1
Willow
Willow gazed out over her section of the Barry White Diner with satisfaction.
It had been a busy night, but all her tables were cleared and reset, ready for the overnight shift to take over.
Willow had a nice little bundle of tips in her pocket, and she was going to be home in time to watch at least half a movie before falling asleep.
She had a couple of murder mysteries and a dance documentary cued up. It was only a matter of choosing one, and then heating up a plate of heavenly leftovers from her marathon cooking session yesterday.
These were simple pleasures, but they were all hers.
Willow often wished for adventure, but adventures were hard to come by in small towns like Tarker’s Hollow and Rosethorn Valley.
She stuck her head into the kitchen to let everyone know she was headed out.
“See you tomorrow guys,” she called to the crew over the sizzle of frying eggs and the hum of the dishwasher.
“You need a ride?” Ramón yelled back. “I’m off in five minutes.”
“Nope,” she replied. “I got my car back from the shop this morning.”
It was nice of him to ask. Her car was old enough to keep her on her toes with needed repairs. Ramón sometimes helped out with a ride after his shift.
“Nice,” he said. “So you’re on tomorrow?”
“Lunch shift,” she told him, rolling her eyes.
“Well, try to get in an early section,” he advised. “It’s a full moon. Even lunchtime will be crazy.”
She nodded.
Say what you would about sleepy little Tarker’s Hollow, but the whole town seemed to come to life during the full moon. Even the oldest residents suddenly wanted steak and eggs in the middle of the night when the moon was waxing. Plus, the Barry White Diner was the only twenty-four-hour restaurant in the area.
She headed out to her car, glad she wasn’t scheduled for the late shift tomorrow.
The night air was cold and crisp. Willow sucked in a deep breath to get the greasy humidity of the diner out of her lungs.
Employees had to park at the back of the lot to leave the best spots for customers. So she was feeling almost fully refreshed by the time she got to her little black compact in the very last spot before the parking lot ended abruptly against a wooded hillside.
She reached for her purse to get her keys, and realized she had left it inside. Again.
Sighing, she turned to head back to the diner. She’d been on her feet all day. Why did another five minutes seem so unbearable?
Sudden movement in her periphery made her turn away from the diner once more. A crash in the underbrush followed.
Something was tumbling down the hillside toward the parking lot and onto the asphalt. No. Not something. Someone.
Instinct made Willow rush to help as a woman landed hard on her hands and knees. A curtain of dark hair covered her face from view. She wore some sort of elaborate gown, as if she had just run away from the Renaissance Faire or a very fancy wedding.
Something about her was familiar.
“Are you okay?” Willow asked, bending to help her.
The woman’s face snapped up at the sound of her voice.
Willow stepped back instinctively, feeling dizzy.
The face that gazed back at her was her own.
It wasn’t a passing similarity, or a family resemblance.
This woman was her exact double.
Before Willow’s eyes, her doppelgänger scrambled to her feet.
“He’s right behind me,” the woman hissed, eyes wide. “Run.”
But Willow was frozen.
She watched her other self gather the gown gracefully in her hands and sprint for the light of the diner that now seemed impossibly far away.
Impossible. This is impossible…
She glanced back to the woods where the woman had come from, to see a man step out of the shadows
He was huge, with wide shoulders, and he wore some sort of costume as well - like a gladiator from that movie with Russell Crowe.
In the cool light of the street lamps, Willow could see the set of his jaw, the fury in his eyes.
Some sort of puppy stood at his feet, hackles raised. It looked more like a wolf cub than any dog she’d ever seen.
The man scanned the parking lot until his gaze fell on her. His eyes narrowed as he moved in her direction.
Whatever debt the other woman had been running from, Willow was clearly going to be the one stuck paying it.
2
Heath
Heath curled his fingers around the tiny hourglass that hung around his neck, took a deep breath, and stepped through the veil.
There was a faint rush, like wind in his ears, and the world went blurry, then cleared again.
He was still on a wooded mountaintop, but he knew at once that he was no longer in Faerie. The air here was stale and the darkness incomplete. The light of the nearby city bled all the way to the sky.
Heath had come to the mortal realm with a trifold goal. He closed his eyes and tried to focus.
I will find Princess Ashe.
I will bring her home.
I will convince her to be my wife.
The first two seemed simple enough, but he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that last part. Heath was not in love with Ashe, nor she with him. He had met her exactly twice.
Both times she struck him as overly modest and embarrassed, though kind. She did not comport herself like a princess of the Winter Court at all.
And though it was supposed to be a secret, everyone knew Ashe had no magic to speak of. She was an anomaly, a dud, even in her own eyes, apparently.
He recalled the wording of the fae prophecy that had led him here.
Animosity will grow between Autumn and Winter.
A daughter of Winter will bring peace to both kingdoms.
Heath, along with everyone else, expected that a daughter of Winter referred to Ashe’s sister, Wynter.
Wynter was as confident and elegant as Ashe was timid and plain. She had been engaged to Heath’s older brother, Killian. Everyone hoped that this betrothal between an Autumn prince and a daughter of the Winter Court would seal the peace between the two kingdoms.
Everyone except Wynter, that was.
She had secretly plotted against the Autumn Court in an attempt to bring about the very war that the rest of them were working so hard to prevent.
And she’d ended up getting herself killed in the process.
So the only daughter of Winter left to bring peace to both kingdoms was the unlikely Princess Ashe.
And now that his older brother, Killian, was marrying a mortal, the only prince of Autumn left to marry Ashe was Heath himself.
Whether she wanted to marry him or not, he was certain she was the kind of princess who would fulfill her duty. At least he had been certain, before she fled to the mortal realm.
Perhaps in time they would grow fond of one another. Heath had always been told that he was sinfully handsome.
And Ashe was pretty enough when she wasn’t busy worrying about what everyone else thought about her. And more importantly, she seemed like a good-hearted girl.
His plan was perfect.
All he had to do was find her.
Poor Ashe had slipped away in the chaos before his brother’s wedding. Heath figured she was worried that everyone would suspect her of being involved in her sister’s plot.