And though she was fast, she was not faster than Hunter, who had managed to find a horse. He rode bareback, running her down. She pumped her legs faster, harder, leaping the fence and sending the cattle bawling. Still, she was no match for his horse as it came alongside her. Her scalp prickled, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Hunter reach for her hair.
She ducked and rolled through the pasture, the horse overshooting her. Hunter slid off the back and came for her from the direction of the forest. She pivoted, angling up the next hill, away from him and the crowd. The only thing before her was the forest.
She didn’t hesitate, for once giving in to the lure that had dangled before her for days. It was home. It was safety. It was where she should have gone days ago. The trees stretched toward her, urging her onward, welcoming her home.
She was so focused on them that she didn’t realize how close Hunter had come—not until his fingers wound around her hair and he jerked her back. They went rolling, coming to a tangled stop. Her back to him, Larkin beat at him with her elbows and the heels of her feet.
Something solid connected with the back of her head. She saw stars, and her muscles lost their strength. The mob’s outliers reached them, cheering breathlessly. Hunter flipped her over, his legs around her hips, hands pinning her wrists. The sky was an angry, throbbing mass behind his head.
Sweating and red-faced, Hunter looked down at her with pity. “Garrot wants a public execution,” he said softly enough that only she could hear him. “I miss my sisters, but I don’t see how this will make that right.”
He slid his knife from its sheath and held it against her exposed throat. She was going to die. She was drawing her last breath and seeing her last sky. She would never again fly across the fields while her mother and sisters chattered and laughed, never know the joy of warmth after bitter cold or the taste of spring water when she was thirsty, never stand on the ridge on a windy day and imagine she could fly.
“I am sorry,” he said as he pressed the blade into the delicate skin.
No! She wasn’t going to die—not today! She twisted and bucked. The knife slipped across the surface of her throat, but Hunter rocked back, his gaze going wide. They both looked down at the spreading red stain on his chest. Larkin marveled at the arrow shaft buried in his ribs up to the fletching. He gave a single gasp and then coughed. Warm, wet blood splattered her face and dripped into her hair.
He fell off her, and she scrambled back. For half a moment, the crowd was shocked into silence. Everyone looked around, trying to understand what happened. A strangled sound came from her left. Horgen pointed behind them. Larkin turned as Denan shot from the trees, his mottled cloak flaring behind him.
Even as she watched, Denan drew back his bow and released in one smooth motion. Behind her came a thwack and a grunt. She whipped around to see Horace poised over her, Hunter’s bloody knife clutched in his hand. The man collapsed around the arrow in his middle, his expression angry and shocked.
“It’s the beast’s servant!” someone screamed.
The whole mob turned and fled, cutting across the fields toward town. Larkin scrambled to her feet and sprinted toward Denan as if drawn by a lodestone. The moment he reached her, he tipped her head back, examining her throat. Wetness slid down her chest.
“It’s superficial,” he said. “Come on.”
She hesitated, glancing back at Hamel as Bane pushed his way through the retreating mob toward her. “Larkin!” he cried. “Wait! No! Larkin!”
Behind him, Garrot and Rimoth charged toward her on horseback, axes in hand. “Stop her!” Garrot screamed.
She shook her head at Bane, trying to communicate that she was sorry—that she had no choice.
“No!” he cried again.
She turned her back on him. “Let’s go,” she said to Denan. Running side by side, they entered the dark forest.
Larkin ran flat out, dodging trees and roots and vines. She wasn’t sure if she was running from the mob or from Denan, who was now behind her. Perhaps both.
“Larkin, wait. You’re going to hit the barrier,” Denan warned.
She didn’t care. She had to get away from the people—the sister—who betrayed her. But then the branches wove toward her, hissing like snakes. Fear oozed in through her pores, infecting her with terror. She collapsed, sobbing and gripping handfuls of moldering leaves and sticks in her hands. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.
“Where’s the amulet?” Denan hovered over her, his fingers searching her neck.
She clawed her way through the fear to grip the amulet dangling from her belly. Denan wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed; the sharp-edged branches eased into her skin. Instantly, the snakes were simple branches again, the terror abating.
“Hold it tight until we’re through.” Arms scooped her up. She didn’t fight as he ran with her through the Forbidden Forest. She gripped the amulet tight, blood tracing lines from her palm around to the back of her hand.
“You can let go now,” he whispered. He had stopped moving. She fought her instincts and tried to relax her death grip. He set her down and crouched before her, watching something behind her. She finally released the amulet with a gasp, the branches easing from her flesh. Denan held his finger to his lips.
In the distance, Bane called her name, his voice breaking. Larkin peeked around a tree. He wandered through the forest, his hands out as he stumbled and staggered. The stirring—the barrier—had caught him. She let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
For a moment, she imagined herself standing up, calling for him, going to him. But then what? She couldn’t go back to Hamel. She could never go back. He’s better off without me, she firmly reminded herself. He might not realize it now, but someday he will.
Loving Bane was leaving him.
Bane fell, and when he got up, he headed away from them, still calling for her. Denan held a hand out to her, silently asking her to come with him. She studied it, calloused with dirt under the nails. She didn’t take it but motioned for him to go first. He moved into a crouch and eased away from Bane. She followed, slipping away from the one person besides her own mother who had tried to fight for her.
When Bane was out of sight, Denan straightened to his full height and jogged ahead, looking back every once in a while to make sure she was still following. She paused when Bane’s voice was faint, little more than an echo, and tried to memorize the way he sounded—something to hold on to in her uncertain future. The wound at her neck throbbed in time to her heart being torn in two.
Ahead, Denan grabbed a pack from beneath a rotting log and took out a wooden jar. He pulled out the cork, releasing a sharp herbal scent. He dabbed the contents with a clean white cloth and started toward her.
She backed away. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He raised an eyebrow. “Treating your neck so you’ll stop bleeding.”
She hesitated, then tipped her chin up. She winced as he pressed the cloth to her wound. “How bad is it?”
He pulled out another long strip of fine cloth and wrapped it around her neck. “You’ll live.”
To her surprise, it didn’t sting as much as she expected and the cloth he’d used was incredibly soft. “What do you want?”
He met her gaze, his fingers still on the bandage. “I thought I’d made that perfectly clear.”
“But why me?”
He rubbed ointment onto the cuts on her palms. “Would you believe I like redheads?” She slapped him. He rubbed his cheek. “I barely know you, Larkin, but the heartsong is never wrong.”
She studied the prick marks on her hand as he quickly wrapped them. “The amulet stopped the stirring,” she said.
“Barrier, and yes, it did.”
She looked up at him. “Is that why it doesn’t affect you? Because you have an amulet too?”
He put the ointments and bandages away. “Something like that. Come on, we need to move.”
She pl
anted her feet. “I deserve some answers, piper.”
He shrugged the pack onto his back. “A druid is dying or dead. The others will want us to pay for that death.”
She winced at the thought of Hunter and his shocked expression as he’d realized he was hit. Denan moved at a swift walk as if her following him was a foregone conclusion. She supposed it was, especially if Garrot was after her.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she hurried after him. “What would you do to them if they found us?”
He glanced sidelong at her. “There are two rules to the Forbidden Forest. First, move swiftly and silently so as not to draw attention. Second, do as I say, when I say it. Obey these two rules, and we will most likely reach the Alamant alive.”
A pulse of fear shot from her middle up to her throat. She cast an uneasy look around them and decided not to risk any more questions. They ended up in the same meadow as before—the one with the babbling brook. Up ahead, she saw four people, two of whom she immediately recognized.
“Larkin,” Venna cried out and ran toward her.
Larkin sucked in a panicked breath and turned to Denan. “Don’t tell them the villagers forced me into the forest.” When he didn’t respond, she looked up at him. “Please.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
Venna reached them and wrapped Larkin in an embrace, her body shaking with sobs. “Oh, Larkin, they got you too! Oh, your poor mama.”
At the mention of her mother, Larkin squeezed her tighter. “Are you hurt?” she whispered.
“No, but they won’t let us out of their sight.” Venna pulled back and shot a dirty look at Denan.
“Talox,” Denan said. “You were supposed to talk to her about keeping quiet.”
A big man loped after Venna. He had dark skin and a queue of tightly curled hair behind his ear. “I did, but girls are loud—and I got the quiet one.” He stepped up next to Venna. “Shh, Venna,” he said gently. “The beasts will hear.”
Backing away from him, Venna made a choking sound as she tried to swallow her sobs.
Sneering at Talox, Alorica gave him a wide berth. Chin up, she fixed her undaunted gaze on Larkin. “My papa and mama, are they all right?”
“And my grandfather?” Venna asked, her voice a quavering whisper.
Thinking of Alorica’s father chasing her with a pitchfork, Larkin suppressed a shudder. “They were fine last I saw.”
A third piper trailed behind Alorica. With eyes the bright blue of a spring morning, curling blond hair, a wiry body, and a mischievous expression, he looked more like an imp than a man.
“Talox, report,” Denan said.
“All is quiet, sir. The women are in good health.”
“Tam?” Denan asked.
The impish man handed Denan an ax and a shield that matched the ones the other men wore strapped to their backs. “We can head out now?” Tam’s voice was high and musical, the words dancing across his tongue, though he was clearly trying to rein in his excitement.
Denan strapped his ax and shield on. “Has she given you any trouble?”
Tam’s eyes crinkled like he was trying not to smile. “None beyond what’s expected.”
Denan shot a knowing look at Alorica. She glared back. He grunted and looked at Tam. “Don’t let that one out of your sight.”
Tam’s grin finally broke free. It reminded Larkin of a fox. “Gladly, sir.”
Alorica made a disgusted sound.
“You’ll catch up?” Tam said.
“Hopefully by nightfall,” Denan said, his unreadable gaze fixed on Larkin. “If not, the next day.”
Larkin frowned. “You’re leaving?”
Denan took a step closer, close enough to feel his breath against her ear. Despite herself, she shuddered. “I have to make sure no one can find our tracks.”
“And by no one, you mean Bane?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “Or the druids.”
Tam’s head came up, surprise on his face. “Why would the druids come after us?”
Denan’s jaw tightened. “One of them threatened my charge.”
Tam and Talox exchanged loaded glances.
“Swear you won’t hurt Bane,” Larkin said.
Stepping back, Denan met her gaze evenly. “Only to save my life. Stay with Tam and Talox. Do what they say. They’ll protect you.” He turned and loped across the meadow, his long legs eating up the distance.
Tam glanced at the sky and trotted across the meadow. “This way.”
Talox gestured for them to precede him. Larkin exchanged uneasy looks with Venna and Alorica before following Tam. She couldn’t help but glance back in the direction Denan had gone. He was far from someone she trusted, but at least he was known.
“He’ll be all right,” Talox said gently.
Alorica rolled her eyes. “As if Larkin could care about one of you pipers.” She took Larkin’s hand, pulling her and Venna ahead. Larkin stared at her hand in Alorica’s—a girl who’d hated her for years. She supposed a common enemy made them friends.
“I’m coming up with a plan,” Alorica whispered fiercely. “Be ready for anything.”
“The villagers will turn against you,” Larkin said. “Like they turned against me.”
“My father would never let that happen,” Alorica said.
“I wouldn’t try anything,” Talox said mildly from behind them. “You won’t like the results.”
Any illusion Larkin had that maybe she had a choice in being in the forest evaporated. She looked back at Talox, wondering how he’d heard them from so far away.
Alorica huffed and moved ahead. Larkin and Venna shared a look. “I don’t believe they mean to hurt us,” Larkin said gently.
Venna looked away, but not before Larkin saw the uncertainty on her face. Larkin couldn’t tell the other girl that Denan had saved her life, not without facing what had happened that morning, and she wasn’t ready—not yet.
“Don’t be simple,” Alorica hissed from in front of them. “They’ve already kidnapped us.”
“I didn’t say we should trust them,” Larkin shot back. “Only that they’re not going to rape us or slit our throats.”
Alorica rolled her eyes. “Of all the girls in the town, you had to be taken.”
“There’s the Alorica I know,” Larkin said.
They crossed from the meadow into the forest, and a hush fell over them. Almost immediately, the rain stopped tapping at Larkin’s shoulders. Instead, great drops plunked down on her head, streaking a cold path on her scalp.
Larkin couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic with hundreds of trees pressing down on her from all sides, blinding them to the danger that could be hiding a dozen steps away. Perhaps it was her experience with the stirring, but it felt like the trees knew she was here. She had the sense of stepping into something alive and connected and aware. She wondered if the other girls were feeling the same thing.
The brush was dense at first, but then cleared out. Ahead and to the right, a mother deer and her two fawns snapped their heads up at the sight of them and then bounded off into the forest. Larkin watched them go in wonder. The barrier had kept the wilds away from her town as much as it had trapped them inside.
Larkin expected the men to watch their captives closely. Instead, they watched the forest, bows in hand. A low rumble sounded through the trees—a sound Larkin had heard before.
“What was that?” Alorica gasped.
“Quiet,” Talox said, voice low. His gaze locked with Tam’s, and he made a series of hand gestures.
“Sorry, Princess,” Tam said to Alorica. “I’m going to have to break my promise and take my eyes off you for a little while. I’ll make it up to you though.”
The look she gave him could have stripped the bark off a tree. With an impish grin, Tam pulled out his pipes and trotted off to their right.
“Was that the beast?” Larkin asked quietly.
“We would die before we allowed harm to come to you,” Talox said, his reassuring g
aze pausing on Venna.
At least he didn’t say they weren’t in danger. There was some comfort in his honesty.
“Why won’t you answer Larkin?” Alorica demanded.
From up ahead, flute music drifted back to them. Larkin suddenly felt skittish, like she needed to run. Venna sucked up to Larkin’s side, her hand twisted in Larkin’s skirt in a way that reminded her of Sela when she was scared. She wrapped a reassuring arm around the other girl’s shoulder.
“Steady,” Talox said evenly. “He’s clearing a path for us.”
Larkin could well believe any beast of the forest would clear out from that sound. A few minutes passed, the music growing more distant. As it did, her overpowering need to run faded. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“What else can your pipes do?” Alorica said uneasily.
“We’ve all sworn not to use our pipes for evil,” Talox said.
“What do you call kidnapping three girls from their homes?” Alorica spat back.
“We do what must be done,” Talox said as if by rote. He moved past Alorica without bothering to glance her way. “Stay close and keep silent.”
They started off again. Venna had her head down, her expression defeated. Alorica was too busy mouthing curses to notice. Every once in a while, distant flute music set them even more on edge.
Larkin rubbed the marks in her palm. The amulet had stopped the barrier from affecting her. Her thumb touched the raised scab from the sliver, and she froze. Had the sliver stopped the barrier when she brought Sela back through? Was it as simple as a piece of wood inside flesh?
But that didn’t make any sense. Sela had defeated the barrier without any sort of sliver. And the amulet was supposed to be special—special enough for Denan to let her go to retrieve it.
“Larkin?” a voice whispered behind her.
She jumped. Talox watched her with a concerned expression. Realizing she’d stopped, she hurried to catch up. Larkin continued to rub the scar on her palm, trying to figure out how the amulet, maybe even the sliver, fit into all of this. Hours passed, and they came to a spring that gasped its way between rocks. Talox crouched beside it, filling his water gourd. He handed them each a piece of travel bread. “Rest for a moment,” he said to them.