Head spinning, she found herself swinging up through the air rather than down. Dangling by her feet she thrashed her head around, frantic to see what had snared her. Up, up, up she went, until part of the tree came into view. A branch, draped in creepers, patterned with moss and . . . was it carved into a manlike shape? Were those arms? A head? Eyes?

‘Hello, tiny shapewalker.’ A thrumming, timeless voice echoed through her dazed head. ‘Did I hurt you?’

Liska, upside down still, stared into the glowing eyes of a treekeeper. Her nose filled with the scent of bark, living wood and musty age.

Of all the places to crash in the whole of Arborven she had chosen the one that would get her into the most trouble possible.

Another sound met Liska’s ears, a distant one that was growing steadily closer. One which she recognised instantly, this time.

It was the sound of her mother yelling with rage as she flew towards her.

Chapter 2

The day after the treekeeper ‘incident’ was pure torture.

After shouting at Liska for the entire flight home, her mother’s fury had fossilised, becoming cold and silent. Her father had been deeply disappointed. Her older sister, Ylva, had almost burst with smugness.

‘Of all the things you could have flown into, you picked the most stupid,’ she had said, smirking her face off.

Of course, she’d never done anything wrong in her life. Perfectly behaved, top in all her flight and combat classes. She’d even earnt a stripe already, after helping chase offa wyvern on her very first patrol. It was Liska who was the clumsy one. Liska the useless baby. Liska who had to stand there while everyone scowled and pouted and smarmed at her . . .

Now she sat on the stone balcony of her room looking down at the forest city below, feeling very sorry for herself.

Liska’s family lived in the Noon Fort, an age-old castle built on top of the northern range of the Shield Mountains. The bottom floors were centuries old and they had been added to over the generations: shapewalkers building up and up and up, until the structure was like a mountain itself. The top turrets were lost in the fog, frosted in ice and snow most of the time. The place bristled with turrets and launching platforms with catapults and trebuchets. Liska thought it was the strongest and safest place in the world.

And the coldest. Her family had chambers halfway up; tapestry-covered rooms with high ceilings and thick stone walls, full of chill that made your breath steam even in summer.