My dreams are pleasant,at first. I dream that I’m walking in a meadow holding Theron’s hand. He keeps smiling at me andtelling me he loves me. But then… I find myself walking beside him on a snowy mountain, and he calls meElssandra. When I try to tell him that’s not my name, no words come out.
Then I find myself falling into that cold, icy abyss.
Images come and go. Visions. Memories.
The past blurs with the present. In a distant part of my mind, I know none of this is real. I’m either dreaming or experiencing another vision. Yet I can’t wake up. I can’t do anything. I’m a spectator as the truth, the full, damning truth, is revealed to me.
First, I see Mama, though she’s very young. She’s holding a bundle in her arms, a baby.Me.
Standing on the edge of the forest outside the walls of Braemar, she tenses as a beautiful fae female emerges from the trees. A priestess. I think the newcomer is a fae priestess.
The priestess steps closer, her gaze sharp and unwavering, and Mama flinches, clutching the bundle tighter. The wind whips through the trees, and I can feel the chill deep in my bones even through the dream. The fae female’s eyes flare with recognition when she peers down at the baby in Mama’s arms.
“Well?” Mama asks. “Is she… fully human? Her ears aren’t pointed, but… I can’t quite tell.”
“You were foolish to write to me. Anyone might have intercepted your letter.” The priestess pauses and releases a long sigh. “But thankfully, I don’t believe anyone knows you contacted me.”
“I was desperate when I wrote the letter,” Mama says. “And I’m grateful you answered. Grateful you came to take a look at her, at Helena. But please, can you please tell me what sort of blood runs through her veins? Given my former profession, her father could be any number of men, but there was one male in particular, a male from the far north…” Her voice trails off, and her eyes gleam with tears.
“A fae male,” the priestess says.
“Yes. I-I am worried. If the baby is part-fae, I-I am afraid the father might try to take her away, or… she’ll become a target, and humans will want to hurt her, especially if she possesses any magic.”
The priestess holds out her arms. “I must take a closer look at her.”
Mama glares, but eventually, she hands the bundle over to the fae woman.
My heart races as I watch the scene continue. I feel helpless. So helpless. I want to wake up. I don’t want to know. And yet… I cannot look away. I cannot move.
The priestess smiles as the baby coos at her.
“Her father was definitely a fae male,” the priestess finally says. “However, I don’t believe he was a full-blooded fae. I suspect this baby is perhaps only a quarter fae, perhaps even less than that. As long as you keep her away from the four fae courts, particularly the Winter Court, any magic she might be blessed with won’t emerge. She must be near ussha, large concentrations of it, mind you, for an extended period of time if she is to have any hope of wielding magic.” She glances at the stone walls of Braemar. “You’ve picked an excellent hiding place.”
Mama’s shoulders slump, and she reaches for the bundle, but the priestess suddenly tenses, and her ice-blue eyes suddenly go… pure white. White as snow. A moment later, she blinks and her eyes are back to normal. But she appears shocked. Utterly shaken.
“What is it?” Mama asks.
“This child,” the priestess says slowly, “is a reincarnated soul. In her last life, her first life, she was born in the Winter Court. She was fated to King Theron, but… she betrayed him.”
Oh, my gods.
Horror washes through me as I continue watching the vision unfold.
“What does this mean? What must I do with her?” Mama chokes on a sob. “I almost left her in the forest once, but I-I couldn’t bear to leave her to die. Fae or not, she is my child, and I love her.”
“The Winter King is a dark, vengeful male,” the priestess says. “Whatever you do, you must keep her hidden. Keep her inside the protective stone walls of Braemar. Never allow her to leave.”
The vision starts to fade, and I’m once again falling, plunging into the icy abyss.
I’m on a snowy mountain with King Theron again, except this time, he’s chasing me. His furious growls resound through the ice-covered forest. My feet slip on the ground, but I force myself to keep going. My sides ache, and my chest is heavy with grief.
“Elssandra!” he shouts my name, a plea for me to stop.
But I can’t stop. Unlike the last vision, in this one, I’m a participant. I’m inside Elssandra’s body, but I have no control over where I go or what I do. And somehow, deep in my bones, I know I’ve been here before.
A gust of winter wind pushes me down, and I turn around as the king approaches. He looms over me, his face a mask of fury. The worst thing of all? I can sense his emotions. I can sense the bond, the mating bond.
“You killed them,” I say, the words torn from my throat. “You killed my entire family. My aunts and uncles, all my cousins. After my parents died, they were all I had left. But you killed them all!”
