Every harvest moon, the Witch Collector rides into the valley, selecting one villager to be whisked away to the home of the immortal Frost King, never to be seen again. Raina Bloodgood has watched this chilling ritual unfold for twenty-four years, always escaping the Witch Collector’s grasp. This year, however, Raina is determined to end the nightmare by killing the Frost King and the Witch Collector, who had taken her sister long ago. Please be aware that the delivery time frame may vary according to the area of delivery - the approximate delivery time is usually between 1-2 business days. Setting the cup of rainwater aside, I force today’s first smile. My fingers are stiff with cold when I sign. “I am sure you are right. I should get to peeling.” Just not to Neri. Never to him. He’s the reason we must deal with the Frost King in the first place.

Those desperate words are meant to persuade himself to leave, and I can’t imagine why he’s even still here, so I jerk my head toward the hills. “Go south or west. It’ll be easier.” The Witch Collector is a finely woven tapestry of everything one could desire of fantasy—compelling characters, intricate world-building, gripping action, and burning romance. The threads of this story sing in Weaks' skilled and passionate hands.” — Annette Taylor, Early Reviewer

Already, I’m several hours late. Every Collecting Day, I wake near midnight to finish the last leg of a week-long journey through Frostwater Wood. I usually reach Hampstead Loch—the closest village to my cabin and Winter Road—around sunrise, and end my day at Silver Hollow by noon.

I’ll try the grindstone first,” Finn says, the edge in his voice receding. “Then we can go from there. All right?” But the first flaming arrow soon arcs across the sky and pierces the veil. Then the next, and the next, until hundreds of balls of fire fill the night.Mena reads palms, something I’ve let her do a handful of times. She knows I’m reluctant and doesn’t press, but she likes to tease. She’s a dear friend, so I tolerate her prying mind. Something moves in the shadows outside the village. Beyond, along the horizon, shines what looks like giant fireflies in the deep bend of the valley. Mother stands on the other side of the fire pit. She bristles with energy, her skin glistening in the moonlight. I force every ounce of emotion I can onto my face and motion west. The feast hunters should have returned from the mountains last night,” Helena signs, “in time to prepare their kills for the harvest supper. There has been no sign of any of them. Not even Da.” Turning in a circle, I search every terrified face one more time and let out a familiar whistle. It’s a little bird call that Finn taught me so I could summon him from a short distance. But he doesn’t rush to my side. He’s nowhere to be found. Forced to marry the wealthy Count Casbian by her power-hungry father, Margrete turns to the gods, praying for a life free from the men who wish to rule her. Across the sea, a ruthless immortal answers…