Denan’s eyes were bloodshot, but his sharp gaze caught on Larkin. “Why are you wet?” He looked at Talox, who was also wet and sporting a bloody bandage around his arm. Then he saw Maisy, also wet and clearly drugged. His expression hardened. His fists clenched. He shifted to Talox. “Tell me you didn’t let her save this girl?”

Talox folded his arms. “She has to learn sometime.”

Denan took a step toward him, violence in his gaze.

Larkin stepped between them, her hands out. “What good are my weapons if I never use them?”

His sharp glance cut her to the quick. “You learn to use them in the practice field, not surrounded by mulgars.” He pointed at Talox. “And you know the wraiths want her! You know she’s our best chance at defeating this curse!”

“I—” Talox began.

“No!” Denan shouted over him. “You think with your heart and not your head. It’s what got you demoted.” Demoted because he’d disobeyed Denan’s explicit orders to leave Venna behind, mortally wounded as she was by a wraith blade—something Talox would never do.

“It was Larkin’s decision,” Talox said.

Denan swore and took another step toward him. Larkin pushed him back. Pipers were gathering. One of the pages took off at a run. “Larkin’s decision? This isn’t about Larkin. It’s about breaking the curse—our best hope in nearly three centuries! You don’t put that at risk to save one fool girl!”

More and more pipers were gathering, watching the exchange. Though Talox’s face remained stoic, he had to feel the humiliation of Denan berating him in public.

“Stop it, Denan,” Larkin said. “If you want to blame someone, blame me. I’m the one who insisted we go.”

“Ancestors, Larkin, you should know better!”

Tears smarted in her eyes. She swallowed them back. “I couldn’t lose someone else.”

“Stop being selfish,” he snapped.

She flinched. But Denan was right. Saving Maisy had been selfish. Larkin’s life wasn’t a currency she could afford to spend—not when so much was at stake.

“Don’t, Denan.” Talox’s voice rumbled with a hint of anger.

“Don’t?” Denan said. “Don’t?”

“We’re fine,” she said. “It turned out fine.”

Tam ran up, looking between them and seeming to guess what had happened just as Denan had. “Easy, both of you. Everyone’s watching.”

Denan paced, his furious gaze fixed on Talox. “Your orders were clear. You disobeyed them. Twenty lashings. Fifty when we reach the Alamant. And you’re demoted to a common foot soldier. Get out of my sight.”

Expressionless, Talox bowed, turned on his heel, and strode away without looking back.

Heart aching, Larkin watched him go. She rounded on Denan, her own fists clenched. “You didn’t need to do that. Especially not in front of everyone.”

Denan turned his back to her and crouched beside Maisy.

Her gaze locked on his. “I will never marry a piper.”

“I heard.” His expression turned shrewd. “That will cost you.”

Remaining single in a kingdom where every woman was a priceless commodity was a steep price, indeed. Bitterness flooded Larkin’s mouth.

“The forest take you,” Maisy hissed.

Denan didn’t react to the insult. “Our people fight the wraiths and mulgars, keeping both the Alamant and the Idelmarch safe. For that, we need sons. To have sons, we must first have wives. Because of the curse, our women never bear daughters. We must take them from elsewhere. Talox caught you. So you are his.”

Maisy ground her teeth. “I know all about your curse, Alamantian. I lived with the wraiths.”

“Denan,” Larkin warned. She knew Talox would never hurt anyone, even if Denan would allow it. But Maisy did not.

“I would kill him in his bed first,” Maisy said.

Denan ignored Larkin and fiddled with his flute. “We have ways of ensuring you do not.”

Maisy bared her teeth at him.

He leaned toward her. “If you wish to escape this fate, the information you give me must be of greater value than the sons you would bear.”

Larkin wanted to rail against Denan for his mercilessness—this wasn’t fair or right or just. But then, neither was life. Denan was a hard man. He must be. She wouldn’t make his burden any heavier with childish protestations. But when they were alone, she was going to wring him dry.

Maisy looked away. “What do you want?”

“You are the only one to have escaped the wraiths, to break free of the mulgar curse. I want to know everything about the fallen city of Valynthia, how you escaped, and anything you remember about them.”

“You were a mulgar?” Tam gasped.

“I was their slave. They removed my curse so I could serve them.”

“That’s impossible.”

Larkin was grateful Talox wasn’t present to hear this part. She couldn’t bear the thought of him hoping for something that would never be.

Maisy nodded to Larkin. “Show him.”

Larkin tugged up the hem of Maisy’s trousers, revealing the telltale fork-tine scars on her legs.

Tam staggered back. “The mulgars could come back from that?”

“Only if the wraiths remove their poison,” Maisy said.

Tam’s mouth thinned. “Why would they do that?”

Maisy turned to Denan. “And if you don’t like my answers?”

“I am a hard man, Maisy, but a fair one.”

She hesitated before nodding in agreement.

Denan motioned to Tam, who played a melody that ensured only truths were spoken. It was inescapable and relentless as a migraine.

“Where do the wraiths come from?” Denan asked.

“The curse begot them,” Maisy said.

“Why can they only come out at night?” Denan asked. “Why do the trees and water repel them?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

Denan’s lips pursed in frustration. “What do they want?”

“They want us dead,” she whispered. “Or like them.” Her gaze lingered on Larkin.

A chill tiptoed across Larkin’s exposed skin.

“How did they capture you?” Tam asked.

Maisy screwed her eyes shut. Tam’s melody shifted, driving and hard.

Sweat appeared on Maisy’s upper lip. “I went into the forest one night to escape my father … I knew it wasn’t safe. I knew the beast would hunt me. I hoped it would tear out my throat.” She paused, breathing fast. “Instead, something much worse found me.”

Larkin’s eyes drifted shut. Wraiths.

“Why did they choose you?” Denan asked. “Why not some other girl?”

Larkin heard the question he wasn’t asking: Why had the wraiths taken an interest in Larkin? “Can you use magic?” Larkin asked.

Maisy huffed. “Do you think my father would be alive if I could?”

“What did they want with you?” Denan asked.

“To hurt me for the pure joy of it. To make me their slave.”

The flute lowered in Tam’s hand, the song silenced. “How did you escape?”

Maisy chuckled bitterly. “No one escapes the wraiths. They let me go.”

Denan motioned for Tam to begin playing again. The song started up again, the notes as precise as marching soldiers.

“Why?” Denan asked.

“I don’t know,” Maisy said.

Denan’s eyes narrowed. “Why do they pursue specific girls so relentlessly? Why not just turn them into mulgars?”

“They’re looking for someone they can turn into one of them.”

All three of them stiffened. Dark foreboding shivered through Larkin. Tam’s playing skipped a beat.

Denan worked his jaw. “Surely you remember something.”

“After weeks of torture, the wraith cut me with his shadow blade.” Maisy’s eyes turned distant, empty. “Pain. Trees and forests and darkness. Always darkness. A ruined city. I lived there. Only, I didn’t. And always, the will and voice of the wraiths drove me, stealing my will. My body existed as an extension of theirs. I hated what they hated with an all-consuming need.”

“And Valynthia?” Denan asked.

“A city of ruin and shadow,” Maisy said. “That wicked, wicked tree in the center.”

“I need a map of it,” Denan said.

Maisy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You think you can—what? Invade? Kill them?” She laughed. “You can no sooner kill the night.”

“The curse is already crumbling,” Denan said. “And this war won’t end unless we somehow manage to defeat the wraiths.”

So much was at stake. They were relying on Larkin, and she had no idea where to even begin trying to break the curse.

“You will draw a map of this city for us.” Denan said. It was not a question.

Maisy shook her head in disbelief. “What I can recall.”

“And you will tell us anything else you remember?”

“Yes.” She regarded Denan. “Is it enough?”

Denan closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the pain was well masked, but Larkin saw it in the set of his mouth. “I extend the protection of the Alamant to you, Maisy, daughter of druids. You will marry only if you wish.

“But know this,” Denan went on. “If you break our laws or become a risk to anyone, including yourself, I will imprison you. Am I clear?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, Prince.”

Ignoring her impudent tone, Denan motioned for Tam to stop playing, rose to his feet, and called to one of the pages who always followed him at a distance. “Fetch one of the healers’ stretchers.”

The page started off.

“Send my mother and sisters to me,” Larkin called after him.

The boy’s eyes cut to Denan, who nodded his assent.

Denan motioned for Tam and Larkin to follow him and took a few steps before pausing and looking back at Maisy. “One more thing: the wraiths—is there a way to kill them?”

Tam began to play again. The song was giving Larkin a headache.

Maisy’s expression turned inward, as if she were trying hard to remember—or perhaps fight off—a memory viler than the rest. “During the daylight”—she spoke as if the words were physically painful—“they are vulnerable, weak. I think you could kill them then.”

Denan nodded for Tam to stop playing.

Larkin followed Denan a few dozen steps away. “Is there a way to reach the wraiths during the day?”

“In the heart of mulgar-infested lands?” Tam huffed. “It would be suicide to try.”

“I don’t trust her,” Denan said.

“She couldn’t lie,” Larkin reminded him.

Denan shook his head. “The wraiths have a way of poisoning everything they touch.”

Throughout the camp, pipers played a few short, shrill bursts. All at once, the trees came alive with soldiers groaning and pushing out of their pods.

“So you don’t believe any of what she says?” Tam said.

Denan pursed his lips. “I think we very, very carefully consider her words and try to find a way to use it to our advantage. In the meantime, I’ll order one of my pages to follow her and report to the nearest captain if she causes any trouble.”

Pipers descended from the trees. Hundreds of them. A few eyed Maisy with more than a little speculation.

“Will she be safe?” Larkin asked.

Denan followed her gaze. “I doubt anyone would risk their lives to meddle with her.”

Larkin looked at him. “Risk their lives?”

“The penalty for rape is death,” Denan said. “The penalty for assault is castration. Jeering would earn them a whipping.”

Her mouth fell open. In the Idelmarch, she’d been groped half a dozen times by various town boys and even a couple of the men. She’d never told anyone. What was the point when no one who mattered would have believed her? Instead, she’d learned to be careful where, when, and with whom she went.

“In a place where men outnumber women three to one,” Tam said, “we have harsh penalties for harming a female.”

And because the pipers could play an enchantment that made it impossible to lie, their guilt or innocence would be known without question.

“All of us have taken classes on how to treat and care for women,” Denan said.

“Who teaches these classes?” she asked in surprise.

Tam shot her a confused look. “Our mothers.”

The page returned with a stretcher. Tam settled Maisy inside even as she cursed him.

Mama appeared, Brenna in one arm and Sela clutching the other hand. Sela took one look at Maisy and balked.

Mama tugged on her hand. “Come on, Sela, what—”

Sela broke away and scampered up a tree before anyone could stop her. They all gaped at her as she peered down at them between branches.

“She’s got good instincts,” Tam said approvingly.

Larkin rolled her eyes.

“Sela,” Mama said in her best patient voice. “Come down.”

Maisy began singing one of her dark songs. Sela ducked into the leaves.

Denan motioned to Tam. “Put her under.”

Tam played, the melody thick with the promise of dreams. Maisy’s eyes grew heavy, her song slurring to silence. Larkin gripped the dampener, grateful they had some protection against the pipers’ indiscriminate magic.

“There now,” Denan said to Sela. “She’ll sleep for hours.”

Sela peered at him. What did she see? The man who’d saved them from the gilgad and then tried to kidnap them? The man who’d kidnapped Larkin?

Larkin gestured for Denan to boost her up. She settled next to her sister, who clutched the trunk in a death grip. “Come on, Sela.”

Her sister shook her head.

Larkin took a breath, calling upon her patience. “What will make you come down?”

Sela’s gaze flicked to Maisy, and she trembled, her little body damp with sweat.

“Tam,” Larkin called. “Take Maisy on ahead.”

He looked to Denan, which stirred the embers of Larkin’s anger. Denan nodded his approval. Tam motioned for one of the soldiers to help him. Together, they picked up Maisy and carted her away. As they disappeared, Sela relaxed, slumping one backbone at a time.

“Now will you come?” Larkin asked.

Sela let Larkin help her down.

Mama waited below, her foot tapping, but her ire wasn’t for Sela. “How could you leave your sisters alone like that?”

Sela’s eyes were red-rimmed as Larkin deposited her into Mama’s arms. Mama held the baby out to Larkin. Brenna’s body was limp with sleep.

“I was trying to save Maisy,” Larkin said.

“At the risk of your sisters?” Mama said incredulously.

“Talox left them with my men,” Denan said. “They were perfectly safe.”

Mama glared at him. “And how do I know your men are trustworthy?”

Denan considered her. “I suppose you would have to trust me.”

“You—the man who kidnapped my daughter and married her against her will?”

Larkin stiffened.

“I have done my best to make that up to her,” Denan said softly.

“That doesn’t discount the wrong you have done her,” Mama said. “Or me.”

An hour ago, Larkin would have tried to intervene, to soften her mother. After what had happened with Talox, Denan had earned his own tongue-lashing.

His shoulders slumped. “No, it doesn’t.”

She appraised him. “In my experience—and I have more than most—power corrupts all men and women. Just look what you have done with your magic.”

He frowned. “I will earn your trust, Pennice.”

Larkin sighed. The more powerful a person became, the less Mama trusted them. Larkin couldn’t really blame her suspicion of Denan. It had taken Larkin a long time to forgive him, even if she had understood his reasoning.

She rested her hand on Sela’s back. “I had to help my friend.” Was Maisy her friend? Could anyone be friends with a madwoman, especially one who liked to throw rocks? “And it wasn’t safe for you.”

Sela glanced toward where Maisy had disappeared. Her lower lip trembled.

“The pipers have put her to sleep,” Larkin said. “She won’t bother anyone.”

Sela ducked her head into Mama’s shoulder.

“Give her time, Larkin,” Mama sighed.

Larkin didn’t know what else she could have done, but there was no reasoning with four-year-olds—or angry mothers, apparently.

Denan stepped up next to Mama with a clean bandage in his hands. “We need to cover Sela’s eyes.”

Mama took a step back. “Why?”

He shot a pleading look at Larkin. She didn’t understand. Then, all at once, she did. In order to leave, they had to wade through dead mulgars. “We have to go through the battlefield now.”

Mama blanched. “Better put her to sleep.”

“I can carry her,” Denan offered.

Looking bewildered and afraid, Mama looked between Denan and Larkin. “I’ll do it.”

Lips pursed, Denan nodded. He motioned to his men, who’d been waiting for them. They surrounded Larkin and her mother four men deep. One of them played, sending Sela into a deep sleep. Larkin stared at the large entourage and shot Denan a questioning look.

“Just in case an ardent is pretending,” Denan said.

“A what?” Mama asked.

“Regular mulgars are all brute force and no finesse,” Denan said. “Ardents retain their cunning.”

Larkin shuddered at the thought of an intelligent mulgar pretending to be dead while lying in wait for her.

Denan let out a long breath. “Larkin—”

“Don’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “Not now.”

 

 

Larkin would never forget moving through the battlefield. Broken mulgars lay in grotesque positions, flies already attacking their faces, birds darting away as they approached. Pipers moved among them, gathering arrows from the bodies.

Larkin tried to keep her eyes locked on Denan’s back. To breathe shallowly. To pretend she wasn’t stumbling over and stepping on hardened flesh. She almost asked one of the pipers to enchant her too. But if this was the life of a warrior, she’d better get used to it.

As for Mama, she wore the same stoic expression as when she lost a mother or baby. Or both. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to pass through the scores of dead. Mulgars like Maisy had been. Mulgars like the one Larkin had killed the day before. There had been a person in there, behind the wraiths’ corruption, and Larkin had killed him.

“What are they?” Mama whispered to her.

“Mulgars.” She sagged in relief that the word had passed easily through her lips.

“Are they the dark magic that hunts you?” Mama asked.

“No,” Larkin said. Something much worse hunted her. “These are just their servants. Men and women turned to mindless monsters after being cut by a corrupted blade.”

Had the man beneath the corruption realized he was dying? That she had killed him?

Mama checked to make sure Sela was sound asleep. “I truly believed the druids would kill us if we stayed.” Garrot, the Black Druid in charge, had threatened it enough. “Perhaps it would have been better. Cleaner.”

“We’re safe, Mama. I know it’s hard. But when you see how magical and lovely and secure the Alamant is …”

Mouth set in a grim line, Mama nodded.

The other pipers dispersed, their mottled cloaks rendering them invisible within moments. Tam and Denan murmured to each other. Larkin was still furious with him, but now was not the time for a spat.

Denan turned back to them. “Let me carry Sela, Pennice.”

Mama sighed in defeat and handed her over. “How many soldiers do you have?”

“We have two armies in this company,” Denan answered. “Mine and my uncle Demry’s. Each is a thousand men strong.”

“And how many mulgars are there?” Mama asked.

Denan hesitated. “Best guess? They outnumber us three to one.”

Two thousand men were all that held back the mulgar horde? Larkin shuddered.

“Denan.” Tam gestured to one of the pages, who ran through the forest toward them.

Hands braced on his knees, the young man paused before them, panting, “Scouts report the mulgar army lying in wait ahead.”

Denan looked to the east. “Alongside the river?”

“Have Demry drive them off,” Tam said with a shrug.

The boy shook his head. “They’ve a bunch of ardents leading them.”

Tam and Denan exchanged a loaded glance.

Larkin stepped closer. “I thought the mulgars wouldn’t fight your superior numbers without the wraiths to drive them?”

“They don’t, usually,” Tam murmured. “But if they have enough ardents …”

“We could cross the river,” Larkin said. Wraiths couldn’t cross moving water.

“The only place to ford is the pool beneath the waterfall,” Tam said.

Which would mean backtracking through the battlefield. Larkin shuddered.

Denan passed his hand down his face. “It’s either that or let them drive us farther south—dangerously close to the Mulgar Forest.”

“Mulgar Forest?” She didn’t like the sound of that.

He looked down at her, a question in his gaze. “I don’t want to frighten you. Nor do I want to lie to you.”

“I’m already frightened,” she whispered.

He breathed out and seemed to come to a decision. “When the Silver Tree became evil, became the Black Tree, so did the forest around him. We do not go there—not if we can help it.”

Picturing the magic that hummed through the Forbidden Forest, she could well imagine the opposite in the Mulgar Forest.

She rubbed her sweating palms against her tunic.

Denan turned to the page. “How far north do they extend?”

“Three miles,” he said.

Denan was silent, his brows furrowed with thought. “Have Demry turn and guard our rear—I don’t want them attacking us while we cross. We’ll ford the river here and head for the old road. From there to Ryttan.”

The page set off.

“What’s Ryttan?” Larkin asked.

“An ancient, fallen city of ruins.” Denan didn’t look happy about it. “The wall still stands. We’ll be safe enough tonight.”

“Why didn’t we head there before?” Larkin asked.

“It’s out of our way. It will add another night to our journey,” Denan said.

Two more nights of mulgar attacks. Larkin wasn’t sure she could bear it. Not that she had a choice.