The next thing Sarie knew, Flinn was tugging off the boots. “They’re clan made,” he said, when she glared at him. “And they look like my size.”

By the time the sun broke over the eastern escarpment, Sarie and Flinn were on their way back to their crib. Sarie hoped they’d managed to cover their streetlord’s tracks, but worry tugged at the corners of her mind.

He keeps this up, he’s bound to be caught, she thought. And this time they’ll dangle him for certain.

A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

A special thanks to my dual (not dueling) editors, Arianne Lewin and Abby Ranger. Your love and enthusiasm kept me going, even while you asked the unanswerable questions that made my books better.

Thank you to my long-suffering critique partners, Marsha McGregor and Jim Robinson; the YAckers: Jody Feldman, Debby Garfinkle, Martha Peaslee Levine, Mary Beth Miller, and Kate Tuthill; to Twinsburg YA writers Julanne Montville, Leonard Spacek, Jeff Harr, Don Gallo, Dorothy Pensky, and Dawn Fitzgerald, for being willing to read pieces and parts, but never the entire thing.

Thank you to my extraordinary agent, Christopher Schelling, for continuing to assure me that I’m not high-maintenance.

Dedication

For my grandfather E. C. Bryan

C H A P T E R  O N E

CLAN
PRINCESS

It was the largest gathering of the Spirit clans Raisa had ever seen. They came from all over the Fells—from Demonai Camp to the west, from Hunter’s Camp to the east, and from the rugged northern reaches and the river valleys near the West Wall. Some traveled all the way from the fishing camps along Invaders Bay. Demonai warriors rode in from the wilderness, proudly painted, feathered, and braided. Sun-weathered traders journeyed home from throughout the Seven Realms, bringing exotic goods and news from the down-realms.

Even the elders said that the only other such celebration in their lifetime was the one that marked Raisa’s mother Marianna’s wedding to Averill Demonai—the first marriage of a Gray Wolf queen to clan royalty since the Great Captivity began.

This time they feasted together on the lower slopes of Hanalea to celebrate the crowning of one of their own—Raisa ana’Marianna, called Briar Rose in the high country—as queen of the Fells. The camp was bedecked with garlands of thorny high country roses—Raisa’s clan totem, which always came into bloom near the time of her birthday.

Each camp came bearing gifts, competing in honoring and celebrating the new queen. Raisa accumulated enough finery to last for years to come. Clan metalsmiths presented her with a circlet of roses and thorns in beaten gold. They provided silver fittings for her saddles and bridles crafted by leatherworkers.