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Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom …
He was half-tempted to find a tent and learn firsthand what certain things felt like.
Then little more than a scrap of hate and memory as Asterin exploded. As she and the Thirteen Yielded completely, and blew themselves and the witch tower to smithereens.
She passed through a world of snowcapped mountains under shining stars. Passed over one of those mountains, where a winged male stood beside a heavily pregnant female, gazing at those very stars. Fae.
They were Fae, but this was not her world. She flung out a hand, as if she might signal them, as if they might somehow help her when she was nothing but an invisible speck of power— The winged male, beautiful beyond reason, snapped his head toward her as she arced across his starry sky. He lifted a hand, as if in greeting. A blast of dark power, like a gentle summer night, slammed into her. Not to attack—but to slow her down. A wall, a shield, that she tore and plunged through. But it slowed her. That winged male’s power slowed her, just enough.
