At the edge of the circle of taken, Larkin watched as the smoke cut off, the thick column shifting to rising tendrils.

“Fire never lasts long in the Forbidden Forest,” Denan said.

When Larkin was a child, her village had set fire to the forest; it had snuffed out in hours. By doing so, her people had unknowingly broken the treaty between the pipers and druids. In retaliation, many girls were taken over the next week.

She stared at her lumpy porridge, nausea turning her stomach. A piper staggered past, his eyes bloodshot from crying. He didn’t bother to climb the tree—just lay down with his sword and shield in hand and closed his eyes.

Denan’s army was in no condition for another forced march. They would rest for the day in the forest and the night behind the safety of the barrier that protected Cordova Road. There, the only danger came from the armies of the Idelmarchians, led by druids. Even if they managed to muster their army to attack the interlopers, they’d never march on them before morning.

“What happened to Gendrin’s army? The taken?” Her throat was raw from running and smoke.

“We didn’t lose a single taken,” Denan said.

“And Demry’s men?”

“We saved so many. Thanks in no small part to you.”

“Me?”

“Had you not insisted, I wouldn’t have come back for them, my curse breaker.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.

Curse breaker. She should tell him the truth: she’d never been the one the Alamantians had been searching for, the one the wraiths mistakenly hunted. But then she wouldn’t be his curse breaker. He wouldn’t look at her with pride and total belief. The words congealed in her throat.

“We have to make over thirty-five miles tomorrow. Eat.” Denan tipped the bowl to his mouth and swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

She forced a spoonful into her mouth—one after another until it was all gone. She became aware of Denan calling her name.

He held out his hand. “Here, I’ll wash it.”

He hurt every bit as much as she did, thanks to a slice across his ribs and a horrible bruise on his thigh, yet he was still taking care of her. “I need to soak my ankle.”

Mouth pursed, he nodded and helped her limp to a nearby stream. She unlaced her boot and eased it off her foot. Her ankle was black and fat, the outline of her boot impressed on her skin. She lowered it into the water with a hiss while he rinsed out their bowls.

She washed her face and hands as best she could and lay back. As the cold water numbed her foot, she sighed in relief. She fell asleep like that, exhaustion pulling her under. A cry woke her with a start.

“Larkin!”

She woke from a deep sleep to find Mama bearing down on her. She hugged Larkin tight, the baby squirming in protest between them. Behind her, Tam held Sela’s hand. Looking hollow-eyed, Dayne and Ulrin trailed behind him.

Tyer was dead, Larkin remembered with a start. Killed by wraiths in those first few moments after they’d all fallen out of their burning tree. Another life spent to protect her, the curse breaker. Guilt and shame ate through her like acid.

Trembling, Larkin eased her numb foot out of the river. Her face felt hot—sunburned, probably. She pushed her mother back to arm’s length. She looked no worse for wear than she had the night before.

Mama sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore! I can’t!”

Even when their father had abandoned them and Mama had been giving birth as their home flooded from the swollen river, she’d never faltered. Now she broke down like a child.

In a way, her mother’s distress was also Larkin’s fault. By taking her family from the Idelmarch and the druids, Larkin had meant to protect them. Instead, she’d brought them into the midst of a war.

Mama rounded on Denan. “You said we would be safe on that promontory!”

He rubbed the sleep from his face and shot Ulrin and Dayne a look.

Ulrin picked Sela up. “Come on, Sela. Let’s wash you up downstream, eh?”

Sela didn’t protest as he carried her away. She was only four, and yet she was somehow communicating with the White Tree—something the Arbors of old had done. What would this mean for her sister? A four-year-old child. Far too young to bear the burden that had crushed Larkin. She had to tell them. The forest take her, this was Larkin’s burden to bear, not Sela’s!

Denan waited until they were out of earshot. “The wards have never failed us before.”

“Just like the mulgars never burned trees or attacked during the day,” Mama’s voice vibrated with anger.

Denan pushed up and walked a few steps away, his back to them.

“None of this is his fault.” Larkin said angrily.

Mama sank down and held her head in her hands.

“That was our last night in the forest.” Larkin rubbed her mother’s back.

“I smelled the wraiths, Larkin. Oh, ancestors, I felt them.” Mama covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her sobs.

“We’ll be in the Alamant in two days. It’s the safest place there is. What about the others?” Larkin asked. “Magalia? Maisy?”

“Both fine,” Tam said. “The wraiths left as soon as you did. Most of the others survived.”

“What about the ropes?” Denan asked.

Tam frowned. “As far as I can tell, the ropes were carefully concealed before we ever arrived.”

“And our wards?”

“One was broken,” Tam said.

Denan swore. “The other three wards are nearly useless without the fourth.”

“They knew where we would go,” Larkin surmised.

Tam shrugged. “It was the best tactical position. They must have guessed.”

Denan had warned her the wraiths would lay a trap for her, and they’d walked right into it.

Denan rose to his feet, drew Tam a few steps away, and murmured something.

“What?” Tam cried.

Denan shook his head.

“Ancestors.” Tam gasped in a sobbing breath. “I should have been the one to stay behind. I’m better with the bow.” He roared in frustration and kicked at a log once, twice, three times.

As much as Talox’s loss hurt Larkin, it had to be so much worse for Tam and Denan. The three of them had been friends since childhood. How many memories, how many scraps had they survived together? Larkin had to look away. She couldn’t bear her own pain, let alone anyone else’s.

Mama frowned at Larkin’s ankle. “Where else?”

“Bruises is all.” Larkin cleared the lump building in her throat. “What happened to the Curse Queen after Valynthia fell?” She directed the question to the pipers.

Denan wiped the tears trailing through the soot on his cheeks. “Eiryss saved those she could and brought them to the safety the White Tree had created for them. She signed the original treaty with our last queen—Illin. Why?”

“Venna said the Curse Queen had the answers we need,” Larkin said. “The answers about how to kill the wraiths.”

“Poison, remember?” Denan said. “You can’t trust anything or anyone tainted by wraiths.”

Tainted … And yet Larkin was sure Venna had been trying to reach through the taint to reveal the truth.

Tam sniffed and wiped his eyes. “If the Curse Queen had answers, she would have defeated the curse long ago.”

“It means something. I know it does.” Larkin had a feeling she had all the pieces; she just needed to figure out how they fit together. Needing comfort, she reached for Brenna. Mama gave her up easily. Larkin laid the baby against her shoulder, her sweet breaths tickling her collarbone. She breathed deep the sweet baby smell.

How many times had she caught Talox doing this exact thing? He would have been a wonderful father, as Venna would have been a wonderful mother. Now they were both lost to the wraiths.

“When you’re older,” she murmured, “I will tell you stories of the man who saved my life.”

 

 

Even enchanted by hundreds of pipers, the taken flinched as they passed through what the Idelmarchians called the stirring. The first time Larkin had crossed it, she’d seen melting trees snatching at her—an illusion meant to keep the Idelmarchians inside. It also acted as a barrier to keep the wraiths and mulgars out.

Thanks to her sister, Larkin only felt a cool wash, like passing through glass. Sela didn’t react at all. Neither did Mama or Brenna.

Sela had lifted their curse as well.

“The barrier,” Larkin said. “It will keep us safe.”

Sela didn’t seem to hear. Worse than not speaking, Sela had shown no emotion the entire day. She went where she was led without protest, ate the food placed in her mouth. She had seen the attack last night, watched the wraiths kill Tyer and dozens of other men. What did that do to a child?

Thankfully, Brenna was too young to remember any of this. She slept peacefully strapped to Mama’s chest. For her part, Mama trekked on without complaint. She seemed numb and exhausted. They all were.

Tam took it the worst. He only spoke when spoken to, and then only in monosyllabic answers. Larkin missed his teasing and jokes, his smile. She often lost sight of him as he ranged ahead, though he always kept them in sight. She didn’t know how Denan fared—he’d gone ahead with the scouts.

Moments before the sun set, nearly three thousand pipers and their captives invaded the United Cities of Idelmarch simply by stepping onto Cordova Road.