The Forbidden Forest ended abruptly, as if the trees dared not venture another branch closer to Cordova Road. Breathing a sigh of relief, Larkin stepped over oxen manure that littered the rutted road. Grass struggled to grow between cart ruts.

An eighth of a mile wide, the road led to the capital city of Landra two days away. To her right, it widened and curved out of sight, but she could make out chimney smoke, which indicated a good-sized town on the other side, which had to be Cordova.

A little way down, a farmer driving a cartload of pigs started and gave a shout. Shields out, three pipers bore down on him. He backed away, his gaze whipping from side to side. He must have realized he was hopelessly outnumbered and dropped to his knees, hands in the air.

He was bound and tucked beneath his own cart with a blanket around his shoulders. He was an Idelmarchian, as Larkin was. Did that make her a traitor to her own people? Or were the Alamantians her people now?

The farmer looked about in bewilderment and caught sight of them. His gaze lingered on their clothing—Mama and Sela dressed in their traditional skirts and shirts, while Larkin wore a tunic and trouser that were obviously too big for her.

“Can you help me?” He must have realized they were Idelmarchian.

Larkin had wandered close without meaning to. The forest take her, she should have stayed away. “They won’t hurt you if you don’t give them any reason to.”

“Please,” he begged.

Tugging on Sela’s hand, Larkin turned her back on him and returned to her mother. It would be night soon. They needed to eat supper and set up camp.

Never far from them, Tam arranged sticks for their fire. He’d managed to shoot a grouse. Mama laid out the herbs and roots she’d gathered.

“We’ll let him go come morning,” Tam said. “We’ll be as safe as if we were in the Alamant tonight. I promise.”

He’d clearly misunderstood Larkin’s discomfort. “And if the people of Cordova attack?” Ancestors save her, she didn’t think she could stand them killing each other.

“They’ll be asleep,” Tam said.

Because his pipers would be putting them to sleep. But there was something about the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze … like he was hiding something and feeling guilty. “You’re taking girls. After nearly losing the last ones?”

Molding shredded bark in his hand, Tam turned away from her. “They won’t even have one night in the Forbidden Forest.”

She was going to be sick. “Tam …”

“We are reaping every unmarried woman who can survive the trek into the forest—all of them. Cordova was Demry’s last stop.”

“What?” Mama choked out in a thick voice.

Tam breathed out. “We’ve been cursed never to have daughters, but to keep fighting, we must have children. So we take wives.”

Larkin’s fists clenched with anger. Those weeks when Denan had hunted her—when she’d been driven into the forest and thought she would never see her family again—were the worst of her life.

Mama unstrapped Brenna and set about plucking the grouse. “This is wrong.”

Larkin wanted to scream and rage, but she would not upset Sela—not after everything she’d been through and everything that was coming. “It’s kidnapping,” she said through clenched teeth. “It has to stop.”

He snatched his bow. “What would you have us do, Larkin? The druids are the ones who had the gall to break our treaty altogether and start a war with us. And after we’ve been fighting three centuries to protect them from the wraiths!”

The forest take the druids and drop them in a gilgad nest, she thought bitterly.

He huffed in a breath and scrubbed his free hand over his curls. “If you want to be angry, be angry with them.” He stormed off, paced at the edge of the forest, and muttered to himself. Even angry, he never let them out of sight.

Sela watched Tam pace, let go of Larkin’s hand, and sat with her back to all of them. Larkin tried so hard to shield her sister from this, but it just wasn’t possible.

Just when Larkin thought she’d forgiven the pipers, accepted that kidnapping girls was a forced necessity, something happened to break open the wound inside her. The hurt of being kidnapped would never go away, she realized. It could never really heal—not when it kept happening to other girls.

Kneeling, she emptied her satchel of the watercress she’d gathered at the stream and struck flint to steel, sparks dancing across the shredded bark Tam had left for her.

“The wraiths are the real enemy,” Mama said. “If we weren’t so busy fighting each other, we’d see that.”

One of the sparks caught. Larkin held it up and blew. She fed it pine needles and then sticks. Pipers gathered at a bend in the road, out of sight of the town—lying in wait for the town to sleep so they could kidnap its girls, as Denan had lain in wait for her.

The terror and dread that had consumed her when Denan had first enchanted her hit her in full force. For days, she’d managed to evade him. But in the end, she’d gone with him willingly—if only because her village had turned against her.

She couldn’t stop it, but she had to see it. How it was done. How it had been done to her. The fire was going well enough now to leave it. “I’m going to find Denan.”

“Larkin,” Mama said, clearly worried.

“I’ll be all right.”

Mama looked at Sela, then back at Larkin. She wanted to argue, but she wouldn’t do it in front of Sela—not when she was so fragile.

Larkin headed toward where the pipers clustered at the edge of the forest. Tam started toward her. She waved him off. “Stay with my mother.”

“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

As if she needed a guard in the middle of an army of pipers. “I’ll be fine.”

Larkin caught sight of Dayne following a dozen paces back, his gaze fixed on her. So, Tam wasn’t her only guard. She looked around, and sure enough, Ulrin wasn’t far off either. Denan had set two guards on her without telling her. She ground her teeth.

Keeping her eyes on the uneven ground, she picked her way up the road in the falling light. Around her, pipers trickled in from all over the camp. All of them were single, as evidenced by their shaved heads, a single lock of long hair behind their ears.

Normally, only those few chosen by the White Tree would make their journey for their heartsong—and some of those would never find a wife at all. Now, all the men in the army would have a chance to try for a heartsong.

She climbed out of a wheel rut and avoided another pile of manure—the road was obviously well used. They’d been lucky to only come across one pig farmer—and then only because it had been nearing nightfall.

Maisy waited on the other side. She reached out and hauled Larkin up close. “A knife in the night for your husband. We could both be hours away by morning.”

Larkin pushed away. “Touch him and I’ll gut you myself.”

Maisy looked hurt. “I couldn’t kill my father either.”

As if Larkin’s refusal to kill Denan was because she was afraid. There was no use explaining that Larkin loved Denan—not when Maisy thought every man should be dead.

Denan had good reason for taking Larkin, and he’d never touched her against her will. Still, Maisy’s words sat like a rock in Larkin’s middle. The shadows settled in the curse marks on Maisy’s cheek.

Larkin was certain Maisy knew more about the wraiths than she’d let on. Still, Larkin hesitated, not wanting to set Maisy off. “Why are the wraiths after me, Maisy?”

Maisy stiffened. “Break and make. In order to break, you must make.”

Larkin wanted to shake her. “Give me something,” she said through clenched teeth.

“They search for their Wraith Queen.”

Larkin gasped. “I’m no wraith!”

Maisy’s haunted eyes pierced her. “They will try to make you one.”

They reached the edge of the crowd of silent, still pipers. Larkin was uncomfortable with so many men—so many pipers—in such tight quarters. Hopefully, Maisy would be even more so and slink off.

Larkin set her teeth and plunged forward. She edged and murmured apologies to move through. The pipers took one look at her and Maisy and immediately moved. Some bowed. Some grumbled. Some did both.

Larkin was just starting to feel more confident when a man blocked her path. His dark eyes narrowed to a glare. “My brother died to free you from Hamel.”

The memories assaulted her so fast that she gasped. Piper music shifted around Larkin, dragging her steps despite the dampener she wore. Her sister was heavy in her arms, her body weak from drawing too much magic. Arrows clattered onto the cobblestones. Pipers fell from the rooftops, their bodies broken and dying.

She shook her head, desperate to clear the memories. “I’m sorry.”

He ground his teeth. “Sorry doesn’t bring him back.”

“Nor my son,” an older man said.

“Nor my cousin,” the other man said.

Maisy hissed, which made the other pipers shift uncomfortably.

“Stop it,” Larkin muttered to her.

Before Larkin could comment one way or another, Dayne and Ulrin were there, both of them frowning.

“Chev,” Ulrin said in a flat voice.

The man, Chev, nodded to the other two men. With a final look at her, the group slunk off into the crowd.

Larkin turned to her guards. “Am I safe here?” If she wasn’t safe among the pipers, she wasn’t safe anywhere.

“Of course you’re not safe,” Maisy scoffed.

Ulrin wiggled his mustache, his unibrow scrunched in unison. “There are grumblings, Princess. But no one would dare lay a finger on you.”

Grumblings. She’d been aware of a few dark looks, but Denan had kept the extent from her and instead assigned her guards. Perhaps she should thank him. She had enough to worry about without angry pipers factoring in.

She nodded her thanks to the guards. “If you’ll lead the way.” She had no desire to be confronted by more irate pipers.

The younger of the two, Dayne, dipped a bow and took the lead ahead. Ulrin positioned himself behind her and Maisy. There were no more interruptions, no more dark looks. Whether because of the guards or the implied threat of Denan finding out, she wasn’t sure. Dayne approached the Forbidden Forest and stepped beneath the trees without hesitation. Larkin paused at the edge, a cold sweat breaking out over her whole body.

The barrier is a quarter mile inside the woods, she reminded herself. I’m safe. Still, she had to make herself take that step.

The entire forest was packed with pipers all the way to the barrier. Every unmarried man in the entire army. It was dark enough now she had to watch her footing, so she didn’t catch sight of Denan until they were nearly upon him.

Someone whispered to Denan. He looked back at her in surprise before striding toward her. “Larkin, what are you doing here?”

She crossed her arms. “I need to see how it works.”

Denan grimaced. “It will only upset you. Let me take you back to the camp. I’ll enchant you. You’ll sleep soundly and—”

Maisy grunted from Larkin’s other side. “So you can lure in another wife?”

He glared at her. “I already have a wife.”

Larkin released a long breath. “What about their families? What about the generation of daughters who will never be born because you’re taking their mothers?”

“It can’t be helped, and I promise they will be well looked after.”

“As if no one ever takes advantage of a taken,” Maisy spat.

Larkin had to admit that she agreed. She’d seen the strong lord over the weak too many times.

He was silent a moment. “It has happened before.”

“Ha!” Maisy crowed in triumph.

Denan ignored her. “With our magic, we always know the truth. The penalties are severe—as you already know.”

Larkin shifted. “I can’t— I can’t reconcile this in my mind, Denan.”

“We do what we must.”

She hated when he said that.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to blunt the guilt,” Maisy hissed.

He pointed back to the encampment. “You. Over there.”

She set her chin. “I go where I want.”

“Go, or I will enchant you to go.”

Hand on her own dampener, Maisy glared at the men around them. “I warned you, Larkin. Remember that.” She slipped away into the crowd.

Larkin watched her go. She wished she could be what Maisy needed, but she was barely managing to take care of herself and her family.

“Worst bargain I’ve ever made.” Denan cracked his neck. “You can stay, Larkin, but only if you promise not to interfere.”

Interfering wouldn’t change anything. She nodded.

He signaled to his men. A select few pipers lifted their pipes and began playing their heartsong. Even with the dampener Larkin wore, their songs niggled against her, offering the sweet release of sleep.

Denan took her hand and led her through the playing pipers toward the edge of the forest. “We don’t want to put the whole village to sleep all at once,” Denan explained. “Someone could fall asleep in their barn and be trampled to death or too near a fire and wake up burned. We work up to a full force, so the enchantment just makes them more and more sleepy until they find their beds.”

She could make out the village spread out in the valley below. There was a lovely lake with a dock. Orchards and farmland dominated the land outside the village. Beyond the pipers’ music, silence—not even the chirp of crickets or the croak of frogs.

One by one, lights went out in the village. The people below were being enchanted, and they didn’t even know it. The pipers’ magic controlled their feelings and moods, but only temporarily. It worked best when the subject was relaxed, hence why the girls were taken at night.

As night came on, more and more pipers played, the music trying to haul her under. When night completely blanketed the earth, unmarried pipers—some of their queues threaded through with gray—stepped into full view of the village.

From the village came the first sounds in many long moments: doors creaking open. Women in their nightclothes slipped into the dark, their faces gilded with moonlight.

At first, a dozen, and then twenty. And then hundreds of them. Gliding with steady purpose, they looked neither to the right nor the left as they climbed the rise, their feet falling in perfect time to the beat.

Gray threaded through one woman’s hair, the first signs of lines fanning out from her lovely eyes. She paused before a man at least ten years her junior. Joy lit her face when she reached him, her fingers trailing down his cheek. She closed her eyes and swayed to the beat, her face tipped toward the breeze. That joy felt like a betrayal. For when these women woke, it would be to fear and anger at all they had lost.

Her piper frowned and dropped his head. Taking a deep breath, he played before the enchantment could fade, took the woman’s hand, and led her toward one of the fires.

Larkin watched them, her mouth set in a tight line. “I lost everything, but at least you wanted me.”

Denan followed her gaze. “They warn us not to build up our wives too much in our heads. The women might be older or younger, beautiful or not, sweet or salty. The key is to love the good and let go of the bad.”

“And what if she never wants him?” Larkin asked.

“She will,” Denan said. “The heartsong is never wrong.”

Larkin’s skin felt brittle and dirty. “So I never had a choice?”

He gave a half shake of his head. “The magic knew who we would choose.”

Larkin caught sight of another girl, face still round with baby fat. She couldn’t have been more than twelve. She reached out, embracing a young man and laying her head on his chest.

Larkin rounded on Denan. “No,” she said firmly. “Put her back.” The young man led the girl toward a warm fire. “Denan,” Larkin warned.

“She won’t be married until she’s old enough,” Denan said.

The music turned hollow, aching. All the women had been claimed, but the men played on, begging for their song to be answered.

Larkin swallowed hard at their sorrow. “How old is old enough?”

“When they’re that young, they get to choose. She’ll live with his family, and he’ll live somewhere else.”

“And what of her family? What about their grief? And can she truly choose when she’s been kidnapped by her supposed true love?”

Denan stepped closer, his voice low. “Would you rather the alternative?”

She tasted the vision—like copper and smoke. It came on sudden and hard.

Wraiths glided over the elegant wall of the Alamant. Their evil swords cut through the people like scythes through wheat. Darkness trailed after them—a dark stain that spread like smoky tendrils, reaching, grasping for the White Tree until it was no longer white at all, but black as a night forsaken by stars.

The vision, she’d seen it before. It was what the pipers had feared for generations. The reality carved into the walls of a ruined city.

She woke in Denan’s arms as he carried her into camp.

“What did you see?”

“Wraiths in the Alamant.” She closed her eyes against the memories.

The pipers’ songs changed, shifting to one of slumber. The older woman and the girl both lay on blankets their pipers had arranged for them and instantly fell asleep.

She watched the young man and the girl. He’d settled a respectable distance away. When the girl woke in the morning, he’d play again until he’d lured her so deep into the Forbidden Forest she’d have nowhere to run.

“Please put me down. I don’t want to see anymore.”

He obeyed. She staggered away from him, pushing through pipers and newly taken.

“Larkin.” He gripped her elbow.

She jerked free as if stung. “I thought I’d accepted this. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

She ran.