Sweet Drendall dropped the blade and smiled at her. “I did it, Momma! I did it! Did you see me? Huh? Huh?” She hurried over and nuzzled her wet cheek into Viori’s throat. “Are you so happy now?”

“H-happy. Such a g-good girl,” she stammered, clutching the doll close as shock engulfed her from head to toe. Her doll had come to life with a scream—a song of fear?

Her glamara didn’t mirror her brother’s, did it? Kaysar had been wrong. But he’d also been right: her voice was a container. A seed loaded with everything necessary for life. Like a farmer, she could grow whatsoever she planted. And she could do it in a matter of seconds.

Viori glided her gaze over the males who’d thought to harm her.

Perhaps speaking wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

CHAPTER ONE

Not quite present day

FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD MICAH SPUN SLOWLY, his jaw slack. What is this place? Spears of lightning forked across a dark sky heavy with darker clouds. Glowing silvery orbs hung from tree branches, illuminating a forest clearing he wished he hadn’t discovered. The eeriness of it all boggled the mind.

From the outside, thick white fog had enveloped the interlocking trees set in a wide circle. From the inside, however, he had an unobstructed view of the dried blood that stained the bark—and the faces carved within. Fierce expressions projected everything from dread to malice, and he shuddered.

Someone had gone to great trouble to make the gnarled giants resemble belua. Monsters of unimaginable strength, somehow birthed from the elements themselves. Able to live and breathe and walk among fae.

Micah tightened his grip on a makeshift dagger—a twig he’d sharpened with his teeth and what remained of his nails.

Beady eyes seemed to track his every movement as he trod deeper into the clearing. A large, moss-covered stone with a wide base and a flat top occupied the center of the ring. An altar?

A chilled breeze blustered past, rousing goose bumps on his skin. Scanning… The vibrant moss provided the only foliage here. There were no animals or insects. No other life whatsoever.

Death reigned here.

A crack of thunder boomed, punctuating his thought, and he almost jumped out of his skin. The next lightning bolt charged the atmosphere; electric currents pricked his spine. Micah dragged in the scent of ash and… What was that? Sweetness itself? A unique fragrance brimming with all the glories of the Summer Court. Sunshine, flowers and citrus.

His mouth watered, and his empty stomach protested. When had he last eaten?

Twig at the ready, he approached the stone and gathered a fistful of moss. The first bite proved bitter, the second more so. But as the greenery settled in his stomach, some of his pains faded; he only desired more.