. Like platinum.

Again, hampered by the magic binding him, Caleb couldn’t ask the thousand questions rushing through his scattered thoughts. Couldn’t demand the answers he deserved.

And she didn’t offer them.

Instead, she smiled sadly down at him and patted his shoulder with gentle promise. It shocked Caleb how much he wanted to feel her touch. Wanted the warmth. The comfort.

“I’ll get us both out of this,” she promised, as if Caleb had any idea what this was. Then she was gone.

Caleb wanted to call her back. With every fiber of his being he fought fiercely to make any sound.

But nothing came, except the sinking sensation of his consciousness slipping away.

Instead of welcoming the darkness when it threatened to pull him under again, Caleb tried to battle back from the brink.

The silent black wall was relentless, however, and the all-consuming nothingness drew him inexorably back into its embrace.