Concentrating, I imagine the dim strands becoming a gleaming braid, and the dove soaring over the valley. This is the first part of every rescue—to manifest a vision of my will. Next, I drudge up the ancient song I’ve known since the first time I saw the threads of life in a dying doe and form the lyrics with my hands. Raina Bloodgood has one desire: kill the Frost King and the Witch Collector who stole her sister. On Collecting Day, she means to exact murderous revenge, but a more sinister threat sets fire to her world. Rising from the ashes is the Collector, Alexus Thibault, the man she vowed to slay and the only person who can help save her sister. I set Saira on her feet and watch her skip toward the village. Every autumn, the feast hunters journey south toward the Gravenna Mountains, hoping to trap and kill a few Great Horns for the harvest supper. Scattered steads and small villages lie between our valley and the mountains, but other than that, the land is a stretch of rolling hills and open grassland. It’s certainly not a dangerous trek for hunters who’ve traveled that ground for years.

I drag my hand over my beard. “The question is, are you willing to ignore the possibility that Raina has Sight, thanks to a bad feeling and a bad dream? If she is a Seer, and if the rumor about the Prince of the East betraying your agreement holds even a grain of truth, then we need her. Unwarranted concern for my safety cannot stand in the way of that. I’ve faced far worse things than another Collecting Day. I’ll be careful.”

Emmitt strolls up to our table, brown eyes glittering. His smile is like a strike of lightning across his ebony skin. I cannot say why they never tried,” I tell Finn. “Only that I am not them.” I grab the knife and animal skin and set them in my lap. “Will you help me or not? I need the blade sharpened. That is all I ask.” We head outside and mount our horses, facing one another under the weak light filtering through the forest’s canopy.

Planning to use Margrete to reclaim a powerful relic stolen from his people, Bash, a devilishly handsome king, kidnaps Margrete on the day of her nuptials. Bringing her to his home, the mystical island of Azantian, it isn't long before a devastating secret is revealed—one that ties Margrete to the gods themselves. Colden gives me a dark half-smile. “If she’s anything like her sister, you might be very wrong about that.” Finn is probably on his way to the shop,” I sign. “I will take it to him, and I will finish the apples long before noon. I promise.” Whatever’s bothering them has nothing to do with Collecting Day. The Owyns are Witch Walkers, and Finn and Helena are still of age for the Witch Collector’s choosing. The Owyns believe the Frost King does what he does for a godly reason, a man gifted with insight from Neri’s eternal blessing, a leader who means to protect our lands. I know they’d be saddened to lose any member of their family today, but they view sacrifice as duty—unlike me. Something else must be wrong. You can’t have it both ways, my friend. We can’t get the truth without a Seer, and we can’t consult a Seer if I don’t go to the vale. I must get the girl. It’s the only way to end this worry.”

The Watch is a difficult life,” I sign. “My parents lived it. You never know who or what might sail into port. It is a life of constant worry and fear.” More sweat beads on my brow as I work, sliding the edge along the stone with careful measure. What if I damage it? Can god bone be damaged? And what if the Witch Collector bests me today when I hold this blade to his throat? Every harvest moon, the Witch Collector rides into our valley and leads one of us to the home of the immortal Frost King, to remain forever. Today is that day-Collecting Day. A God Knife.” Finn scrubs his hand down his face, his frustration evident. “Made by the great sorcerer Un Drallag, a figment of Eastern lore. Forged from bone and the essence of a deity, yes? Which god, Raina? Which god do you think this bone belonged to? Neri? Asha? Urdin? Thamaos? One of the ancients? Loria herself?” At this rate, the people of Littledenn might annihilate the remains of this army, but I can’t take the chance they won’t. The Eastlanders are here to kill, though they may also take prisoners, and the possibility that a Seer could fall into enemy hands is too dangerous a thought. The Prince of the East has larger plans of destruction than this. He must. I won’t make it easier for him.

Elders! Wardens!” she screams. The tendons in her throat strain with effort, but the people tasked with guarding our village sit at a table wearing lost expressions. Mother wipes a strand of graying hair from her brow and props elegant hands on her wide hips. “I know you’ll think me foolish,” she says, “but this will be a good day, my girl. I feel it in my bones.” But he will not come for me. I, Raina Bloodgood, have lived in this village for twenty-four years, and for all that time he has passed me by.The villain, Prince of the East, was also entertaining. He was cunning and mysterious, with unique powers, like controlling crows. His thirst for control set the stage for a thrilling showdown in future installments. Finn pulls me close, and after a stiff moment or two, I relax in his arms. We begin moving in the ways of our people, bodies arching and swaying in time, softly at first. But his movements become more dominant. Instead, I draw my sword, the ring of metal sending a rush through my blood. The man in me will have to be enough. I yank my hands from his grasp, any moment of tenderness lost. “You cannot know who he will choose. And you are complacent. Willing to walk away from me for the safety of a prison. Fear rules you.” But now that the moment is here, I can’t bring myself to be honest. He may know how to form and wield every weapon created, but Finn is a lover, not a fighter. He’s content where I’m restless, sated where I starve. He will call me ten kinds of foolish and try to stop me.

An elder approaches, pressing his heavily marked hands together in thanks. “My lord, join us for the harvest celebration. Let us feed you. Give you a place to rest.” I love you too,” I sign and rest my head on his shoulder. Those words are true, and I need him to know they’re true, but I can’t look at him with this other truth no doubt shining in my eyes. The one that says our love is not enough. Wild deer, huh?” He twists the pommel in his hand, and the amber stone reflects the forge’s firelight. He looks up at me, narrowing his eyes again like he’s sorting me out. “You wouldn’t happen to mean a Witch Collector instead, would you, Raina? Perhaps a Frost King?” He narrows his brown eyes, and the need to cower behind something sweeps through me. Deceiving Mother was bad enough, but deceiving Finn might be even more challenging.I start to drive my heels into Mannus’s sides so I can take the man from behind, but the peoples’ cries for help swallow my attention. We’re so outnumbered. Villagers of all kinds fight, and Witch Walkers sing, but I fear it’s too late to turn the situation in our favor. Fixing my watering eyes on the horizon again, I do my damnedest not to think of all I could lose. I’m not only doing this for me—for a dream. I’m doing it for Finn and Hel and Saira, and anyone sweating with dread as we bide our time.