At the sight of the icy globe Morgana's mouth ran dry as if she'd eaten a mouthful of sand. She wanted to run out of the training room, but fear would only get her into trouble now.

"I'm ready," she said.

The ball of ice flew towards Morgana, and she flipped over it. Damon sent another globe. She paused, as it floated inches from her forehead. A chill kissed her skin.

"Again," Damon said.

Morgana moved back into place and fought the fear that kept resurfacing as if it were a buoy tossed on violent waves. They trained for a couple more hours, until the last round when Morgana finally found an opening in Damon's defense. He threw six ice balls which she ducked and dodged. The seventh ball whooshed past her face as she got close enough and punched Damon in the stomach. He curled over with a wheeze and dropped the last ice ball which exploded on Morgana's thigh. She screamed as a thousand needles pricked her leg followed by numbness. Her knees buckled and Damon caught her. He lowered Morgana to the mat and used his earth magic to cut a hole in her pants. Her skin had blackened from frostbite. Morgana's mouth dropped open at the sight of her ghastly leg. Damon swore, then raced over to the healing kit, a wooden chest in the corner of the room. He ran back and applied a healing balm that smelled of rosemary to Morgana's leg. She sighed, relieved, as warmth returned to the skin. After another layer her wound was healed.

"I think that's it for today." Damon applied another layer of balm for good measure.

Morgana nodded, but for the first time since her attack she felt better. She had hope that she might stand a chance against a fae. Even though Damon went easy on her, she still got a shot in.

"You learned quicker than I thought you would." Damon placed the balm back in the healing kit. "I've spoken to Dain and Elvenia's families, and they shouldn't bother you from now on, but if they do, at least you'll be able to protect yourself better. Or you'll be able to protect yourself if you come across any Aeperians, they're notorious for killing humans."

Morgana frowned. If Aeperians were notorious for killing humans, then how come their prince saved her?

Damon picked up his tunic from the floor, and Morgana thought of something else that was unusual about Aeperos Court. "I noticed, during the Spring Ball, that the Aeperian guards were ladies." Morgana gingerly touched the healing balm on her leg. "Is that something they usually allow?"

"Of course. But that's typical of a barbaric culture."

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "How is allowing females in the guard barbaric?"

"Because ladies are ladies and should act accordingly."

Anger flared inside Morgana's chest. "Well, I think it's more barbaric to expect females to waste their lives and their minds by playing housemaid to some lazy male. Although that wouldn't happen if I were lucky enough to find a lady suitor, I know she wouldn't treat me terribly."

"Ladies who have their own finances are rare so I wouldn't hold my breath." Damon snorted. "So, does that mean you'd rather be in the guard, doing grunt work, instead of sitting in a gorgeous manor organizing the household servants where your largest worries will be whether you planned your parties or dinners well? I don't see why you wouldn't want that, Morgana. It's fun to be a lady." He picked up a couple of mats and placed them in a wooden cupboard along the wall.

"If you think being a simpering fool who organizes parties and chores is a fun thing then you have a screw loose in your head. It is not fun to have something that boring as the entire means for your existence." Morgana gave him a sharp look. "It would rot my brain, as it has done for many ladies. It's not fair that females are restricted in this way. At least you have options. If you were born female, then you'd be stuck in the same boat as Aelys and I. You wouldn't be General or the Heir to the throne."

Damon sighed. "I know it seems bad but some ladies genuinely like that kind of life."

"I know that there are ladies who like it, but what about the rest of us who don't want that kind of life? Why are we treated as less when we don't conform to this ideal that suppresses us?"

"Because it's just how things are. Females are more nurturing and suited to these roles."

"Rubbish! I'd rather be like the Frigard twins, at least they have power. I doubt any male would hold their lives at financial ransom."

"Of all the fae why would you envy the Frigard twins? You know that they command the Aeperian Army and have killed battalions of our soldiers with their earth magic during the war."

"I know, but I just think it's nice that ladies could be in the guard or the army and do something else other than being married off to some lord."

"Being married is better than being in the military, at least then someone can take care of you. And besides you need to be fae to be in the guard or army, Golight or Aeperian. It's a requirement to wield an element."

"Is that how the Frigard twins got into the Aeperian Guard and army? Because of their earth magic?"

"Partly, and they're also cousins of Prince Caliath."

Hearing his name aloud sent a jolt through Morgana.

No one must know that I saved you.

"It may seem progressive of them to allow ladies in their guard but that kind of freedom breeds rebel behavior. If they rebel against social constructs, then it's no wonder that they rebel against the law. Crime increases whenever one of the Aeperians move onto our lands. They steal, lie, and kill. It's just their nature to be that way."

Morgana's mouth thinned. She didn't see how allowing ladies in the guard could lead to rebel behavior. And she could tell that Damon wasn't going to budge on his stance on the issue. "Then how come you don't prevent the Aeperians from settling in Golah Court?"

"Because of the Trade Treaty. It allows certain citizens to migrate to either land and allows the trade of goods between courts. Both of which are beneficial to our economy. The only Aeperians that aren't allowed to live in Golah Court are members of their aristocracy or anyone that's served in their army or guard." Damon folded a towel. "So, what do you want to do for your birthday tomorrow?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"After what happened with Elvenia, Alston, and Dain, I don't feel much like celebrating."

"Which is why it would be good for you to do something fun and to take your mind off things." Damon packed the last towel away, then they headed towards the door. "What about a trip to the Undine Islands?"

Morgana thought about the turquoise ocean and white sanded beaches of the islands. She could stay in a hut made entirely of seashells, or one of the famous cerulean sea glass villas. The gigantic seahorses were also fun to ride amongst the rainbow coral reefs where schools of fish and mermaids resided. It would be good to get away.

"Maybe." She grinned. "I'll sleep on it."

**

Morgana lay in bed and watched the fireflies dance across her ceiling. She couldn't believe that she'd turn eighteen tomorrow and her childhood would be a thing of the past. As if it were a dress she'd outgrown, a toy she'd left behind. She was still young and unsure of her place in the world. She didn't feel like she'd magically change overnight and wake up wiser by the morning. As if that were all it took to make one an adult, an age at the tail end of her teen years. She didn't know what the future would hold. All that Morgana knew was that she didn't want to be married off to a baron or earl. She didn't want to marry anyone. There was no one she liked. There was no one she thought of as beautiful or as handsome. Prince Caliath's face breezed through her mind. Sure, okay, maybe he was gorgeous, but she barely knew him. She didn't know what he was really like ... even though he was kind enough to save her from Alston. Morgana sighed, she had more pressing things to think about, like what to do with her life if she couldn't find a suitor. She'd be forced to move out of the castle if she didn't find someone. Morgana thought back to what Larania had told her on her seventeenth birthday, "It's not as if we'll cast you out into the street, Morgana. But if you reach the age of twenty-five and still haven't found a suitor then you'll have to move to one of our villas near the castle because it isn't proper for us to have an unwed maiden here. As your family we'll still provide food but if you need anything else you'll need to work. This is why it's important for you to get married, it's for your financial survival."

If a female was unwed past the age of twenty-five then they were looked down on in high-fae society. They were treated like social pariahs. The unwanted ones. Spinsters. The cast-offs that weren't good enough to secure a marriage. Never mind if a male never found marriage, perpetual bachelors were never shamed, it was a hypocrisy that set Morgana's teeth on edge.

So, if a lady in high-fae society was unwed and had to work, her options were limited to a few areas. She could be a tutor, nanny, seamstress, healer or baker. And that is if she'd get hired in the first place. There were some rare ladies who came from wealthy families that had no male heirs, so they inherited the wealth by default. In Morgana's opinion those ladies were the luckiest. They had money, which meant they had power. They also got to choose their suitors without a ticking clock hanging over them. There was a couple that Morgana often admired, Lady Mildred and Lady Anne, who were always so happy. Morgana had often heard gossip that Lady Mildred and Lady Anne had a good marriage.

One courtier had said, "It's because Lady Mildred and Lady Anne make decisions on how to run the estate together like equals."

Morgana knew that the male and female relationships of Golah Court were different. The males had all the power, made all the decisions, and had all the money. Whilst the females were used for mating, childrearing, and for organizing all the household chores. In short, the females did the work that the males never wanted to do, because even the males knew it was depressing to be a servant masquerading as a spouse. The females always had to ask for permission to do things. They had to ask for money from their spouses as if they were beggars on the street. Morgana knew that this uneven divide was a symptom of the patriarchal disease that plagued Golah Court.

Morgana settled on the possibility that she wouldn't be married by twenty-five and that she'd have to find work. It didn't help that there weren't many jobs in Elysia that accepted humans. Morgana thought that the castle library would be a good place to look for a job. Tithonia, the librarian, was an older fae who was always polite to Morgana. She had twiggy limbs and large eyes like a praying mantis and always wore dresses that were made from flower petals. Morgana wouldn't mind working as her assistant. It also helped that she loved books. Perhaps, it would be a blessing if Morgana wasn't forced into marriage for her financial survival. She could live on her own in one of the villas and work. The fae already looked down on her, so why would she care if they looked down on her for being unwed?

Morgana turned to her side, exhausted with her thoughts. Sleep washed over her, and she floated into a murky dream until an unfamiliar room sharpened into view. It was a room made of grey stone, with a long mahogany table in the center, and seated there were the Lords of Elysia. The walls were draped with rich tapestries of mountains and rolling hills. A fire flickered in the hearth, casting shadows over the lords' faces. It looked as if they were in a council meeting, except that there were three witches present. The green-eyed witch from Morgana's nightmare was there, the one who'd asked Morgana to find us. Next to the witch was a wrinkled crone with strands of grey hair that escaped a black cowl. She had various charms made of wood, stones, and feathers that dangled from a belt around her waist. Her eyes were dark, like two endless caves. The scent of sage and iron hung over her. The third witch looked as if she were in her thirties and had soft features and hazel eyes. She wore a gown of rich burgundy and had brown skin and dark wavy hair.

Everyone was silent. And the three witches were tense, as if they expected bad news.

Lord Moraxes barged into the meeting room. His skin was pale and clammy. His under eyes were dark. Moraxes's black hair was limp, and his blue suit hung off him as if he were a coat rack. He turned to the witch wearing the burgundy gown and yelled, "This is your fault, Dana! I can't access air because of your coven!"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't pretend as if you don't know. It's because your coven has done too many spells and poisoned my land! Now, I can't access my power. If you continue like this then the faery tenants will die. You know their lives are tied to the land!"

"Have you gone mad? What do you mean my coven has done too many spells?"

"How much have you had to drink Kain?" snorted the green-eyed witch.

"You've been known to frequent the Mortal Realm. Perhaps you've caught an illness from there?" said the crone in a voice that scratched like nails on glass. "And where are the Lords Vale, Frigard, and Aeperos? Why aren't they in this meeting?"

All the lords were silent and still, like mountains weathering time.

Finally, King Erik's chair scraped back, and he stood up, wearing a sapphire blue suit patterned with gold flakes. His face was less lined, his eyes brighter. He was younger, sure of his place in the world. The sapphires in his crown glistened.

Erik walked over to Lord Moraxes and stood next to him. "Of late, the other lords and I have noticed that there has been decay in the land where covens practice magic, and because of that there are fae who've fallen ill as a result."

"This is the first I've heard of it," Dana snapped.

"It's been happening since the last generation of witches and has gotten worse. We think there's a link between witch magic and this poisoning of the land."

The High Seer's chair creaked. He wore the pale robes of the Seer Sect. He addressed the crone, "Sybil, this is a sign from the Goddess that you witches have too much power. No being is meant to wield more than two elements at a time. The last generation of witches can wield four. The Goddess is punishing us because you're taking too much from the land."

"We've not seen any decayed land or sick fae after practicing magic," Sybil said.

"Am I not proof enough?" Lord Moraxes gestured to himself.

Then the room and lords faded as if they were clouds dissipating in the sky.

Now, Morgana was on a field in the Moraxes Territory. In front of her was a forest where the trees were gnarled and blackened as if a great fire had ripped through it. The stench of rotten fruit and leaves were heavy like a shroud. Apples lay moldy and blackened on the soil, and the grass had weathered into dark clumps. All three witches stood in front of the forest, eyeing the damage in solemn silence.

The green-eyed witch knelt and poked a blackened apple husk. "We'll conduct experiments to see if our magic is the cause of this." The husk exploded into a cloud of mold spores that drifted away with the breeze.

"I'd appreciate that, Allegra." Lord Moraxes bowed.

The image faded to another day and Morgana was once again in the grey stone room where weak sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows. All the lords were seated at the same table and their faces were creased with tension.

"Due to the threat that witch magic poses to the fae and faeries, a decree has been issued that no witch is to perform magic under penalty of death," King Erik said, a solemn look on his face.

All three witches looked at each other, then peppered the king and lords with pleas and questions like hail from a thunderstorm. Each of the fae got up and left the room, ignoring the witches as if they were no more than a few flies buzzing around a meal.

Then the image swirled like streaks of paint on a canvas. Now, there were older witches tied to stakes in Golah Village, where a crowd of fae and faeries had gathered. There were pixies who cried, and gnomes who stared in horror at the sight before them. Fae hugged each other, as each of the pyres were lit beneath the witches and the flames began to consume them. Screams tore through the night as the Crone Coven was devoured by flame. Ash, smoke and embers swirled through the village square once it was over. All the villagers left, except for the Maiden and Mother covens who sobbed. Allegra and Dana wore black cloaks, and their faces were grim as they stood before the charcoaled husk that had once been Sybil.

Morgana jolted awake, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. Whispers of the dream still lingered like a horrible memory. She rubbed her face, wondering why she would dream of such a thing. Perhaps it was Elysia's magic finally eroding her mind? Morgana closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow down before the panic took control. But there was something about the flames that she couldn't get out of her head. The way it devoured the witches, and the spit and crackle of embers triggered a memory.

A memory Morgana had forgotten long ago, of a cottage that had once been her home. She was small, no older than four, and was seated in front of a fireplace where warmth bathed her limbs and the smell of burning wood was a comfort. Next to the fireplace was a man with a kind smile and dark hair who read a book to her. A lump formed in Morgana's throat. She didn't know who the man was, but some forgotten feeling surfaced in her chest. Something that felt like joy and sorrow, a rose and weed entwined. Was this man her father? Every now and then Morgana would get flashes of memory, of her short life before Elysia. But these memories were always elusive like sunshine on a river. Morgana didn't know if they were real or if they were imagined. The thing she remembered most of all from those memories was the feeling of happiness, of being loved. Morgana blinked away the tears and thought a glass of water would help calm her down. After all, she'd been through quite a lot recently which was why she was probably having these strange dreams and weird thoughts.

Morgana tried to sit up, but the familiar resistance of her bed was missing. She frowned, feeling odd, like she was floating in a pool. A firefly zipped past her face and she wondered why the ceiling was so close. Morgana turned her head and glanced down. All the blood drained from her face.

She was hovering above her bed.