PROLOGUE: THE SAME SHADE OF HAZEL
Amara
“It’s over, Leander.”
Realization sets in in the yellow eyes of the supernaturally enormous wolf that crouches before me. Behind him, the lake of the Arundel forest glitters in the autumn sun. It looks strangely peaceful, despite the battle unfolding around it.
Leander Arundel is flanked by two other wolves, each panting heavily and looking to their Alpha for guidance. I watch them in my peripheral vision, but I don’t break eye contact with my main target.
This isn’t my first rodeo.
“You’ve lost,” I continue, my voice steady and clear, although I know his keen wolf shifter hearing can pick it up easily. “You’re outnumbered. You might have been able to fight off the panther shifters, but the Hecate witches have you surrounded.”
I fly lower on my broomstick, my golden battle robe flowing around me. My hawk familiar circles the trapped wolves, his keen eyes watching them closely. He’ll warn me if they lash out, or try to make a last-minute run for it.
“Leander, be smart,” I say. “You can’t keep fighting forever. When night falls, the northern vampires will take over for us.”
The wolf bows his head. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he shifts back into his human form. He’s a short man, powerfully built, with a proud tilt to his chin and fire in his eyes. They’re the last to turn, from bright yellow to hazel.
The same shade of hazel as my eyes. We’re not related, but my father always taught me to see myself in my enemies, to remind myself of their humanity. He used to say that the respect we show to our foes is worth a hundred times what we show to our allies.
His words ring as true today as they ever did. All around us, the wolf shifters change back to their human forms. There are only about two dozen or so, scattered across the open field by the lake. Bruised and battle-weary, they bow their heads and raise their hands in surrender.
“A wise choice, Leander,” I say, with a respectful nod to their Alpha.
Then I signal to the rest of my witch guard. There are thirty of us on the battlefield today. My fellow witches wear the same gold, yellow and green battle robes that I do. They fly on broomstick and are accompanied by animal familiars of every type. I spot my best friend, Callista Craft, her dark red hair plaited in a braid that runs down her back. Her palms are open to the sky, radiating golden energy magic. She gives me a cheeky wink as her and the other witches begin to round up the defeated wolf shifters. They’ll be kept under close watch before being taken to the Cave, the most notorious magical prison on the continent.
It’s not a smart move to antagonize the Hecate coven witches. My coven is the largest in North America and arguably the most powerful. Because of our power, there’s been a long stint of peace only recently interrupted by the conflict between our allies, the local panther shifters, and the Arundel wolf pack. The panthers are also present on the battlefield, but their numbers are much smaller. A dozen panthers shift into their human forms, grinning and clapping each other on the back in victory.
I don’t join their celebration, at least not yet. I hover on my broomstick, surveying the wolf shifters as they’re taken away.
Leander Arundel, grizzled and defeated, marches alongside his pack. He brings his head up to look me square in the eye. “Mark my words, Hecate witch. This isn’t the last you’ve seen of us. Your peace is fragile, and your days are numbered!”
PEACE IS HARD WON
Amara
“You’ve got to admit, vampires are kind of sexy,” Callista sighs, running her duster along the bare shelf. “Ooh, I’m soexcited!”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “It’s an undercover mission, not a vacation, Calli. Don’t you think you should be taking it a bit more seriously?”
I look around to ensure that nobody is listening in. But our little bakery is completely empty.
To non-magical folk, Hemlock Haven is just a quaint tourist destination several hours from the city. Since the Hecate coven is home to several hundred witches, we require an entire village to house all of us. Even though we keep our witchcraft hidden from the tourists, they can still sense the magical undercurrents that run throughout the town. They flock here in droves every autumn, especially around All Hallow’s Eve. But almost nobody visits this time of year, in early winter. It’s just Callista and me in the bakery that we run together.
The bakery is small, but it’s cozy and bright. The walls are lined with shelves filled with baked goods and tins of tea and candy. A century’s worth of knickknacks and baubles give it character and make it feel like coming home whenever someone steps inside.
“Come on, Amara,” says Callista, swatting me playfully with the duster. “Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ve got to be bored here in Hemlock Haven. Ever since the Wicked Wars ended, there’s beenabsolutelynothingto do. At least the battle with the wolves broke the tedium!”
“I refuse to romanticize conflict, Callista. I’m perfectly happy in Hemlock Haven! It’s beautiful here, and we have everything we could ever need.”
For the hundredth time today, I adjust the display of jams along the counter. I don’t want to admit it to her, but a small part of meisstarting to get bored. Although we live in a witch coven, there hasn’t been much to do for the past few decades. The adrenaline rush of capturing the Arundel wolves is starting to fade.
“Don’t you want to know what’s out there, Amara?” Callista asks.
I shake my head firmly. “Absolutely not! And for the record, I think Lavinia’s whole scheme is ridiculous. There’s no reason to believe that the vampires are plotting against us. It’s just paranoia. If anything, us going undercover to spy on them is giving them a reason not to trustus. Not to mention how dangerous it is!”
“I remember when youloveda bit of danger. Wasn’t it so exciting, during the Wicked Wars, fighting against the evil witches?” My best friend gazes at me with sparkling green eyes. “Amara, you’re the best at offensive magic in our entire coven! Your magic is wasted here, you know. You should come with me!”
