Lindsay Buroker

After a bit of a break for dragon-filled urban fantasy adventures, I’ve returned to high fantasy. I’m bringing you an all-new world, characters, and intelligent furry creatures who like to kick ass when they’re not busy mooching honey. 😀

Shadows of Winter is the first novel in what will be The Curse and the Crown high-fantasy series. Inspired by my childhood love of Beauty and the Beast (many versions!), it has adventure, mystery, and—of course—romance. The enemies-to-snarky-friends-to-eventually-lovers type. My favorite, as regular readers know!

The ebook comes out on Amazon on May 23rd, and the paperback will be available in numerous stores. Podium Audio is producing the audiobooks for this series, and I just sent them the final manuscript last week, so I am expecting their release of Shadows of Winter toward the fall.

The ebook is available here:

• Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Shadows-Winter-Curse-Lindsay-Buroker-ebook/dp/B0D21R5D8L

• Amazon AUS: https://www.amazon.com.au/Shadows-Winter-Curse-Lindsay-Buroker-ebook/dp/B0D21R5D8L

• Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Shadows-Winter-Curse-Lindsay-Buroker-ebook/dp/B0D21R5D8L

• Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shadows-Winter-Curse-Lindsay-Buroker-ebook/dp/B0D21R5D8L

• Amazon DE: https://www.amazon.de/Shadows-Winter-Curse-Lindsay-Buroker-ebook/dp/B0D21R5D8L

• Amazon FR: https://www.amazon.fr/Shadows-Winter-Curse-Lindsay-Buroker-ebook/dp/B0D21R5D8L

If you’d like to try before you buy, I’ve included the first three chapters below. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

 

Beneath the mountains of Evardor, winter’s shadows forever linger.

      ~ “Spring Cowers” by Erazidar the Poet

 

“It’s magnificent.” Kaylina clasped her hands and gazed enraptured at the dilapidated stone inn.

The walls were cracked and crumbling, seagull droppings spattered the rusty gate, and cracks wide enough to swallow stray cats plagued what she could see of the courtyard, but the location was perfect. Only ten blocks from King’s Cliff, with the Stillguard River flowing behind it, the fortified structure would draw all kinds of foot traffic. She wagered there was a view of the harbor from the—

“It’s a castle,” her younger brother, Frayvar, said. “We’re not fortifying ourselves to withstand sieges and invading armies. We’re starting a meadery.”

“Don’t forget the eating house. I saw how many cookbooks you brought.” Kaylina waved to the trunks they’d rolled up from the harbor on a rickety cart. As it had clattered over the cobblestones, getting stuck in ruts, horse droppings, and mounds of semi-cleared snow, she’d briefly lamented the number of romance and adventure novels she’d brought along, but a girl couldn’t be bereft on a long trip. “Our diners will feel safe and protected while they enjoy our offerings. This is the rugged north. People here probably insist on a secure place to eat.”

“Are you suggesting our diners will require an eating house containing both murder holes and machicolations?”

“Of course.”

Machio-what?

Frayvar sighed. “There’s no way we can afford the rent on a place this big.”

“You might be surprised.” The graying land agent they’d found in the market square smiled warmly as pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages and wagons passed on the boulevard behind them, the people casting curious—or were those wary—looks in their direction. “It’s been centuries since the Stillguard Inn went out of business, and the castle has been vacant for most of that time.”

Frayvar nudged a section of the courtyard wall with his boot, and the crumbling mortar gave way, a stone falling. “Kay, all we need is a dining room, a kitchen, a lavatory, and a well out back. Not this… monstrosity.”

A red-breasted bird chirped from a great oak rising at the corner of the property, the dark skeletal branches in contrast to the icy snow-smothered mountains towering beyond the city. It flew down and landed on Kaylina’s shoulder.

She pointed to it. “This is a good omen, right?”

“Animals befriend you everywhere,” Frayvar said. “If anything, it’s probably trying to warn you that this is a bad idea.”

The bird’s head rotated toward Kaylina, toward the castle, and toward her again. It emitted a concerned cheep.

Was Frayvar right?

No, Kaylina refused to believe that. The bird flew off when she lifted her arms and faced the castle, her dream so intense that she had no trouble envisioning it. Their meadery would be an extension of the family business that thrived far to the south, a chance to bring their food and drink to Port Jirador, the capital of the Zaldor Kingdom. It would be visited by lords and ladies and maybe the queen herself. People rich and poor would flock to taste mead crafted from Grandpa’s exquisite honey using Grandma’s recipes. Kaylina would bring pride to the family name of Korbian, and everyone would realize she wasn’t a screwup. She had what it took to build a successful business of her own, to find the contentment that had eluded her at home where others were always telling her what to do.

“Imagine it, Frayvar,” she breathed when she realized she was babbling the details of her vision aloud. “Can you see it?”

“No. I don’t hallucinate the way you do.”

Kaylina lowered her arms, frustrated, not for the first time, that Grandma had sent him to tag along and keep an eye on her.

“I don’t hallucinate,” she snapped. “I have dreams of what can be, what will be.”

“Dreams that you see when your eyes are open.” Frayvar turned to the land agent. “What is the cost of leasing this… establishment, and will repairs be included?”

“Certainly, certainly. With an acceptably lengthy lease agreement of course. No fewer than ten years.”

Kaylina gaped. Ten years? Was that normal? That was almost half her life.

“Commercial lease agreements in the kingdom are typically three to five years,” Frayvar said with certainty.

Given how much nonfiction he read, Kaylina suspected he knew that for a fact.

“Yes, but this is prime territory alongside the river and near the royal castle and the harbor. It also has a view of the mountains. Very desirable. Just yesterday, I had someone interested in leasing it, but he would only commit to five years. I was forced to pass. The landowner wants a longer contract.”

“How much is the rent?” Kaylina asked.

“All this can be yours for two thousand liviti a month.” The land agent winked at her, ignoring her brother.

“How much was it before my sister said it’s magnificent?” Frayvar asked.

Kaylina grimaced. He was right. She shouldn’t have been so transparent when they had to negotiate.

“It’s perfect for your needs. Very spacious.” The agent smiled, not answering Frayvar’s question. “Assuming you do indeed have funds? You’re young for this endeavor, aren’t you?”

He eyed Kaylina, her raven hair swept back in a ponytail, and considered her trousers, tunic, parka, and low boots. The clothes were practical for travel, if not the most feminine garments she might have chosen. At least she’d cleaned off the grime of the sea voyage in a washbasin that morning. She’d anticipated having to prove that she was serious, capable, and not without coin.

Her brother… She hadn’t been able to talk him out of wearing his rumpled hemp shirt with missing buttons and a fluffy prancing taybarri embroidered on the front. The noble creatures, ridden into battle by the elite royal rangers, were fierce, not fluffy. Admittedly, taybarri were rare in the south, and she’d only seen them from a distance, but the history books promised ferocity.

“I’m twenty-one,” Kaylina said, “and my brother is a very old and crotchety seventeen.” Despite the furry blue creatures prancing across his chest.

“Young for starting a business,” the agent said.

“Rangers are recruited to risk their lives and protect the kingdom as early as sixteen,” she pointed out.

“Rangers are chosen, not recruited.” The agent glanced up and down the street, then asked again, “Do you have funds?”

“Yes,” Frayvar said.

He was the one who’d brought a purse. Kaylina, who’d left in more of a hurry—or, as Mom would call it, a huff—than she wanted to admit, had planned to work for someone else to save up funds for the first few months. As much as she hated having her younger brother watch over her, his coin would be helpful.

“We also have Grandpa’s special yeast and honeycomb.” Kaylina patted one of the trunks.

A squawk came from a tower, and three pigeons flew out, complaining about something. Unlike the other, these birds weren’t inclined to visit her shoulder. One pooped on the walkway three feet from them before flapping away.

“You’ll want to clean that up before the queen arrives,” Frayvar told her.

“As my assistant, you can handle that.”

“Hilarious. Grandma sent me along to keep the books, prevent you from being swindled, and ensure her recipes are accurately represented.”

“Also so you wouldn’t be beaten up again by the Bustinor brothers.” Kaylina waved at his shirt, though it was more his spindly arms, gangly height, and tendency to wheeze and pass out that made him a target for bullies.

Frayvar lifted a finger, as if he might protest, but he only sighed and added, “Or the Bustinor sisters.”

“Craters of the moon, they’re worse than the brothers.”

“Tell me about it.”

After another glance down the street, the agent gestured at the castle. “Why don’t you look around the property while you think about it? I’ll wait here and find my paperwork in case you decide you’re interested.” He patted a brown satchel.

It wouldn’t hurt to check the place out.

Smiling as her vision wafted through her mind again, Kaylina leaped the cracks of the courtyard and jogged to the double doors leading into the keep. The stout wood creaked as she pushed one side open. She almost ran through a grand vestibule and into a great hall with wrought-iron chandeliers hanging from high ceiling beams. This would be a wonderful place to seat diners.

Dust tickled her nose as she stumbled into cobwebs hanging from those beams, but she didn’t care. Already, she could see the hall cleaned up and full of tables, every patron sipping her mead and proclaiming its brilliance.

An archway led to a smaller room with cabinets and counters. They could put the mead-making equipment there, and she could give talks about the process. Demonstrations. And was that a kitchen beyond? A huge kitchen.

“Look, Fray.” Kaylina spun a pirouette before pointing. “There’s room for all your pots and pans, and I bet there’s a huge pantry. Once we’re successful, you can buy every spice in the world. And you can spend your days gleefully organizing and reorganizing the jars, an activity I’m positive you love as much as cooking.”

“I don’t love cooking.” Sneezes came from behind her, announcing her brother following, though his watering eyes might be keeping him from seeing her vision. “I got into it because I’m allergic to everything, and I have trust issues about taking food from strangers.”

“And family.”

“Family who aren’t meticulous in the kitchen, yes. Silana has tried to poison me three times.”

“She gave you nutmeg.”

“Poison.” He sneezed again.

His dourness couldn’t make Kaylina’s vision falter or still the energy humming through her. She couldn’t wait to sign that lease and take ownership of this place, to clean it up and—

The heavy front door slammed shut, the thud echoing from the stone walls.

Had that been… the wind?

As if in response to her thought, a creepy draft whispered across the back of Kaylina’s neck, sending a chill to her core. With her instincts warning her of danger, she ran to the front door and tried to open it. It didn’t budge.

“That guy locked us in?” Kaylina darted to a window as tall as she, heavy shutters covering it. She grunted as she tried to open one. “Do you still have your purse?”

Coins jangled.

“Yes, but we left our trunks out there.” Frayvar’s voice lowered. “I’ll bet he set us up to be robbed. I knew he wasn’t legitimate.”

“If you knew that, why didn’t you say something back at the market?” Again, Kaylina pushed at the shutter, but it didn’t move.

“I didn’t know until he quoted the rate. I’m not that good at reading people. You know that. You’re supposed to have a woman’s intuition.”

“You’re thinking of Silana. I have…” What? If Kaylina knew, maybe she wouldn’t have felt compelled to make this journey to prove herself.

“Schemes.”

“Dreams.”

A clank came from the back of the castle. The kitchen? It sounded like someone had kicked a pot. Someone sneaking through the shadows to waylay them?

“I hope they can defend us from thieves and cutthroats.” Frayvar turned toward the kitchen.

Kaylina reached for her belt, for the only weapon besides her utility knife that she carried. But the sling was for hunting grouse, not braining thieves. If it hadn’t been a gift from Grandpa, she might not have brought it, but she’d wanted it in case she didn’t get to go home again for a long time.

Behind them, the shutters flew open. Light shone in around the blue-furred head of a towering taybarri, its soft floppy ears contrasting with the fangs revealed when its jaws parted. Its breath steamed into the room, fogging the cold air.

Kaylina stumbled back, screaming before she caught herself.

The creature’s large nostrils twitched. Because it was sniffing her? Because she smelled like dinner? What did taybarri like to eat?

Appearing far different from the image on her brother’s shirt, the long-bodied, four-legged beings were supposed to be at home on the Plains of Tiardia, where their height, greater than that of a horse, allowed them to see over the tall blue grasses and stalk prey as they swished their thick, long tails behind them. The stories said those tails were as much weapons as their claws, fangs, and flash magic. Their floppy ears made them look cute when they were at rest, but when the taybarri sprang into battle, even the fearsome Kar’ruk warriors scattered.

This one leaned closer, its jaws parting farther. The fangs drew Kaylina’s gaze, almost mesmerizing her. The taybarri’s nostrils twitched again, but it didn’t look at her face or what might be her delicious torso. Instead, it peered over her shoulder to her pack.

Kaylina pulled it off and set it on the floor, thinking the taybarri might want the handful of snacks she’d taken from the galley before they disembarked. Or maybe the creature smelled her grandfather’s honey. Not fully trusting that the trunks wouldn’t be lost, she had stashed some in her pack. But would something with that many fangs eat sweets? Those teeth and that powerful jaw had to be for tearing meat from bones.

As its head dipped toward the pack, Kaylina noticed the rider for the first time.

When she met the icy blue eyes of the pale-skinned man, she didn’t grow any more certain of her fate. He wasn’t much older than she and might have been handsome once, with a square jaw, straight nose, and cleft chin, but one of three parallel scars pulled down his left eye at the corner. Marks made by claws? His short red-brown hair was trimmed so close that it revealed more scars on his scalp. They also looked like they’d been left by an animal rather than a blade.

Dressed in the black leather armor of a ranger, he had to be one of the fabled protectors of the kingdom, and she shouldn’t have needed to fear him. His face was cold and distant but not cruel, and he sat calmly on his mount, barely stirring. Even so, her instincts warned her of something dangerous about him, not only dangerous to enemies of the kingdom but to her.

“I am Lord Vlerion,” he stated with little inflection. It reminded her of her brother’s tone, especially when Frayvar was tired and not putting effort into being expressive, but the coldness in the ranger’s eyes made his voice more menacing. Or maybe it was the fact that his hand rested on the hilt of a sword. “You will come out of the castle.”

His taybarri shifted slightly, enough for her to see another standing in the courtyard, a strikingly handsome man mounted atop it. He also gripped the hilt of a sword, promising he was a threat as well. Despite his good looks, he regarded her with the same coolness as the other man—Vlerion.

His taybarri’s jaws parted, and it looked at her like she was dinner. There was no curious sniffing. A wide pink tongue slid between its pointed teeth to wipe saliva from its jowls.

“Actually, we’re in the middle of a tour.” Kaylina was proud that her voice didn’t squeak. “Maybe you could speak with…” She glanced at her brother. “What was his name?”

“Naybor,” Frayvar whispered.

“Naybor,” she repeated with a smile for Vlerion.

He didn’t smile back. Something told her the guy never smiled.

The handsome ranger looked around, elegant blond eyebrows rising. “There’s nobody else here.”

“You will come out.” Vlerion held Kaylina’s gaze. “Trespassing on private property in Port Jirador is illegal.” His eyes closed to slits. “Trespassing with the intent to foment an insurrection is treason, punishable by death.”

Kaylina stared at him. Insurrection? What insurrection?

“We just got here,” she blurted.

Maybe that wasn’t a defense. Maybe if she had a minute, she could come up with something more articulate, but he didn’t give her a minute.

“Only the so-called virtuous cohort and their spies lurk around the cursed castle.” Vlerion drew a long sword, nicks along the blade promising it had seen frequent use. “And only the Virts have the motivation to murder unarmed aristocrats.”

“I—”

Murder? What was he talking about?

“If you are not guilty, you will come out and explain yourselves,” Vlerion said. “If you run, your guilt will be assumed.”

And I’ll kill you, his cold eyes said.

Would he enjoy it? Or remain as dispassionate throughout as he was sitting on his mount?

“The front door is locked,” Kaylina remembered. “Naybor trapped us inside.”

“During your tour.” His flat tone made it a statement, not a question.

“Before it started.”

“It was a self-guided tour,” Frayvar said. “Naybor—he called himself a local land agent—told us to check out the place. We’re prospective tenants.”

Vlerion’s expression never changed, but his earlier words, cursed castle, made Kaylina think the idea of anyone renting this place was ludicrous. Maybe that was something the locals all knew.

“Jankarr.” Vlerion looked to the other ranger.

He appeared to be older, but he bobbed his head and hopped down as if he’d been given an order by a superior. He trotted to the great oaken double doors and swung one open easily, as if its hinges had been oiled recently.

What in all the altered orchards? It had been locked a minute ago. Kaylina wasn’t crazy. She’d checked.

“Come outside, Virts,” Jankarr called, “if you want a chance to defend yourselves.”

“Defend ourselves?” Frayvar whispered, walking hesitantly toward the door. “Does he mean with weapons or words?”

Though she didn’t want to go out, Kaylina had to watch out for her little brother, so she hurried to step in front of him. “You know a lot more about words than weapons, so you’d better hope for that.”

“I know more about numbers than either.”

“You want me to ask him to set up some math problems?” Kaylina crept warily toward the door, eyeing Jankarr, who held it open, as if he were a polite gentleman instead of a fearsome ranger who was also fondling his sword hilt.

“Would you?” Frayvar asked.

“Math isn’t going to prove our innocence. You—”

As Kaylina stepped out, a shadow moved to the side. Before she could so much as twitch, a sword swept in, the cool kiss of sharp steel touching her throat.

Fear slammed into her like a stake to the heart. She stared into Vlerion’s cold eyes, certain he had no idea who she was but equally certain he was going to kill her.

 

Chapter 2

 

Panic steals opportunity.

~ Lord General Avingatar

 

Vlerion didn’t kill Kaylina. With his blade resting against her throat, he said, “Walk,” and jerked his chin toward a tower at the corner of the castle.

“When do we get to defend ourselves?” Kaylina held her hands out, not wanting to make trouble, but also not wanting to be run through for something she hadn’t done. She glanced around as much as she dared with the blade touching her throat.

Jankarr was right. Their land agent was nowhere to be seen.

“Walk,” Vlerion repeated softly, shifting to stand beside Kaylina and grip her arm while keeping his sword against her throat.

“Since you’re being so polite about it, I’d love to go anywhere with you. I can tell you’re a fantastic date.”

Something flashed in those cold blue eyes. Irritation? Maybe she was supposed to call him Lord Vlerion when she spoke and genuflect a few times at the end of each sentence.

“You want me to bring the kid?” Jankarr asked.

“He didn’t murder anyone,” Vlerion said.

Though Kaylina was glad they were dismissing Frayvar as a non-threat, she couldn’t help but blurt, “And you think I did? Is it the deadly sling I carry? Or the great brawn of my arms?” The blade at her throat continued to unnerve her, but Kaylina lifted her arms to show them off, though the parka sleeves hid their slenderness. “I got my muscles cleaning my grandma’s big glass carboys, in case you’re wondering.”

Vlerion guided her around the corner of the tower without responding, though he glanced at her sling and the pouch of rounds that hung next to them. He couldn’t think she’d murdered someone with one of the lead balls.

“That wasn’t as much of an answer as you might think,” Jankarr called after them.

Vlerion didn’t respond to that either, only walking Kaylina through the uneven courtyard that surrounded the keep, half-crumbled stones littering it. An eerie moan came from somewhere above, and a stone fell from the wall not ten feet in front of them. It hit the ground and broke into a dozen pieces.

Maybe the castle was cursed.

Vlerion lowered his sword, but the grip on Kaylina’s arm remained, and he walked close, eyeing the wall ahead warily. She could almost feel the heat of his body in contrast to the frosty air. His muscles bulged against the seams of the black shirt under his armor, and she decided not to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match.

“I was more interested in a tour of the inside of the castle. Did I tell you we’re going to start a meadery? Though I’m gathering this place might not be as for rent as Naybor said.” Kaylina walked obediently as Vlerion guided her around another tower at the back corner, but she decided to elaborate while she had a chance. “We’re new to the city. We were cooped up on a ship for weeks to get here and just arrived a few hours ago. It was called the Windborn Taybarri. Maybe you’d like to check with the crew. I’m sure someone can show you that our names were on the manifest, so we couldn’t possibly be the spies or, uhm, murderers you’re looking for.”

Vlerion stopped at a back gatehouse that led out to a wide trail along the river, more skeletal trees stretching branches over water framed by several feet of ice along the banks. Thanks to a raised portcullis casting shadows, they didn’t see the body lying in the gatehouse until they stopped in front of it.

Kaylina had never seen the pale-skinned, white-haired gentleman sprawled on his back on the ground, his eyes frozen open in death, but she gaped, stunned. Had this just happened? She remembered the rattle she’d heard in the kitchen, but, with blood matting the side of his head, he looked to have been hit by a club or mace.

Vlerion glanced at her sling again.

She shook her head. A small lead round wouldn’t have done that much damage. Vlerion couldn’t possibly think she’d done this.

Except… from his point of view, Kaylina and Frayvar were the only ones around. Unlike in the street out front, there was no foot traffic back here, nobody ambling along the river trail. Was that chance? Or did people avoid walking close to the city’s cursed castle?

Aware of Vlerion watching her—judging her guilt or innocence by her reaction?—Kaylina shook her head again. “I’m sorry if he meant something to you, but I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“The death of any kingdom subject means something to me.” Again, his words were without inflection, making it hard to tell if they were true, if he did care.

“I’m a kingdom subject,” she said.

“Are you?” Vlerion’s gaze flicked downward dismissively, not lingering on her curves, her brown skin, or her dark hair. He had to have taken in everything about her when his taybarri had been sniffing her through the window.

“I don’t know if you read history books, but the kingdom annexed the southern region, including my island chain of Vamorka, more than a hundred years ago. We’re all subjects now. Not only those of you who live up in the gold-mining, whale-hunting, frigid-most-of-the-year north.”

“I have read many history books.” His tone remained flat, and he didn’t add way more than you in a snotty voice, but she heard it anyway.

“I’m a loyal subject, the same as you. I came to spread my family’s business to the capital and make a name for myself.”

His gaze dropped to the dead man.

Kaylina grimaced, not knowing if Naybor had set her up, or if she’d stumbled into a crime scene due to her own bad luck. The latter wouldn’t surprise her much.

“I’m not a spy,” she added. “And I’m absolutely not a murderer.”

“Even those who don’t deliver the killing blow can watch the river for the approach of witnesses,” Vlerion said softly.

“Listen, my name is Kaylina Korbian, and I told you the truth. My family is loyal to the king.”

Technically, her family was loyal to their kin, their customers, three out of the twelve moon gods, and their roots in the island community. But they paid their taxes and never made trouble for the lord who ruled in the king’s name over their southern province.

“We’ll see.” After a grave nod for the fallen man, Vlerion turned Kaylina back toward the front of the castle. “Because you were, at the least, present when a noble was murdered, I’m taking you to jail. You may speak to the adjudicator about your ship and journey, and he can determine if you are a spy or not.” Vlerion paused before rounding the tower at the front corner, and his fingers tightened on her arm. “If you assisted in the murder of one of the king’s chosen tax collectors, I will slay you myself.”

“Oh, goodie. I was afraid an underling with a shaky hand would do it.”

Something dark and dangerous sparked in his eyes, fire scorching away the ice. Kaylina stumbled, fear making her wish she could retract her words.

The fiery spark disappeared, and Vlerion’s cold facade returned.

Had she imagined the change? No. A shiver went through her, and she told herself to refrain from ticking him off. He had a temper. Who knew what he did when he exploded?

Kaylina hoped the adjudicator he’d mentioned cared enough about justice and the rights of kingdom subjects to research her story. She had told the truth, that her name was on the ship’s manifest. Thanks to the funds her brother had brought, they’d both bought passage legally. When she’d left on her own with scarcely any coin and only the honeycomb and yeast, she’d planned to stow away or trade and barter her way here. Now, she was relieved that hadn’t been necessary.

Vlerion guided her to the front doors to rejoin his comrade. Jankarr had his sword pointed vaguely in Frayvar’s direction but didn’t appear worried about him. He smirked as he glanced at the taybarri shirt.

“What do you think, my lord?” Jankarr tilted his head toward the doors—no, he was indicating the body out back.

Vlerion looked at Frayvar before giving Kaylina a long moment of consideration.

Though she bristled under the cool study, she kept her mouth shut, reminding herself she also wanted to be dismissed as a non-threat. And she wasn’t a threat. Just because she came from the most recently annexed part of the kingdom didn’t mean she cavorted with spies and murderers.

“I deem it unlikely they had anything to do with Lord Darringtar’s death,” Vlerion finally said. “I suspect they are the ignorant tourists that they claim to be.”

Kaylina bristled even more—they weren’t ignorant because they’d arrived that morning and hadn’t been filled in on local threats—but Frayvar spoke before she could say anything unwise.

“Yes.”

Jankarr snorted. “Let them go?”

“No,” Vlerion said without hesitation. “We’ve been duped before by spies who appeared innocent. We’ll take them to the adjudicator for questioning.” He watched for Kaylina’s reaction when he added, “Under the influence of kafdari root.”

While she scraped through her mind in an attempt to remember why that was familiar, Frayvar reacted. His eyes bulged with terror.

Confusion swept through Kaylina. She’d only seen him react that viscerally to the promise of some tincture or potion if—

Frayvar sprinted away, charging for the corner of the tower.

“Shit,” Jankarr said, starting after him.

“Stay with her.” Vlerion’s cool voice didn’t change, but when he glanced at Kaylina, his eyes burned with the certainty that he’d unearthed a traitor—a spy.

“No,” she blurted as he raced after Frayvar.

Vlerion drew his sword as he ran. By the moons, would he kill Frayvar?

Jankarr reached for Kaylina, but she dodged and sprinted after Vlerion, yanking out her sling. Terrified for her brother, she didn’t consider the ramifications of using a weapon on a ranger.

With longer and stronger legs, Vlerion was seconds from catching up to Frayvar. Kaylina hurled one of her lead rounds, adjusting her target at the last instant from his back to his head. That leather armor would keep the round from doing any damage, and she had to stop him. She couldn’t let him hurt her brother.

An arm wrapped around her from behind, yanking her off her feet. Not before she glimpsed her round slam into the back of Vlerion’s head. Hard.

Though the blow had to have hurt, he didn’t slow down. He glanced back with ice in his eyes, ice and calculation as he doubtless reconsidered if she was capable of murdering someone.

“Leave him alone!” Kaylina yelled as she lost sight of Frayvar. “He didn’t do anything.”

Jankarr flipped her around to face him, then slung her over his shoulder. He ripped her sling from her hand.

A cry of pain came from Frayvar. Vlerion had caught him. Caught him or worse?

Jerking and twisting, Kaylina tried to escape, but the ranger had her pinned. Her knee thudded against his chest, but the leather armor might as well have been steel for all the good her blows did.

Her captor headed back to the front of the castle, toting her like a sack of potatoes.

“Jankarr, when I said watch her, I assumed that would also imply you should keep her from attacking me,” Vlerion said calmly from a few steps behind.

Kaylina twisted enough to see under her captor’s armpit. Vlerion gripped his sword in one hand and used the other to grasp Frayvar’s arm and force him to walk with him, the same as he’d done with her moments before. There wasn’t any blood on that blade, but it was hard to tell from Frayvar’s red face if he’d been hurt. His eyes remained wide, panic making the whites visible around his pupils.

“I wanted to see if she could use that sling.” Jankarr sounded amused.

“Effectively.” Vlerion grimaced when he touched the back of his head. When he considered Kaylina again, that cold calculation remained in his eyes.

Her heart pounded in her eardrums as she realized he’d reclassified her from not-a-threat to dangerous. And capable of being a spy, if not a murderer.

How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

 

Chapter 3

 

Give the traitor enough freedom to condemn himself.

      ~ King Gavatorin the Elder

The cold of the stone bench seeped through Kaylina’s parka and trousers, numbing her body, as heartless as the glacier-filled mountains looming behind the city. Common sense told her to stand up, move around, and figure out how to get out of the cell. Instead, her treacherous mind fixated on the confrontation with the rangers, on what she should have said to Vlerion, on how she shouldn’t have lost her temper, on how, on how, on how—

“It’s not my fault,” Frayvar said for the fifth time. “Kafdari root is from the altered myristica fragrans tree.”

“I know,” Kaylina murmured.

She hadn’t known when the rangers had spoken of it, but Frayvar had been apologizing and explaining ever since they’d been locked in the cell.

“It’s magical,” he said, “like all altered plants are, but that’s not the problem. It’s from the same tree as nutmeg and mace. That means I’m almost certainly allergic to it. If they make me ingest it, I could die.”

“I know.”

“They execute spies and traitors.” Frayvar paced as he spoke. Five steps to one wall. A thump as he pushed off it with his hands. Five steps to the other. Thump.

Kaylina did her best not to find the thumps irritating. Better to be with her brother than alone. “I know that too.”

“We have to figure a way out of here.”

“Yeah.” She stared up at the dark ceiling. A single north-facing window high on the stone wall let in little light.

“Unless we get an adjudicator who’s much more reasonable than the rangers, we could be put to death by sunset.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I normally find solace in obeying laws and rules, since they’re barometers for what’s socially appropriate behavior, but in this case, I think we have to break out of jail, escape back to the south, and hope the rangers have more pressing concerns than coming after us.”

Back to the south… as failures.

Kaylina grimaced at the cobwebs in the corner of the shadowy ceiling. She’d come to prove herself. How, after less than a day here, could she already be defeated?

No, she wasn’t defeated. She couldn’t give up yet. She had to do something. But what? Her earlier energy had faded, and intense fatigue bound her to the bench as surely as chains.

“Kaylina.” Frayvar halted, spun toward her, and planted his fists on his hips. “This isn’t a logical time for one of your funks.”

“Is there ever a logical time for a funk?” she murmured.

“When we’re not about to be executed.” His voice squeaked like it had when he’d been thirteen.

When she met his imploring eyes, he didn’t look much older than that now. He was still gangly and frail, a target for bullies. For an asshole lord who thought nothing of slamming him to the ground with his overly muscled weight.

Protective anger simmered, helping to push back the malaise. Kaylina sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. “Do you have any ideas for escaping?”

“You’re the schemer.”

“Yeah, but you’re—”

A scream interrupted her, sending a chill down her spine. It came from one of the other cells they’d passed on the way in. A prisoner being questioned? Being tortured?

The scream faded and didn’t repeat. Kaylina found that more ominous than promising.

“You’re the one who’s read every encyclopedia and textbook in the town library,” she said quietly. “Didn’t any of them discuss jailbreaks?”

“In nonfiction, that comes up less often than you’d think.” Frayvar eyed the iron bars of the window. “Metal contracts when it’s cold and expands with heat, which can break or at least loosen bonds. Unfortunately, the inconsiderate guards didn’t give us a torch.”

“These northerners are a rude lot.”

“Extremely.”

Kaylina rose and tried to get her sluggish brain thinking. It was hard. For the whole journey, she’d been on a cloud, planning what she would do when they arrived, lying awake nights, her brain too busy for sleep. But that alertness had been knocked out of her, as if she’d been the one to take a lead ball to the head.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself.

Kaylina didn’t think she was a schemer—maybe a dreamer—but she would do what she could. She walked to the door and knocked, the cold oak so dense it hurt her knuckles.

What she would say if someone answered, she didn’t know, but she had to barter and negotiate if at all possible. She couldn’t let Frayvar be killed because of her dream.

Nobody answered. She pressed her ear to the door. Was anyone on guard in the corridor?

“I’m sorry Grandma sent you after me,” she told Frayvar in case there wasn’t a chance later. In case she couldn’t negotiate his freedom. “When I left—” fled, the insidious part of her mind inserted, “—I didn’t think anyone would come after me. After what I said to her… Well, you were there.” Kaylina rubbed her face, regret lurking. Always lurking.

Frayvar looked toward the window. “Grandma didn’t send me.”

“Was it Mom?”

“No. Nobody.”

“What do you mean? You told me the family sent you.”

“I lied, Kaylina. I can’t believe you didn’t see through it. I’m a horrible liar.”

“Well, I’m used to you not looking me in the eyes, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

He snorted. “I thought you would need someone to keep the books, to be the practical one, and to help make your business successful. I also worried you were in over your head. The north is harder than the south.” He glanced at the bars in the window and the thick stone walls. The jail in their town back home was made from bamboo, the roof from reeds. “Besides, I owe you. You’ve… you’ve always watched out for me. It’s not like the rest of the family doesn’t, but Grandma is the only one who gets me. Her and you.”

“I don’t get you either, but you’re my brother.”

“I guess that’s sufficient. I appreciate you trying to keep that hulking troglodyte from pummeling me.”

“Any time. If the family didn’t send you, where’d you get the seed money?”

“It’s my savings.”

“Twelve gods, Fray.” Kaylina slumped against the door. Now, she really had to get her brother out of there. “Did you tell Mom you were coming? Grandma? Anyone?”

“I left a note.”

Yeah, that was his style. No direct confrontation.

Kaylina couldn’t blame him. Confrontations tended to escalate, even with those you loved. Or especially with those you loved.

“Did you leave a note? Or was it an essay detailing the reasons for your departure over multiple pages?” She tried to smile for him, certain she already knew the answer.

Frayvar hesitated. “There were multiple pages. There was also a business plan. And a pro forma.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A financial statement calculating potential earnings based on projections and presumptions.”

“So, it was the typical runaway letter.” Her second smile was more genuine, though the weight of responsibility threatened to send her back to the bench. More than ever, she felt it was her duty to keep him safe.

Rising on tiptoes, she checked the bars in the window, attempting to twist them. Their coldness bit into her palms. She supposed blowing hot air on them wouldn’t be enough for Frayvar’s expansion of metal.

“May I ask you something?” he asked with more diffidence than usual.

“Yup.”

“Is this adventure truly about proving yourself… or is it about Domas?”

“It has nothing to do with him.”

Liar, her mind accused, a memory rearing up like an angry horse. Domas backing away from their bed with a blanket around his waist and scowling. “What is wrong with you? You look so normal.”

He’d said that more than once when they’d been together. You look so normal.

Strangely damning words. Like if she’d been born clubfooted with four eyes, her mood swings, her funks, as Frayvar called them, might have been more acceptable.

Kaylina shook her head, reluctant, as always, to open up to anyone, even family members. But Frayvar had come clean to her. Didn’t she owe it to him to tell the truth? Especially now?

“Silana said it was,” he added.

Silana. Their always-smiling older sister who had a husband, two daughters, and happiness and contentment others could only aspire to.

“She wasn’t there,” was all Kaylina said.

“Domas broke up with you, though, right?”

“It was mutual.”

“A simultaneous and equally desired agreement to part ways?” Frayvar sounded skeptical for someone with zero experience with relationships. Maybe logic prompted the question rather than intuition.

“Something like that. Breaking up might have been what prompted the timing of me leaving, but it wasn’t everything. For years, I’ve had this dream.”

“So, it was the catalyst,” Frayvar said.

“Sure.”

Leave it to him to use a vocabulary word to describe her emotional outbursts.

Some intuition took Kaylina to the door again, and she pressed her ear against it. Footsteps sounded in the corridor.

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered.

“We’ll tell them the truth once more. Calmly, so they’ll take us seriously.”

“It’s hard to get people to take you seriously when there’s nobody behind you.”

His lips flattened, but he didn’t deny that. After all his encounters with bullies in school, he had to know that better than she.

“If we have to, we’ll request that the adjudicator send a letter home to verify we are who we say we are,” Kaylina said. “I hate the thought of needing help, but Grandma will vouch for us.”

“It’ll take three weeks for round-trip communication.”

“Three weeks when they’ll have to keep us alive. Time for us to come up with something.”

“All right.” His bleak expression didn’t suggest agreement, but he probably had nothing better.

The lock turned, and Kaylina stepped back.

When the door opened, Lord Vlerion’s broad shoulders filled the frame. Damn it, where was that adjudicator? Someone impartial and fair who would hear them?

Vlerion carried his sword in hand, like an executioner’s axe ready to swing.

When his cold gaze met hers, Kaylina stepped back before she caught herself. Irritation swept through her, more at her automatic response than at anything he’d done. But her brother would point out it was logical to get out of the way of someone with a huge sword.

His face impassive, Vlerion walked into the cell, making room for an older man in ranger blacks to step in after him. A few grays dotted the new man’s brown hair, but he looked lean and fit under his armor.

When Vlerion turned, light from the corridor allowed her to see the red lump on the back of his head. Kaylina couldn’t regret hitting him, not when he’d been going after Frayvar with a sword, but there might be repercussions.

With a sword and dagger belted at his waist and more visible scars than Vlerion had, the second ranger looked as fair and impartial as a badger defending a cub. He surveyed them as Vlerion rested the tip of his long blade on the stone floor and waited.

“This is the girl who hit you on the head?” Was that amusement in the new ranger’s eyes?

“She is.” Vlerion touched something tucked into his belt opposite a dagger. Her sling.

Kaylina’s fingers twitched involuntarily toward it. Not because she longed to brain him—much—but because she couldn’t lose Grandpa’s gift.

“She wants to do it again.” Yes, that was amusement in the other man’s eyes.

Kaylina lowered her hand.

“Many do,” was all Vlerion said.

The older ranger considered Kaylina and Frayvar. “They’re young for spies and murderers.”

Vlerion eyed Kaylina. “She’s close to my age.”

“You’re young too.” Humor glinted in the ranger’s brown eyes again.

Dare they hope he would be more reasonable than the uptight lord?

“Captain.” The first hint of emotion entered Vlerion’s voice—mild indignation. “For six years, I’ve patrolled the Evardor Mountains and climbed the Twin Sisters to fight the Scourge beasts and Kar’ruk spies. I’ve seen as many battles as your gray-haired veterans.”

“As some of my gray-haired veterans, perhaps.” The ranger—the captain of the rangers?—touched a scar along his jaw.

“The Virts have used children as spies before,” Vlerion said.

Kaylina wanted to bristle at being lumped in with children—she was twenty-one, damn it—but she managed to keep her mouth shut.

“They have, but we aren’t at war with the entire proletariat, and we can’t assume everyone who isn’t a noble is an enemy.” The captain’s jaw tightened in a clench. “They’re our own people.”

“Even those who don’t raise weapons against the nobility would cheer to see us burn.” Vlerion’s tone was back to emotionless, but his face conveyed an aloof haughtiness.

“Don’t let your heritage define you, Vlerion.”

“It would be… quite impossible for it not to.” Their gazes met with the understanding of some shared knowledge. Or… a shared secret?

Whatever it was, Kaylina doubted it had anything to do with her. Deciding she didn’t care about their secrets, she raised a finger. “May we explain what led us to that castle? And who?”

“The land agent who mysteriously disappeared?” Vlerion asked coolly.

“Naybor was his name. And when armed rangers on giant hairy beasts show up, people disappearing can’t be that mysterious.”

That spark of irritation—of danger—flared in his eyes again.

Kaylina reminded herself not to intentionally goad him. He clearly didn’t like her, probably because she was a commoner. That was fine. She didn’t like him either. Asshole.

“I’m Captain Targon. Tell me what led you to the cursed castle.”

“Have you the authority to weigh guilt and innocence and release the wrongfully accused from incarceration?” Frayvar asked.

Targon, whom Kaylina had dubbed the more likely of the two to listen, narrowed his eyes. Perceiving the question as disrespect? Maybe his heritage defined him too. Or he at least believed people should bow down to his rank.

“I command the rangers and report to the king,” Targon said. “I carry his authority when it comes to defending Zaldor against threats, foreign and domestic.”

Kaylina held her hand up to keep her brother from speaking again and launched into a more complete version of what had happened since they’d landed. She was almost surprised when Targon listened. Vlerion also listened, but his eyes said he’d already condemned them as spies.

When she finished, she lifted her hands. “I’m willing to eat that root and answer questions under its influence. It’s a truth drug, right? If it can clear my name, I’m especially willing to eat it, but you can’t give it to my brother, okay? He’s allergic to stuff from the tree it comes from.” Kaylina looked at Vlerion. “That’s why he ran. Not because he was guilty of anything. He was scared for his life.”

Vlerion’s expression didn’t change, and she couldn’t tell if he believed her. She looked back to Targon, deeming him the more sympathetic.

“I volunteer to take that root and be questioned,” she repeated, “if you don’t give it to my brother.”

“You will take the root and be questioned whether you volunteer or not,” Vlerion said.

Targon glanced at him but didn’t naysay the statement.

“I thought it might be helpful if you had my cooperation instead of me biting you when you try to shove something in my mouth.” Kaylina bared her teeth at Vlerion.

“She definitely wants to hit you again,” Targon told him.

“Yes,” Vlerion agreed with an indifferent shrug.

Targon focused on Kaylina. “You two do look like siblings, even if you’re a lot more appealing than he is.”

Frayvar lifted a finger, as if he might object, but he lowered it and said nothing. Good. Kaylina didn’t want him drawing attention to himself. She didn’t want to be called appealing by a scarred-up forty-year-old guy, but he hadn’t ogled her chest or her ass, so she could deal with it.

“For now,” Targon continued, “unless your answers lead us to believe there’s more that we must unearth, I’m willing to question you in lieu of your brother.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Targon held up a hand. “Have you been given kafdari root before?”

“No.” Only after she spoke did Kaylina realize the question might have been a test. If she had said yes, would Targon have believed she’d been in trouble with the law before?

“Then you’re not aware of its side effects and how you might react under the influence.”

“It just makes you tell the truth, doesn’t it?” Kaylina looked at her brother.

“Assuming you’re not allergic to it,” Frayvar said, “it lowers your inhibitions, like alcohol. But it’s even more potent. It makes you eager to share information, but it also removes any reluctance to hide or sublimate your emotions. Depending on the person, its use can result in weeping or rage or both.”

Great. Kaylina couldn’t wait to bare her soul and weep in front of the stone-faced Vlerion and his boss.

Or was the ranger captain his boss? He ought to be, but they stood shoulder to shoulder, and they’d bantered like equals.

“The kid knows a lot about it for someone who isn’t a spy,” Vlerion noted.

“He knows a lot about everything.” Kaylina balled her fingers into a fist, frustration with the situation still simmering. “He reads books.”

She kept herself from implying that Vlerion didn’t—or couldn’t—barely.

“On roots?” Targon asked mildly.

That humor remained on his face, but his eyes were intent, and she knew he was testing them, waiting to see if they would inadvertently condemn themselves. What was going on in the capital that the rangers were so on edge? That they jumped straight to believing that people accidentally trespassing were spies?

The memory of the dead lord floated into her mind, answering her own question. She wished she’d spent more time reading the kingdom newspapers of late. Whatever was going on up here was probably being published in all the major cities, but she’d been too immersed in her own world to pay attention.

“He’s a chef at the Spitting Gull, our family’s meadery and eating house,” Kaylina said to answer Targon’s question. “If something is edible, magical or mundane, he’s read about it.”

Frayvar nodded.

“We’ll see.” Targon raised his eyebrows. “Do you still consent to taking the kafdari root and being questioned?”

Vlerion had implied that she would be questioned whether there was consent or not, but maybe those words had been meant to scare her into compliance. Maybe they had some laws about questioning their own people and needed her permission.

Another scream echoed through the stone walls, one of pain. Neither ranger blanched or reacted in any way. Targon continued to watch her intently.

“Did that guy not consent?” Kaylina didn’t manage to keep the squeak of alarm out of her voice.

“He did not. Evdar Wedgewick…” Targon paused, watching her eyes. To see if she recognized the name? She didn’t. “…is a known terrorist leader who’s been behind explosions around the city that have caused the deaths of innocents, working class and aristocrats. He is being questioned by force since he eluded the effects of the kafdari root and didn’t tell us the locations of the Virt bases.”

It was possible to elude the truth drug? Did that mean that her words wouldn’t automatically clear her?

Kaylina hoped that wouldn’t be the case. She had nothing to hide and wouldn’t fight the questioning. But would they believe her? What if the root addled her so much that she couldn’t think straight, and she somehow said something that would condemn them?

She looked at Frayvar, but he didn’t nod or encourage her in any way. His solemn eyes seemed to say it was up to her.

Since he couldn’t be questioned with the root, she had to do this.

“I consent, and I’m ready.” Kaylina wanted to get away from the sound of a man being tortured and back to fulfilling her dream as soon as possible.

Targon nodded and withdrew something from a pouch on his belt. The cream-colored ball looked like wadded-up chicle. Kaylina assumed powdered kafdari root was mixed into it.

As Targon approached, Vlerion did too, moving to stand behind her.

Kaylina tensed, alarmed by the big men hemming her in.

“Vlerion will hold you in case you grow violent under the influence of the root. It’s for your own good as well as to prevent him from suffering grievous injury at your hands again.” Targon grinned at Vlerion.

He sighed. “Do you have to take so much delight in my bruise?”

Bruise. He probably had a concussion. Kaylina hoped he did.

“Yes.” Targon’s grin widened. “Hardly anyone ever touches you in a fight.”

“If that were true, I’d have a prettier face.”

“Weren’t those scars from a tangle with your father when you were young? When he was…” Targon glanced at Kaylina and finished with a vague wave.

“Yes.”

“I haven’t seen anyone hit you since your first days of training. You’ll pardon me if I wish I’d seen her crack you in the head.”

“Jankarr allowed it because he wanted to see how good her aim is. I would appreciate it if you put him on potato-peeling duty for a few days.”

Listening to them banter almost made Kaylina forget about the screams and think she and Frayvar might be okay, that these men were reasonable enough to believe the truth and let them walk. But when Vlerion stepped closer, his torso brushing her back, and gripped her upper arms, her anxiety returned. The tall men shared looks over her head, the humor in Targon’s eyes shifting to grimness as he raised the cream-colored ball.

Something told Kaylina this wouldn’t go well.

~

If you’re enjoying the story, please pick up a copy of Shadows of Winter to read on. Thanks!