#Review - Princess of Blood by Sarah Hawley #Fantasy #Romance

Series: The Shards of Magic (#2)
Format: 512 pages, Hardcover
Release Date: September 30, 2025
Publisher: Ace
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Romance

Once a servant, now a princess, a young woman thrust into power challenges everything about the underground Fae realm in the spellbinding sequel to Sarah Hawley’s USA Today bestseller Servant of Earth.

Kenna Heron is still reeling from her lover’s betrayal and the threat of an impending civil war. With only a sentient dagger and her two closest—and most powerless—friends by her side, she must navigate the treacherous politics of Mistei while coming to terms with her new identity as not just Fae, but princess of the reborn Blood House.

With the corrupt king dead at last, three candidates are vying for the crown: a princess who claims the throne as her birthright and two rebel princes, both of whom are courting Kenna’s support to break the stalemate between them. Old loyalties fray as new, volatile alliances form, and Kenna finds herself caught in a web of violence and deceit—and swept up in a forbidden romance as passionate as it is dangerous.

Kenna has the power to shape Mistei’s future… but someone’s willing to kill to make sure she never gets the chance.

Princess of Blood is the second installment in author Sarah Hawley's The Shards of Magic series. This book is set in an underground faerie kingdom of Mistei, where there are six different houses for each branch of magic and a clear hierarchy that the heroine explores throughout the novel. With her new Fae powers and backed only by her two closest friends, the heroine must face off against her former lover turned betrayer and all those vying for the crown. The heroine is in her early twenties and goes through a series of trials in the vein of The Hunger Games and is embroiled in complicated, yet alluring romantic relationships with noble fae, like in The Cruel Prince.

If the debut introduced us to a brutal world of immortal trials and hidden magics, this one dives headfirst into the political meat grinder, where alliances shatter like glass and every shadow hides a dagger. At its core, Princess of Blood follows Kenna Heron, the once-human servant who clawed her way to Fae immortality and now stands as the newly minted Princess of the long-extinct Blood House. Armed with a sentient, blood-hungry dagger named Caedo, and a raw, untested affinity for blood magic, Kenna must rebuild her shattered house from the ground up while the power vacuum left by the tyrant's death threatens to drown Mistei in civil war. 

Three ambitious candidates—each from a rival House—vie for the throne under a fragile 30-day peace accord, promising reforms for the oppressed underfae and human servants alike. But in a realm where houses like Void, Fire, Illusion, Light, and Earth wield magics as diverse as shadow manipulation and elemental fury, trust is a luxury Kenna can't afford. With only a handful of wary allies (including her former mistress and a few unexpected outcasts), she navigates assassination plots, forbidden unions, and the ghosts of betrayals past, all while grappling with her vote's potential to crown a savior—or a new monster. 

The narrative structure smartly alternates between tense political maneuvering and intimate moments of strategy and survival, building to a cliffhanger that's as shocking as it is inevitable—though, fair warning, if you're prone to hurling books across the room in frustration, this ending might test your throwing arm. Kenna is the beating (or bleeding) heart of the story—a vengeful anti-heroine who's equal parts resilient badass and vulnerable novice. Her arc from wide-eyed servant to pragmatic princess is compelling, marked by moments of "voluntary incompetence" in which she second-guesses her instincts, frustrating but ultimately humanizing her. 

The supporting cast shines too, from the morally gray rebels harboring dark secrets to the sadistic power couples scheming in gilded halls. Standouts include the enigmatic Kallen of Void House, whose evolution from shadowy antagonist to reluctant mentor (and more) adds layers of delicious tension—his backstory revelations are among the book's most surprising twists. In contrast, characters like the arrogant Fire Prince feel deliberately off-putting, their condescension highlighting Kenna's journey toward self-sufficiency.

Mistei's underground sprawl remains one of the series' crown jewels— a labyrinthine city of crystalline caverns, blood-soaked arenas, and house-specific magics that feel alive and oppressive. Hawley expands on the lore masterfully, delving into outlawed inter-house unions, the shards of ancient gods, and the hierarchies that trap humans and underfae in servitude, all while keeping the prose vivid and immersive.

1

The Blood Tree rose before me, tall and impossibly ancient. Its branches had been bare the last time I'd been in the vast stone chamber leading to Blood House-during the immortality trials, when the tree had shown me a lifetime of my sins-but now they were covered with crimson leaves. The stone tiles beneath my feet felt alive. Power thrummed through the chamber, an invisible current that brushed against a strange new inner sense.

I shivered at the sensation, just one sign of the tremendous and frightening change I'd undergone.

I wasn't human any longer.

I was a faerie-and the new leader of Blood House.

Welcome, Princess Kenna, a voice whispered inside my head. Liquid, female, throbbing like a pulse.

"How do we get inside?" These words were spoken out loud, and I turned my head to look at the speaker. Lara, my former mistress and the excommunicated heir to Earth House, looked as exhausted as she sounded. Like me, she had one arm around a drooping, distant-eyed woman with a shaved head and skin newly lined with scars: Anya Hayes, my best friend from the human world, who I'd thought dead until a few hours ago. She'd been unresponsive but capable of walking when we'd left the corpse-filled throne room, but she'd sagged more with every step. Now she seemed barely conscious.

My chest hurt unbearably as I looked at them. The three of us had survived months of danger and a night of carnage, but at what cost? Lara had been stripped of her magic, her family, and her home; Anya had been tortured in unimaginable ways.

"I'm not sure yet," I told Lara. "I need to figure out what the trap is."

All six Fae houses in the underground city of Mistei had dangerous traps at their entrances. They were tests only house faeries could pass, while intruders were killed gruesomely. Fire House burned unwelcome visitors with a curtain of flame, Earth House drowned them in a tunnel of water . . . What would the faeries of Blood House, who could magically manipulate bodies, have done to keep their borders safe?

They were my borders now, I supposed. The entirety of Blood House had been massacred five hundred years ago by King Osric, but now Osric was dead and the house had been resurrected in the form of . . . me. Just me. The six Sacred Shards that had brought magic to this world had gifted me with immortality and magic, and in exchange, I was supposed to "restore the balance." Whatever that meant. However one person could possibly do that.

My gaze ran over the entrance hall. The checkered black-and-white stone tiles were etched with the faces of monsters, and the gray walls were carved with beings of all types, too: Noble Fae, Underfae, and the dark, twisted Nasties that inhabited the lowest levels of Mistei. The Blood Tree dominated the chamber, reaching its gnarled limbs towards the distant ceiling, and beyond it was an enormous silver door covered in spikes.

I wondered if the Blood Shard was listening to my thoughts, since it had spoken in my head in that dark, welcoming voice. Any help? I thought towards the room in general. A hint on what the trap is?

The Shard didn't respond, but a coil of metal around my bicep did. Caedo-my bloodthirsty, shape-shifting dagger-was currently in the form of a spiraling armband, but it writhed like a serpent beneath my sleeve and sank sharp teeth into me.

I yelped in surprise, looking down at my arm. "Was that necessary?"

"What?" Lara asked, sounding confused.

Caedo nipped me again. You wanted a hint, the dagger said, its voice metallic and genderless in my head.

I eyed the projections on the door. If Caedo could drain a body in seconds, it made sense the house entrance could as well. Now I needed to figure out how to get it to not kill my friends.

"Can you hold Anya?" I asked Lara. My arm should have been aching from supporting her for this long, but I didn't feel the physical exhaustion I would have expected after the throne room fight and the long walk here. The Noble Fae were stronger and more resilient than humans, and I was one of them now.

I was immortal. It was unfathomable.

Lara nodded and looped her arm more firmly around Anya's waist. I let go, heart pinching with grief when Anya wouldn't meet my eyes. Did she still believe I wasn't real? She sagged into Lara's grip, shivering in her flimsy taupe garments.

She needed to get somewhere safe and warm. I would empty any number of veins to make that happen.

I walked around the tree, trailing a hand over its rough trunk. The leaves whispered and sighed. There was a pulse beneath the bark, one that sped until it mirrored mine. It was simultaneously welcoming and unsettling.

Ten more steps took me to the silver door, which was easily twice my height. The spikes covering it were as long as my forearm. Surely I wasn't supposed to impale myself every time I wanted inside.

Then I spotted a sculpted silver wolf's head on the right side of the door, nestled between several spikes at chest height. Its mouth was gaping, and when I bent to peer inside, I saw sharp teeth guarding a cylindrical silver rod.

I'm supposed to stick my hand in there? I asked Caedo silently.

Yes.

The nature of the trap came clear. If a house member grabbed the handle, the door would allow them inside. If an enemy tried, the wolf's teeth would slam together, and the door would consume them.

I hesitated before sliding my hand into the wolf's maw. Even knowing I was the new Princess of Blood, it was a relief when the door didn't immediately bite my hand off.

The metal rod warmed under my palm, and the door started vibrating. A rumbling sound filled the air, like the purring of some enormous cat. Without any effort on my part, the door began to open. I extricated my hand as it slid to the side on smooth tracks, revealing a blackened opening. The air emanating from within smelled dusty and stale, with a faint, aromatic spice beneath.

There were more spikes at the edge of the door, thick ones that had been slotted into the wall. If someone tried to run through the door while it was open, I imagined it would either slam shut, or the points would shape-shift to skewer the intruder.

Welcome home, the Shard whispered in my head.

My skin tingled, and something in my chest-not my heart, but something dark and burning that wrapped around it-pulsed with awareness. The magic that filled me recognized its echo everywhere. A new sense had come to life inside me, like hearing without ears or feeling without touch.

I turned to look at my friends. Lara's face was taut with apprehension, her brown eyes wide as they darted between me and the entrance. Anya still stared at nothing, lost inside her head.

"Blood Shard?" I whispered, not sure where it was or how I was supposed to address it. "Can I bring them with me?"

Claiming a new house member is no small matter, the Shard said in a dark purr. The tree trunk glowed red in one spot, and light began spreading across the bark in branching rivulets. You must be certain.

I faced the heart of that crimson shine. "I'm certain."

"Is the Shard . . . talking to you?" Lara asked softly. At my nod, she looked even more anxious.

"I want them to be members of Blood House," I told the Shard more firmly.

Lara made a pained expression, though she didn't protest. This couldn't be easy for her. Earlier this night she'd been the first daughter of Earth, heir to a house of water and greenery. Now she was a magicless outcast, forced to take shelter in a house of bloodshed and death.

The bark parted, revealing a chunk of garnet-colored crystal. It was hand-sized, curved on one side and jagged on the other. Awe filled me. The Shard had been formed during the destruction of another world beyond the stars, if King Osric was to be believed. It was the echo of a dead god, a vessel containing a fragment of magic that had been launched through the heavens to find a new home.

And it had chosen me to wield that magic.

Crimson light pulsed from the stone with each word. Then claim them.

"You approve?"

Nothing you do is for me to approve.

I wasn't sure I liked that. The Shard had been a god once-it was supposed to tell me what to do, how to be a princess.

I am not the one who came before, the Shard corrected. I am magic and memory. The Shards are woven into the fabric of this world-we do not rule.

I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing up and down. The blue gauze of my half sleeves was wrinkled and dotted with flakes of dried blood. If it didn't rule . . . apparently I did. "How do I add them to the house?"

Set the intention in your mind. If you will it, I obey.

The Shard was the house, I realized. Or maybe we were all part of something larger, connected by the magic we shared. The tree, the house, the Shard, Caedo . . . and me.

I closed my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. I claim these two as members of Blood House, I thought.

It is done, the Shard whispered back.

It was that easy? I opened my eyes again, then beckoned Lara and Anya forward. "You're part of the house now."

Lara looked mistrustfully at the spiked door. "Are you sure? What if it stabs me?"

"It won't," I said, though my underarms were growing damp from nervous sweat. Putting my faith in the honesty of a sentient rock was difficult, but that sentient rock had also saved my life and given me magic tonight, so I tried to project confidence.

Lara's eyes were reddened from grief and exhaustion. Her green ball gown was torn and spattered with blood, and her wavy black hair was tangled. She swayed, then visibly pulled herself together, spine straightening as she looked at the entrance with determination. "So long as there's a bed in there, I don't care." She shifted Anya into my hold, then walked forward, took a deep breath, and stuck her hand out as if testing whether the door would slam shut on it. When it didn't, she let out an audible sigh of relief.

Anya looked nearly asleep on her feet. "Let's get you inside," I whispered.

The entrance loomed, silent and dark. Whatever lurked inside couldn't be worse than what filled the rest of Mistei, and there would at least be a bed to fall into. The thought of that made me want to cry.

So I urged Anya forward, Lara fell into step beside us, and we made our way into Blood House together.

The door slid shut behind us with an echoing clang. It was pitch black. Everything was still and silent except for a distant trickling sound.

"It's dark," Lara said unnecessarily.

"Maybe I can find a torch."

A vibration went through the floor. A faint red glow sparked in the distance, followed by another. A line of torches came alight one by one, outlining the borders of a vast room.

The house was waking up.

Once the torches on the ground floor were burning, more swelled to life a level above, their fire unusually red. The light sparked up and up, revealing six stories in all. Each level was lined with silver-railed walkways that overlooked the central space, with spiraling staircases anchoring the corners of the room. It had the same layout as Earth House's main hall, but the decor was startlingly different. Earth House was bright and verdant, with a floor of packed soil dotted with flowers and trees. Blood House was paved with gray marble that sparkled in the torchlight, and the garnet-hued walls were coated with silver filigree. The courtyard was anchored by a tiered fountain.

The liquid in the fountain was running red.

"Oh," Lara said, sounding dismayed.

"Oh," I echoed, feeling something more akin to awe.

A deep sense of comfort and safety filled the room-the same comfort I'd once felt as a servant in Earth House. The house's magic was wrapping us in a soothing blanket of welcome, letting us know we were home. The couches against the walls looked plush and inviting, as if they wanted us to rest. But the fountain was spilling blood, and the filigree wasn't the only shining ornamentation in the room-axes, swords, pikes, and spears rested in wooden racks and hung from brackets over the couches, as if the faeries of Blood House had never relaxed without a weapon close to hand.

A mix of softness and violence, beauty and death.

I brought Anya to a settee tucked beneath the curve of a staircase. It was upholstered in burgundy velvet, and a sword hung from the wall beside it. Dust puffed up as the couch took her weight, and she curled up on her side, closing her eyes.

Lara was exploring the room, trailing her fingers over the walls and furniture. She wrapped her hand around the haft of an axe, stared at it contemplatively for a few moments, then let go.

The weapons deserved investigation, but the liquid music of the fountain drew my attention. I crossed to it and sat on the dust-rimed edge, watching the fall of blood. The air was spiced with the coppery rich scent, and I didn't find it nearly as disgusting as I ought to. Whose blood is this? I asked Caedo silently.

The first princess began it with the blood of her enemies. You can add some from your next kill.

A cold shiver raced down my spine. I was a murderer now, and the dagger expected me to kill again. Worse, I expected myself to kill again. Illusion and Light House would be regrouping after the battle in the throne room. There would be violence as Mistei grappled with the question of who would rule next.

Ash-gray eyes filled my mind. Copper hair, a smile that flickered like flame, hands that had burned. A voice that had whispered promises in the dark and cruelties in the light.

I didn't want to think about Prince Drustan of Fire House, so I shoved the vision away.

The first princess had morbid taste, I told Caedo.

The dagger seemed amused as it pulsed against my skin. You will learn to appreciate blood. It slid down my arm like liquid, circling my wrist. I watched, fascinated, as it stretched narrow tendrils over my hand, mapping the spread of tendons before sending shoots over my fingers. It looked like a separate skeleton laid atop mine. Those metal bones were anchored in place with rings between each knuckle, and the tips sharpened into claws.

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#Review - Servant of Earth by Sarah Hawley #Fantasy #Romance

Series: The Shards of Magic (#1)
Format: Hardcover, 464 pages
Release Date: November 12, 2024
Publisher: Ace
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Romance

In the underground Fae realm, only the strongest and most ruthless have power—but a young human woman forced into a life of servitude is about to change everything.

Kenna Heron is best known in her village for being a little wild—some say half feral—but she’ll need every ounce of that ferocity to survive captivity in the cruel Fae court.

Trapped as a servant in the faeries’ underground kingdom of Mistei, Kenna must help her new mistress undertake six deadly trials, one for each branch of magic: Fire, Earth, Light, Void, Illusion, and Blood. If she succeeds, her mistress will gain immortality and become the heir to Earth House. If she doesn’t, the punishment is death—for both mistress and servant.

With no ally but a sentient dagger of mysterious origins, Kenna must face monsters, magic, and grueling physical tests. But worse dangers wait underground, and soon Kenna gets caught up in a secret rebellion against the inventively sadistic faerie king. When her feelings for the rebellion’s leader turn passionate, Kenna must decide if she’s willing to risk her life for a better world and a chance at happiness.

Surviving the trials and overthrowing a tyrant king will take cunning, courage, and an iron will... but even that may not be enough.

Servant of Earth is the first installment in author Sarah Hawley's The Shards of Magic series. 25-year-old Kenna Heron has lived in poverty ever since she lost her mother 18 months ago and has been thought of as dirty, and likely feral by her village. Unfortunately, it is Winter Solstice where the Fae steal humans every six years. Curiously, Kenna discovers a blade with crimson jewels without rust or mud in the river that absorbs blood shortly before 4 women are to be chosen to go to the Fae realm of Mistei. 

When her best friend Anya is chosen as a sacrifice to the Fae, Kenna the Fierce tries to guide the women through the bog to their destination. Unfortunately, it is Kenna who makes it to Mistei. It is Kenna who is chosen to work as a lady's maid for a young fae female named Lara who is supposed to face the most difficult challenges of her life to gain immortality and keep her magic. King Osric is a cruel tyrant who sends a noble from each house to 6 deadly trials (one for each specific house) to be judged on whether they’re worthy enough to gain their full powers and immortality. 

In this world, there are 5 Houses (Fire, Light, Illusion, Void & Earth.) Once upon a time, there was a Sixth House that was destroyed after they tried to overthrow the King. Earth House has been neutral ever since and they don't tend to get involved with the machinations of others. With no ally but a sentient dagger of mysterious origins named Caedo, Kenna must face monsters, magic, and grueling physical tests to save Lara from losing everything. Kenna ends up using her survival instincts to help aid Lara in the trials, basically completing them for Lara, unbeknownst to everyone else. 

But worse dangers wait underground, and soon Kenna gets caught up in a secret rebellion against the inventively sadistic faerie king trading secrets with not one but two sexy fae. When her feelings for the rebellion’s leader turn passionate, Kenna must decide if she’s willing to risk her life for a better world and a chance at happiness. The trials were bloody and brutal and the other fae were clever and conniving. Kenna had as much to battle against surviving each battle as she did the court politics that this world thrived upon.

Servant of Earth is a very dark novel. It is filled with twists with little bits of foreshadowing breadcrumbs. The fae, except for Lara, are cruel and conniving. The story is heavy on politics that reflect universal truths such as a house (or court) divided cannot stand. The ending of this book leaves me to believe that nothing Kenna has faced up to this point is done. There's a long road ahead, and new allies to take care of. 

 

1

The winter solstice crept in cold, wet, and heavy with dread.

I looked out at the predawn darkness, tracing my finger over the frosted patterns that coated the exterior of the window. A wintry draft slithered through the gap where the wooden frame had warped with age. As the wind surged outside, a spray of icy rain smacked against the glass.

Another drop of frigid water splatted on my forehead. I yelped, then scowled up at the roof. This leak was new-I'd already been awoken unpleasantly by the one that had formed directly over my mattress during the night-and it was just one more sign of everything wrong in my life. I wouldn't have the money to replace the thatching for a long time, if ever, so I grabbed a bucket and put it under the leak. Soon I wouldn't need to go to the well for my water anymore.

As I straightened, a glow through the window caught my eye. In the distance, a golden faerie light shivered through the darkness. Its path was uneven, made more so by the warped glass. As I watched it move, my chest tightened with worry.

The winter solstice wasn't just the shortest day of the year; it was the day the Fae took yet another thing from humans. A faith that yielded no rewards, prayers that met uncaring ears, a legendary history that had decayed into this disappointing reality . . . We gave the faeries our hopes, and for what? Silence and far-off lights that led nowhere.

And now the Fae-or at least our naïve belief in them-would steal the lives of four young women.

"You don't deserve any of it," I whispered as I watched the drifting orb.

My mother would have chastised me for the blasphemous words. Only the luckiest and most worthy humans are chosen to join the Fae, she'd told me eighteen years ago as she unsnarled the tangles in my hair with a wooden comb. It had been another winter solstice morning-a sacrifice year, like this one-and I'd been just shy of turning seven. Those women are favored above all other mortals, and they live out the rest of their lives in splendor in Mistei, the faeries' kingdom under the ground.

There was longing in her voice whenever she'd told me that story. She hadn't been chosen for the Fae during the solstice ritual when she came of age. Life had pushed a different fate on her, and there I was as the result: a ragged child held in her equally threadbare embrace, my father long gone and rain dripping through the roof onto the packed earth floor of our hut. Still, she'd passed the fables on to me, as if through hearing them maybe I'd one day be granted the blessings life had denied her.

I didn't believe in blessings anymore.

Another drop plinked into the bucket. I made a rude hand gesture at the distant will-o'-the-wisp, then turned my back on it and began my preparations for the day.

The washbasin still held leftover water from the previous night. I splashed it onto my face, gasping at the shock of cold. Then I scrubbed my teeth and changed my nightdress for a loose shirt and trousers. The day would be a busy one-it was not only a sacrifice year but the first time I'd be eligible-but I didn't want to miss my favorite morning ritual.

The one-room hut was dark, but I knew the layout by heart. I stepped around the small table and two mismatched chairs that served as a sitting area, making my way to the scarred wooden table by the hearth. Bundles of herbs hung overhead, along with a few withered onions. Anya had given me some cheese the last time we'd gone for a walk together, so I cut off a piece and shoved it in my mouth before grabbing my cloak and heading outside.

The rain had thankfully stopped, but the mossy ground was slick and rimed with overnight frost. The snows would come soon, but we were still in the first month of winter, with its glittering mornings and spats of icy rain. As I rounded the corner of the hut, the wind grabbed at my messy braid, trying to rip the brown curls loose.

The sky was purpling to the east, the blackness of night slipping away. The wood-and-stone buildings and thatched roofs of Tumbledown stood against the lightening sky like crooked teeth, and smoke began drifting from chimneys as the town woke.

The town wasn't my aim, though. My mornings were dedicated to the bog.

Enterra was curved like an hourglass with a longer and wider lower part, and the bog banded the country like a lady's belt, with Tumbledown its buckle. Just north of my hut, the shrubbed land merged into a vast, glassy wet expanse dotted with low mounds of earth and plant matter. Thick fog sprawled across it, obscuring the far side where the land became faerie territory. Dozens of will-o'-the-wisps drifted through that fog, the floating orbs fading as dawn grew closer.

I watched the lights dim and go out one by one, and a familiar sadness settled alongside my lingering anxiety. On solstice mornings my mother's presence felt especially close. Her faith that she could become one of the Fae's favored ones had never faltered. Supposedly the Fae used to travel across the bog to trade with, seek entertainment from, or rain blessings down on humans-and occasionally abduct those they took a liking to-but now the eerie lights that drifted across the wetlands at night were the only sign they even existed.

Loving the Fae hadn't brought my mother any joy. Yet when she'd died eighteen months back, feverish and agonized, her last words had been for them: "Maybe now they will save me."

They hadn't, of course.

I filled my lungs with icy predawn air, willing my bitterness to wait a few hours. The morning was beautiful, and there were treasures to be found. When pink tinged the eastern sky, the last golden wisp disappeared, and I retrieved my net from a hollow log and wound my way out into the bog.

Most people were too afraid to come here. It was easy to get lost and drown; the ground between pools of water was deceptive, and more often than not what looked like solid earth was actually a pit of mud waiting to suck a traveler down. There were legends, too, of knuckers and other Nasties that lurked in the fens and wet places of the world, eager to rend the flesh of those who misstepped.

I'd spent my entire life at the edge of the bog, though, and I never misstepped-nor had I seen evidence of dragons under the water. It had been my haven for as long as I could remember, a place to be alone and free.

I took familiar twisting paths until a stretch of water blocked any further progress. Then I sat on a tussock of pale winter grass, my feet inches from a patch of clover that hid the edge of a pool, and dipped my net in.

"Fishing" was what my mother had called this odd habit of mine, though I privately thought of it as "collecting." My mother's stories had sparked my interest in the border between humans and the Fae, and the bog's secrets had been so tempting that I'd attached a net to a long wooden pole, determined to see what rested at the bottom.

As it turned out, any number of wonders were hidden in the muck and silt. Smooth skipping stones, carved talismans, even coins tossed in by lovers who braved the treacherous paths to prove their courage and commitment to each other. They wished on coppers, hoping the Fae would bless their union. The Fae didn't care, but I certainly blessed them for it. I'd even found what I thought were faerie artifacts before-pieces of faceted glass or strange twists of bright metal. I'd run my fingers over the objects, thinking about who might have crafted them in the distant past and what their purpose had been. Letting the wonder of my mother's stories slip back into me, if only for a few hours.

Something caught at my net, and I grunted as I jerked it free. The object that came up with the muck was brown and misshapen. "Please don't be something disgusting," I said under my breath as I tipped the blob out onto the grass. Artifacts weren't the only things hidden below; there were occasional bones, too, and in a thick, foul-smelling pool deep in the bog, I'd once found a shriveled hand still covered in leathery skin.

When the bog took, it was greedy.

I wiped away the slimy mud. Not a bone, thankfully. Just a rock. I threw it back in with a plunking splash and fished for more.

I was trying not to think about what awaited later that day, but the memory of that severed hand was making me fret about the solstice sacrifice again. The odds of being selected were minimal, but I wasn't the only one eligible this year-my best friend, Anya, was as well, and she was all I had left in the world. Supposedly the will-o'-the-wisps would lead the chosen women to Mistei, but I'd stopped believing that a long time ago. Probably the first morning I'd fished up a human bone.

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing. "This is my place," I said softly. The Fae didn't get to taint everything, and there were still hours left before the ritual.

The rising sun spilled rosy golden light across the landscape, and the fog began to clear. I scooped another stone out of the water and tossed it back. Found a single copper and wiped it dry on my cloak before stuffing it in a pocket. My net didn't pull up anything but thick, slimy mud after that-much of which splattered over my already stained clothes-so I shifted to a different spot and tried again. This time I found a wooden doll the size of my index finger, its face carved with a carefree smile. It had tiny horns that signified it as an Underfae, a type of faerie that was lower in status than the Noble Fae who ruled Mistei.

"Look at you," I whispered, enchanted by the figurine in my palm. This was the sort of treasure I loved most-the kind that made me wonder and imagine. Who had it belonged to, and how had it been lost? It had probably been dropped on accident by an adventurous child from the village, the kind who-like me-had decided to test their mettle on the dangerous paths.

But maybe . . . maybe a Fae child had walked here, instead. Maybe this doll was a thousand years old, a well-preserved remnant of a time when our two species mingled freely and the paths across the bog were clear and well trod.

I tucked the doll into my pocket before I could start speculating about more tragic reasons it might be here. This was already a more productive morning than most, and I considered ending my collecting expedition on a triumphant note. But the low sun sparked off the water and the world felt free and empty in a rare way, so I slid the pole back in. One more try, and then I would pack up and return to the worries and responsibilities awaiting me.

My net met resistance in the thick mud at the bottom of the pond. When I pulled it free, I could tell I'd caught something substantial. I thought it was a rock at first, but when the net emerged from the water, it contained the most beautiful dagger I'd ever seen.

I gasped, pressing a hand to my mouth. The steel blade and wire-wrapped hilt gleamed in the dawn light, and the pommel was capped with a large crimson jewel. Its shine was unnatural: no mud clung to the weapon, and there wasn't a trace of rust on the blade.

My heart pounded as I pulled it from the net. It was heavy, yet the hilt fit my hand perfectly. Had it belonged to some wealthy lady, or even a faerie? The double-edged blade was wickedly sharp, and the scrollwork on the guard looked ancient and arcane. The bloodred stone capping the pommel was the strangest of all. I hadn't seen many jewels in my life, but the few I had seen had been star-bright and faceted. This was a perfectly smooth semicircle, and the dull orb seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly afraid that someone had seen me find it, but I was still alone.

This dagger would fetch a fortune. A real fortune, not just the meager coins I earned selling peat and bog-trinkets at market. It would be a life-changing amount of money.

For a moment I let myself imagine a future where I was rich and free. I could leave Tumbledown and its small-minded judgments, find a new place to live where I wasn't known as the herbwoman's wild daughter. No more leaking roof, no more nights where my belly echoed with hunger. No more despair as I imagined my life unfolding just like this, day after day, until I eventually died impoverished and alone the way my mother had. I could become a trader, passing spices and handicrafts between Enterra and other countries, getting to hold and study artifacts that told stories of other legends and other ways of life. Maybe I'd even visit those places someday: cross the western mountains to icy Grimveld and forested Lindwic, then on to other countries I didn't know the names of yet.

Anya could come with me, too-she wouldn't have to marry just to ensure her future. She could take painting lessons, maybe even illuminate manuscripts the way she'd wanted to since she was a girl. We could be new people, unbeholden to anyone or anything but ourselves.

Dreams were nothing but air, though, and real change took more than just hope. Still, my hands trembled as I wrapped the dagger in the folds of my cloak.

I returned to the shore shortly afterwards, unable to focus on anything else.

My hut rose from the mist at the edge of the bog, looking like a boulder with its squat stone walls and inelegant structure. My parents had built the rough house by hand together when they'd first settled here. It wasn't beautiful, but it had stood for over twenty years. Stacks of peat brick-my meager source of income-leaned against the wall, waiting for the next time I could take a full barrow into town.

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