➽ On such a quiet and cold night, the only sound that Bea could pick up on was the rush of the river that separated The Moors, in all its glowing glory, from the castle town of Ulstead. She had flown down onto the bank on the fae side, gliding in a way that almost camouflaged her against sloe-black sky between the glittering stars until, suddenly, she was human; crouching at the mouth of the river and frowning at her warped reflection in the moonlit water.