CHAPTER ONE - Riona

Riona Morpleth watched the hunter check his quiver not twice, but three times as he exited the cabin and trudged into the woods towards her hiding spot in the tree. Her leg cramped, her torn wing ached, and overall, it was not a good day to be a half-fae. Living on the run and traversing through the southern half of the continent of Drazanean, one could say that about any day.

She signalled to Connor Donmagh, who had tried to hide his lanky human frame in scantily leafed bushes. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to her—he watched the hunter and muttered to himself. He had better not be casting a spell, she thought bitterly, because that was bound to go awry.

The hunter passed close to her tree and Riona drew in a quiet, measured breath as she searched for their unwilling companion. Ollivan Stovel had not done as he was told. Instead of hiding with Connor on the ground, he’d successfully climbed a tree—the one within reach of hers. He wasn’t keeping an eye on the hunter. He fixed his untrustworthy gaze on Riona. Just like the hunter below them, he would likely turn her in to the authorities, given the right opportunity.

Playing with an errant leaf to keep her mind in the present, the intermittent sun stepped out of the clouds and illuminated the many arrowheads within the hunter’s quiver. Sharp. Ready to pierce the enemy. They beckoned her to leave the tree. To grab one and save it for later…

Pull his scalp back, expose the throat, ready the sharp edge and—