10
Red
dusk was falling as Red stole through the Everlynd camp, silent as a shadow in her long gray cloak. Cinzel padded ahead of her on soundless feet. The wolf whined low in his throat, a warning, and Red ducked out of the road, pressing her back to a wall of chipped yellow stones. She counted her fast breaths until the figures had passed: two men wearing the sigil of the Red Ember. Then she hurried on, listening in between heartbeats for anyone coming after her.
Soon, they would be lighting the torches, ringing the chorus of little chimes that called the soldiers of Everlynd to watch. But for once, Red wouldn’t be around to hear it. She was going after Shane, and no one was going to stop her. Not the council with their rules. Not the Paper Witch with his gentle reminders to be patient. And certainly not Shane, looking at her with those serious eyes when she told Red she couldn’t risk something happening to her.
Her cloak snagged in the outstretched fingers of a thorny bush, and Red ripped it free. Shane was the only reason Red was willing to be in the Everlynd camp in the first place, and she had no interest in staying without her. She could see the line of dark firs in the distance where the southern edge of camp bled back into the forest. That was where she’d pick up Shane’s trail.
Against the pale green twilight, the crooked little houses looked like a row of jagged teeth. It reminded her far too much of the last place she’d called home: the ruined carriage house inside the Forest of Thorns, where the Spindle Witch had kept her like a pet until she was old enough to be useful.
Red had hated that place almost as much as she’d hated the Eyrie. She hated the splinters of the rotted doors she had to creep over in her bare feet once she grew out of her shoes. She hated the skeletons of ancient carriages hulking in the corners, the shredded fabric of their painted hoods clinging to the wooden ribs like dried skin stretched over bones. She hated filling her stomach with warm water from the river and watching her supplies dwindle while chubby Cinzel got thinner and thinner until she could feel the outline of his ribs when she ran her hand along his coarse fur.
The Spindle Witch only came when she felt like it, and she never seemed to show up before Red was down to her last moldering apple. During the day, Red wandered the crumbling outbuildings, catching glimpses of a white castle so pristine and cold it seemed carved out of ice. And then, at night, when the forest was full of creaking and moaning, Red imagined monsters all around her—the ghosts of Andar wailing in the trees or packs of hideous half-dead wolves stalking her through the thorns. Too numb to cry, she would cover her ears and bury her face in Cinzel’s flank and dream of a day when she’d be somewhere safe and warm, somewhere she was wanted.
Now Red knew what a lie that had been. She wasn’t wanted anywhere. She had been an abomination to her father, a pawn to the Spindle Witch, and to the people of Everlynd—a traitor, an agent of the enemy. That was all they’d ever see.
Shane had tried to convince her to tell everyone she was descended from the Snake Witch, but Red flat-out refused. Her whole life, Red had been hated and reviled for something she had no control over, magic she didn’t want and didn’t ask for. And it had been meaningless. Being loved and accepted for something just as out of her control, some accident of her birth—that would be equally meaningless. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of changing their minds about her that easily.
She had just slipped into the forest when she heard something—hushed voices coming through the copse of pines ahead. Red shushed Cinzel and crept forward, peering between the bristles. Moonlight spilled into a clearing where two figures were standing close together, speaking urgently. Perrin’s arms were folded over his embroidered coat, and he faced a pale blond man with the white tower rippling on his red cloak. A soldier of the Red Ember, Red realized, though he only looked a little older than Perrin. His handsome features were cut by sharp worry lines.
The stranger’s voice was cold. “If you and the Paper Witch keep openly defying Nikor like this, he’s not going to let it go. First a search for some mirror, and now a fool’s errand to Aurora’s tomb?” He shook his head in disgust. “When will you stop chasing the Paper Witch’s flights of fantasy?”
“When he’s wrong,” Perrin said with a shrug. “The way I see it, he’s the only one still trying to save Andar.”
“Wake up, Perrin. He’s been wrong every step of the way,” the man spat. “First it was some girl who was going to save us, and then Briar Rose. Now you want us to trust a couple of outsiders—one of whom worked for the Spindle Witch?”
“Leave Red out of it,” Perrin said sharply. “This isn’t about her.”
Red felt a strange little flutter in her stomach. Perrin didn’t have to defend her—he didn’t know she was here. Cinzel’s ears flicked, and Red laid a calming hand over his neck, her breath tight and shallow in her throat.
“You’re right, Perrin,” the man ground out. “It’s not about her. It’s about you and your obsession with Andar and the Great Witches. There was never room for anything else with you—especially not me.”
“Soren,” Perrin said softly. Red’s eyes widened, the scene in front of her taking on a new edge as Perrin tentatively reached for his hand.
“Don’t,” the man suggested. He flinched away, taking a moment to collect himself. “I didn’t come to talk about that. Your voice still has sway around here, Perrin—at least as much as the Paper Witch’s. It’s time we think about abandoning Andar and saving ourselves. And I’m not the only one saying that.”
Perrin shook his head. “Abandoning Andar and the people in the castle will never be the right answer.”
“Fine, don’t listen to me.” Soren tossed his cape back angrily. “But eventually, you’re going to have to pick a side. I just hope you pick the right one.” He turned on his heel, stalking away into the trees. Red froze, praying he wouldn’t look left and spot her in the shadows.
She let out a silent breath as his footsteps receded. When she turned back to the clearing, she found a different set of eyes fixed on her.
“Red?” Perrin said in surprise.
Red flushed at being caught so obviously eavesdropping. Cinzel broke away from her and bounded through the bushes, greeting Perrin enthusiastically and snuffling at his pockets. Those bribes were certainly getting the job done.
“Sorry,” Red huffed. “I was . . .” She bit her lip. It wasn’t like she could tell him what she was really doing out here.
Perrin looked her up and down, taking in her sturdy boots and the worn pack over her shoulder. Then his face lit up with a grin. “Out for a walk, I take it.”
Red clenched her hand around the strap of her bag. “You can’t stop me.”
Perrin’s eyes sparkled. “From going for a walk? In the same general direction that Shane went when she headed for Aurora’s tomb? Why would I stop you?” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind a walk myself—at least as far as the perimeter.”
Red felt a little off balance at Perrin’s offer and at the fact that he didn’t seem intent on stopping her. She nodded hesitantly, and the two fell into step together, ducking under low-hanging branches and picking a path through the trees. Cinzel padded cheerfully between them, his tawny fur glossy with moonlight.
Red threw Perrin a sidelong glance. It wasn’t her business, but she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t dying of curiosity.
“That guy you were arguing with . . .”
“My ex, Soren,” Perrin filled in, rubbing the back of his neck. “He was always pretty rigid and uncompromising—probably why it didn’t work between us. Also, he’s Nikor’s cousin, which was almost a dealbreaker from the start.”
“That Nikor?” Red asked incredulously. Now that she was thinking about it, she could see a certain family resemblance in the way he’d flung his cape and stormed off.
Perrin laughed. “I do seem to have a knack for picking the wrong guys—and girls, for that matter.” He pushed back a springy pine branch and shot Red a conspiratorial look. “When I was younger, my first crush was on the Paper Witch. So tragic and good-looking, riding away from Everlynd forever to fulfill his destiny . . . I pined for years. Don’t tell him that, though.”
Red couldn’t help smiling at the thought of a young, starry-eyed Perrin writing the Paper Witch’s name in the sand between magic lessons. “Very bold, trusting your secrets to a known thief.”
Perrin winked. “I’ll take my chances.”
Red kicked a rock out of the path, her thoughts drifting back to the argument she’d overheard. “What did he mean, anyway? Pick a side?”
Perrin sighed. “Between Everlynd and Andar,” he explained. “But the thing is, I already picked a side a long time ago.”
He went quiet for a moment, fidgeting with his hourglass necklace.
“My parents were part of the rangers, the Red Ember squad that tried to rescue Witches trapped outside Everlynd. They died rescuing two young boys from the Witch Hunters.” Perrin scuffed his boot hard against the ground. “That was the last mission the rangers ever took. After that, Nikor said the losses weren’t worth it. He disbanded the rangers—turned his back on everything they stood for. And there weren’t many people who disagreed with him.”
“That’s . . . I’m so sorry,” Red whispered, swallowing hard. His parents had died trying to rescue people like Red. And Perrin had grown up alone—a feeling Red knew all too well.
Perrin shook himself, managing a small smile. “My parents were the strongest voices on the council for Everlynd using its power to do more. They believed in Andar. If we give up on it now, their sacrifice will have been for nothing.”
Red didn’t know what to say to that. They walked in silence until the trees broke away and they stepped into moonlight once more. Below them, where the ridge sloped down, the black wasteland was just visible, spread out like a pool of vast still water, the pearl of the full moon gliding through an equally black sky. The last traces of twilight had disappeared.
Red turned away and looked south instead, toward slopes of waving grasses and soaring pines. The direction Shane had gone.
“I guess this is where my walk ends,” Perrin said. “But if you and Cinzel want to go a few more miles, you might just catch up with Shane.” Then his expression softened, and he reached out a hand, touching her lightly on the shoulder. “Never think you don’t belong here, Red. There was a special connection between the Great Witches, and I’d like to think that could extend to their descendants.”
“Are you asking me out?” Red teased, giving her skirt a flirty swish.
“Oh, no—you aren’t nearly wrong enough for me,” Perrin chuckled. “But the descendants of the Great Witches is a pretty exclusive club these days: membership three. As far as I know,” he added, looking thoughtful.
Thinking of the Snake Witch made Red’s insides twinge, but she couldn’t tell why anymore. Ivan’s sneering face and the stories her father had told her, stories of the Monster Witch he’d reviled, those memories still haunted her. But with them came the memories Perrin had shown her: the Snake Witch and the Dream Witch with their hands intertwined, their foreheads together, their lips curled with the secret promise they’d whispered on the shore.
Red shook her thoughts away. “I doubt I belong in any club. I’m nowhere near as strong as you or the Paper Witch.”
“I still have a ways to go myself,” Perrin admitted, looking sheepish. “The Paper Witch is appalled by how little progress I’ve made and is determined to teach me personally.”
Red blinked, suddenly realizing something. “You’re hiding from him, aren’t you? That’s what you’re doing out here!”
Perrin flashed her a grin. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” Then he turned for the Everlynd camp, walking backward and waving. “If anybody asks, I fell asleep out here and never saw anything. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“When I get back,” Red repeated. And even though, just minutes ago, she would have been glad to never see this place again, the thought wasn’t as awful as she’d expected. Red wondered, not for the first time, if Perrin had some kind of magic beyond his dream magic. How else did he always seem to know exactly what to say?
Cinzel nuzzled her and tugged playfully on her burgundy skirts. With one last look back, Red let the wolf lead her across the moonlit field, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.
it was past midnight when she finally reached Shane’s camp, her gray cloak pulled up against the night chill. At least, Red thought it was Shane’s camp. Cinzel had stopped sniffing and was circling her legs, flicking his tail like he did when he’d found the source of a scent. But the fire in the little ring of stones looked like it had been hastily doused, and while there was a heavy pack leaning against one tree, the bedroll beside it was empty, the blankets tossed aside.
The camp seemed deserted. Red moved cautiously into the circle of pines, intent on kicking through the abandoned pack for proof she was in the right place. She was tired and hungry from her long hike, and she’d been sorely hoping for a warm fire and bite to eat from Shane’s provisions.
Red was only two steps in when she was suddenly tackled. She shrieked as a dark figure slammed her into the dew-wet grass, wrestling with her cloak and flipping her onto her back. Red sank her teeth into her attacker’s wrist.
“Ow!”
That voice was all too familiar—as was the colorful string of curses that came after it. Red fumbled the cloak out of her face and found herself staring up at Shane, who had pinned her to the ground. The huntsman looked wild-eyed, her ash-brown hair a sleep-addled mess.
Shane’s mouth fell open. “Red?” she demanded, sitting back and letting her up. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were a Witch Hunter. I could have killed you!”
“A Witch Hunter?” Red repeated indignantly. “That’s how I come off to you?” Shane was still hovering over her, close enough that Red might have felt her pulse pounding for an entirely different reason if she wasn’t so insulted.
Cinzel surged forward, sticking his nose against Shane’s and greeting the huntsman with a lick right down the center of her face. “Good to see you, too, mutt,” Shane said, pushing the wolf’s head away from her mouth. But it was an affectionate push, and Red’s heart swelled listening to Cinzel’s happy crooning. He always knew exactly what she was feeling—and he was far too honest about it.
Red looked away, rubbing at her wrists. “Even if I was a Witch Hunter, in what world would it make sense to tackle me to the ground? Without a weapon, I might add.” Red cast about, finally spotting Shane’s ax partially buried in the bedroll by the smoking remains of the fire.
At least Shane looked a little embarrassed as she got to her feet, offering Red a hand up. “I heard noises coming from the trees. I just . . .”
“Acted without thinking,” Red filled in. She smoothed out her skirts, throwing Cinzel a dirty look for letting Shane get the jump on her. “This is the kind of thing that wouldn’t happen if you had someone to split the watch,” she pointed out.
“Red,” Shane warned. Her arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a frown. “I already told you . . .”
Red tossed her disheveled curls out of her face. “Yes, yes. You decided this ruin is too dangerous for me. But guess what? I decided traveling alone is too dangerous for you.” At Shane’s stubborn look, she huffed, throwing up her hands. “Just because I can’t be your treasure-hunting partner this time doesn’t mean I can’t watch your back and tend the fire and . . . cook or something.”
“You can cook?” Shane asked, sounding skeptical.
“That’s beside the point,” Red snapped. “The point is . . .” There was a little catch in her throat, a sharp sting that made her voice waver. “Don’t send me away.”
The words came out more vulnerable than she meant them to. Red bit her lip to keep the please down. Her heart was beating too fast, some small, quivering part of her hanging on Shane’s answer.
Shane looked down at her, lips parted, her gray eyes searching Red’s face. And then she caved.
“You can come with me as far as the valley. But you absolutely can’t follow me into that tomb. Promise me, Red.”
Red scoffed, relaxing. “Believe it or not, I have no interest in going into some ancient tomb that robs people of their memories. But if you want to be absolutely sure, there is one way.” Tentatively, she traced her hand down Shane’s wrist, her fingers slipping in between the other girl’s. “Come back safely, and I’ll have no reason to go in after you.”
Shane squeezed her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Her grip felt so warm and strong. Red looked down, studying their laced hands, and thought again of the two women on the shores of Evista Lake, their silhouettes shimmering against the mirror-bright water.
Traced in our palms, traced in the stars. An unbreakable promise.
The lines of Red’s palm were barely there anymore, covered up by all her scars. But Shane’s palms were scarred, too, and rough with calluses from the handle of her ax. Maybe Red had been wrong, worrying that she’d worn those lines away. Maybe she’d just been making them, all this time, in all the good and bad ways—the grooves in her palm, the places where they fit together.
Shane obviously wasn’t on the same page, or that brainless oaf wouldn’t have dropped her hand so fast.
“Well, the fire’s too wet to light again,” Shane said, making a face at the damp logs. “It’ll get pretty cold tonight. And it looks like you brought exactly no supplies. Guess you’d better . . . I mean . . .” Shane trailed off, scrubbing a hand through her hair and throwing Red an awkward sideways glance. Then she kicked out of her boots and crawled into the bedroll, holding the blankets open. “Well? Are you coming?” she asked, her voice brusque.
A little thrill rolled down Red’s spine. “How very forward of you,” she teased, batting her eyelashes.
“Not like it’d be the first time,” Shane grumbled, very obviously fighting a flush.
Red faked a gasp. “Scandalous. Just how many treasure-hunting partners have you lured into your bedroll with the old douse-the-fire routine?”
Shane spluttered. “That’s not— I meant it wouldn’t be the first time for us! I don’t . . . Ah, shut it,” she grumbled, as Red lost control of her giggles. She lumped her cloak into a pillow and toed off her own heeled boots, lining them up neatly next to Shane’s. Then Red wiggled down into the bedroll next to her, a spark racing along her skin at every accidental touch.
Even as short as they both were, it was a tight squeeze—much tighter than the luxurious bed in Everlynd where Red had first fallen asleep with Shane’s arm around her. She rested her cheek against her balled-up cloak and counted every little breath, the two of them nose to nose. She could feel the ridges of Shane’s knuckles against hers, their ankles brushing, their knees softly knocking—all the funny little imperfect parts of them trying so hard to fit together.
And those fierce gray eyes fixed on her, heavy with longing. Red stared back into those eyes and wondered if that was what the ocean was like, so deep and endless it would pull her under.
She had felt this in Everlynd, too—the heat, the soft shudder as Shane’s hand slid down her arm. But this was better. This wasn’t a fragile dream of a moment, something Red was just stealing for a little while. This was hers. She had fought for it—betrayed for it—faced her oldest and her deepest fears for it. And now she got to keep it, as long as she was brave enough to lean in.
“Red,” Shane murmured, so close she felt it against her lips.
Red’s heart rocked like an unsteady boat. Then Cinzel flopped down right on top of them, his heavy paws digging into her stomach, and Red burst out laughing, the sweet tension of the moment disappearing as Shane groaned and rolled onto her back.
“Great. Now I’ll wake up smelling like dog.”
“Are you implying that’s how I smell?” Red demanded, appalled.
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything.”
Shane yelped as Red’s cold toes dug into her calf. Still, Red couldn’t fight a smile as she closed her eyes, drifting off faster than usual squished between Shane and Cinzel.
It wasn’t what she’d imagined as a little girl in the Forest of Thorns. But she’d finally found that place she’d been searching for. Somewhere she was wanted. Somewhere safe and warm.