Had my senses dulled since my return to Dalmar six months prior? When I was still in Incartha, not even a mouse could scurry across the room without my noticing—every shadow, every sound, every shape that did not belong—a possible enemy. I still had nightmares about the things that had ground them into such sharp points. Those terrors dragged me from my sleep—fingers clawing at a threat I could not see—mouth opened to scream for people no longer with me.

My pulse pounded in my ears. "I was not aware there were claims in No-Land," I said in a measured voice.

My reading on No-Land had never mentioned anything about claims.

"Fancy that, newcomers thinkin' they can waltz in here and take whatever they please." The hot breath of my attacker tickled my neck.

I recalled the fraying twine I had seen knotted to that branch earlier, even more now crisscrossed my trail of red yarn.

I should've been more alert, knowing another lurked so close. The people of Dalmar seemed like lap dogs compared to the wolves Incartha's war had created from its people. That didn't mean they weren't without their bite.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I'll be on my way as soon as you allow me."

"First, pay my fee."

"And what might that be?" I asked.

"The Witch's-Glass."

That was something I wasn't willing to part with. I needed it to reach my goal of one golden rose. So, I stepped closer to her, so my back bumped into her chest, and I jammed my leg between her legs. I twisted my foot, using it to knock hers out of alignment and unbalance her. I pushed her knife away from my throat while she fell so it did not slice me.

I spun around and angled my dagger at a girl with golden hair and rosy-white skin, typical of those from Dalmar. She stared up at me with brown eyes, the color of the earth she lay sprawled across. Freckles flecked her cheeks and small button nose like someone had taken a handful of dust and blown it across her face. She had to be around my age, 19 or so—beautiful in a simple way.

Her clothing marked her as belonging to one of the villages within the deep woods—dyed a deep green and lovingly stitched by patient hands with woodland creatures and trees in multicolored threads. The hem of her skirts ended just above her knees, exposing her deer skin boots underneath.

Her mouth parted into an O in what I couldn't tell was surprise or fear.

My appearance did unnerve some people. A childhood bully once told me I looked like a kelpie in human form with my too dark hair and eyes for my pale skin. I took after my mother's people, the Witide, who made their homes on the jagged rocky islands that sprinkled the coast. The Witide rarely married beyond their rocky borders, so we were a rare sight on the mainland.

"Think of something else," I said.

"Is it true that you drank blood so you could cast dark magic to survive the Shadowling War?"

So she knew who I was. Otherwise, she would not have mentioned the Shadowling War.

I knitted my brows together. "Is that what they're saying about me these days?"

Rumors like that were dangerous. They could get you burned at the stake for being a dark witch, no matter what position you held.

She grinned and swept my feet out from under me in one easy motion and was on top of me in the next breath. Her hand pinned my shoulder while her pulse thundered through the palm of her hand—steady and sure.

A distraction, and I had fallen for it. She wasn't just some ordinary deep woods girl. For this girl to be able to sneak up on somebody like me— to move as she did. Maybe I wasn't as rusty as I feared after all. Maybe I just faced a worthy opponent.

She reached down and plucked the Witch's-Glass from my hands, a golden lock of hair slipping across her brow.

"Who taught you how to fight?" I asked.

Mischief curled her lips. "You answer my question—I'll answer yours."

She wanted to continue her game, fine.

I willed my face to become the surface of a placid lake—still and unreadable. "Every full moon, I would snatch a newborn babe or maiden and drink from them."

Amusement flickered in her eyes. "Oh?" She hunched forward more, dangling the flower mere inches from my face. " Do you grow fangs? Let me see them."

"Answer my question, and I'll answer yours." I let a feline smile quirk my lips.

She opened her mouth to respond, and I flung my leg around her, sending us rolling across sticks, dirt, and moss until I loomed over her.

I reclaimed the flower, suppressing the automatic urge to kill or maim, and instead skittered off her and snatched up my things, facing her as she climbed to her feet.

"My older brother and father taught me how to hold my own," she said, wiping off a smudge from her face, along with any lingering amusement. "Or else I wouldn't have been able to hold my claim in No-Land. They were part of the band of mercenaries your father, King of Thieves, hired to travel with you and your mother's caravan. I still remember the day you left four years ago. Our Jamie was so handsome in his armor—father was glowing with pride—you looked so beautiful in your crimson dress."

Her expression fell into one of silent sadness, which reflected the look I most likely wore. I knew the fate of each of those men. I reached for the green translucent scale I always wore around my neck, twisting its sliver chain until it dug into my neck before releasing it.

"I suppose you can take what you want—being that you're noble and all. Just stay outta my way." She did a half curtsy before turning and retrieving a ball of twine and a half-rotted basket from behind a tree.

"You never thought of something else," I called after her while I carefully placed the Witch's-Glass in my basket.

She turned back to me, a question in her eyes.

"I told you to think of something else as payment for allowing me in your claim. I can't give you the Witch's-Glass. I need to earn a golden rose before nightfall as part of my family's wedding tradition."

"I don't need no sympathy from you, Lady Ashwood!" She said, her chin raised as if to challenge me to say otherwise. But I couldn't help noticing how sharply her collarbone protruded just below the curve of her neck, the hollowness of her cheeks.

A chuckle escaped my lips before I could kill it. I liked this girl. I saw the friends I had left behind in her and a little of myself— that unflinching, defiant pride.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her body towards me as if to prepare for a fight,

" I did not mean to—I wasn't laughing at you," I explained. "You just remind me of people dear to me. Since you won't name another form of payment—I'll make you a counteroffer. Come and work for me at my estate once I'm married to Lord Fredrick Ainsworth."

The girl quirked an eyebrow at me, her mouth set into a suspicious frown. " Pardon? After I held a knife to your throat—you want me to serve at your estate? Don't fault me for thinkin' you'll just get your noble groom to punish me once we return to your fancy house."

"You have my word that will not happen. I'm in need of a sparring partner, somebody not afraid to go blow-to-blow with me. And I'd rather you be my ally instead of my enemy." I tilted my head. "Who's to say you wouldn't cut my tether after we parted and leave me to figure out what side of No-Land is fairy and which side is mortal?" I tugged at the red line spilling over the side of my basket.

The girl didn't deny that might've crossed her mind while she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"What about my family?" she asked. "I got a Ma, two younger sisters, and a brother who stopped sucking his thumb only this recent spring. Ma can take care of the house, but that's it. Huntin' isn't something she's ever done well."

"How old are your sisters?"

"13 and 14."

"Are they skilled like you?" I asked.

"Not as skilled. But they can hold their own. Taught them myself. Want them as sparring partners too?"

"No. My younger sister, Vivian, is about their age. I want them to teach her how to fight. Should your sisters agree to come to serve at my father's estate and you at mine, you'll have two days off every week, so you can travel back to your home to take care of whatever is needed. You will get two meals a day, have your own chambers, and receive a wage of one golden rose each moon cycle."

"Pardon, I know Lord Ashwood is not the typical lord, but he approves of his daughter's learnin' stuff like that?"

"He encourages it. How do you think I survived all alone during the Shadowling War in Incartha?"

Lies, I wasn't alone. But talking about them, my friends—my comrades—my second family—about Him —would make me want to jump on the nearest ship and sail back home. Despite all the horrors I faced there the last three years, that's what Incartha was. Home. The place I loved most. And that's why I had to leave. It was for her own good.

"So, no fangs?" Amusement once again bloomed across her face, like a meadow kissed by spring, and turned her mouth into a feline smile.

I shook my head and pulled back my lips to reveal my ordinary teeth.

She sighed dramatically. "It would've been far more interesting to serve you if you had fangs."

"So, you accept my offer?"

"Aye," she sheathed her dagger, and I copied her motion.

She tossed her twine and basket to the side and skipped up to me, linking her arm with mine.

"Lady Ashwood," she said. "Not sure if it's possible, but let's go try earnin' you that golden rose. I gotta warn you, though, my yields from my claim have not been what they used to be of late."

I scrunched up my nose at the title. "Please, call me Val when we are alone."

"Alright Val, you can call me Winnie when we are alone or in front of the king himself. It's short for Winnifred."

I threw back my head and laughed at myself. Here I was, offering this girl and her sisters jobs, and I had not thought to ask her name.

"You're a strange one, Val," Winnie mumbled, then voice clearer. "And about what you said earlier, about me cutting your tether—that's akin to murder in No-Land. I wouldn't have done that. We have laws here."

"Really? I never came across any laws in my readings about No-Land."

I realized just how stupid that sounded the moment it left my mouth.

Winnie snorted. "You think everything out there can be learned in books? Let me guess— those books had nothin' about claims neither."

My face burned— my silence answer enough.

She clucked her tongue. "Someday, you gotta tell me how you actually survived that war."

Winnie said something else, but I didn't hear what. I slid my arm from her and shoved my basket into her hands. In the next instant, my bow was in my hands. My heart pounded in my ears, like the beat of a war drum, while I knocked an arrow and pointed it at the figure that stumbled out from behind a tree.