They crossed to the other side. More trees grew here, covered platforms and stairs circling the trunks, connected by bridges between them. People watched them from those platforms—women and children mostly, all of them dressed and groomed to perfection, hair and skin glowing with health, yet an air of sadness clung to them. Men and women alike wore simple garments—long tunics, robes, and loose pants with belts at the waist. The people called out a greeting to the three pipers.
Something bumped the boat. She looked over the side to see something slick and gray crest the water, something five times the size of an ox. She drew back with a whimper.
“It’s a melangth,” Talox said. “They won’t harm you.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tam said hopefully from behind.
Alorica turned her glare on him. “Would you trade your freedom for beauty?”
He looked at her with reluctant devotion. “I already have.”
Alorica muttered to Larkin, “Can I kill him?”
Larkin shrugged. Alorica had been threatening Tam’s imminent demise ever since she’d met him. “Let me know when you want help.”
Tam muttered something miserably.
They crossed under one of the trees, the green leaves edged in crimson. The boat bumped against the buttressed roots. A dock had been built onto one of those roots. Thick white scales that looked like crystallized salt covered the bark under the water.
Denan stepped from the boat onto the dock, tied it off, and turned back to offer Larkin a hand. She stared at it, still bandaged like hers. This would be her first step into the Alamant, the first step into the life she would never have chosen. “What happens now?” she whispered.
“I’m taking you somewhere you can prepare for the ceremony tonight to induct you into our people.”
Larkin didn’t like the sound of that.
“We don’t want to be ‘your people.’” Alorica said through gritted teeth.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Larkin looked up at Denan defiantly. He sighed and tugged out his pipes. Behind her, Tam stood up. If she wouldn’t go willingly, they would force her. She stepped out on her own, turning to help Alorica, then she faced Denan. “Just when I start to think maybe you’re not all bad, you do something to remind me.”
He tucked his pipes away and started unloading the boat.
“Think we should push them into the lake?” Alorica asked under her breath.
Larkin barely heard her. The tree called to her—a softer version of the piper’s song. Unable to resist, she started toward the trunk.
“Where are you going?’ Alorica asked. When Larkin didn’t answer, she huffed and fell in behind. Larkin hesitantly laid her hand against the smooth, paper-like bark. A wash of feeling came over her—welcome and anticipation and need and desperation. She pulled back as if stung, not understanding what had happened.
“Did you feel something?”
She started and turned to find Denan behind her. “What?”
Tam came over from the boat, his pack slung over one shoulder. Talox waited on the dock, watching another boat come in—a boat filled with soldiers.
Denan laid his hand where hers had been moments before. “I thought— The look on your face . . . Did you feel something?”
Alorica crossed her arms over her chest. “She said she was going to throw up earlier. It’s probably the sight of you that does it.”
Denan and Tam held perfectly still, breath held, like Larkin’s answer was incredibly important. “I didn’t feel anything,” she said too quickly.
His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t quite believe her.
“How can the trees grow in the water?” she asked in hopes of distracting him.
He turned away from them. “Come on. They’ll be waiting.” He started up a set of curving stairs that grew out of the trunk and spiraled up the side. Tam waited for them, ready to take up the rear as always.
Larkin looked back at Talox, who was handing his pack to the soldiers in the boat. “Isn’t he coming with us?”
“No,” Tam said softly. “He must answer for disobeying his commander.”
She took half a step toward him before sending a pleading look to Denan. “But he was trying to help Venna.”
“Without rules, we wouldn’t survive,” Denan said.
“Talox, wait.” She crossed the tree to stand before him. He looked down at her, his expression so full of grief it nearly choked her. “You loved her?” she whispered so the others wouldn’t hear.
Talox stared blankly at the ever-changing surface of the water. “A piper’s music always calls to the one who will love him. You already know it. You have from the beginning.”
She stiffened. “I do not love Denan.”
“You will.” Talox stepped into the boat. She watched him for a moment, wanting to protest. She could never love a man who forced her from her home. The boat pulled away. Talox looked back at them and lifted a single hand in farewell before turning away. Denan had said Talox would face court martial for disobeying orders.
“Where are they taking him?” she asked as Tam came to stand beside her.
Tam looked after the boat. “To face judgment.”
“You should all face judgment,” Alorica said.
Of all of them, Larkin liked Talox best. “Will he be all right?”
“The incident involved his heartsong, so leeway will be given. And Denan will protect him.” Tam shrugged. “He might lose rank. Maybe even spend some time in confinement.”
“You all deserve worse,” Alorica said.
“Come on.” Denan was nearly out of sight around the curving staircase.
Alorica rested her hand against the trunk. Frowning, she pulled back and started toward the stairs. Larkin fell in beside her. Alorica glanced back at Tam and said under her breath, “What did you feel?”
“Nothing,” Larkin had to lift her skirts to start up the stairs. Moss with tiny white flowers grew in the dips and bends of the tree. In pockets of water, beautiful flowers the size of Larkin’s chest were curled up tight in the shape of teardrops.
“Who will be waiting for us?” she asked Denan when they caught up.
Alorica grunted. “It’s a surprise, apparently.”
“Don’t tell us we have to figure it out for ourselves,” Larkin muttered. “There’s no way we could possibly know.”
“I think I liked you two better when you hated each other,” Tam muttered.
“That’s because you know that if we’d been working together before, we would have escaped,” Alorica said. She was probably right. “Or just killed you all in your sleep, which is still a possibility.”
Larkin studied Denan. She felt more conflicted about him than ever. He had kidnapped her and been so eager to hurt Venna, and yet he was not all monster. He was also a strong, selfless leader who’d been willing to die for her more than once. Killing Venna really would have been a kindness—one she suspected would cost him dearly—and yet, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t taken her in the first place. It always came back to that.
Something flitted past her face—a little bird with a mousy brown body and brilliant copper beak. She gaped at it. She’d seen it before, when she’d followed an overlapping vision of the bird out of the pitch-black river. She followed its flight, losing sight of it in the vast canopy.
Hundreds of birds in every color and size imaginable perched on the branches. Larkin passed a branch, catching sight of a nest filled with eggs of mottled brown rust. Tiny lizards darted, one skimming across the surface of a little pond, which was crusted in white like the large lake below.
Larkin’s legs burned by the time they reached the place where boughs spread from the main trunk, creating a flattened expanse the size of a small field. The roof was beautifully crafted with supple lines, attention given to the slightest details, like the curving vines along the arches and stars in the peaks. The ground beneath her feet was springy with moss. Potted plants grace
d the space, as well as benches that grew from the trees.
It was as different from her hut surrounded by muddy fields as a candle flame was different from the sun. Shame for her ragged clothes and her even more ragged upbringing had her straightening her shoulders in defiance. Beautiful as all this was, it was rotten at its core.
Two women stood on the other side of the platform, their heads bent together in conversation. One of them was enormously pregnant.
Denan turned to face them, Tam beside him. Denan’s expression was conflicted—hope and fear twined together with longing. So many emotions she had no answer for. She stepped closer to Alorica, knowing something was happening, but not sure what.
“I’ve already told Tam and Talox,” Denan said. “And now I’m telling you. No one outside the five of us is to know of Larkin’s magic—not until I say so.”
Alorica narrowed her gaze. “Why?”
“Because she doesn’t need to deal with the repercussions of women’s magic coming back for the first time in over two hundred years, not while trying to adjust to the Alamant as well.”
Larkin rubbed at the prickling on her arm. “What repercussions?”
“The kind that change everything.” Denan faced Alorica. “I will have your word.”
Alorica hesitated, but only to make the pipers nervous.
“I have the authority and ability to make you forget the magic ever happened.”
Alorica blanched. “Fine.”
“Then this is where we leave you,” Tam said, his gaze on the mud caking Alorica’s boots.
Alorica lifted her head. “I hope I never see either one of you ever again.” But Larkin could tell by the way the other girl fiddled with her bracelet that she was nervous.
Why does Denan always get me where he wants and then abandon me? “What happens next?”
He gestured to the two women waiting on the other side of the platform, and they started coming over. “These women will prepare you for the ceremonies tonight.”
Alorica folded her arms. “What ceremonies?”
“One to test you for magic.”
“And the other?” Larkin whispered.
“You already know,” he said softly.
She did. They had been building to this moment for days. He meant to marry her. Larkin flushed hot and then cold. She had to close her eyes against sudden dizziness. Alorica let out a shriek and attacked Tam. They rolled around twice before Tam pinned her, eyes closed against the threats and insults she lobbed at him.
Larkin stared at Denan as he stared back. She knew all the things he wasn’t saying—that she didn’t have a choice in this, that he was sorry for her pain, but he wouldn’t change anything. There was one question she didn’t know the answer to. “How do you expect me to ever forgive you?”
“By giving more than I took.” He stepped closer. “For the rest of your life, you will be judged on how you behave today. Do you want to be remembered as Alorica will?” Denan took out his pipes and played a few notes that took all the fight out of the other girl. Shaking, Tam eased off her as she stared blissfully up at the boughs.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Denan,” Tam said.
Denan tucked his pipes away. “She’ll come around.” The other women had already halved the distance between them. Alorica pushed herself to her feet, refusing to look at Tam, which was better than attacking him again.
Tam stretched his arms out at his sides. “Alorica, you will be happy again. I swear you will.”
“Just go,” she said, voice shaking.
Head hanging, Tam turned and left without another word. Denan lingered. He was still looking at Larkin, his expression unreadable. “I will see you tonight. Until then, you will be well cared for.” He nodded over her shoulder at the same time Alorica let out a cry and ran toward one of the women—Atara, Alorica’s older sister.
Startled, Larkin’s attention shifted to the second woman. Like her brother, she had raven hair and a hooked nose, though hers was covered with a smattering of freckles.
“Caelia,” Larkin breathed. She cut the distance between them and enveloped Bane’s sister in an enormous hug, the other woman’s belly a hard mound between them.
“Larkin, is it?” Caelia patted her back awkwardly. “It is good to see you.”
Larkin pulled back, the relief she’d felt moments before eclipsed by embarrassment. Bane hadn’t talked about Caelia much, but she was always there—a ghost in the periphery of his thoughts. Caelia would only know Larkin as the poor, dirty child who lived on the other side of the river. Larkin swiped at the moisture building in her eyes and tried to get a hold of herself. “We thought all the Taken were dead.”
Caelia gestured grandly to herself. “Yes, well, you can see that we are not.” She stepped closer, looking eager. “Tell me of my father and brother.”
“They’re fine.” Larkin couldn’t tear her gaze away from the mound that was Caelia’s belly. “You-you’re pregnant?” Her hands wrapped around herself protectively.
Some of Larkin’s fear must have shown, for Caelia’s expression softened. “Nothing will be forced upon you.”
Larkin glanced back to find Denan gone, but he would be waiting for her. She whirled back to Caelia. “You let one of them touch you?”
Caelia lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That man can touch me as much as he wants.”
Larkin’s mouth fell open. “He’s your kidnapper!”
Caelia laughed. “He is my heartsong. The father of my three children.”
“Heartsong,” Larkin said bitterly. “It’s a spell to lure us from the town. It tricks us into feeling lies.”
Caelia tipped her head to the side. “Why does it take you and no one else?” Larkin didn’t have an answer for that, and Caelia knew it. “I understand how you feel—cheated and wronged and trapped. I felt all those things, and honestly, you’re dealing with it better than I did.” She gestured to Alorica, who sat on a bench, deep in conversation with her sister. “I dealt with it more like she did—kicking and screaming and threatening—but in the end, I understood. The heartsong isn’t a spell; it’s what your heart desires.”
“I know my desires better than anyone else.”
“Not better than the magic does.”
“You act like the magic is alive, like it has a will and purpose!”
Caelia looked at her with the same look Denan always gave her—the one where he was waiting for her to figure it out on her own.
“The magic is alive?” Larkin whispered.
Caelia smiled. “Of course it is. And today, you get to meet it.” She studied Larkin, her brow furrowing. “Is that my dress?”
“Bane and I . . . We were to be married.”
Caelia sucked in a breath. “Ancestors take me! As if Bane hasn’t lost enough.”
Larkin blinked back tears. “Losing you wrecked him and your father. There has to be some way to let them know you’re all right—that you’re still alive.”
Caelia’s eyes grew distant. “If there was, don’t you think I would have found it?” She wiped a single tear that strayed down her cheek and took a deep breath. “Come with me. There’s still much to do.” She turned on her heel, waddling to the other side of the platform.
Larkin paused when she drew even with Alorica. “Will you be all right?”
Alorica looked up at her with shining eyes. “Atara, this is my friend, Larkin.”
Atara gave a little bow. She had the same dark skin and hair as Alorica, but where Alorica’s features were lithe, Atara’s were round. Atara noticed the bandages on Larkin’s hands. “What happened?”
Larkin and Alorica shared a look. “Rope burns,” Alorica said. “Some . . . puncture marks.”
Atara reached for a bag Larkin hadn’t noticed before. She pushed things around and came out with a little wooden jar. “Rub this on it after you clean it. Do you need me to help you bandage it?”
Larkin took the jar and shook her head. Caelia waited a fe
w steps ahead. “Didn’t either of you try to escape?” Larkin asked.
“Most girls try it,” Caelia said. “The pipers expect it.”
Atara shook her head. “Not me. I’ve seen what the wraiths do to the pipers.” She looped her arm around Alorica’s. “We’ll see you two at the ceremony. I work as a healer, Larkin. You should come see me at the healing tree. I can teach you and Alorica.”
The two of them started away.
“Alorica . . .” Larkin trailed off.
The other girl gave a small smile. “I’ll be all right. I have my sister now.”
Larkin felt a pang of jealousy. She had no family here. Of the sisters she did have, one had betrayed her.
“Come on,” Caelia called. “You’ll see Alorica again at the ceremony.”
Larkin crossed the platform and caught up to Caelia as she started up another staircase. She wanted to ask her something, but she wasn’t sure she could trust her. In the end, she had to trust someone. “Once I get past the wall—”
“You won’t.”
“But if I could—”
“Then you would face the wraiths and mulgars.”
“You’re under the piper’s spell!”
Caelia whirled on her, face red. “Do I look like I’m under some kind of spell?” She lifted her arms. “Do you hear any music forcing me to say this to you? Do you see any pipers monitoring my words?”
“How would you even know?”
Caelia stepped closer. “You already know the answer.”
She was right. Larkin remembered every time Denan had used his pipes on her. The magic temporarily enthralled her, but it didn’t affect her memory.
Caelia whirled back around with a huff. “If you must try it, don’t hurt anyone, and don’t harm any tree. The pipers won’t forgive either.”
The two of them stepped into a room three times the size of Larkin’s home. Scrolling vines and leaves graced the windows and roofs. Arches stood open to the air, letting in the sound of birdsong and a breeze that smelled of growing things. A beautiful vanity and mirror sat off to one side, next to a curtained corner.