The sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, and still the mulgars had not come. Inside the camp, guards patrolled the shadows beneath the trees. Archers had strapped themselves to the perimeter trees. Foot soldiers waited taut beneath them.

Beyond, the engineers had chopped down a line of trees—the trunks of which had been strategically piled in the center and alighted, while the branches had been lashed together to create rows of pikes before a shallow trench.

The forest was eerily quiet; even the wind had died. Larkin had slept so little and been so worried over the last few weeks that her body felt wrung out. Her eyes burned whenever she blinked. Despite her declaration that she would wait and watch, she fell asleep in a pod stretched tight between two branches.

It was the smell that woke her first. A pervasive decay of rotting flesh. Heart thudding in her throat, she sat up, eyes shifting to where Denan had been last, near the center of the line, behind the soldiers. He wasn’t there. She climbed out of the pod. The edge caught her foot. She grabbed a branch to steady herself; the drop to the forest floor seemed very far away.

“There.” Talox pointed to the right. Denan’s shield gleamed in the firelight as he called to his men and gave orders to his captains. One of the archers called a warning. Pipers moved into battle formation two rows deep. The first row held short swords and huge shields. The second carried spears.

She sat in her pod, legs dangling. “Wraiths?”

He shook his head. “They’ll be far back from the sacred arrows, driving the mulgars forward.”

“But I can smell them.”

He shook his head. “It’s not as old or as oily.”

She sniffed. Talox was right. The smell was that of a fresh corpse just starting to turn. Not that of old rot and the grave. “What is it, then?”

“Mulgars. Thousands of them.”

No sooner had he spoken than the first mulgar broke away from the line of trees. She wore what was once a fine dress. Black lines etched her face and disappeared into mismatched armor. She hadn’t managed two steps before she fell, body bristling with arrows.

Hundreds of mulgars burst from the forest’s shadows, the firelight etching their faces with darkness. Aside from the pounding of hundreds of feet, they didn’t make a sound. Not as arrows bristled from their flesh, black blood dripping. Not as the first dozen fell upon the pikes or the dozens and dozens after them. Bodies piled up two and three deep. Still, they kept coming, leaping over their fallen without pause.

“Do they not feel pain?” Larkin asked.

“They know only the will of their masters.”

More and more poured from the trees. “Where did they all come from?”

“The Valynthian side of the Forbidden Forest.”

The first few reached the Alamantian line. Spears stabbed from above, swords from between shields. More mulgars fell, dying without a sound. Limping on leg stumps or stepping on their own spilling entrails, they fought until death. Their faces remained blank, empty.

They had been human once. They were not anymore.

“Are my mother and sisters watching this?” Larkin asked in a choked voice.

“Their guards will keep them asleep,” Talox said. “As I should be doing.” Yet he made no move to his flute.

She shifted to look at him, the pod swaying beneath her. “Then why are you allowing me to watch?”

“You have been chosen as a warrior, Larkin. This will be your life someday.”

Pipers called up and down the line. The first man fell, his hands gripping his side. A reserve soldier moved to replace him, while a pair of healers lifted the man on a stretcher and carried him to the healers’ tent.

“How can I be a warrior if I’m a wife and mother?” Most women alternated between pregnant or nursing well into their forties.

“There are herbs to prevent children—or to limit them, if you chose.”

“Such things are myths.” Mama had always said so. As the town midwife, she should know.

“Perhaps for the Idelmarch,” Talox said.

If such a thing were possible, Larkin could live whatever kind of life she wanted. She could choose. “Am I not also chosen to be queen? To break the curse?”

“A queen is a warrior of necessity in times like these.”

She gripped the edges of her pod. “I’m not sure I would choose it.”

Talox shrugged. “Sometimes it’s not what we choose, but what chooses us.”

His words niggled at the doubt buried deep inside her. What if she hadn’t been chosen at all?

Denan rotated his front line out. Carrying their injured, they retreated to safety. They rested, drank water, and bound up flesh wounds. Some lay down, but most kept their eyes on the mulgars.

Talox rubbed his head. “Own your destiny, Larkin. Whatever it may be.”

“What if I’m not any good as a warrior?” What if she was nothing more than the first woman with magic? A coincidence of timing and nothing more?

“You were chosen by the White Tree. She can see things inside us that we can’t see on our own.”

In the healers’ tent, a soldier started screaming—screams that sounded eerily similar to the ones Venna had made. Larkin closed her eyes against the memories assaulting her. Venna fevering in her arms. The black lines climbing her skin, bleeding into her eyes. The madness that had taken her before she’d tried to kill Larkin.

Larkin started to rise. “I should assist the healers.”

Talox’s hand closed over her shoulder. “The wraiths can’t sense you in the trees.”

“But the wards …”

“We don’t want the wraiths to have a handle on where you might be—they can sense you sometimes, if you leave the trees.”

Even surrounded by water, fire, and two thousand men, she wasn’t safe. Larkin gritted her teeth. If she was to be a warrior, she would defeat the wraiths, once and for all. “Will you teach me? To kill them?”

Talox gripped a knife, as if merely talking of the wraiths made him anxious. “Wraiths cannot die. They can only be sent back to the shadow.”

If the curse could be defeated, even in part, surely there was a way to defeat the wraiths. “Then teach me that.”

He watched the battle. “Four wraiths with three centuries of experience. They are the greatest warriors to have ever existed and wily as a pack of wolves. You do not defeat the wraiths—not alone.”

The day before, Denan had charged the wraiths while Tam loosed from a distance. “Archers. You use archers.”

Talox nodded to the front line. “That’s why you don’t see any of the wraiths now. One arrow will weaken a wraith. Two or three will send them back to the shadow. If you must fight them hand to hand, keep an archer nearby to end them the moment there is a clear line of sight.”

“Does no one ever defeat them hand to hand?”

“Not often. Not when the merest cut of their blades turns one into a mulgar.”

“But I have an advantage.” When the wraiths had been waiting outside the arbor ring and she’d been certain she was doomed, she’d flared her shield and nearly sent all of them back to the shadow. “I can pulse.”

A wicked smile curved his lips. “Can you imagine what a dozen women with magic could do?”

It would change everything.

She flared her sword—a curved, cutting blade with a tip for thrusting. It gleamed with a faint gold light in the pitch dark.

Talox plucked a leaf and ran it against the edge. It sheared in half with the merest pressure. “A blade this sharp can be as dangerous to the person wielding it as their enemy. Not to mention that the light draws attention. Lore has it the ancients could shift between weapons. Even vary the sharpness and brightness of the blade. You need to figure out how before you end up in trouble.”

“Perhaps if I lessen the flow of magic.” Larkin constricted her sigils, and the blade dimmed to the faintest outline of light, like the reflection of moonlight across glossy leaves.

Talox tested another leaf. It didn’t cut at all. He ran his thumb across the edge and then pressed harder. “Good. Much safer for you, anyway.”

And it would use up less magic.

“Now,” Talox went on. “See if you can change the shape.”

With a thought, she made it into a knife. Then a dagger. A two-handed blade. Awed, she flared her shield and changed it from round to square.

Below them, a man was screaming. Two soldiers dragged him between them toward the healers’ tent, blood gushing from his leg. She rubbed at the lump in her throat. “How do you bear it? How do any of you bear it?”

“That’s enough for tonight.” Talox tugged out his pipes and played—the music full of drowsy sunshine and droning bees. Larkin tried to stand, but her legs didn’t want to move. Come to think of it, she didn’t want them to move either. She was too comfortable and sleepy. Her horror melted away into contented dreaminess.

“But I have on a dampener,” she protested, though she didn’t want him to stop playing. Denan had given it to her when he’d tried to rescue her. It made her resistant to piper enchantment.

Talox held up her chain with the amulet and dampener, which was shaped like a curving leaf.

The lying cheat. “I’m staying awake for Denan.” Why was she staying awake for Denan? Sleeping was a better idea. She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.

The branch shifted. Her legs were lifted into her pod, a blanket tugged over her. “You aren’t doing yourself any favors by being too exhausted to march tomorrow,” Talox said. “And none of us will be in any kind of shape to carry you.”

Without his constant enchantment, she nearly succeeded in opening her eyes. She should get up. But she could no longer remember why. He began to play again, and sleep stole her away.

 

 

The sun was a distant sliver on the horizon. The last of the daylight swallowed up by darkness. Her fingers were locked tight around a hand. Bane’s hand. Though she didn’t dare turn around to look, she recognized the size and shape. Even the callouses were familiar to her.

Her head whipped from side to side, desperately searching for a tree to hide in. It was too late. The wraiths were behind her—though for once she couldn’t smell them. They chased her and Bane. She tugged hard on his hand, trying to get him to run faster.

Then his hand was gone.

The sleeping pod shifted, freeing Larkin from the nightmare.

Cold arms wrapped around her, cinching her tight against an equally cold—and very bare—chest. Shifting, she curled into Denan, breathing deep the scent of his soap to chase away the last of the fear.

Suddenly, she remembered the battle from the night before. Her eyes flew open to find Denan watching her, early morning light softening the scars on his cheeks. Light that would keep them safe from wraiths. She examined his face, searching for signs of pain or injury. “Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.

“The mulgars broke away before dawn. Demry’s army is pursuing them.”

The branch beneath her shifted. Talox slipped down the tree. Her eyes narrowed to a glare.

“Talox did me a favor,” Denan said. “You too, if you’d admit it.”

“Denan …”

He traced the planes of her face with his fingertips. “Your freckles remind me of stars. I wonder if I could map out constellations to guide my way to your mouth.” He bent down and kissed her, lips soft. Then he pulled her tight to his side. “I need a few hours of sleep while the reserves pack up the camp and start transporting the wounded.”

He flung the other arm over his face. His dark lashes brushed against his cheeks. The dark gold of his skin gleamed. His hair had grown longer, a bristling that felt soft and prickly at once beneath her fingers.

“You’re looking at me. I can tell.” He peeked at her through one slitted eye. “What is it?”

He’d kidnapped her, stolen her from her life and her family. And yet, from the first moment they’d met, he’d been willing to die to protect her. In every moment since, he’d proven he would live for her too. And just now, he’d called her freckles stars.

Warmth swelled in her chest, filling her until she thought she would burst. She leaned forward, pressing her lips gently to his before pulling back.

He tried to blink the sleepiness from his eyes. “What was that for?”

Emotion clogged her throat. She wanted to push it down, force it away, but he’d gone to battle last night. He’d said the things he needed to say. She had not.

“Little bird?” he prompted when she remained silent.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I love you too.”

His eyes widened, nostrils flaring. Joy seeped around his mouth. He bit his bottom lip, as if to keep the emotion from showing. “But?”

But … So many mistakes. So many wrongs. Their two nations bound as enemies. The war she felt sure was coming. The curse pulsing in the forest around them—a curse she was no longer sure she was meant to break. But in this moment, they were safe and together. In this moment, that was enough.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him again. His lips were soft, pliant beneath hers. He let her set the pace. She explored his mouth, the taste of him. The feel of his smooth beardless cheeks beneath her hands.

Something shifted inside her. She would no longer run from Denan, no longer push him away. From now on, he would be the place she ran to. He would be her home.

Denan had been right all along. He was her heartsong. And it was more than a little terrifying. When she pulled back, she was shaking.

“Larkin?” he whispered.

“It’s just … It’s a lot. To love you. To let go of all that happened before. To move away from everything I knew into nothing I do.” She chuckled nervously. “Am I making any sense?”

He brushed her cheek. “No,” he teased.

She chuckled. They held each other until his breathing deepened and steadied. His arms slackened around her. She wanted to stay with him, but she desperately needed to empty her bladder. And she should check on her mother and sisters and help with the injured..

Denan didn’t stir as she eased from his arms. She slipped down the tree. Talox waited below. The engineers, who had also been held in reserve and so had some sleep, trekked out, packs of equipment on their backs or carried between them. They started toward her mother’s tree while eating a quick breakfast of dried fruit and cheese.

“There you are.” Larkin turned at her mother’s call. Pennice came from the direction of the healer’s tent, which was overflowing. She pushed the baby into her arms along with a bag filled with bloody bandages. “Take Sela to the river. Start a fire, boil the used bandages, and pack the baby’s dried swaddling.”

“I can help with the healing.” I’ve decided to love Denan. To never leave him. Why couldn’t she say it out loud?

Mama stepped closer. “I’m the one with medical knowledge, and this is no place for a four-year-old. We need clean bandages as much as anything, and it will be a while before they’ve packed up the rest of the camp.”

Was Larkin no more use than as a babysitter and laundress? Still, she held the baby close, took Sela’s hand, and led her to the edge of the pool. The waterfall sparkled golden in the morning light.

Larkin wrapped Brenna in Denan’s cloak. Lighting the end of a stick in a nearby campfire, she pressed the smoking end into the leaf detritus she’d gathered and blew until she had a cheery little flame that fought back the early morning chill.

Sela crouched beside it, dumped out a pile of little sticks, and began arranging them into people with leaves for clothes and hair. Six people. And next to it, she built a little hut of stones.

Their family at home. While their father had betrayed them all, Nesha had never betrayed Sela. Had only ever tried to protect her. Sela was only four. She couldn’t understand all the reasons Nesha and Harben were no longer with them. But she clearly missed them.

In contrast, Larkin had been fighting resentment and uncertainty of Nesha. Ashamed of herself, she touched each one and tried to guess which was which. Sela would shake her head or nod. By the end, she was almost smiling.

Larkin pulled her in close, tucking her under her arm. “I love you.”

Sela nested against her.

Larkin kissed her head. “Sela, what did you mean when you said the trees were our friends?”

Sela shifted and looked up at her, lips sealed.

Larkin tried to keep her frustration at bay. “Please, Sela. Talk to me.”

Sela turned back to the fire. Talox set a heavy pot of water to boil and left again.

“Did you remove the curse?” Larkin asked in a whisper. “Are you the one Denan was meant to find?”

Sela blinked up at her.

Larkin laughed nervously. “You don’t even understand what I’m talking about.” She passed a hand down her face. “Of course you don’t. Come on. You’re going to help with the washing.”

Larkin scrubbed out the bloody rags on the shore. Sela hauled them into the pot to boil. Brenna wiggled and stared at the leaves and birds above her head.

Larkin felt a presence behind her and turned to find Sela, her face pale. She pointed to the other side of the river. Larkin followed the gesture but saw nothing.

“Sela? What’s the matter?”

Sela motioned frantically for Larkin to follow. Scooping up the baby, Larkin grabbed Sela’s hand and hustled up the bank.

Talox rushed toward them, ax and shield in hand. “What is it?”

Heart hammering, Larkin shook her head. “I don’t—”

A scream pierced the air. Sela ducked behind Talox and buried her head in his legs. Putting himself between them and the river, Talox ushered them deeper into camp.

Pipers rushed past them, weapons out.

Larkin glanced over her shoulder at the opposite side of the mouth of the river. Bushes shifted. Someone crashed through, landing on his back with a mulgar on top of him. The two rolled. A knife flashed, black blood dripping. The man staggered to his feet. Only it wasn’t a man.

It was Maisy.