Prologue

Queen Ozette sat quietly under the branches of the tree she’d planted from the golden acorn her grandmother had given her. She watched as a shaft of moonlight outlined its branches. The white squirrel marveled at how the tree seemed to glow with an inner, shimmering light. She was so engrossed in thoughts of her grandmother and her life in Farlandia that she failed to notice a lone human on a nearby knoll, sitting astride a horse, his arms folded on his chest, scowling.