Court of Winter （Fae of Snow & Ice, #1）
Krista Street
PREFACE
Court of Winter is book one in the four-book Fae of Snow & Ice series, which is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, fae fantasy romance. The recommended reading age is 18+.
CHAPTER 1
“This is a good one, don’t you think, Ilara?” My sister, Cailis, held out a bread loaf for me to inspect.
The crust was firm and the loaf probably several days old. A few specks of mold discolored the bottom, but a sharp knife would cut it off, and the rest of the loaf looked edible.
I nodded. “Yes. Let’s take it.”
Cailis placed the bread in our basket as we carefully picked through the second-hand goods in Firlim’s outdoor harvest market.
A light dusting of crystalline snow drifted in the air. The dazzling snowflakes covered the vendors’ canopies in a fine layer of white lace as my sister and I shopped.
Today’s selection was meager, as seemed to be the case lately, but if we picked the right items, we would have enough ingredients to add a variety to our meals this week.
My stomach growled. Mother Below, I was looking forward to supper. We hadn’t eaten yet today.
Since the discounted portions of the market sat in sacks and buckets on the ground, we kept bending over, and as I neared the edge of the vendor’s table, a female’s cloak from the neighboring stall brushed against my face. She probably didn’t even know I was there.
“They’re dying, all of them,” the female hissed to her friend. “They say all of their fields are filled with black stalks and gray dirt.”
I cocked my head but stayed crouched.
“Oh, pish posh, you listen to too many rumors.” The female’s friend grabbed a warm shawl off the vendor’s table as translucent snowflakes continued to fall from the sky.
“It’s true.” The first female tried on a hat as a few flecks of snow fell onto the wide rim, which hid the tips of her pointed ears. “All of their crops are dead. I heard the entirety of Isalee Territory is worried about starving this winter.”
The other female sniffed. “It’s all rumors. Never you mind. The celestial events ensure the land stays fertile.”
“It’s not a rumor. It’s true!” Her friend huffed. She planted her hands on her hips, and her wings flexed with her annoyance. “Neither the Safrinite comet nor the alignment replenished our continent’s magic. We were scorned, and because of it, our crops are dying. Just watch. We’re all going to starve.”
I straightened so quickly that my cloak’s hood fell off my head. I tried to pull it back up, but both females froze when they saw my hair.
“What have you heard about Isalee?” I asked urgently, ignoring their shocked expressions as they assessed my unique hair color.
Both eyed my wingless back, then studied my hair again. The first female backed up, then pulled her friend with her.
“Please,” I said in a softer tone, taking a step toward them. “Tell me.”
I opened my mouth to ask more, to see what further they knew, but they both shook their heads and made the sign of the Blessed Mother before scurrying away.
A pit formed in my stomach and not from their dislike of my defective state. My brother, Tormesh, had told us the same thing about the crops last summer when he’d returned home following his march with the Solis Guard. He’d been adamant that the crops were dying in Isalee Territory because our land’s orem hadn’t been replenished during the last celestial event.
I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory of my brother’s face as a familiar pained ache clenched my chest.
A finger poked my side, and I whirled around, holding onto my cloak’s hood this time.
“Were they talking about dead crops?” Cailis said under her breath.
“Yes, it’s the same as what Tormesh claimed.”
A troubled look came over her face, but then she nodded at my cloak. “I keep telling you to secure it with clips.”
I shrugged. “I was in a hurry this morning. Besides, I can’t help that I’m different and defective, and if some fae are going to judge me for it, what can I do?”
Granted, even defectives had wings. Why the Mother hadn’t blessed me with those, I didn’t know, but no Solis fae had black hair. Everyone else’s hair was white or silver, like a normal Solis, not black as pitch like mine.
I shuffled closer to my sister. “Are we done? I’m not sure we’ll have enough rulibs to cover all of this.” I held out our full basket.
Cailis frowned as she surveyed our choices. “That bread loaf should last us at least a week if we don’t have more than one slice each morning. And the preserves are old, but they still appear good.”
“What about meat? Do we have enough for a cut?”
Cailis pulled out the coins from her pocket and counted them carefully. “At today’s market value, we can afford half a cut. Should we indulge?”
I nodded. “We could have it with the radishes I pulled last week, and I’m guessing the potatoes will be just as plump. If we boil them and add a few of the greens, it’ll be a filling meal.”
“Thank the Mother your garden is doing so well. If that continues, we should be able to survive winter as long as we’re frugal.”
“It’ll continue.” I nodded toward the meat hanging from the vendor’s canopy. “Are we buying it then?”
Cailis grinned, then pointed to one of the thick roasts and asked the vendor to cut off half a portion.
The vendor shook his head. “’Tis already sold. I have nothing available to sell to you.”
My sister scowled. “That’s a lie.”
The vendor’s lips parted as annoyance flashed across his face.
“My sister’s affinity is truth,” I explained quickly. “Perhaps you misunderstood her question. We would like to buy a cut of meat.”
But the vendor’s bushy eyebrows pulled together even more, and he crossed his arms. He studied my wingless frame next, then turned away. “We don’t serve defectives here.”
Oh. My jaw dropped as a flush worked up my neck.
Cailis’s cheeks reddened. “Is there a good reason you don’t? We have rulibs.” She held out a palm of coins.
The vendor’s disdainful expression grew. “On your way. I’m not selling to the likes of her.”
Warmth bloomed across my chest as I struggled to keep my chin up.
Cailis dropped our full basket on his table, and the contents spilled everywhere. “Fine. We don’t want to give the likes of you business anyway.”
She grabbed my arm and hurried us away, but he was the third vendor in the market to deny us this season. Even though Firlim was vastly bigger than our village, I’d grown careless. I needed to ensure my cloak always stayed up so the locals here didn’t begin to recognize our faces.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly to my sister as she marched us out of the market.
“Don’t be. He’s an ignorant dung-head. You’ve done nothing wrong, and not everyone’s like him. Some are more sympathetic about your state.”
But despite her reassurances, the sound of her growling stomach rang through my ears.
I picked at my fingers as we reached the edge of the market, and our pace slowed. Dirt was perpetually encrusted under my nails, not just from gardening hobby, but also from our laboring job in the fields. It was humble work, but it kept a roof over our heads and provided enough pay that we didn’t completely starve, although last winter it’d been close.