Free Summerkin by Sarah Prineas Page A

older than Fer. She didn’t wear a glamorie, but she was beautiful anyway, dressed in silken finery, her black pants and long jacket studded with glittering rubies. She looked sturdy and strong; her skin was the color of charred paper; she had black eyes and wore her black hair in four long braids. Squinting, Fer could see smoldering orange coals at the tips of each of the girl’s braids.
    â€œI am Gnar of the Drylands,” the girl announced in a crackling voice. “I am kin of the Lord there, and I seek to win a glamorie and a land of my own.” She cast a keen look around the nathewyr. “No one here shall defeat me!”
    On the platform, the High Ones nodded. The bear-man nodded too. “Who else would compete for the crown?”
    Fer stepped forward. “I do,” she called out. She felt prickly as everyone in the nathewyr stared at her; she heard a faintly outraged “hmph!” from the Gnar girl.
    â€œWhat is your name and your claim to the Summer-lands, human?” the bear-man boomed.
    â€œI’m Gwynnefar,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “My mother was Laurelin, the Lady of the Summerlands, and I defeated the Mór, who killed my mother and father and tried to become the Lady in their place.”
    The High Ones stared down at her, their faces cold and blank. Were they even listening to her? If they ruled over all the lands, they must have known about the Mór and her evil. They hadn’t done anything about it, though, had they? Maybe they didn’t care.
    â€œI . . .” Fer faltered. How could she convince them? “I feel a connection to the Summerlands and to the people who live there. I can open the Way between my land and the human world. And I have a crown that Leaf Woman gave me.” The leafy crown, she meant. The wise and powerful Leaf Woman had crowned her with it after Fer had defeated the Mór. As she stated her reasons for being Lady, she felt the rightness of them. The High Ones had to see that she was the rightful Lady of the Summerlands.
    Unless . . . unless they already had a reason not to see it.
    On the platform, one of the High Ones whispered something to the bear-man.
    â€œYet, you are human,” the bear-man said. “In all time, no human has ever been a Lord or Lady of a land. And you do not wear your glamorie. Perhaps you are incapable of wearing it. How could you rule a land and its people without it, human girl?”
    Fer nodded. So that was it. “Yes, I’m human. Half human. My father came from the human world. And yes, I have a glamorie, but I don’t like wearing it. I don’t trust it.”
    At that, the whispers broke out, filling the nathewyr with the sound of rustling leaves.
    â€œThe High Ones know that you have not taken oaths from the people of the Summerlands,” the bear-man said.
    â€œNo, I haven’t.” Fer shook her head. “The deep-forest kin wanted to swear, and the other people do too, but I wouldn’t let them. Taking oaths feels wrong to me.”
    At that, a few people exclaimed; the whispers grew louder. The bear-man raised a pawlike hand and a heavy silence fell. Then, “You do not wear the glamorie; you do not accept oaths. Are you all human, Gwynnefar, or are you one of us?”
    Fer gulped. Oh no. Maybe they wouldn’t even let her compete. “I am half human and I am one of you. I am both. And I am the true Lady of the Summerlands,” she said firmly.
    The High Ones leaned their heads together and whispered. One of them shook her head; the other one frowned and whispered something else. After a long moment, they nodded, agreed. “Hmmm,” the bear-man growled. “You must prove yourself worthy, half-human, before the High Ones allow you to claim the Summerlands. That is their ruling. The High Ones will allow you to compete.”
    Fer released a relieved breath.
    â€œWho else would compete for the