Kingdom of Briars & Roses

The day before my life went to Hel, the world outside Sunspire Castle appeared deceivingly serene. From my bedroom window, I surveyed the view. Our capital city of Rosewood sprawled northward, vibrant with the hum of merchants and the laughter of children. To the west, the Osphanis River sparkled in the afternoon sunlight as it wound lazily toward the forest. But beneath the peace, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my destiny lay beyond these walls—waiting, dangerous, and inescapable.
As always, my thoughts drifted to the monster who lurked out there too.
Heliconia.
She was a powerful threat that loomed ever greater with each passing day. One the king and queen of the Summer Court would do anything to defeat.
Even sacrifice their firstborn daughter.
I looked down at the empty finger where my mate’s ring would go and rubbed absently at my palms. As if I could wash my hands of this whole damned mess. As if I hadn’t spent the last eight months trying and failing to do just that.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts, and I turned as my bedroom door swung open.
My younger sister Lilah skipped in, her honey-blonde hair bouncing with each step. At eight years old, she was pure light and joy, untouched by the burdens of politics and arranged alliances. It made my heart squeeze to think what kind of world might await her when she reached her own twentieth birthday.
“Aurelia,” she sang, her blue eyes bright.
I tugged on her pointed fae ear. “Hey, rascal.”
She stuck out her tongue. “I’m not a rascal. I’m a princess.”
“Why can’t you be both?” I countered.
She frowned, clearly undecided, then changed the subject. “Mother is waiting for you,” she scolded. Ugh. She was our mother reincarnate when she used that voice. “She said you were due an hour ago to discuss final arrangements.”
“I know,” I said, ruffling her hair. She wrinkled her nose in mock protest but didn’t bother straightening the mess. Her royal mannerisms might’ve come from our mother, but her willingness to forego the perfection of styled hair and fancy gowns was all me. “I just needed a moment.”
“They shooed me out, which means they’re probably talking about Heliconia again. Why does she hate us so much anyway?” Her innocent gaze as she asked the question was enough to make my heart ache.
“I don’t think it’s about us,” I told her.
“Then what’s it about?”
I gave her a pointed look. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
She scowled. “No one tells me anything important.”
“That’s because you’re supposed to be enjoying the perks of being a kid.”
“Mother says ignorance is the mark of a terrible leader.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think that applies to eight-year-olds.”
She shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
I grinned at that. “All right, fine. Heliconia once competed to become one of the Aine.”
“But the Aine are so good,” Lilah protested.
She was right.
The Aine were an elite caste of warriors among the fae. A sacred dozen selected by the Fates to protect the realm from any threat. The selection was a practice that dated back a thousand years and was one of the few traditions honored by every single court. The female warriors were chosen for their lethal strength but also their pure hearts. Heliconia had proven one but not the other.
Her heart was much more like the Furiosities.
If the Fates were the light, the Furiosities were pure darkness. Kings of Hel whose shadow gifts fed off the black-hearted and the corrupt. They were the demons of nightmares and the bedtime stories used to keep children from being naughty.
“Probably why Heliconia wasn’t chosen,” I pointed out.
“Yeah,” Lilah muttered. Her expression sharpened. “Then what happened?”
“When Heliconia lost her place among the Aine, she became bitter. She blamed the Fates and the Aine they’d chosen—specifically the Summer Court’s warriors—for shutting her out unfairly. Her heart twisted with darkness, and she vowed revenge.”
“What was her revenge?” Lilah asked in a hushed voice.
“One night, she trapped a demon in the forest and forced him to give her some of his dark magic. Then she used it to kill one of the Aine and took its power inside herself. She’s been using that power to kill the Aine and end the practice of making more ever since.”
Lilah stared at me with wide eyes until I’d finished the story. Then, she blinked, and her expression cleared to something so matter-of-fact that it caught me off guard.
“I know, but why us?” she pressed. “We’re not Aine. And we didn’t do anything to her.”
“She’s power-hungry and bloodthirsty. And instead of taking one life at a time, she craves the realm itself.”
“That’s why she attacked Concordia,” Lilah said.
“Yes.” And why she’d vowed to come for the rest of us.
“She’s a meany-head,” Lilah declared.
“A complete meany-head,” I agreed.
I braced myself for more questions, but my sister was apparently satisfied enough to change the subject—back to the one she undoubtedly cared about most right now.
“I asked Mother if I could go to your party, and she said no. It’s not fair.” She pouted.
“It will be way past your bedtime,” I reminded her.
“And yours,” she shot back. There was a dreamy sigh in her voice as she added, “I just want to meet Prince Callan.”
Callan.
His name was spoken more often than I cared to hear it. My future husband, the heir to the Autumn Court. The fae male I was meant to marry to secure an alliance strong enough to protect Sevanwinds from the growing threat of Heliconia. To ensure we didn’t share Concordia’s fate.