Stolen Enchantress

  Venna sliced the carrots into thin rings. “Because you’re my friend, Larkin.”

  Not the kind of friends that owed each other anything. But Venna didn’t really have any other friends. Maybe she needed one as much as Larkin did. “Thank you.”

  Venna smiled shyly. She dumped the carrots into a pot and added potatoes she’d cut earlier. “I need more water from the well. Be right back.” She pulled on her cloak and slipped outside.

  Larkin enjoyed the smells of baking bread and the delicious heat coming from the hearth. The quiet was soon interrupted by footsteps and a door opening and closing. Moments later, voices came from the dining room.

  “Perhaps not in Hamel.” Daydon sounded out of breath.

  Rising, Larkin crept closer and peered out the not-quite-closed door. Bane hung his father’s cloak by the fire and pulled out his chair. Daydon sat heavily. His hands rested atop a new cane.

  “What do you mean?” Bane’s voice was tight, like a rope about to snap.

  Daydon took a moment to answer. “Landra. The lord is a friend of mine. I’m sure he can, discreetly, find her a job—just until things settle down.”

  Bane hung his own cloak and then braced his hands on the back of a chair. “Is that really necessary?”

  “You heard the way the townspeople are talking about her. Horgen and Horace are blaming her for their family’s sickness, and they’re not the only ones. The town has turned against her. It’s not safe for any of them in Hamel anymore. Her mother and sisters will have to go as well.”

  “I can protect them.”

  “Not from the druids, you can’t.” When Bane didn’t answer, Daydon went on, “Bane, saving her won’t bring back Caelia.”

  Bane sat down hard on the chair and leaned over his folded hands. “What about our baby?” Larkin was impressed by how smoothly the deception left his mouth.

  “There isn’t anything here for her or the child but heartache.”

  “I’m here. And I thought you wanted this baby!”

  “Of course I do, but at this rate, she won’t live to deliver.”

  Larkin flinched, then rested her forehead against the wall. She didn’t want to leave Bane, not when he’d finally started looking at her the way she’d always wanted him to. The moment she left, Alorica would dig her claws into him. But her family . . . she wouldn’t risk their safety, not even for Bane.

  Daydon’s head tipped back as if he’d realized something. “You haven’t told her?”

  Bane stood back up. “What good would that do?”

  “Secrets are dangerous things to keep.”

  Bane paced the length of the table, his brow drawn. What secret was he keeping from her? Her hand strayed to the amulet around her waist, her fingers pressing it against the skin below her navel.

  “I’ll go with them,” Bane said. “They’ll need someone to look after them.”

  “Pennice can take care of herself and her daughters. They don’t need you. I do.”

  Bane braced himself against a chair. “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning, first light. And, Bane, the ring . . .” The implication was there. Daydon wanted it back.

  “She’s keeping the ring.”

  “But—”

  “She’s keeping it,” Bane growled.

  Daydon pursed his lips but nodded in agreement.

  Feeling numb, Larkin backed into the kitchen and leaned against the table. They were sending them away. By the way Daydon talked . . . she wasn’t sure they were ever coming back. Maybe he was right. It would be safer for them away from all this. Perhaps she could even slip out of Denan’s grasp. But Bane . . . What would happen to their engagement?

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when Venna stepped back inside, bucket in hand. The voices from the other room ceased, followed by footsteps and a door swinging shut.

  Larkin pushed herself away from the table. “I better see to my mother.”

  “Here, bring her some bread.” Venna loaded a plate with bread slathered with butter and jam.

  Taking it, Larkin plastered a smile on her face and stepped out of the kitchen. Daydon looked at her, his expression sad.

  “I’m glad to see you looking better,” she said with forced cheer.

  He nodded. “Your mother is awake.”

  Taking the hint, Larkin slipped into the bedroom. Sela lay on the bed, her thumb in her mouth and her eyes closed. Mama sat up next to her and nursed the baby.

  “How are you feeling?” Larkin asked.

  “Hungry. And Brenna needs changing.”

  Larkin wanted to tell her about the secret Bane was keeping from her and the fact they were going to have to leave Hamel, but at the sight of her mother’s bloodshot eyes, she decided against it. She handed her the plate of bread. “Venna’s fixing supper. I can wash the swaddling.”

  Mama nodded gratefully.

  Larkin hesitated before asking her next question. “Have you seen Nesha?”

  Mama wouldn’t meet her gaze. “She’s taken a job in town. She’ll move into the servant’s room tomorrow.”

  The silence hung heavy between them, interrupted by the soft sounds of the baby sucking. Larkin slipped outside, did the washing, and brought it back inside to dry on strings crisscrossing the kitchen. At supper, Larkin’s family ate in the dining room with Daydon. Nesha was still working; she wasn’t expected back until after dark. Venna served them soup and bread. Mama sat on a cushioned rocking chair, her legs stretched out before her, meal on a tray beside her.

  When Venna retreated to the kitchen, Daydon faced Mama. “Larkin is no longer safe in Hamel.”

  Mama’s face tightened. “Garrot said she had two days. She should be safe after tonight.”

  “It’s not Garrot I’m afraid of,” Daydon said gently. “The townsfolk have turned against her. I promised you I’d take care of her, and I mean to keep that promise. Right now, that means she must leave. I’m sending you and the rest of your daughters with her. There is nothing holding you here, and I’m not convinced you’re much safer than Larkin is.”

  Brenna fussed. Mama leaned back, patting her. “I suppose that means breaking the engagement with Bane?”

  Daydon took a long breath and let it out. “She’ll keep the ring as a token of their continued engagement, and when things settle down, she’ll return and everything will proceed as planned.”

  “And if it doesn’t settle down?” Mama asked.

  Daydon made a helpless gesture. “What do you want me to do, Pennice? Am I to give up my position as lord? My son? What else do you want from me?”

  She cleared her throat. “What of my husband?”

  Daydon was silent for far too long. “It took some persuading, but Garrot granted a divorce in exchange for lenience for Harben’s sentence.”

  Larkin felt an uneasy relief—why would Garrot help her father? Mama’s eyes fluttered closed. When she opened them again, her face was resigned. “Is it safe for Larkin to travel along the forest road?” The passages between cities and towns were narrow and surrounded by the Forbidden Forest.

  Daydon visibly relaxed. “Bane will accompany you to Landra. It’s much larger than Hamel. You should blend in fine. Would you like me to send Venna to inform Nesha to be here first thing in the morning?”

  “Nesha will be staying in Hamel,” Mama said. “She’ll move in with her master tomorrow.”

  Daydon’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, then seemed to think better of asking and started into his soup. Larkin felt her mother’s scrutiny. They ate in silence for the rest of the meal and spent the evening packing everything they owned for the trip, Larkin silently listening for the sound of Bane’s arrival.

  He never came.

  Larkin woke as the front door opened. Sitting up from the dining room table, she rubbed her eyes and saw Bane’s shadowed outline by the door.

  “You should be in bed.”

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  He hesitated, then came t
o sit beside her. The arm that rested against hers was damp. “Making up for lost time. I won’t be here tomorrow to help with the flooding.”

  “You’re still avoiding me.”

  He didn’t bother denying it again. “Larkin, this isn’t a banishment. As soon as things settle down, you’ll come back and we’ll be married.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Is that what you want—to marry me?”

  He hesitated a beat too long. “Of course it is.”

  “And what of our baby?”

  He sighed. “You’ll have to lose it.”

  Larkin wanted to ask him about the secrets his father had mentioned, but that was only fair if she told him her secrets. He leaned toward her. His fingers tipped her jaw as he leaned down for a kiss. She debated pulling away. But after tomorrow, she wasn’t sure when she would see him again, if at all. So she stretched up, their lips meeting in a kiss that softened the brittleness inside her. But it wasn’t long before the kiss was seasoned with the salt of her tears.

  Bane pulled back. “Why are you crying?”

  Because that kiss tasted like goodbye. Because she had only ever been sure of two things: the forest was evil and he was everything good in the world. Now, she was not sure of either.

  But she didn’t say any of that. She squeezed his hand and went upstairs. She sat on the bed’s edge for a long time and stared at the ring in her hand. Then she slipped it off and left it on the bedside table, having no intention of ever picking it up again.

  The music started that night, full of longing and hope and warmth. It spread through Larkin like sunshine, but it did not speak to her as the other songs had. She pushed herself up and went to the window. It had finally stopped raining, the moon bright above. Below, the town was shrouded in mist, water lapping against the buildings the only sound. She shot a glare toward the forest. Denan’s song wasn’t going to work this time.

  She turned to go back to bed, but a figure wading through the floodwaters made her pause. Thick, curly hair and a thistle-embroidered cloak. Alorica—it had to be. But girls were never supposed to be out this late.

  Larkin struggled with the rusty catch on the window before finally managing to shove it open. “Alorica? Where are you going?” The other girl didn’t so much as turn around. Larkin called again, louder. Alorica faded from view. Larkin pulled the window shut and hauled her dress over her head.

  She hurried to Bane’s room. “Alorica’s out and she wouldn’t answer when I called.” She tugged on her boots. “Something’s definitely wrong.”

  She moved to shut the door so he could get up and dress, but Bane didn’t stir. She hesitated, before stepping fully into the room. “Bane, get up!” When he didn’t respond, she went to his bed and shook his shoulders. Still nothing. Taking his pitcher of water, she dumped the contents over his head. His deep sleep breathing continued.

  Larkin dashed down the stairs, grabbed her cloak, and plunged into the mists. The vapors trailed cold fingers along her cheeks, droplets sliding down the collar of her dress. At the hill’s base, she splashed in the floodwater that snaked past her thighs, but she could no longer see the other girl.

  “Alorica!” she called. In answer, the mists swirled about her, impenetrable and dark. She turned this way and that, unsure what to do. But she knew where Alorica was headed. Moving as fast as she could, she left the town and started up the rise, leaving behind a bit more of the flood with each step. She emerged from the mist, though tendrils of it still snaked up the hill. Alorica was before her, a dark outline against the even darker sky.

  “Alorica,” she huffed as she hurried to catch up. “Where are you going?”

  The girl didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge Larkin’s presence.

  “Are you hearing the music? The heartsong?” It was too dark to make out her expression, but Larkin could imagine the longing, the hope. “It’s a lie, Alorica! You can resist it, as I have. You don’t have to be lured into the forest.”

  When Alorica still didn’t answer, Larkin reached out and took hold of her arm. No reaction. She stepped in front of the girl. Alorica simply stepped around her. Larkin looked around for help, but they were alone in the darkness. Everything was eerily silent. Even the rain had stopped its incessant pattering. A fire catching within her, Larkin stepped in front of Alorica and blocked her path. When Alorica tried to step around her, Larkin blocked her again. After the third time, Alorica shoved her and continued.

  Heart pounding, chest heaving, Larkin watched as another girl emerged from the mist, gaze fixed on the Forbidden Forest—Venna. Larkin’s hands flew to her mouth. “No,” she said from behind her fingers. She stumbled after her. “Kenjin! Patrina! Come save your daughter!”

  No one came.

  “Daydon! Vyder! Rimoth! Garrot! Someone, please!” Her voice fell away, leaving only aching silence. Larkin was helpless and alone. Ancestors help me!

  She ran to Venna, wrapping both her arms around the girl. Perhaps she could knock her out, tie her up, something. Venna whirled, delivering a blow to Larkin’s head that dropped her feet out from under her. Ears ringing, she watched the two girls, not knowing how to stop them without hurting them. They were converging on one point. Though she was too far away to make out the details, she knew what it was—the Curse Tree.

  Pushing to her feet, Larkin stared into the dark shadows. “Denan!” she called, her voice absorbed by the forest. The tree before her rustled, and a dark figure dropped down. Moments later, two more joined the first. She backed up a step, wondering if even now she was close enough for them to grab her. “Leave them alone.” Her voice shook with anger and fear.

  Denan came toward her. “The heartsong calls to them, Larkin. They’re ours now.”

  Tears of helplessness welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. Denan’s words shook her to her core. The visions she’d had. Running along branches the size of a river. Diving into turquoise water. Following a bird to safety. She staggered back from the tethers that bound her to him. The closer she came to the forest, the more she felt those tethers, and the less she wanted to break free. “You’ve put a spell on me, put these lies in my head.”

  He continued toward her. “What cruelty have you known that you would believe that before the truth?”

  She gritted her teeth, her hands fisted at her sides. “You’re taking them to punish me.

  You promised to leave me alone—swore to me you always kept your word.”

  “And so I will.” He turned his back on her, disappearing inside the forest. Alorica and Venna were already gone.

  Larkin whirled and ran back the way she’d come. She reached Vyder’s door first, pounding against it. It shifted open. She pushed inside and found Vyder snoring by the fire. She shook him, begged him to help her. She even slapped his face. His snores never paused. She sat back on her heels. She’d never felt so helpless, so useless.

  Vyder had lost everything, and he didn’t even know it yet.

  Sobbing and disoriented, she stumbled back outside. She pounded on doors and screamed for the townspeople to wake up until her knuckles were bloody and her throat raw. No one heard her. No one came. She reached the manor and rushed into Bane’s room. She shook him and screamed and cried, but he may as well have been dead. Perhaps it was she who was dead, and she only hovered over him like a ghost.

  Shaking, she backed into a corner and slid down, waiting for the spell to release him.

  “Larkin?” Bane rolled out of the bed, eyes drawn with worry. He wore his long shirt. He hurried to push his feet into his trousers. “What’s wrong? Why are you all muddy? Why am I wet?”

  Larkin was still wedged in the corner, her arms wrapped tight around her legs. “The pipers took them.” Her throat ached. “No one would wake up. No one heard me scream.”

  His eyes took in the empty pitcher lying by his bed. His hands pulled through his damp hair, and he swore softly. “Who?”

  She couldn’t say their names out loud. If she did, then they were reall
y gone. She rocked back and forth. From outside came the distant ring of shouts. Bane glanced out the window and whatever he saw sent him staggering back. He crouched before her. “We have to get out of here. Grab your things. Hurry.”

  Daydon appeared at the door, throwing his cloak over his shoulders. “There’s nowhere for her to run.”

  Bane frowned. “Landra—”

  “You think the townspeople wouldn’t hunt you down?” He shook his head as if answering his own question. His studied Larkin. “Where were you?”

  “I tried to stop them,” she said, voice trembling.

  “Who?” Daydon asked.

  “Venna and Alorica.” Their names caught in her throat, leaving an imprint she could never wash away.

  Daydon grunted. “Clean yourself up and all the muddy footprints. You were here all night. You never went out.” He disappeared. “Pennice! Hurry! A mob is coming!” Movement sounded from the bedroom below.

  Bane hauled her up. “Larkin, why were the girls taken but not you?” She finally looked at him. He softened at whatever he saw on her face. “I ask because that’s what the villagers will want to know.”

  “He promised to leave me be in exchange for the amulet.” Which wasn’t something they could ever explain to the townspeople. Larkin tried to pull herself together. “The others couldn’t resist the heartsong.” If a mob was coming, she wasn’t the only one in danger. Something in her hardened. They would not hurt her family. She wouldn’t let them.

  The shouts grew louder, closer. Bane’s mouth thinned, and he hurried out the door. “Clean up. Quickly!” She followed him downstairs and into the kitchen, where he shoved his feet into his boots. He tugged his coat on. “Lock the door after me and don’t open it for anyone else.” Bane drew up and looked behind her. Larkin turned to see Nesha staring at him. “Help her, Nesha, please.”

  Mama ushered Sela up the stairs and handed the baby to Nesha. “Hide them.” Nesha turned away without a backward glance. Larkin watched her go. How could her sister abandon her right now, when she needed her most? Yes, they’d been fighting, but they were sisters—loyal to each other, above all else.