In the early morning light, Larkin pushed through the willows to the spot she and Bane always went swimming. But when she arrived, the river was gone, and instead she found herself pushing into his barn. She blinked in confusion and glanced around.

“Bane?”

No answer.

The barn was empty of even the animals. Not even his dog came out barking with her puppies in tow. Larkin checked his house. It, too, was empty.

She stood on the front step. “Venna? Bane? Daydon?”

From the village came the sounds of shouts. Had another girl been taken? Larkin started running and instantly found herself amid a crowd. She spun, seeing all the people she’d known her entire life. “What’s going on? What is it?”

No one would speak to her. No one would answer. They wouldn’t look at her. It was like she was a ghost. But they were shouting at something. She pushed through them, trying to see what they were looking at.

Over their heads, she could make out the top of an enormous tree; through the press of bodies, neatly arranged sticks fanned out. She stumbled through and fell onto the sticks. She looked up to find Bane chained to the tree.

Not sticks. Kindling.

Someone threw a torch, fire racing toward his feet. He sobbed and yelled while the crowd chanted, “Traitor, traitor, traitor.”

Larkin flared her magic, but nothing happened. She lunged for him. But for every step she took, he only seemed to get farther and farther away.

“He’s not a traitor,” Larkin cried. “Please.”

Swallowed by the crowd, she screamed as the tree lit up like a torch.

Larkin bolted upright, the smell of burning strong in her nostrils. Somewhere a baby wailed. She took a gasping breath and caught sight of a figure hunched on the end of her bed. She gave a startled cry before remembering her weapons. Her sword flared in her hand as she jumped to her feet atop the bed.

The figure didn’t move. Larkin eased her sword forward, so it illuminated the upturned face of Maisy, her arms wrapped around her legs.

“Maisy?” Larkin gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Her feet were bare, her entire body streaked with soot. She reeked of cinders. Why did she reek of cinders?

“How did you find me? How did you get in the room?” Larkin caught sight of the open window. One question answered.

“You left me,” the girl accused in a small voice.

All the fight drained out of Larkin, her knees unsteady. She sat, her sword fading away. She rubbed at the dull headache forming at her crown. “Maisy …”

“First, you tell me to stay away, then you leave without so much as saying goodbye.”

How had Maisy found them? “Maisy, you were safe with the pipers.”

“You’re not safe.”

“Some risks are worth taking.”

“You need to leave this place, Larkin. Leave before it’s too late.”

Larkin reached for Maisy, but the girl pulled away. “Can you hear him? The beast is coming for you.”

This was not the first time Maisy had referred to the wraiths as the beast. A chill crept up Larkin’s spine and into the hair at the nape of her neck.

“Go to Cordova and head straight east at first light,” Larkin said. “Follow the river to the lake. Can you do that?”

“Listen, Larkin. Listen.” Maisy rocked back and forth.

 

The beast comes. The beast takes.

That which he takes, he breaks.

That which he breaks, he remakes,

And then a beast like him awakes.

 

A beast like him. The wraiths wanted to make Larkin into one of them. Fear broke out in a sick sweat over her whole body.

Shuffled steps and the tap of a cane sounded down the hall. Maisy’s head whipped toward the sound. She vaulted off the bed and bolted for the balcony beyond the open glass doors.

“Maisy, wait!”

Larkin’s door banged open. Barefoot, hair disheveled, Iniya appeared in the doorway with an oil lamp in hand. Maisy climbed over the balustrade.

“Harben!” She set the lamp down and pressed a catch on her cane, releasing a short sword. She advanced on Maisy.

“Wait,” Larkin cried as Maisy dropped out of sight. Larkin reached the edge of the balcony just as Maisy disappeared over the garden wall. Larkin swung out to go after her.

Arms gripped her, hauling her back. “What’s going on?” Harben asked.

“Are you hurt?” Iniya said.

Larkin jerked free of her father’s grasp. “Don’t touch me!”

Limping heavily, Iniya bent down to retrieve the cane that had hidden her sword. She pushed it firmly into place. “Explain.”

“She’s a girl from my village,” Larkin said. “Taken by the wraiths years ago. When she came back, she was mad. She’s attached to me, that’s all.”

“That was Maisy?” Harben said.

“How did she find you?” Iniya said.

“I don’t know.”

The baby’s wails finally settled. Her half brother, she realized.

Motion at the door. Tam appeared, his bow and arrow out. He scanned the room before lowering it. “What happened?”

Iniya collapsed.

Harben rushed to her side. “Mother?”

“Oh.” The weak sound slipped from her lips.

The sight of indomitable Iniya on the floor stunned Larkin to stillness.

Tam hurried over with the lantern, which revealed her pale skin shining with sweat. “Is she sick?”

“All of them. How can it be all of them?” Iniya cried. She rolled over and vomited onto the floor.

Larkin jumped back to keep from being splashed. Them? Who was them?

“Tinsy!” Harben scooped her into his arms and started toward the door.

Larkin followed, but Tam stopped her with a hand on her arm. “What happened?”

“Maisy.”

“Maisy?” he cried.

Tinsy appeared in the hallway, her hair covered by a kerchief.

“She was sick in the blue room,” Harben said as he edged past the maid.

“Yes, sir.” Tinsy hurried downstairs.

Larkin followed Harben to the opposite end of the hall. He shouldered open a door to a severely bare room. Iniya trembled so hard she nearly vibrated out of his arms before he managed to lay her in the bed. She was pale, her skin coated in freckles that had been all but invisible the day before.

“Leave me,” Iniya said.

“Mother—” Harben began.

“I said go!” Iniya pulled the blankets beneath her chattering teeth.

Harben pursed his lips before herding Larkin out. She started to protest. “It will only make it worse,” Harben said.

He shut the door on Iniya’s muffled sobs. They stood in silence, listening to the older woman cry. Larkin hadn’t thought the woman capable of something so base as tears.

“Will she be all right?”

“She’s never been all right, Larkin—not since they died.”

The them she had called for. Her entire family. Dead. “How did it happen?”

He led her away from the door. “When she was seventeen, armed men stole into the castle. She was yanked out of her bed, bound and gagged, and hauled into the courtyard where she watched the mob behead her entire family, including all her siblings.”

Larkin knew what it was like to wake to a mob screaming for her blood. She still had nightmares about it. She couldn’t imagine watching while that mob killed her family. “But not her?”

“The druids came at the end and saved her. They rounded up the men who’d done it and hanged them.”

“Then why isn’t she queen?” Seventeen was old enough to rule.

“She wasn’t … well for a long time afterward. The druids took over. And when she was finally ready to take her place, they had decided not to give the kingdom back.”

“She never fought for it?”

Harben dropped his head. “No one would support a woman on the throne.”

And Harben had abandoned it to be with Mama. No wonder Iniya had disowned him. He’d been her only hope for taking back what was hers.

“Who were the men they hanged?”

He sighed. “The druids claim it was a coup led by the king’s top advisor. Iniya claims the druids hired criminals and blamed the whole thing on an innocent man.”

Ancestors, that’s why Iniya hated the druids. Perhaps Larkin was better off growing up in the mud, far away from the machinations of the druids and the royals. And Iniya planned to take them all on.

She stepped back from him. “You gave me a life of hunger and bruises. You’ll give your son a short drop at the end of a rope.”

He winced as if she’d struck him. “Kyden will have a chance to change things, to stop the druids from lying and manipulating our people.”

Kyden. Her brother’s name was Kyden. She turned on her heel and marched back to the blue room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Her rug was gone.

Tam waited on the couch. “What did Maisy want?”

“Can you hear him? The beast is coming for you.”

Larkin scraped her hands over her face. “She wanted me to leave.” She started pacing while Tam watched her, dark circles under his bleary eyes. “Why do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked.

Tam was silent a long time. “Talox wasn’t the first I’ve lost.”

She rubbed her sweaty palms on her knees. “Do you have nightmares?”

He sighed and pushed the blanket off. “Might as well get some training in.”

She looked down at her floor-length nightgown. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of piper trousers and a tunic. She pulled the divided skirts from yesterday under her nightgown. It would have to do.

Tam opened the drapes to let in the early morning light. He pinned her to his chest. “Knee to the groin. When I hunch, grab my ears, and shove my nose into your thrusting knee.”

Two hours later, Iniya found them sweating and panting. She looked hollowed out and fragile, her freckles hidden again under a thick layer of makeup. Larkin felt a sudden kinship with the woman. She knew what it was to be hunted. Hated. Powerless.

“I chased you out yesterday,” Iniya said.

Tam wiped sweat from his forehead. “The sword in your cane is a good idea. So is this.”

Iniya considered him. Tinsy appeared behind Iniya. She stepped into the room, her gaze fixed on the ground. She set plates and a pot of tea on the table.

“Fetch another setting, Tinsy. The Commander of a Hundred Men will be staying.”

It seemed some sort of truce had been worked out between Iniya and Tam. Larkin wondered if that truce extended to her and if she would accept it if it was.

As if sensing the tension, Tinsy left the room as quickly as she’d come. Forgoing a plate, Tam bit into a sweet roll, this time with butter and jam, as it was meant to be eaten. Crumbs scattered down the front of his shirt. He’d never had such bad manners before, which meant he was baiting Iniya.

“You are a heathen and a slob,” Iniya said.

“Yes,” Tam agreed.

Iniya sighed and sat at the table, but she made no move to eat. “Humbent will be here this afternoon. The other lords follow where he goes. I need you to garner his support.”

“How?” Larkin asked.

Iniya poured herself a cup of tea. “Show him your magic. Leave the rest up to me.”

Larkin frowned. “Men have all the power in the Idelmarch. What’s to stop Humbent from taking the throne for himself?”

Iniya stamped her cane. “Men are a sword in the daylight and a knife in the dark. Women, of necessity, must be subtler.”

“Subtler than a knife in the dark?” Larkin asked.

Iniya leaned forward. “We must be the one to convince the wielder to strike.”

Humbent was her wielder. But the weapon could still turn on her. Unless Iniya had magic.

“Magic won’t protect your son or his,” Larkin said. “Not after you’re gone.”

Iniya’s gaze narrowed. “You let me worry about that.”

Larkin flared her weapons. “I don’t need to be subtle about any of it anymore.”

Iniya huffed. “And when faced with a bigger, stronger, faster, more experienced opponent who wields equally deadly weapons?”

Ramass. In a contest with the Wraith King, Larkin would lose. Feeling his oily shadows on her, she moved to stand in the midafternoon light streaming through the window.

Iniya hummed. “So you do know.”

“Know what?” Tam asked.

“What it is to be made to suffer at the hands of those more powerful than you,” Iniya said.

Tam shifted.

“You know it too,” Iniya said in surprise.

His fists opened and closed, his expression dark. “Who doesn’t?”

It seemed all three of them were haunted by their pasts.

Iniya glanced out the window. “Larkin needs to prepare for Humbent’s arrival. Tinsy!” She stood and smoothed her skirts. “Tam, you will stay out of sight.”

“Ladies.” He gave a mocking bow and left Larkin alone with Iniya.

An awkward silence descended that Larkin itched to fill. She motioned to the dolls. “Your hair?” The moment the words left her lips, she wanted to reel them back.

Iniya froze and then sagged. “Mine, my sisters, and my mother.”

So Larkin had inherited her hair from her grandmother.

Tinsy entered the room.

“Ah, good,” Iniya said. “Tinsy will prepare you for our trip to the tailor.”

“The tailor?” Larkin asked. “I’m only going to be here for a few more days.”

Iniya started for the door. “And during those days, I need you to look like the granddaughter of a queen.”

“What about you, madame?” Tinsy said.

“I will lie down for a moment. Wake me when she’s ready.”