“This way.” Avoca grabbed Cyrene by her arm and hauled her out of the Queen’s chamber. Ceis’f followed behind them, and Avoca threw him a derisive look over her shoulder. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Cyrene’s mind was whirring with all the new information, but she still had so much more that she didn’t understand. “Will you answer my questions now?”

“Go ahead,” Ceis’f said as he passed. “Ava wants to tell her new pet about our people and bring destruction down on us all. Makes perfect sense.”

Avoca faced him. “I’m sorry about the teams. I would never have gone in there with two six teams if I’d realized how many Indres there were. But every death isn’t your parents.”

“That’s enough!” Ceis’f’s eyes narrowed, and a wall seemed to shift in between them as he shut down. “Enjoy your pet.” He stalked off, all broody and melancholy.

“He’s pleasant,” Cyrene said dryly.

“Come on.” Avoca pushed forward.

When Cyrene exited the chamber, she noticed that the music had increased in volume, and voices were mixed with the instruments. People were dancing and twirling, unlike anything she had ever seen.

She had been to many dances in the Byern court that King Edric had thrown and even more during her childhood. Dancing was structured with specific steps that she’d had to perfect to get the fluidity of the movement. She had a natural knack for it.

But this dancing was nothing like that.

It was a fast-paced, joyous affair. People stomped and clapped and cheered along with the movements. Men and women danced with their bodies pressed together as they quick-stepped across the hard-packed ground. It was sensational and made her breathless just from watching it.

“Are you coming?” Avoca asked.

“What’s going on?”

“The Harvest Moon Festival.”

Cyrene looked up through the thick tree canopy and saw nothing but sunlight. “It lasts all day?”

“And all night, as the harvest moon presents itself as a blessing. Are these really the questions you want answered?” Avoca asked. She stood with her feet spaced apart and her arms crossed. She was clearly not happy to be working as an escort.

“No,” Cyrene said. She took one last glance at the dancing and followed Avoca.

A few minutes later, they stopped in front of a door.

“What’s this?”

The room she’d been in before only had a cloth to cover the entranceway.

“The visitor’s living quarters, of course. You didn’t think that you would be kept in the infirmary, did you?”

Cyrene hadn’t even known that she had been in the infirmary. It certainly hadn’t looked like the ones at home, which were blank sterile rooms full of medicinal tools, herbs, and treatments.

When Avoca realized Cyrene wasn’t going to respond, she opened the door.

For visitor’s quarters, the room was immaculate with the same curved wooden walls and hanging jars of light. A plush rug covered the floor, and the most impressively carved furniture took up the space. A giant bed with climbing vines cut into the frame was set against one wall, and a writing table sat across from it with fresh parchment and ink. The common area had a small dining table with flowers bursting from a vase.

“We weren’t sure you would be staying, and we didn’t have much time to arrange things for you, so we did what we could. A bath is being drawn in the adjacent room,” Avoca told her. “We don’t have many visitors.”

“It’s…it’s wonderful,” she admitted.

And it truly was. They had delicacies a plenty at home, but this place seemed special…magical. Not to mention, she had been on the road for weeks, and a proper bath had been nearly impossible.

“All right then,” Avoca said as she turned to leave.

“You’re not leaving me here, are you?” Cyrene asked frantically.

“I have things to do,” she grumbled.

“I’m sorry about your team.” Cyrene’s voice was soft. She was in a different world without a way to escape and with people who knew about her magic. She needed a friend.

“Me, too,” Avoca whispered. She paused and then sighed, as if resigned. “Thank you for saving me.”

Cyrene cleared her throat. “You’re welcome. Though I’m not sure what I did.”

“I was bitten, and you called the Indres off me.”

“But…how?”

“I’m not certain I understand your question.”

“I just found out that I could…do this. Magic doesn’t exist back home!”

Avoca laughed, actually laughed at her. Cyrene narrowed her eyes and waited for her to stop.

“You really do know nothing,” she said when she seemed to realize Cyrene was serious. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You must have just manifested.”

“I…what?” Cyrene asked.

“Manifested. Produced your abilities. If they don’t come in by seventeen, then you’ll never have them. Were you ever good at anything when you were growing up, particularly related to the elements? Anything with earth, water, wind, or fire?”

Cyrene considered the question and tried to think of where she performed well. “Like gardening?”

“Sure. Plant life listens to the call of your energies. Earth magic in particular.”

The night of her Presenting ceremony came to her mind. What had I said to King Edric that day?

“My sister says I can predict the weather.”

“Can…can people predict or alter the weather?” Cyrene asked.

Avoca stared at her. “Not in two millennia.”

“Oh.”

“Some minor changes can be made, usually with powerful water or air wielders, but weather is complicated, and much of our…your population was decimated in the War of the Light.”

“The War of the…what?”

“The War of the Light,” Avoca repeated, not giving Cyrene any further guidance. Avoca nodded to herself. “As it is the Harvest Moon Festival today, I have many things to prepare for, and now, I must take care of my fallen men. Stay here and get dressed. I will return to escort you to the festival as a guest, and we can discuss all of these questions at a later time.”

Cyrene sighed in relief. “Thank you, Avoca. But who are your people, and why have I never heard of you?”

A true smile broke out on Avoca’s face. “You have heard of us. Your world knows us only as Leifs.”

She shook her head and laughed. “You’re joking. Leifs don’t exist. They’re a fairy tale you sing to little children to warn them of the danger of the woods.”

Avoca arched one eyebrow and then strode to the door. “And where do you think you are, Doma?”

The door closed behind her with a jarring bang, and fear crept through Cyrene’s body.

Is every story true? Am I standing in the middle of a nightmare?

Leif, Leif, Leif Thief.

Don’t get caught by a Leif Thief.

You must go in.

You can’t come out.

Da-da, da, da-da, da, da.

The nursery rhyme played over and over in Cyrene’s head as she stripped out of the Leif outfit, dipped fully into the heated bath, and waited for Avoca to return.

Leifs were real. She couldn’t believe it. When she thought about Leifs she envisioned spritely creatures with glittery faces and pointed ears, who snatched children out of their beds at night. Instead, she was met with forest dwelling warriors. It seemed utterly impossible. But then again, she had thought Braj and Indres were made up, and she had encountered them, too.

All the while, she worried about her friends and whether she would ever be able to leave here to find them, but at least she was finally getting answers.

Cyrene finished her bath and returned to the bedroom to find a new Leif gown in royal blue waiting for her. She dressed quickly and pulled her hair up.

Night fell before Avoca returned to Cyrene’s quarters. Avoca had changed out of her camouflage into a long blue dress that matched her eyes with braided gold sleeves and a matching band around her waist.

“Are you ready?” Avoca asked.

“Yes.”

“As a guest, you will be seated at the royal table,” Avoca explained as they circled back through the canopy to the floor.

“Why?” Cyrene asked in shock.

In Byern, guests in court were frequent enough, and while they were esteemed, they never sat with the king and queen.

Avoca scrutinized her and then responded, “Guests have the favor of the Queen, Doma.”

“Oh, I see,” Cyrene said, noting the differences between their cultures. “You can call me Cyrene, not Doma.”

“As it is your title, I would prefer to address you as such, but I take your request and foreign customs for what they are.”

“Thank you.”

“Where exactly did you come from?”

“I’m from the capital city in Byern.”

Avoca stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at Cyrene. Her nose was upturned, and she looked aghast. “Byern?”

“Yes.”

“It is a good thing that Ceis’f does not know where you are from.” Avoca controlled her facial features, but her voice still held disdain. “He might cut you down himself.”

“And why would he do that?” Cyrene asked. She tilted her head up and held on to her pride for her homeland.

“You know too little about your people if you can defend them so easily,” Avoca snapped before striding purposefully away.

Cyrene was left wondering what exactly she’d meant by that.

When they reached the ground floor, Avoca directed her into a spacious ballroom. Hundreds of Leifs were seated in high-backed chairs at artfully carved round tables. The floor had been formed from smoothed sparkling pebbles that reflected the dim lighting.

Cyrene’s mouth watered as soon as she walked inside. The tables were piled high with the best-smelling food she had ever encountered. Gold goblets were placed before every individual, but no one was eating yet.

It wasn’t until she was halfway across the room that she realized the voices were quieting and people were staring at her.

She heard someone whisper, “Human,” and another said, “Six team,” so she tried not to listen anymore.

Queen Shira was easy to pick out at the front of the room with a crown of climbing vines in her hair. That made Cyrene wish for her Affiliate pin, but if Avoca had been offended that she was from Byern, she was sure wearing it would have been dangerous.

“Queen Shira,” Avoca whispered. She pressed her hand to her lips in deference.

The Queen returned the gesture.

Then, Avoca pointed at one of the empty chairs at the Queen’s table. “Here.”

“Where will you sit?” Cyrene asked without thinking.

She only knew three people in the entire place, and she didn’t want Avoca to be far, especially since Ceis’f was seated at this table.

“Where I must.”

And then, without ceremony, she strode around the table and took a seat at Queen Shira’s right side.

Cyrene promptly took her seat. The right side was a sign of preference at home. Consort Daufina, the King’s highest advisor, always sat to his right. It had to mean something that Avoca was seated in that position of favor.

“Let’s begin,” Queen Shira said.

Dinner tasted as good as it smelled. The feast was a merry gathering, and people spoke heartily at the tables as they ate. No one engaged Cyrene in conversation, so she remained silent.

Once the plates were cleared away, Queen Shira stood. Silence immediately followed, and all eyes turned toward her. Cyrene could feel the anticipation from everyone around her. It even made her lean forward as she waited to hear what the Queen had to say.

“Thank you for joining me for the Feast of the Harvest Moon. The Creator shines on us with her returning blessings. We have had much loss, but with each year, we are afforded a new beginning. Our harvest was plentiful, the sacrifices of a few have secured the whole, and we have among us a Doma and the sign of the Rise of the Children of the Dawn.”

Whispers broke out across the room, and Cyrene felt her cheeks warm. She hadn’t expected the Queen to mention her. The Queen might not feel so secure if she could see how many angry eyes turned toward Cyrene. A number of people appeared to agree with Ceis’f.

“Silence!” Queen Shira called. “Our honored guest tonight is Doma Cyrene, and she has been granted the rights of our people until she departs. I expect everyone to treat her with that same respect. Now, before we return outdoors to celebrate the Creator’s blessing, my daughter has requested to be the first to give forth her gift of the new beginning.”

Cyrene looked around the table and then out into the audience, wondering who the Queen’s daughter was and what a gift of the new beginning entailed.

The Queen took her seat, and with her chin tilted up, Avoca stood gracefully from her seat. Cyrene narrowed her eyes, curious as to why she was standing.

“Thank you, Mother,” Avoca said.

Cyrene’s mouth fell open. Avoca is the…princess? That made no sense. She was sent on errands, like a servant, and forced to work in a military role, like someone in the Second Class. A princess should be learning her duties to better serve the country and eventually marry and become queen. It was reckless to risk her life as a soldier.

“I am glad that our new beginning starts tonight,” Avoca began without preamble. “For this past evening, Ceis’f and I were out with two six teams and were attacked by a horde of Indres. As you have since heard, six of our warriors have fallen. Their lives lie heavily on my heart, and I will never forget their names or faces. However, I would not be standing here before you”—she stopped and gestured to Ceis’f and a table in the corner—“none of us would be standing here today, if not for a miracle.”

Cyrene blinked. Did Avoca just call me a miracle?

“Doma, will you rise?” Avoca asked Cyrene.

She stood on shaky legs before a rapt audience. Avoca strode around the table and stood before her. Cyrene’s heart hammered in her chest as she waited.

“I only have one thing to offer you as a gift of my new beginning, and that is my life.”

And then Avoca knelt in front of Cyrene before the entire audience.

The room broke out into pandemonium. Cries and shouts echoed throughout the room. Chairs were knocked back to the ground as others exclaimed their distaste. Ceis’f jumped to his feet, grasped Cyrene, and pulled her back a few feet away from the Princess.

“Don’t even think about it, Doma,” he growled into her ear.

Cyrene stood, frozen, in shock. She didn’t know what was happening, but it seemed like Avoca had just…forfeited her life.