Prologue
SIX YEARS AGO
RUNE DIDN’T WANT TOfreeze to death in some shitty run-down cabin. She was bundled so tightly in a mound of blankets she could barely move, the air as brittle as her breaths, the unnatural cold rattling her lungs too violently for a fourteen-year-old unused to freezing temperatures. Her mother muttered to herself as she tracked a path across the wooden floors, flitting from one window to the next, looking for any signs of life. There was nothing but a blizzard beyond the frosted windowpanes, the floorboards at their feet so frozen they burned to the touch.
But they couldn’t risk a fire. The patrols would know someone was home, and they should’ve left for the Selection with the rest of their village three days before. As newcomers, they just had to pray their absence would go unnoticed.
The immortals had already taken Rune’s father the year before, when she was thirteen.
And her twin brother when she was six.
No more.
Rune ran a thumb along a broken toy of a king, the last remnant she had of her brother. Her mother had buried the rest of his belongings and hadn’t been whole since he was ripped from her arms. And from her father, Rune had only the small bonependant attached to a necklace she’d never taken off. It was carved like a fishhook, could even be used as one, something he’d learned from his own parents. But he was stolen from her before he ever passed the lesson on. Her thumb traced its curves again and again, as if winding that path would bring him back.
Rune coughed lightly, wrapping the blankets more tightly around herself, missing the warmth of the Isle of Riches more than ever. Her mother shot her a look, reminding her to be silent. Sometimes it felt as if every time her mother looked at her, she only saw the twin that was missing.
Then a knock sounded at the door, stopping Rune’s heart and silencing her breaths.
It could only be immortals patrolling the area.Druids.
Terror flooded her veins. She didn’t fully know what the punishment was for not taking part in the Selection. Anyone caught was never heard from again. They’d be killed or taken, and in the end, she wasn’t sure which was worse.
Rune’s mother crossed to her, shoving a supply bag into her arms full of her tinctures and tonics; she’d always had a talent for creating remedies for colds and salves for wounds. Rune tried to stop the tears from spilling over as her mother kissed her forehead—just once—then pushed away from her as if she couldn’t bear Rune’s skin on hers a moment longer and pointed toward the small, hollowed crawl space beneath the floorboards.
“The druids are the worst of the three kinds,” her mother had told her earlier that day. “They have the most deadly magic.”
But even if they could sense someone in the house, they wouldn’t be able to tell howmanypeople would be inside. Something her mother was relying on.
Rune shook her head. She didn’t want to hide—this was all she had left. The door pounded, rattling.
Druid magic wouldn’t allow them to enter a human dwelling without permission first, a piece of protection left over from the Great War. But they could still break down the door. Which meant they had precious minutes … less.
Rune,her mom mouthed. It was a plea, her lower lip trembling as though she couldn’t bear to do this. They’d been strained for so long that this one betrayal of emotion broke Rune. She nodded, moving as quietly as she could, vision blurred with tears, and slipped into the hiding place.
Her mother cupped her cheek as she crawled inside, wiping a tear away before placing her forehead against hers, and leaned in closely to Rune’s ear to repeat an old phrase from the War, one she liked to say often in the quiet nights when the absence of their family was the loudest. Her breath tickled Rune’s ear.
“They may steal my freedom, my love, my very breath, but so long as I do not fear them, they hold no power over me.”
“They hold no power over me,” Rune repeated quietly, her voice shaking.
That knock on the door became more insistent. Her mother nodded and stood tall, proudly in their tiny, one-room cottage as if she were crowned and draped in gilt instead of worn, patched clothing.
Already hating herself, Rune pulled the boards back into place over her head, staring up through the joints where the wood didn’t lie flush. The wooden planks nailed over the door groaned. Rune clenched her jaw, tears freezing on her cheeks.
“Open the door!” a voice growled.
The crawl space led outside. She should go but she was frozen in fear—
The front door crashed open. Rune struggled to look through the slats. A shadow fell over the space. She peered throughthe slats, trying to silence her breathing, and saw … wings. Enormous wings darkened the doorway, the sunlight behind them leeching all their other features. The floorboards creaked loudly, and Rune resisted the urge to close her eyes.
“No need to make a mess of my home.” Her mother’s voice was firm. “You’ve found me, so I’ll come willingly.”
No, no, no please.
There was a light tread on the ground as her mother moved quietly past their towering forms out the door. Rune held her breath.
“Should we check the house for others? Leave a post on her door?” a guard asked.
