Chapter 1

She pressed her forehead against the glass. The coronation would be in three months. After that, every door would close, every path would narrow to a single, gilded corridor leading straight to a throne she'd never asked for and a marriage she couldn't escape. Her father had already started the negotiations. A prince from the Northern Isles, someone with strong alliances and a weak jawline, if the portrait was accurate.

"A cage, no matter how gilded, is still a cage."

Anya whispered the words into the glass, watching her breath fog the pane. Her grandmother used to say that. The same grandmother who'd been branded a traitor to the crown, who'd died alone in a tower room with nothing but a leather-bound journal and a secret that had followed her into the grave.

That journal was now in Anya's hands.

She'd found it three nights ago, tucked behind a loose stone in the old library. The pages were brittle, the ink faded to rust, but the words still burned. Her grandmother had written of a curse—an old one, woven into the very blood of their family. Every ruler of Astoria had felt its weight, a creeping emptiness that drained joy and painted the world in shades of gray. Her father wore it like a second skin. The queen smiled less every year. And Anya... Anya felt it stirring in her chest, a cold thread winding around her heart, waiting for the moment she took the crown.

But there was more. Her grandmother had written of a cure. The Sunstone. A legendary artifact hidden deep in the Whisperwood Forest, said to hold the light of the first dawn. If she could find it, she could break the curse. She could be free.

The plan had formed in the space between one breath and the next, reckless and terrifying and the most alive she'd felt in years.

Anya turned from the window. Her traveling cloak was already laid across the bed, a pack stuffed with dried fruit, a waterskin, and a small knife she'd stolen from the kitchens. She'd changed out of her silk gown into sturdy leather boots, wool trousers, and a linen shirt that felt rough and wonderful against her skin. No corset. No jewels. No crown.

Just her.

She slipped through the servant's passage, a narrow tunnel behind the tapestry in her room. The stones were cool and damp, and she counted her steps like a prayer. Twenty-three to the left. Seven to the right. A hidden door that opened into the stables.

The horses shifted in their stalls, their breath misting the air. Anya moved past them, silent as a shadow, and slipped the latch on the rear gate. The iron groaned, and she froze, heart hammering. Nothing. No shouts, no alarms. Just the soft hoot of an owl and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

She stepped out into the night.

The forest began at the edge of the castle grounds, a wall of ancient oaks and twisted willows that whispered secrets she couldn't quite hear. The Whisperwood. Everyone in the kingdom knew the stories—children who wandered too deep and came back with strange lights in their eyes, travelers who vanished for days and returned with no memory of where they'd been. It was a place of magic and danger, and Anya had been forbidden from setting foot in it since she was old enough to walk.

She didn't hesitate. The forest swallowed her whole.

The first hour was easy. She followed the game trails, her boots crunching on fallen leaves, her breath coming in quick, excited bursts. The moon filtered through the canopy, painting everything in silver and shadow. She felt almost giddy, drunk on the simple act of moving forward without anyone telling her where to go.

Then the path split.

Anya stopped, frowning. The trail she'd been following seemed to vanish into a tangle of roots and brambles. To her left, a narrow track wound between two massive trees, their trunks covered in moss that glowed faintly in the dark. To her right, a stream burbled over smooth stones, its water catching the moonlight like liquid silver.

"Lost already?"

The voice came from behind her, low and amused. Anya spun, her hand flying to the knife at her belt.

A man leaned against a tree, arms crossed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was tall and lean, with a windswept mane of dark hair and eyes that held the glint of mischief. His clothes were practical—a worn leather vest over a linen shirt, trousers tucked into scuffed boots—but there was something about the way he carried himself that suggested he was used to being in control, even when he looked like he'd just rolled out of a tavern.

"You're not very quiet for someone sneaking out of a castle," he said. "I could hear you from a hundred paces."

Anya's grip tightened on the knife. "Who are you?"

"Kael." He pushed off the tree and took a step closer, his hands raised in mock surrender. "And before you ask, I'm not a bandit, a spy, or any other exciting thing you're probably imagining. I'm just a traveler, passing through."

"At midnight?"

"The best time to travel." His grin widened. "Less traffic."

She didn't lower the knife. "What do you want?"

"To help." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're looking for the Sunstone, right?"

Her heart stopped. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." Kael reached into his pocket, and Anya tensed, but he only pulled out a small compass, its face cracked and its needle spinning lazily. "The forest's got a way of confusing people who don't know where they're going. And you, Princess, are about as lost as they come."

"I'm not a princess. Not tonight."

"Fair enough." He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. "Then what should I call you?"

She hesitated. Names had power; her grandmother had taught her that. But she was tired of being careful, tired of hiding behind titles and expectations. "Anya."

"Anya." He rolled the name on his tongue like he was tasting it. "That's a good name. Strong. Suits you."

"You still haven't told me how you know about the Sunstone."

"I make it my business to know things." He tucked the compass away and gestured toward the glowing moss path. "The Sunstone's hidden in the heart of the Whisperwood, guarded by a sorcerer named Valerius. You won't get within a mile of it without someone who knows the way."

"And you do?"

"I've been through these woods more times than I can count. I know the paths, the traps, the creatures that don't like strangers." He met her eyes, and for a moment, the mischief faded, replaced by something older, darker. "I also know that if you go alone, you'll die. Valerius doesn't take kindly to treasure hunters."

Anya's throat tightened. "Why would you help me?"

"Let's say I have my own reasons."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting." He shrugged, unconcerned. "You can take my offer or you can stumble through the woods on your own and hope you get lucky. But I'm guessing you didn't sneak out of a castle at midnight because you're the type to leave things to chance."

She studied him, searching for the lie. He seemed too confident, too comfortable in the dark. Everything about him screamed danger, and every instinct she'd honed in the court told her to run.

But she was tired of listening to instincts that had kept her in a cage.

"Fine," she said, lowering the knife. "Lead the way."

Kael's grin returned, sharp and bright as a blade. "I thought you'd see it my way."

He turned and started down the moss-lit path, his steps sure and silent. Anya followed, her heart pounding with a wild, reckless hope. The forest closed around them, the trees pressing closer, the whispers growing louder.

And somewhere ahead, in the darkness, something waited.

She didn't know if she could trust him. She didn't know if she'd make it out alive. But for the first time in her life, she was choosing her own path.

Whatever came next, it would be hers.

Kael glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes glinting in the eerie light. "Try to keep up, Princess. The Whisperwood doesn't forgive hesitation."

Anya quickened her pace, her hand brushing the knife at her belt. She didn't answer. She didn't need to.

She was already running.

The forest swallowed them, and the castle faded behind her like a dream she was finally waking from.