Prologue

Eventually, she would become known as Bob. She would

treasure that silly nickname given to her by a human on a whim, a
gift worn with pride.

Before that, she was known as the Iron Witch, a name muttered
with fear and dripping with fae blood. It was not a gift, yet she still
wore it with pride, the way a bear wore its claws and teeth.

Before that, she was called Chief Commander of all military

forces in the Fairy Kingdom of Ivae, located in the Fae Realm.

And long before any of that, she was known only as Violet.

It was short-hand for her original title, the Violet Princess,

sometimes the Lavender Princess. Her true name was a closely-
guarded secret, known only to herself and her parents. Not even
her grandfather, the ruler of the fairy kingdom of Ivae, knew it.
This was true of all of her siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and
everyone else. Few things are more powerful than a name.

At the moment, she was currently known as “traitor” and

“murderer.”

Violet stood before the throne in chains, the iron lined with wool
so it wouldn’t brush against and burn her skin—if she didn’t
struggle. The room was packed with fairies, humans, and half-fairy
half-humans known as kitrye, all of them staring at her and a good
portion of them related to her.

The only empty space was between the line of guards before the
throne and herself, and that was occupied by a corpse. They’d
wrapped Lady Oak in the silver banner of Ivae, her pale gold blood
staining the otherwise pristine fabric. She hadn’t gone down easy;
half a dozen defensive slashes marred her pretty green face and
arms before the fatal blow to her chest.

The king, known best as the Silver King, stared at the corpse,
then at Violet, and said, “Well?”

Violet shrugged, her iron chains rattling with the movement.

“She got in my way.”

He sighed, slumping in his throne. Violet’s gaze wandered,

absorbing her home for what would likely be the last time.

Ivae was a large, sprawling kingdom, primarily defined by its

forests and woodlands. As such, the palace—like most every other
building—had been made from wood. But not chopped down into
logs that were stacked on top of each other the way the humans
made their homes. Oh, no. How primitive.

Fae buildings were grown. Decades if not centuries of careful

tending were poured into each one, the architects carefully knitting
sturdy trees together with both muscle and magic. The humble hut
of a fairy peasant was made of just one or two trees knitted
together. Sylaglen Palace, at the heart of the kingdom of Ivae, was
made out of an entire forest. The trees had been grown, cut,
curved, and molded in such a way to create everything from closed
hallways and rooftops to smooth stairs and broom closets.
Courtyards were simply planned gaps, allowing the fairies to dig
their toes into the grass and ground and looked up at the sky.

The pillars that held up the roof of the large and imposing throne
room were the largely unaltered trunks of trees, each one adorned
with thick ropes of foxfire. In the bright light of day filtered through
the carefully constructed windows of the wall behind the throne
and the ceiling, they were simple mushrooms, looking like
something you would find in a stew. When the sun set, they glowed
a bright, eerie green.

The Silver King’s throne was also grown straight from the trees,
with blooming flowers and thorns framing the back. Despite the
name, the king’s hair was not silver. Fairies did not age, and their
hair (usually) did not turn gray or white. It was his skin that was
silver, as was the crown on his onyx head. Swirls of bluish-black
danced across his skin, what wasn’t covered in his black and blue
vest and doublet.

Most fairies earned their nicknames like that. Violet herself had
lavender skin with darker purple swirls as birthmarks dancing
across her back, shoulders, and arms like wings, and near-black,
violet hair. Her father was the Copper Prince and her sisters were
Blue and Green. The Silver King’s younger sister was the Bronze
Princess (sometimes called the Bronze Sister or the Bronze
Healer). His elder sister—who had been killed over a thousand
years ago—had been the Golden Princess. Et cetera.

Lady Oak had gotten her name by being born in a minor noble
family that took up nicknames from plants rather than colors. Her
skin had been the grass green of an oak leaf, and the swirling
birthmarks along her arms, neck, and cheeks had mixed shades of
brown of a tree trunk. She’d also been built like an oak tree after
centuries of muscle building and military training. It had been a
difficult fight, but Violet had expected nothing less. She demanded
the best from her subordinates, after all.

“It’s one thing to consort with the humans behind my back and
against my orders,” the Silver King said, his soft voice filling the
cavernous room. “It is quite another to spill fairy blood.”

“I’ve been spilling fairy blood for centuries, Grandfather. That’s

what you pay me for,” Violet sneered.

Her father, the Copper Prince, stepped forward. “Violet, why

didn’t you just order her to stand down?”

“I did,” she said. “But Commander Oak was in a difficult position,

as she’d just found out I was about to commit treason. She could
obey my order to stand down and avoid a fight, and thus be
complicit in my treason, or remain loyal to the crown and try to
stop me. She chose the latter.”

“You admit to treason then,” the Silver King said.

“Never denied it. Humanity has perfected and widely spread iron
weaponry to the point that we cannot keep taking them from their
homeland without consequence. If your plan had worked, we
would’ve been dragged into yet another war, one we probably
would have lost.”

“Do you doubt your own capacity so much, Chief Commander?”

the Silver King taunted.

“I doubt my sanity. There’s only so much red blood I can spill

before I begin to question whether it’s worth it,” she said. “We’ve
built our entire kingdom of the backs of human serfs ripped from
their homeland. And every time the mortal realm fights back, or
the serfs revolt, we’re dumb enough to ask why.”

It had taken her centuries to see that. To see the bruises and
whip marks on pink and brown skin and question whether they
belonged there. To see the tears of lost family members and loved
ones and realize their grief was just as sharp as a fairy’s. To hear
the cries and rage and indignity and realize that no kingdom
deserved to do this to so many, mortal or otherwise.
 “They’re not worth Oak’s life!” a man snapped, pushing forward
through the crowd. “They’re just filthy mortals.”

Although the king could see everyone clearly—and vice versa—

there was a line of guards between him and Violet. The Silver
Guard, as they became known upon their king’s ascension, were
almost all kitrye—part fairy, part human. Their Fae armor covered
them head to toe, gleaming silver like their namesake, and was
complete with swords and shields emblazoned with a giant pine
tree, the symbol of the kingdom of Ivae and what half of the palace
was made from.

They’re the ones who held the shouter back, and Violet winced
at his voice, regret piercing her for the first time since she drove
her sword through Oak’s chest.

Commander Red Wolf had actually originally been called Harvest

Moon for the time of his birth. He lived up to his name, looking like
a child of the harvest. Skin the color of corn husk was layered with
autumn red and brown swirls, his shoulder-length hair the color of
human blood. His leather, Fae-enchanted armor was a
complimentary brown and dark green, an iron sword and knife
hanging from his belt that he tried to reach for when the Silver
Guard stopped him.

He was also Lady Oak’s lover.

Violet didn’t respond to him. There was nothing she could say.
 Instead she focused on her grandfather. “The mortal king we’ve
been warring with has agreed to the peace terms. So long as we
stop invading his lands for serfs, he’ll stop sending iron-wielding
soldiers into ours. Might I remind you that the last wave of his
soldiers brought extra weapons to give to any and all serfs in sight,
and we lost far more than one noble fairy in that fight.”

It had been a mess, taking decades to clean up. There were still
pockets of rebellion scattered throughout the kingdom that the
next chief commander was going to have to put down.

“We do not kneel to the level of mortals,” Red Wolf spat. “They’re
bugs.”

“Those bugs beat your army and Lady Oak’s twice,” Violet
replied.

“That’s because our armies are entirely made of human serfs!

They sympathized with them!”

“Well, if fairies want to keep subjugating humanity, they should

enlist and bleed for it.”

The onlookers behind her mixed their gasps and incredulous

chuckles. The Silver King gave her a tired look. “You can’t expect
fairies to be front-line fighters.”

“Why not?” Violet asked. “I’ve been doing it for centuries.”

 The king raised an eyebrow, silently saying, Look where that got
you.

Red Wolf turned to the king, eyes puffy and full of rage. “Your
Grace, I ask permission to execute the Chief Commander myself.”

Half the court gasped. The Copper Prince stepped forward in a

protective instinct that was long overdue. “We don’t spill immortal
blood. Not if we can help it.”

“She’s too dangerous to be kept alive.”

Not a bad point, Violet mused, watching the proceedings

curiously.

“You believe mortals are savages and barbarians,” Copper said.

“If we start killing our own, we become just like them.”

“She’s already killed hundreds of fairies,” Red Wolf snapped.

“She cut our enemies down to bring whole kingdoms to their knees
for us. I know—I helped her! It’s the whole reason you lot call her
the Iron Witch! The witch with the heart of iron. You let her live,
you doom us all.”

Copper turned to his father, pleading, “Kinslayers are cursed.”

“That’s why I volunteered,” Red Wolf said. “We’re not kin.”

The Silver King’s eyes flickered between the two arguing before
settling on Violet. “You’re quiet.”
 She shrugged. “I’ve made my bed.”

He studied her for a long moment. The only sound was people
breathing.

Finally, the Silver King straightened in his throne. “The Violet

Princess is banished from the Fairy Realm.”

“No!” Red Wolf snapped. The kitrye guards clamped down on his
shoulders, keeping him from doing anything rash.

“Her name will be engraved in every portal within Ivae’s borders

and that of our allies,” the Silver King continued. “The magic will
bar her from ever stepping foot in Fae again.”

Violet raised her eyebrows, but didn’t protest. She’d passed that
order to a couple of people herself, and knew that her name would
still largely remain a secret. The engravings would be in the Old
Script, which only a handful of sorcerers could read, and hidden
with magic.

“Further, I strip her of all rank, titles, and wealth,” he declared.

“Everything she owns will be transferred to the crown. You will walk
out of my kingdom with nothing but the clothes on your back.”

Violet bit back a smile and added, “And my ward.”

He blinked. “What?”
 “I picked up a ward before leaving to clean up your mess in the
mortal realm,” she explained, her iron chains rattling as she
moved. “Part of a deal I made to get the supplies I needed.”

“You involved other traitors?”

“They’re long gone by now. Part of the agreement involved

giving them a very big bag of gold to help them rebuild their lives
elsewhere. I wouldn’t let them tell me where.”

The Silver King sighed. “Very well. You will be allowed three days
to collect your ward before you leave, under heavy guard.”

Violet bowed as much as the chains would allow, giving in to

the temptation to smirk. “Of course, Your Grace. Good luck.”

Approximately two centuries later…