The night smelled of rain and earth, the kind of scent that came before a storm. Princess Eilonwy pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she slipped through the castle’s shadowed corridors, her breath steady, her steps lighter than a whisper. This was the moment she had dreamed of for years—the moment she would leave behind her gilded prison and step into the world that had been kept from her.

  She reached the outer wall, where the cold stone was slick beneath her fingertips. Below, the dense expanse of the Wraithwood stretched like a sea of darkness. Somewhere beyond those trees, the throne had awakened. Somewhere beyond those trees, her destiny waited.

  For centuries, the throne of the Seven Realms had been the source of absolute power. But unlike any other throne, it could not be inherited—only claimed. With each ruler’s death, the throne vanished, concealed by powerful enchantments, hidden in a place unknown until a new sovereign found it. And now, with King Alaric dead, the hunt had begun once more.

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  Hundreds would seek it. Kings and warlords, thieves and mercenaries, sorcerers and knights. Some would search for glory. Others for conquest. And then there were those like Eilonwy—who sought the throne not for a crown, but for something far greater.

  Freedom.

  A gust of wind stirred her hair as she climbed down the outer wall, her heart pounding with exhilaration. By the time the guards realized she was gone, she would be deep within the Wraithwood. No longer a captive princess, but a hunter in the greatest game the world had ever known.

  Yet as she disappeared into the trees, she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched.

  The hunt had begun. And she was not alone.