Prologue

      Madeline woke to the sound of a howl. The horrible cry trailed off and died out. Coughs racked her body, and her raw throat throbbed. The terrible noise had ripped its way out of her own chest. She struggled to breathe. The howl had been too big and too rough for her throat. It had ripped through her throat so that every breath that followed was a harsh rasp.

      Seconds later, terror caused even those shallow breaths to catch. She forgot the rude awakening and the raw pain in her throat.

      The baby was gone.

      Trevor. Was. Gone.

      She struggled to open her eyes. The world that met her was blurry and vague. She could feel the loss of the baby better than she could see her empty arms. His weight against her chest was missing.

      She’d held him for such a long time.

      But another familiar weight was still beside her.

      Madeline reached for the ruby sword. The gem in its hilt flickered weakly, oddly illuminating her blurred surroundings. When her fingers closed around it, its red light flared. She could suddenly make out her strange crystalline bed. Someone or something had shattered the enclosure and taken her child.

      The sword vibrated with power, but she held it easily, from practice and skill. The scarlet light grew and became an aura around her whole body as she rose.

      She wasn’t dressed for battle. Her gown and kirtle were much more cumbersome than the leggings and tunic she would have worn for fighting. But it didn’t matter. There was no time to search for more practical clothes. Trevor was gone, and she could sense a great and horrible danger bearing down on her.

      Crystal shards fell away from her as she stood. Madeline could barely make out the tangle of bushes around her, though the scent of roses filled the air. But none of those sensations mattered. She was pulled out of the garden as if by an invisible hand toward the threat she sensed.

      She was a warrior. Every instinct she possessed drove her forward. Her vision was still blurry; her heart pounded painfully beneath her breast. Her throat felt as if it had been torn apart by her howling scream. But she brandished her ruby sword and made her way to the battle that waited for her.

      “Lev, no!” someone shouted.

      The meaning of the shout didn’t penetrate her understanding. Her attention was focused on a great and terrible beast on the edge of a cliff as she climbed up a steep rise above the garden where she’d been sleeping. Everything else was indistinct to her perceptions except the massive figure of a monstrous white wolf that snarled and growled and threatened the people nearby.

      Rain began to fall. It plastered the wolf’s hair against his giant body, and even though the red aura of her ruby sword deflected much of the moisture from her face, her vision was even more obscured as the rain hit the barrier of energy and became rivulets of water in front of her eyes.

      The tempestuous storm and the creature’s sudden loud and long howl seemed to echo the tumult in her own chest. She had to clamp her jaw against the urge to howl again along with the beast, as his sound made the very ground on which she stood vibrate.

      Madeline raised her blade against the monster and against the fury that threatened to tear her body apart because she couldn’t contain the enormity of it all.

      But then the white wolf was gone.

      Her anger didn’t disappear, but a pain so intense it overshadowed any she had felt before joined it. Her sword arm weakened beneath the onslaught of emotion, and she lowered it until the tip of her blade met the ground so that the mighty ruby blade became more cane than weapon. It was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

      Until a warm body braced against hers on the other side.

      Trevor was gone. The white wolf was gone. Her numb fingers no longer held the ruby blade. The same person who helped her to stay on her feet had taken the blade from her and tossed it aside. It was lying on the ground, several feet away. The protection of its red aura was gone. Rain pelted her face and soaked through her hair and her dress.

      And then a cold, calm, powerful presence was also there. All the terrible, overwhelming pain was soothed away by a cool psychic touch inside her mind. Her legs gave out beneath her, but it didn’t matter. The cool presence approached and took her weight from the smaller, warmer one.

      Vasilisa and her daughter, Anna. The knowledge of their names was placed in her mind by the cool presence. Her thoughts were as hazy as her vision and as impossible to process, but the explanation calmed her slightly. She should trust her queen. Her instincts were screaming other things, but they were rusty from disuse, and the psychic touch chilled them into silence.

      Madeline accepted the coolness in her mind. It came from the woman who held her on her feet, Vasilisa. She exuded an aura that numbed all else. Vasilisa turned Madeline, and they walked away together. But Madeline wasn’t entirely soothed. She had failed. She hadn’t killed the white wolf. The monstrous beast must have been the terrible threat that had woken her.

      And now he had escaped.

      Her mind was able to hold on to only one clear thought: wherever Trevor had gone, he wouldn’t be safe until the white wolf was destroyed.