The guards threw me onto a floor grown from living thorns.
Every noble in the Fae Court leaned forward to watch the human thief bleed.
I had stolen one thing from their treasury: a broken crown shard no bigger than my thumb.
King Riven sat above me with antlers of black gold and eyes like winter stars.
"Humans who touch royal relics lose their hands," he said.
The shard in my pocket burned through my dress and sank beneath my skin.
Flowers erupted across the thorn floor, white and impossible.
Riven stood so fast his throne cracked behind him.
"Cancel the execution," he said. "Lock her in my chambers."