Larkin and Denan reached the base of the tree, where Tam had finally fallen asleep along with Talox. Denan strapped on his boiled-leather armor studded with metal.

Larkin studied the amulet, the way the light sparked colors across the surface like early morning frost. The way the depths gleamed silver. Next to it, the dampener flashed with colors, gold seaming the edges.

Her gaze narrowed. “Denan, this amulet is not made of the White Tree.”

Denan pulled the chain over her head, the amulet and dampener clicking against each other, and held them in his fingers. He jerked his hand back. “You’re right. They’re from different sacred trees.”

She felt naked without her amulet.

“The Silver Tree is corrupted,” Denan said, eyeing the amulet like he was considering breaking it. “So is its magic.”

She snatched it from him and held it behind her back. “It saved my life.” Once when it showed her the way out of the flood and again when it had formed a shield between her and Garrot. “And it gave me the vision you said I needed.”

He reached for it. “Larkin—”

She shifted out of his reach. “If it was corrupted, we would have known by now.”

Denan’s expression tightened.

“It’s my decision,” she said firmly.

Denan sighed. Before he could argue, Tam whimpered in his sleep. Tears streaked from his eyes. Denan crouched next to him and shook his shoulder. Tam struggled to open his eyes. His gaze finally fixed on Denan. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I saw them. I always see them.”

Saw who? Larkin couldn’t ask. This moment belonged between Denan and his friend.

Tam sat up and dragged his hands down the sallow skin of his face. He huffed, “Why couldn’t I dream about Alorica?” He trailed into muttering.

Denan murmured something in return. Urgent piper music worked through the forest, calling soldiers to arms, calling for the Alamant to defend her people.

“That would be for the archers,” Tam said, his fingers twitching toward his bow.

Talox groaned and sat up. He took one look at Tam and frowned. Denan and Talox exchanged a weighted glance, and then both men moved.

Larkin’s magic ached to respond to the call to arms. She flared her sigils, the familiar buzz vibrating just short of painful. She embraced the pain. It made her feel alive, ready.

“Larkin?” Denan strapped his ax and shield to his back.

“Take me with you.”

He followed her gaze to the front line. “We’ve talked about this. You haven’t the training.” And she was too important to risk.

She ground her teeth. “Is this what it means to love you? Long nights of not knowing if you are alive or dead?”

He tugged her forward and kissed her forehead. “What do I always tell you?” he murmured against her skin.

She sighed. “That you’ll always come for me.”

“You two are disgusting,” Tam grumbled.

Larkin pressed her hands to her hot cheeks.

“As if you and Alorica are any better,” Talox said. “I’ve seen you take food from her mouth.”

“Now there’s a woman,” Tam said. “Do you think she’s pregnant yet? I’ve always wanted to be a father.” No sign of the tears he’d shed or the nightmare that must still linger.

Talox rolled his eyes.

“Your turn to stay with the women, Tam.” Denan’s gaze shifted to her. “That is, if Larkin can spare Talox to guard me.”

Tam frowned. “But I want to kill mulgars.”

Denan’s gaze was worried for his friend. “I suppose I’ll manage with just Talox.”

“I’m fine,” Tam insisted.

Denan stepped closer. “Get some sleep tonight—real sleep—and I’ll let you kill mulgars tomorrow.”

Tam wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s not that easy.”

Denan rested a hand on his shoulder. “Try.”

Reluctantly, Tam nodded.

“Come on, Denan,” Talox said. “We need to go.”

Denan squeezed Larkin’s fingers. “Get up to safety.” His gaze sought Tam. “Guard them.”

Tam saluted. “An arrow to the face of every mulgar or wraith who dares look her way.”

All too soon, Larkin’s arms were achingly empty. She stared after Denan until the ruins and forest obscured him. All around came the sound of the pipers calling their men to arms.

“Come on. We need to get up.” Tam started climbing. He took up a position with his back to the trunk, his bow beside him.

Larkin sat in her pod across from Mama, who watched her over the edge of her pod. “You really love him.”

“Yes,” Larkin whispered.

“Are you still a maiden?”

Mortified, Larkin buried her face in her hands.

Mama sat up and shifted so her legs dangled over the side of the pod. “We have to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I was the village midwife for twenty years. So yes, we do.”

The tips of Tam’s ears turned red. He cleared his throat and stuttered, “I’m just … Better shot. Up.” He pointed as if that made his jumbled words any clearer and started climbing.

“Do you want to make love to Denan?” Mama asked.

Larkin’s cheeks flamed. “The forest take me.”

“So, yes,” Mama said. “Making love isn’t something you’re suddenly good at. It takes practice, selflessness, and a good idea of how your body works.”

From up in the tree, Tam peered down at them.

“Do you mind?” Larkin shot at him.

“Well, I’m just … ,” Tam began. “If you have any tips?”

Mama glanced up at him. “We can have this conversation too, if you like.”

He started back down.

“Later,” Mama said. “In private.”

He stiffened. “Right. Yes.” He climbed back up.

Mama shook her head in disbelief. “Are all pipers this … open?”

“They take classes on women from their mothers.”

Mama considered. “That’s a good idea.” She refocused on Larkin. “Now is not a good time to become pregnant—not until we’re all safe—but there are other things you can do. And it’s good practice.”

Larkin groaned and wished to disappear, but deep down, she was also grateful. As much as she wanted to touch and be touched by Denan, she’d never been further than kissing. And while she knew what came next—she’d grown up on a farm with a midwife mother after all—that didn’t make it less overwhelming.

Mama huffed. “You’re lucky you have me. My mother never spoke of such things.” She launched into a thorough description of how Larkin’s body worked. To Larkin’s surprise, the more Mama spoke, the less embarrassed Larkin became. She even asked a few questions.

“You can always ask more questions,” Mama said.

They faded to silence. The sounds of the battle—shouts and screams and clashing arms—filled up the spaces around them. Ancestors, just let Denan come back to me.

Once again, Larkin was helpless. Not for much longer, she promised herself as her sword filled out the hollow of her hand.

“What … What are they?” Mama pointed toward the battle. Larkin followed the gesture, her body stilling like a nestling at the slithering vibrations of a snake across a branch.

Just visible in the dying light, a wraith glided unnaturally behind the mulgars, which moved in complete sync with each other. It was driving them—driving them to their deaths.

A shiver broke out across Larkin. She fought it, but her instinct to hide from the wraiths was so strong that it didn’t matter that the wraith was so far away she wasn’t sure which one it was. It didn’t matter that she was safe.

“Wraiths,” Larkin whispered, relieved to be able to say the word to her mother. “Wielders of the dark magic.”

“The ones who drive the mulgars?”

Larkin was finally able to explain the curse and the reason why the pipers took girls. “For three centuries, they’ve been fighting, stealing girls in order to continue, but they’re losing. The White Tree is dying. When the White Tree is gone …”

“So is the Idelmarch.” Mama’s lips pursed in a tight line. “Ancestors save us.”

Larkin huffed. “It was our ancestors who got us into this mess.”

Mama nodded in agreement. “Queen Eiryss.”

Larkin gaped at her. “How do know the Curse Queen’s name?”

Mama shifted uncomfortably and looked to the west. “Tell me about this Alamant.”

Larkin watched her mother.

“We all have our secrets,” Mama said. “Tell me about the Alamant.”

Larkin sighed and decided to let it go. She thought of Denan’s home. Heart aching with longing, she described the turquoise lake, the kaleidoscope of lights dancing along the edges of the fish, the elegant hometrees with magical barriers instead of doors and walls, and finally, the White Tree, like sunlit-gilded opals.

“You miss it?” Mama asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Larkin admitted. It was more than just the beauty and the magic. Somehow, the Alamant had become her home.

Sela whimpered in her sleep. Larkin climbed into the pod with her little sister, who twisted around and laid her head on Larkin’s chest. The growing damp spot on Larkin’s tunic made it clear her sister was crying.

“What is it?” Larkin asked.

Sela didn’t answer. It was as if, by not speaking, her sister had absolute control over one thing, and that made her able to bear all the things she couldn’t control.

Larkin hummed and stroked Sela’s hair.

The battle sounded like a distant thunderstorm punctuated with shrill notes. Larkin couldn’t distinguish mulgar from piper in the darkness, silhouetted as they were by distant firelight. Sela gradually fell back asleep. Judging by Mama’s even breathing, so had she.

Tam climbed back to his original branch. “You should get some sleep.” His gaze never left the distant battle.

“So should you,” she murmured.

“Arrows in the face, remember?”

“If the mulgars break through, wouldn’t you hear them coming?”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. She suddenly realized. It wasn’t just mulgars Tam was meant to defend them from. It was also wraiths.

“They can form behind the lines,” she whispered so her mother wouldn’t hear.

Tam looked guilty. “We have wards, relics like the dampeners that we placed around the perimeter of camp.”

Something about the way he said it made her think the wards weren’t foolproof.