Midwinter Wiles and Valerian Dreams

Series: The Cursed Globe

A runaway Fae princess. An outcast illusionist. One fake engagement away from disaster — or happily ever after.

Talvie never expected to be scrubbing dishes at a run-down woodland inn. Days ago, she was a princess — until betrayal sent her fleeing into the frozen Hinterlands with only her moon companion’s magic to hide her. Now she’s learning how hopeless she is at real life while everything she touches falls apart.

Lark is an illusionist, guardian to seven magical orphans, and annoyingly competent at fixing what Talvie breaks. But when his looming custody hearing threatens to tear the kids from him unless he has a partner, he makes a rash declaration: “Meet my fiancée!”

Charmed by Lark’s devastating dimples and easy grin, Talvie plays along. What begins as a desperate ruse quickly has them tangled in cottage chaos, meddling kids, hedgehog mayhem, and longing glances that start to feel all too real.

But secrets can’t stay hidden forever. With huntsmen on Talvie’s trail and the Ice Queen drawing near, love may prove to be the most dangerous illusion of all.

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   I’m laughing as I duck and weave, scrambling for cover. I summon a ripple of illusion behind me, sending a flurry of fake snowballs to rush at the kids like a magical barrage. They shriek and scatter, ducking wildly behind their fort.

   “Cheap shot!” Juani hollers.

   “It was glorious, and you know it,” I shout back.

   But my victory is short-lived. Mikael rises from behind a drift, a snowball in each hand and Eevi giggling on his back like a tiny warlord. The next hit catches me in the ear.

   “Nooo! Not you, Mika! You were my favorite!”

   His laugh is darkly ominous. I whirl to retreat, only to be pelted from all sides. Real snowballs, magical snowballs, sibling-launched violence. There’s no end in sight.

   I collapse backward into a snowbank with a dramatic groan.

   Val saunters up through the flurry, her cheeks flushed with battle-lust. “You’re yielding already?”

   “I cannot possibly stand up to your greatness, my better half. Also, eight against one. Highly unethical.”

   “You brought this on yourself.”

   I grin up at her. I’m drenched, freezing, and possibly missing a sock. And utterly, thoroughly undone.

   All I can think is: Storms, she’s stunning.

   Falling for her may be the most dangerous, most deliciously reckless trick I’ve ever played on myself.

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