In the light from the distant bonfires, Larkin looked uneasily at the bridges tied to posts driven into the ground. They bucked and shifted with the currents of the black water. Were they even anchored to the river bottom?

“Well, you can swim, can’t you?” Alorica asked.

Water closing over her head in the dark. No sense of up or down. Only the cold wet and the burning in her lungs as the lethan wrapped its tentacles tighter and dragged her deeper. Larkin wiped her sweating palms against her trousers. “Yes.”

“Is this about that time your father tried to drown you as a child?” Alorica asked.

“Alorica,” Tam chided.

She shrugged. “What? The whole village knew. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

No, this time came after. This time, Denan had been the one to fish her out.

Copperbills crowded them from behind. It was Alorica’s turn.

“Best do it at a run,” Tam told her.

She flared her weapons for light and hustled across the bridge.

Tam boosted Larkin up. “Don’t think about it.”

She flared her own sigils, the light just enough to see where to place her next step. All that existed was that one step. And the one after that and the one after that. Denan waited for her on the other side. She must save him.

With every step, she moved farther from the light of the bonfires along the embankment and deeper into the shadows. The shush of the river and the sway of the bridge left her disoriented and dizzy, hands spread, searching for something to hold on to. Something to anchor her. But there was only the breeze against her open palms.

The bridge shuddered beneath her, as if something from the river had slammed into it. Larkin dropped to her knees and held the sides, water splashing over her knuckles.

“You’re not that far,” Alorica called to her. “I can see you. Come on.”

With a shaky breath, Larkin pushed to her feet and flared her weapons again. An outline of trees far atop the hill was bathed in an orange glow, men fighting beneath them.

Sooner than she expected and yet far too late, she hopped down to the embankment. Almost instantly, she stepped on something squishy and round. Alorica braced her.

Larkin flared her sword and held it toward the ground. A silent, screaming, dead face burst into view, making her jump back, only to step on another body.

“Mulgars,” Alorica panted. “The ground is littered with them.”

Larkin shifted her sword. Mostly mulgars bristling with arrows. But some pipers too. Larkin searched for Denan’s face and then stopped. If he … If he lay among the dead, she didn’t want to see it.

Please, she prayed. Not Denan. Yet wasn’t every other woman in their company praying the same? Not all those prayers would be answered.

Alorica still hadn’t let go of her arm, and her fingernails were digging into Larkin’s flesh enough to draw blood. “Alorica?”

She let out a shaky laugh. “You’re afraid of fast-moving rivers. I have a problem with bodies. Especially bodies in the dark.”

“Do you have to squeeze so hard?” Larkin asked.

Tam hopped down and nearly fell. He looked about grimly, then helped the other three girls down. “Come on. Our men will be in desperate need of reserves.”

Larkin was relieved when Alorica shifted her grip to Tam. Pointing their swords at the ground for added light, Larkin and Alorica climbed over bodies, broken branches, and weapons. The ground was muddy with blood. The smoke from so many fires blew back at them, further obscuring the path and making Larkin’s throat tingle with the need to cough.

Other copperbills climbed with them, ghosts in the night. They crossed beneath the trees where pipers loosed arrows into the druids from above. Finally, they reached the top of the rise. Fighting beneath torches and before bonfires, pipers formed a solid wall of men against mulgars and Idelmarchians, driven forward by druids. Tam hauled himself into one of the trees.

Larkin shifted from one foot to the other. “Do you see him?”

He stiffened and pointed. “There!”

Near the base of the hill, beside the river, the line bulged inward, mulgars forcing the pipers to retreat. Larkin didn’t wait. She ran, stumbling over bodies and dodging trees. She scanned for Denan’s face but couldn’t make him out in the shadows, smoke, and chaos. She found a gap and threw herself into it.

The pipers on either side of her glanced at her in surprise, relief sliding over their faces before they went back to the fighting. More copperbills came, and slowly, slowly, the mulgars fell dead or fell back until the entire Idelmarchian line retreated.

Larkin let her watery arms fall, then heard splashing to her right. Denan was fighting an ardent, another sneaking up behind.

She abandoned the line and ran toward him. “Denan, duck!” she cried.

He dropped, his ax and shield spinning around him. The mulgars’ blades swung through empty air. Denan’s weapons slammed into both ardents’ legs and dropped them. He rose, ax raised high before coming down on one creature’s head.

The other thrust up from the water, sword aimed between his shoulder blades. Larkin pulsed, shoving Denan and the remaining ardent forward. Her magic felt weak, thin, and brittle, but she managed a sword. The ardent looked up in surprise as Larkin beheaded her.

Larkin spun, looking for Denan just as he came sputtering up. Bloody, half his face covered in bruises, he wiped water from his eyes and gaped at her. “Larkin?”

She flew into him, embracing him with her wobbly arms and holding him up as much as he held her. She would have stayed that way forever and never let go.

“There’s my warrior wife.”

She had so badly wanted to be something more—the curse breaker, an Arbor like Sela. But as a warrior, she’d just saved her husband’s life. It was enough.

“They’re retreating,” she cried in relief.

“No. Just regrouping. Come on.”

He didn’t release her hand as they splashed behind the piper line. Tam and Alorica were waiting for them. Tam and Denan embraced. Still, Denan didn’t let go of her.

“I leave for a few days,” Tam laughed, “and you nearly lose a three-centuries-long war.”

Denan stepped back. “I wish you hadn’t come. How many have you brought?”

“We started with around six hundred.”

“Who’s leading?” Denan asked.

“Wott and Aaryn,” Tam said.

Denan started at the mention of his mother’s name but recovered quickly. He scanned the line of men and turned to his five pages. “Find Aaryn, Wott, Demry, and Gendrin. Have them meet me at the top of the hill.” They took off at a run. He started after them, Larkin, Alorica, and Tam trailing. “The west flank?”

“It was holding,” Tam responded.

“Have you seen the wraiths?” Larkin asked.

“Glimpses.” Denan passed a hand down his face. “No more.”

In the distance, mulgar units led by ardents and Idelmarchian units led by druids shifted and reformed.

“They’ve never behaved so cohesively,” Tam said in disbelief.

“They’ve been using tactics and maneuvers so far above anything we ever believed them capable of,” Denan said. “I can only conclude the wraiths have been holding back for centuries.”

Alorica swore.

They reached the top of the hill to find Wott, Gendrin, and Demry waiting.

“Where’s my mother?” Denan asked.

“Took a sword to the thigh,” Wott said. “She’s with the healers.”

Ancestors, not Aaryn.

Denan’s mouth tightened. “Report.”

“My men are holding but exhausted,” Demry said.

“The left flank is stable,” Gendrin said. “But even with reinforcements, we can’t keep going like this.”

“My copperbills are filling the gaps,” Wott said.

“Can your men repel another charge?” Denan asked.

Gendrin and Demry exchanged a look.

“Maybe,” Gendrin said. “But the charge after that …”

Denan looked over the enemy line. “My army would have buckled under that last charge if not for the copperbills.”

“We could escape over the bridges,” Wott said. “Those remaining behind could cut the lines and take the boats we brought for the copperbills.”

“You mean retreat?” Tam said.

“That would leave us scattered and running all over the Forbidden Forest,” Denan said.

“And we need nearly all the men we have just to hold the line,” Demry added.

“We have no more reinforcements,” Wott said. “Men can’t battle for hours on end.”

“We’d be helpless in boats,” Demry said.

“There’s another way.” All eyes turned to Larkin. “The druids and mulgars want us dead. The Idelmarchians only want their daughters back.”

Denan started to reply, stumbled, and started again. “Larkin, you can’t mean to surrender yourselves.”

She flared her weapons. “Do you think you or the druids or anyone can make us do anything we don’t want to?” The men stared at her. “Call for an armistice.”

Denan hauled off his helmet, slicked back his sweat-soaked hair, and mashed it back on his head. “The druids—Garrot—refuses to meet with me.”

Larkin and Alorica shared a glance.

“They’ll meet with us,” Alorica said.

Larkin nodded. “Bring me Magalia.”

“Magalia?” Tam asked.

“The healer?” Gendrin asked.

“She was Garrot’s fiancée,” Larkin said. “If anyone can talk some sense into him, maybe she can.”

Denan’s eyes widened with disbelief, and he hollered at his pages to find her. All five of them took off in different directions.

Denan looked at Larkin. “You need to take control of the copperbills.”

“Me?” she cried. “Why?”

“Because you’re the princess,” Denan said. “Because you restored the magic and escaped the Alamant when no one else could. The women look up to you. They trust you. And because the Idelmarchians need to see a woman leading an army of women, not a piper enchanting his captives.”

She didn’t want to do this. “I don’t have any experience leading warriors into battle, and the Idelmarchians will not react well to the Traitor of Hamel.”

“Traitor of—” Denan began.

“It’s what they’re calling her,” Tam said.

Denan rubbed his mouth. “All right. Magalia will help you.”

Larkin rolled her shoulders to loosen the tension building there. “What do you need me to do?”

“Inform your copperbills what’s going on,” Denan said.

She nodded grimly. “Gather them together. Tell them we’re going to pulse our kindred until they listen to us.”

Denan’s pages were gone, so he gave the command to Wott and his generals, who jogged off to spread the word for all the copperbills to gather at the top of the hill.

“I have patients,” a voice barked. Magalia marched up the incline. Her arms were soaked in blood to her elbows, her front spattered with it. She paused half a dozen paces from Denan. “What?”

“Do you think you can get Garrot to stop this attack?” Denan asked.

Magalia’s mouth opened. Closed again. “What does Garrot have to do with—”

“He’s the Master Druid,” Larkin said.

“That can’t be,” Magalia said. “He was training to be a merchant under my—”

“He came after you,” Larkin said. “Into the forest—he and his brother, but his brother didn’t make it. Garrot made a deal with the wraiths.”

“The wraiths!” Magalia looked between Larkin and Denan. “He would never—”

Larkin gripped her hands. “Magalia, you have to stop him.”

The fight drained out of her. “How?”

“Make him see that the pipers aren’t the enemy,” Denan said. “The wraiths are.”

Magalia shrugged helplessly. “I can try.”