One moment I’m fetching wood for our All Hallows’ Eve bonfire to keep the evil spirits at bay, and the next … the dark, leaf-littered forest on the outskirts of my village is gone, and I’m lost in a winter wonderland of astonishing beauty. Bewildered, panic overwhelms me, and I turn in circles, dropping my bundle. There’s no determining from which direction I came. The same landscape surrounds me on all sides.

Above, the moon hangs high and full, a blazing celestial beacon against a blanket of shimmering stars. Ancient pines loom overhead, their great trunks more immense than those of any trees I’ve ever seen. Not even a dozen linked men could embrace their girth. And everywhere I look there is snow—pristine, crisp, and glittering—the colorful, crisp leaves of fall nowhere to be seen.

With my heart racing, I lick my lips and hug myself against the bitter cold. Where am I? I wonder. How did I get here? But even as the questions form in my mind, I know. I don’t want to believe it. With all my soul I want to be wrong. But there’s no denying the truth when it’s so tangibly and mercilessly clear. “I’m in Faery,” I breathe as horror fills me to my core. My warm breath whorls away into the frosty night air, and I feel a hot tear turn to ice on my rosy cheek at the shocking realization.

Everyone knows the fae are cruel and capricious creatures. They are unholy in the truest sense of the word. The Elders tell us that they were cast from Heaven, their eternal punishment to be denied His sight and love. To keep us safe, God created a realm especially for them, a place where they could dwell and revel in their debauchery until Judgment Day. And now, I’m trapped with them in Faery. Somehow, I chanced upon a tear in the Veil—the intangible curtain that separates our realms.

Biting my lip to keep from sobbing, I assess my options. I’m not dressed for winter. A moment ago, I was enjoying a slightly brisk fall evening, and now, I’m stranded in the snow wearing nothing but my leather boots, a long-sleeved dress, pinafore, and a light shawl. I won’t survive the night. Not if I stay here. I’ll die! I must move and seek shelter. Every step from exactly where I am could lead to meeting one of the treacherous fae. But if I’m to live beyond this night I have no choice.

With fear feeding my courage, I venture forth, tugging my shawl closer as I trudge cautiously through the deep snow. In the distance a lone howl pierces the silence, and a shiver prickles up my spine. Moments later I hear the distinct sound of horses whinnying and the clap of thunderous hoofbeats. Terror fills me. Precious Jesus, no. Not the Wild Hunt! There’s only one thing that could possibly be worse than happening upon a single wild fae, and that’s being hunted down by a bloodthirsty cavalcade of them.

For several breathless moments I’m frozen, and my world narrows to the deafening beat of my heart in my ears, and the Wild Hunt closing in. Of course they’d be riding on All Hallows’ Eve. They know just as well as we that the Veil is at its most precarious prior to All Saints’ Day. So, they’re out looking for hapless, lost souls—just like me.

And then they burst from the swirling winter mists, a frightening spectacle of fully armored warriors atop steeds as white as the snow itself. There’s perhaps two dozen of them, but it’s hard to guess when they’re charging directly toward you. With every fleeting moment bringing them ever nearer, I’m finally inspired by sheer mortal terror to turn and run back the way I think I came. But the snow is soft and fresh, and at speed I sink hopelessly with every desperate lunge.

I only make it a few paces before they’re bearing down on me like a raging storm. Then I am scooped up by their lead rider as easily as if I were a child’s rag doll. A strangled shriek of horror escapes me as the fae throws me unceremoniously over his horse, my arms and legs dangling over either side.

The world rushes by me in a blur of dark and light—white snow and dark trees, over and over—as the Wild Hunt rides on. How long we ride, I cannot know, but eventually the legendary hunting party comes to a halt, a handful more horses burdened by mortal bounty. My rider vaults from his horse and pulls me down, his gloved grasp firm around my wrist.

I want to cower and hide or sink into the very earth upon which we stand, to escape the frighteningly intense ice-blue gaze that pins me down from behind an elaborate silver skull-faced helm. I feel his eyes rove over me, and an unexpected heat prickles in my cheeks. What a fool of a girl I am! This fae might kill me, or worse, make me a slave. I could be forced to endure a life beyond my natural years in utter torment and anguish, far from everything I’ve ever known and loved. I need to keep my head in the game, for in Faery there is surely treachery afoot at every turn.

“This one is mine,” says a voice as smooth as silk and cold as frost, and no one dares to challenge his claim.

Fear ripples through me as the moments between us seem to stretch into an eternity.

“You can walk, or I can throw you over my shoulder. The choice is yours.”

I swallow the lump in my throat in an attempt to find my voice, but to my burning shame nothing more than a nervous rush of hot breath slips from my lips. I plead with my eyes, but it fails to have the desired effect.

“Very well.” In the next instant my captor tosses me over his shoulder, his hard, elaborate armor pressing painfully into my soft middle.

As afraid and apprehensive as I am, I can’t help but feel the warmth in my cheeks flare anew as the fae saunters across the picturesque courtyard, his gloved hand firmly on my backside.

He carries me up the grand stairs with ease toward what must be the most incredible structure that exists between Heaven and Hell. Carved from ice, it spirals into the clouds, an impossibly enchanting work of art. It’s spectacular beyond my wildest dreams and looks as though it’s come straight out of a faery tale … and it has. It can surely be none other than the castle of the King and Queen of The Winter Court.