Chapter Twenty-Two

Harrow tugged on Fiona’s reins to slow her down—not that she needed to. Fiona’s default pace was stationary. Getting her moving in the first place was by far the more difficult task.

As predicted, with the slightest tug, Fiona came to a grateful halt, and Harrow hopped down from the caravan’s seat to pat her horse on the neck. As she went about taking off Fiona’s harness and tethering her to a tree by the stream, she watched the moon rise.

Full tonight.

She’d traveled an entire day out of Allegra yet was still in the depths of the Ethereal Forest—the vast old-growth woods covering most of the Central Territory. It was later than advisable for setting up camp, but they had a lot of ground to cover, and Fiona wasn’t exactly the world’s fastest driving horse. Nor was Harrow the world’s most skilled driver.

All her life, she’d had Salizar’s laborers helping her out with the horse-care aspect of caravan living. Now, she was all by her lonesome and figuring it out herself. She gave thanks hourly that Fiona was so easygoing—a feistier horse would have long since kicked her in the head for her clumsiness.

She was alone by choice, however, so she refused to utter a word of complaint. After Darya had released her from their conversation, she’d dived right back into the scrying bowl, coming back to the world an hour later with a burning need to take her horse and caravan and head south immediately.

So she had.

The Water had been very clear, and though she didn’t understand it in the least, she’d learned her lesson well. From now on, no matter how confusing or nonsensical it seemed, she listened to the Water.

So Harrow had made a quick trip to the tavern for her bags, fetched Fiona from the stables, and rolled out of town amid hearty protests from both Salizar and Malaikah. So hearty, in fact, that she still didn’t understand how she’d managed to shake Malaikah. She’d been certain Mal wouldn’t give up and was still expecting to find her hiding beneath the bed or in the wardrobe.

With Fiona settled for the night, Harrow built a fire and sat close to it for warmth. The tall trunks of ancient cedars towered above her, creating a thick canopy that bordered the clearing’s view of magnificent stars. The forest floor was covered with mossy logs and lush ferns. Nocturnal creatures chirped their lonely calls, but beyond that, the night was quiet. Still. Utterly peaceful.

Lying back on the soft ground, Harrow stared up at the sky. As an old habit, she used what she could see of the constellations through the trees to orient herself. With another pang in her heart—a sensation that was becoming too familiar of late—she remembered showing Raith how to find the Tidal Wave and navigate by it. Was he out there somewhere looking at the same stars, thinking of her as she was of him?

A shadow streaked briefly across the full moon’s face.

Harrow tensed but quickly dismissed it, certain she was imagining things. But her heart rate had sped up, and her sudden nervousness had shattered the peace of the night. Though she told herself she was being silly, she held her breath and listened intently for sounds of disturbance.

She heard nothing but jolted upright a moment later regardless. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her gaze darted around the clearing, searching for something. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear. Everything was still.

Too still, in fact.

The chirping insects had fallen silent. Not a single sound disturbed the quiet.

Her heart started to pound. From her seat on the moss, she twisted this way and that, searching the surrounding forest. Something was out there. Something ominous.

Fiona gave an anxious whinny from the darkness. Harrow’s power stirred within, and she let it rise, gathering her defenses.

A sudden suspicion hit, and she gasped, jumping to her feet. Holding her breath, she peered harder into the dark, still seeing nothing. Now her pulse raced for a different reason.

“Raith?” she whispered into the silence.

A cold wind gusted past, lifting her hair.

“Raith, is that you?”

The ferns across the clearing ruffled suddenly, and Harrow jumped. Tamping down her fear, she forced herself to sound calm.

“Are you there? It’s me, Harrow. I—” She swallowed hard. “I missed you.” It felt wrong, exposing her vulnerabilities to the seemingly empty forest, but if he was truly there… “I’m so sorry, Raith. I should never have left you that night. I can’t believe I hurt you that way. I should have trusted you, and I’m sorry.”

Was he even there? Was she just imagining this entire scenario? Perhaps it was for that reason that she finally found the courage to say what she wished she’d said days ago.

“Raith, if you’re even there, you should know… I love you. It sounds absurd, but I think I loved you from the moment we met, and I never stopped. Even when I left, I still loved you. I loved you then, and I love you now, no matter what happened in the past.”

Silence. A breeze ruffled her hair again. Nothing moved; nothing changed. And yet she found herself holding her breath in expectation…

And then, there he was.

He seemed to materialize out of thin air, standing before her in all his wraithlike glory. His skin was deeper than shadows, his irises burning brighter than the fire beside them. Long claws curved from his fingertips, and his enormous wings rose high above him, half spread as if ready to launch into flight.

“Raith,” Harrow breathed. He had never looked more terrifying than he did right then.

He had never looked more beautiful.

She ached to run to him, to throw herself into his arms and embrace him with all the longing that had been tearing her to pieces since she left him.

“You came back to me.” She thought of Nashira’s words suddenly. It’s too late. Will be too late. Was too late. Now he has to come to you! Was this what she meant? Could it really be that simple?

But Raith didn’t move. His face was blank, devoid of emotion. He was so wrapped in shadows, his body almost didn’t look solid. Goddess, he was terrifying.

But terrifying or not, this was the man Harrow loved, and she forced herself to take a step closer, though every instinct in her body screamed at her to run. Raith did nothing, didn’t move, didn’t even twitch. A trickle of unease ran down her spine.

“Raith?”

Nothing.

She took another step closer and lifted a hand. Reaching, reaching, she could almost touch him—

He jerked away.

Her hand dropped instantly. Of course he was distrustful of her. She had betrayed him. Was it even possible to make it right? Did she even deserve his forgiveness? “I’m so sorry for what I did, Raith. Betraying you was the worst decision I ever made. I should have believed you were different. I should have—”

“Don’t come closer.” His voice seemed deeper, strange. His eyes were wild.

“Okay.” She swallowed back the tears. “I won’t.” But she wasn’t giving up that easily. She tried a new approach instead. “I left Allegra to search for you. I thought I’d have to travel for days. How did you find me?”

A flicker passed over his features. Why did she suddenly have the impression he was in pain? Though it was impossible to see him clearly, he seemed rigid with tension, as if he was barely holding back from doing…something.

“For me?” he whispered.

“Yes, for you.” She spoke quickly, encouraged by his reaction. “I was searching for you to tell you I was sorry, that I don’t care what happened in the past, and that I love you.”

His brow furrowed. “Love?”

“Yes, I love you, and I’m sorry I left. I was wrong. So, so wrong.”

He said nothing.

“I know what happened to you—that you were forced to do those things against your will. I could never hate you for that. It’s the opposite. I love y—”

“No!” he suddenly shouted, and she lurched back involuntarily. It was the first time she’d ever heard him raise his voice. It sounded strangely disembodied as it echoed around the clearing. “No!”

She raised both hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry I upset you. I just need you to know that I love y—”

“Stop!” he cried as if her words scalded him.

He dropped to his knees suddenly, gripping his head in his hands.

“Raith!” Unease forgotten, she rushed to his side, hovering over him. She was desperate to touch him but didn’t dare ignore his vehement warning. “Raith, tell me what’s wrong, please.”

“Harrow…”

“What is it? Please tell me so I can help you.”

“She…changed me.”

“Who did? What did she do? Tell me what happened, Raith. We can get through this together. I’m not going anywhere this time, I swear it.”

“Furie…”

A feeling of certain doom cascaded down her spine like a frigid waterfall. “What happened?”

Crouching beside him, she reached out slowly. He didn’t flinch this time, just remained hunched over with his head in his hands, gripping his hair with lethal claws. She was inches away from tracing her fingers along his shoulder, and when she finally made contact—

Her hand passed right through him.

With a gasp, she jerked back.

“No…”

This wasn’t happening. She had imagined it. She reached out again. Again, her hand went right through his dark shape. She could see the ghostly outline of her own hand inside his smoky form. “No!”

Raith was a wraith once more.

“Did she do this to you? Did Furie do this?”

“Harrow…” He gripped his hair tighter, moaning as if in great agony.

“It’s okay.” The words for her benefit as much as his. “We’ll figure this out together. Darya made you a body once, right? She can do it again. We’ll be fine.”

“Can’t…fight it.”

“Can’t fight what? Are you in pain? What’s wrong?”

“Vowed…not to fight it.”

“You vowed?” She swallowed a lump of dread and tears and panic. “Did Furie force you?”

Through the tight grip on his head, he nodded.

Oh sweet Goddess, this was bad. This was the worst-case scenario, in fact. Raith had evidently gone back to Furie, and she had made him a wraith again and made him vow to…

To what?

“What did she make you vow to do?” Harrow whispered.

But suddenly, she was pretty sure she knew.

Raith moaned again. “Vowed not to fight my vows. Already broke one. Can’t do it again.”

“What do you have to do, Raith? Tell me.”

Suddenly, his head snapped up. He went rigid with tension as his fire-ringed black eyes met hers. His fingers curled, claws sharpening to razor-sharp points before her very eyes.

“Kill you.”

“Oh, Raith…” Right now, he almost seemed to be in some kind of trance—likely a result of the compulsion of his vow—but after the deed was done and Harrow was dead, he would snap back to reality. He would realize what he had done.

Her sweet, gentle Raith would never recover.

But what could she do? The Water had told her to come here. She’d been so sure of everything, so sure it would all work out. How could she have been so misguided? Or maybe the Water wanted her to die at Raith’s hands? But what purpose would that serve?

She’d sworn to never doubt her instincts again, but this? It seemed she’d made a catastrophic error—one she had no clue how to extricate herself from.

Raith was going to try to kill her; she could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to fight it as he’d done when she was a child.

This time, Furie would force him to finish what he’d started.

…

“Oh, Raith,” the Seer said, her silver eyes brimming with tears, the tiny crystalline droplets containing oceans of sadness and…compassion? But why would she feel compassion for the monster about to take her life?

He couldn’t think through the haze. All he knew was the compulsion to fulfill his given word. He had already reneged on two vows—not to hesitate before killing her, and not to fight his vows—and was already battling the insanity-inducing agony as a result.

Why was he delaying? Even now, through the fiery torture, he still couldn’t bring himself to act. Though his mind was numb, consumed with his objective, he still had the vague thought somewhere that killing her would be a terrible mistake.

It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fight it any longer. His broken vows were clawing into him, pushing him to act, blurring all coherent thought into one straight track—get the job done and be free from the compulsion.

He looked into those luminous silver eyes and studied those delicate features as if some part of him was memorizing them for the last time. Tears poured freely down her face, and she made no effort to stem them. The sadness and compassion were still there, but there was something else now…

Acceptance.

She had accepted her fate, yet she still felt compassion? He couldn’t comprehend it—couldn’t fight the pain long enough to try. He would think about it later when he was free again.

The wraith spread his wings wide and climbed to his feet.

One touch. One touch was all it would take to end her as he’d ended countless others before her.

“Whatever happens,” the Seer whispered, looking up at him with those fathomless eyes as she climbed proudly to her feet, “I’ll always love you.”

The wraith tilted his head, certain this was important. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t decipher why. Later, he would reflect. Now, he had to act.

Without a whisper of sound, he struck.

…

Raith lunged. Harrow screamed. She couldn’t help it—whether she loved him or not, he was here to kill her, and she was scared.

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to help Raith find his freedom. She wanted to go with Malaikah back to Kambu one day and help her retake her homeland. She wanted to learn more about her Seer roots and practice her craft. She wanted to live.

They collided, falling to the ground, Harrow landing hard on her back. Raith’s enormous wings curved forward around his body, just the taloned tips solidifying. With lightning speed, he stabbed them deep into her shoulders to pin her to the ground. Another scream was torn from her lips as her blood began to flow.

She felt the razor-sharp tips of his claws at her throat. A flex of his fingers, and she would be dead.

But the wraith froze suddenly, head cocked in that feral way again.

He’s hesitating! Harrow tried to think through the haze of pain. Maybe she could reach him. Deep down, he didn’t want to hurt her. He was compelled by his vows, but her Raith was still in there somewhere.

“R-Raith.” Her shoulders were soaked with the hot stickiness of her spilling blood. Where his talons pierced her skin, a pain like fire scalded her. “Fight it. I know you c-can.”

Her teeth were chattering. From shock? Blood loss? Did it matter?

Still, he hesitated, and feeble hope began to rise in her chest. He was so shadowy, it was impossible to read his expression, but she swore she saw a tortured look in those fiery irises.

“Raith, fight this!”

His eyes narrowed. He was fighting. He was—

He shook his head roughly, face clearing. Blank again.

His claws flexed, but instead of tearing out her throat, he wrapped his hand around it. Squeezing tightly, though not enough to asphyxiate her. What—?

She started to burn.

This was the wraith’s killing touch she’d heard about. The agony was unbearable. Through his grip on her throat, somehow, she found air enough to throw her head back and scream to the sky. Was this what her mother had felt before she died? Was this what all the Seers had suffered?

In a way, it was strangely comforting that Harrow would die in the same manner as her family. Perhaps she was never meant to have survived that tragic day at all. Perhaps this was why the Water had led her here—she’d dodged her fate then, and now it was just correcting the oversight. And now, she would die with only love in her heart for the creature delivering her death.

Did Raith know that? Had she made that clear? Years from now, if he was still trapped and forced to do Furie’s bidding, would he be able to think back on this moment and know she didn’t blame him for what he’d done? She had to be sure.

Through the agony, through her screams, she managed to say, “L-love you… Know you have to…don’t have a choice… Already forgive you…just l-love—”

The burning stopped suddenly.

Was she dead already? Was it over? But no, the pain from her injuries lingered, and she was vaguely aware of Raith’s shadowy shape above her.

Had he stopped himself again?

“Harrow…”

Even through the haze, she stilled. He sounded like himself. Could he actually fight this?

But she never got the chance to find out.

A powerful explosion of magic split the night. Instantly, the darkness became blazing white light, the pressure so immense, it was nearly as agonizing as burning alive. Tornado-like winds whipped the air into a frenzy, and heavy rain pelted the ground. Harrow screamed again.

Raith did too.

And then he was torn away from her, talons ripping out of her shoulders, causing fresh waves of blood to spill. She didn’t even notice. The power… She recognized its signature.

Water magic.

But Harrow hadn’t done this. So who…?

Raith roared from somewhere, swallowed by the all-consuming light.

She sat up with a jolt, invigorated by adrenaline-fueled panic. “Raith!” Where had he gone? What was happening?

Scrambling to her feet despite her injuries, she stumbled through the torrential downpour, screaming his name. Tears streaked down her face, mingling with rainwater and her blood. She’d been seconds from death at his hands, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t want him hurt, and his tortured howl was an obvious indication that he was.

“Harrow!” Malaikah came out of the whiteness, fighting through the storm to reach her.

What in the world was Malaikah doing here? Harrow’s addled brain struggled to make sense of it and failed. Weakness overwhelmed her, and at the sight of her friend, she started to fall. Malaikah caught her as she went down, and they ended up on their knees, water drenching them and wind whipping around them with an earsplitting roar.

“Where’s Raith?” Harrow cried, clutching Mal’s shoulders.

But Mal wasn’t listening. She was saying, “Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, oh Goddess,” again and again, her hands fluttering over Harrow’s bloody body. Still, Raith’s howls of agony rent the air, audible even amid the roaring wind.

“Raith…” Harrow was losing consciousness at last. “Malaikah, help…Raith.”

“It’s over now,” Malaikah was saying. “You’re safe from him.”

No, no, she didn’t understand. Harrow needed her to understand. But her tongue felt like a rock in her mouth, and she couldn’t see straight. “Raith…”

Suddenly, the downpour stopped. The light dissipated. The magic was withdrawn, and the air became breathable again. The forest clearing with the starry sky returned. Silence reigned. Malaikah still clutched Harrow, holding her upright, both of them soaked to their skin.

But where was Raith?

Harrow’s question was answered the next instant as Queen Darya stepped into view. Her hair was windswept yet somehow dry, her face pale from exertion. She crouched beside Harrow and stroked her bloody face with a trembling hand. “There, there, child. It’s all right. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“No…”

“He’ll never be able to hurt you again.”

Harrow wanted to scream, but she didn’t have the strength. Her vision was going black, head swimming, thoughts muddled. But she was clear-thinking enough to realize before she finally slipped into unconsciousness…

Darya had betrayed her again.