Stolen Enchantress

  “You’re terribly bruised.”

  A pitcher of water sat on a side table. Thirst hit Larkin instantly. Following her gaze, Magalia poured her a glass. Larkin drained it and then shifted her feet out of the bed, surprised at the dark circular bruises marring her pale skin. She pushed herself up, which sent a pulse of pain through her. She wavered on her feet.

  Curious, she went to the pitcher, poured water in the bowl, and peered into the rippling surface. The whites of her eyes were bloodred, bruises coursing up and down her neck. Wincing, she peeled off her tunic and studied the bruises that covered her entire body. “This should hurt more,” she told Magalia.

  “I’ve given you something for the pain.”

  She took little steps to correct her balance as she made her way back to the bed, sat, and held her spinning head in her hands.

  “Your sigils are forming nicely.”

  Her wedding sigils curled like vines around her hands and wrists. The flower on her upper arm was almost finished. She could make out markings on her right hand and left forearm too. “What happened to Bane?”

  Magalia hesitated. “Is that his name?” Larkin simply waited. “He’s alive.”

  “And will he stay that way?” Her voice trembled.

  Magalia smoothed out invisible lines in her long tunic. “That hasn’t been decided yet.” She headed toward the ladder. At the top, she rapped her knuckles against the trapdoor. Hinges groaned, and light shone down. She looked back at Larkin. “I’ll be back with something for you to eat.”

  Larkin curled around the blanket, trying not to think, to worry. Whatever medication Magalia had given her made her drift. Larkin wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the other woman returned with steaming soup and some tea.

  Larkin eyed the food warily. She didn’t feel hungry. “I thought you couldn’t cook in the Alamant.”

  “You can on the islands.”

  “I don’t want any more of that medicine.”

  “This one isn’t as powerful as before,” Magalia said. “And you’ll need your strength.”

  Something about the way she said that made a well of dark dread rise within Larkin. She forced herself to eat the soup and drink the tea, and she had to admit she felt better afterward.

  When she was finished, Magalia handed her trousers and rose to her feet. “Come with me.” She started up the ladder.

  Larkin didn’t move from the bed. “Where?”

  “The king is waiting.”

  Larkin’s throat went dry. “King?”

  Magalia gave her an encouraging look. “There’s no reason to drag it out any longer than necessary.”

  There were plenty of reasons.

  “Bane will be there.”

  Larkin put on the trousers and hurried up the ladder, coming out to blinding sunshine. After she blinked away her tears, she found herself on a small island inside a copse of trees. A man stood guard a little ways off—Tam. She hadn’t recognized him with his mantle and beautifully carved spear.

  He offered her an encouraging nod.

  “Larkin,” Magalia said with a touch of impatience.

  Larkin turned to find the other woman waiting for her a little ways down the hill. Wiping her damp hands on her tunic, Larkin wound through trees covered in pink and white and purple blossoms, the air heady with their sweet fragrance. Petals drifted down whenever the wind blew, catching her hair and carpeting the ground beneath her feet. Tam stayed right beside her, his steady presence surprisingly comforting.

  “Where’s Denan?” she whispered to Tam.

  “Waiting for you at the king’s tree,” he whispered back.

  They left the trees and climbed into a waiting boat manned by four sentinels. As soon as they were seated, the men unmoored and paddled toward a large tree on the opposite side of the inner circle from the tree she shared with Denan. Larkin had to squint at it in the sunlight, the iridescent flashes of color blinding her.

  When the boat docked, Larkin glanced up where she knew the platform would be. She couldn’t help but wonder if they hung people from the great boughs spreading above her. Her dread grew so strong she couldn’t make herself climb out of the boat. Her breaths came hard and fast, sweat collecting to run between her breasts.

  “What will they do to me? To Bane?”

  Tam’s hand on her shoulder was gentle. “I’m right behind you, Larkin.”

  “I’m frightened.”

  “Denan won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He didn’t say anything about Bane. The boat shifted around her. Tam took hold of her arms and pulled her to her feet. “One step at time.”

  She nodded, leaning on him as he helped her out of the boat. She did as he suggested—one foot after another she ascended the steps circling the king’s tree.

  One hundred and twenty-seven steps later, Tam paused. “From here on out, I can’t walk beside you. Keep your head high. It will be better for you and Bane if you remain dignified.”

  She cast pleading eyes up at him, silently begging him to help her.

  He looked frustrated, even a little annoyed. “If you’re so afraid of the consequences, why did you run?”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” she whispered. “Bane wouldn’t leave without me. I didn’t know what you would do if you caught him.”

  Tam squeezed her arms. “You didn’t let the druids beat you. You didn’t let a mob beat you. Ancestors, you didn’t even let us beat you. Are you really going to crumble before the king?”

  His words soaked in drop by drop. She took a deep breath and rose to her full height, chin out.

  Tam nodded approvingly. “Good. Now, march up there.”

  She turned on her heel, took a steadying breath, and strode up the incline. She paused to look around her. A small crowd of a few dozen people had gathered. On the other side of the platform, the king sat on his raised dais. He eyed her disdainfully, his fingers interlocked and resting on his large abdomen.

  Denan stood behind the king, his hands at his sides, feet spread like he was ready for a fight. He’d promised whoever had hurt his mother would pay.

  “Larkin!”

  Despite everything Tam had told her, her head whipped around, finding Bane on his knees to the right of the king. His hands were bound, and two sentinels held him down as he struggled. Her gaze raked him for injuries. He seemed fine, better even, as his hair had been cut and his scruff shaved. His clothes had been washed, and it appeared he’d had a bath as well.

  A gentle hand settled on the small of her back. “Don’t,” Tam warned from behind.

  Larkin gritted her teeth and silenced every instinct in her screaming to run to Bane. She forced her gaze away, and after a moment, Tam stepped back. She scanned the gathering of people. Aaryn was there, the bandages along her neck and face the only ones visible. Mytin stood beside her, a look of betrayal on his face. Larkin was glad Wyn wasn’t here. She walked through the crowd and came to a stop before the dais, five or so steps from Bane.

  “Bane of Hamel,” Netrish said. “How did you come to invade our sanctuary?”

  Bane stiffened and said nothing.

  Netrish leaned forward. “Answer or you will be forced to answer.”

  Bane stuck out that stubborn chin.

  Sitting back, Netrish waved at a sentinel standing off to the side. He brought his flute to his lips and played, the notes clean and sharp, demanding truth and promising safety.

  Larkin immediately covered her ears. “Bane,” she warned.

  He gave her a confused look, his eyes already glazing over. His face went slack. Despite her efforts, the music wormed into Larkin.

  “Bane, tell us, how did you come to the Alamant?” Netrish asked again.

  “I sneaked into a boat while the men were off on patrol.”

  “And were you the one who set our trees on fire?”

  Still fighting the pull of the music, Larkin’s head snapped up. Her gaze locked on Bane, silently begging him not to admit to it.

  “Yes.
”

  Netrish’s fat chin lifted, his mouth tight. “Did you know there were people in the tree—a woman, a child?”

  Bane shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Just another boy who will grow into a man to kidnap our sisters and daughters, and any woman willing to birth more monsters deserves to burn.”

  Larkin couldn’t seem to get enough air. Dreading what she would see but unable to stop herself, her gaze slid to Aaryn. Tears ran down her cheek as she stared at Bane. Mytin’s hand rested on her good shoulder, but his gaze was fixed on Larkin, his expression unreadable. She looked away, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the pain Bane’s words had caused.

  “And the fact that Larkin nearly died in the same fire?” Netrish went on.

  Bane’s gaze snapped toward her. “What?”

  “It’s a miracle she survived,” Denan ground out.

  “Larkin,” Bane said softly. “I would never hurt you.”

  She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t deal with feeling like she was being torn in two.

  “Fire is forbidden within the Alamant.” Netrish’s voice rang with finality. “But to willfully set one, hoping to kill the innocent, is unforgivable.”

  “Please.” Larkin’s body softened with pleading, her arms outstretched. “He lost his sister, and then me. He was trying to save me. We were to be married. He’s been my best friend since we were children. What would you do if someone took your wife from you? What lengths would you go to get her back?”

  “He is not being punished for coming after you. He is being punished for setting fire to a tree and nearly killing five people,” Netrish said.

  “Please, just let him go home,” she said.

  Netrish’s gaze shifted back to Bane. “What would you do if I let you go?”

  “Come back with an army,” Bane said.

  Larkin winced.

  The crowd murmured. Netrish turned to Larkin. “Larkin, did you have any knowledge of the fires before they began to burn?”

  “No.” She couldn’t have held back her answer even if she’d wanted to.

  The whole room relaxed. “And did you,” Netrish went on, “ever strike the wall with an ax?”

  “No.”

  Netrish sat back in his chair as if disappointed by her answers. “By all reports, you were settling in beautifully. You seemed content, happy even. Why did you try to escape?”

  “I wasn’t trying to escape. I was trying to help Bane, but he wouldn’t leave without me.” The words were out of her before she could think to stop them, drawn out by the music.

  Netrish rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Escape attempts are not unusual—indeed, they can be expected from strong-willed girls—but we cannot tolerate when a girl puts herself at unnecessary risk. The lethan nearly crushed and drowned you.”

  Larkin gripped her hands together to hide their shaking. “I wanted to help Bane.”

  “Larkin, no girl has ever escaped the Alamant. Even if you did, wraiths and mulgars lie in wait beyond the gates. You must accept that you have a new family now, a new life, where you are loved and valued.”

  She lifted her chin, looking him in the eye to let him know she wasn’t afraid, though she trembled on the inside. “But never free.”

  Netrish sighed and waved his hand. The music trailed off. “I sentence her to underground confinement for a week.”

  “She’s done what any decent person would have in her circumstances,” Denan said. “It is unjust to punish her for it when the other girls are not.”

  Netrish looked over his shoulder. “You aren’t king yet. Now, take her back to the island.”

  The effects of the song were wearing off in earnest. It was over. Bane had been found guilty. Only his punishment awaited. “What are you going to do to him?” she asked.

  “That is none of your concern,” Netrish said.

  “This isn’t right,” a voice rang out.

  Larkin started at the source—Aaryn. “The boy thinks you all monsters. And who can blame him? You stole his sister and his fiancée. He was only trying to take her home.”

  Larkin couldn’t wrap her mind around the woman protecting the man who had nearly killed her and her son.

  Netrish’s face turned red. “He nearly killed your son!”

  Mytin tried to pull her back, but Aaryn shook him off. “For the Idelmarchians, this is war! He was fighting the pipers on the terms you all set.”

  Netrish’s face darkened to an alarming shade of purple. “You know very well the Alamant is all that stands between both our peoples and ruin. Our men die out on the battlefields while the Idelmarchians only lose a few daughters a year. Forgive me for not pitying them.”

  “We didn’t know that,” Larkin spoke up. “To us, the pipers are the monsters in the stories our mothers tell us to keep us in line.”

  Netrish sipped from a goblet a servant brought him. “Denan, take your wife to the island. Mytin, take your wife to your tree. If you cannot manage, some of my guards can help you.”

  Denan leaned in and said something to his mother before coming to stand beside Larkin, gesturing for her to precede him back the way she’d come.

  She backed away from him. “Wait,” she cried, unable to meet his gaze. “What will they do to Bane?”

  Denan took hold of her arm, his grip gentle but firm. She finally met his eyes, noting a new hardness, as well as worry and fear. “You’ll make things worse for him, Larkin.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  “If they think Bane has ruined your chances for integrating in the Alamant, his sentencing will be harsher.”

  All the resistance leaked out of her. She allowed herself to be led away. She locked gazes with Bane until the crowd moved in, blocking her view.

  Larkin paced back and forth in the small cave, six steps in each direction. Arms crossed and leaning against the ladder, Denan watched her, face expressionless.

  “What will they do to Bane?” she asked again.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to help him.” When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. “Please.” Still, he didn’t answer. “The law about never lighting fires, he didn’t know!”

  “It’s still the law.”

  “Please, there—”

  He stalked toward her, and she staggered back from him. “He nearly killed my entire family, Larkin! He’d seen me with them earlier and knew it would draw me—and you—out into the open. He did it on purpose, and he didn’t care who he hurt.”

  “Do you blame him?” she choked out. “The pipers took his sister and his fiancée! What would you do in his place?” At his frustrated look, she softened her tone. “Denan, there has to be something you can do.”

  Denan let out a long sigh. “I’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

  She nodded, latching onto his words like a drowning woman to an offered hand.

  “I’ll be back to let you know as soon as they decide.”

  She went back to her pacing, from one end of the room back to the other, ignoring her aches and bruises. It was hours before Denan returned, looking haggard.

  “What? What did the king decide?”

  Denan lifted his eyes, and the look in his gaze—the terrible knowing.

  She reeled. “What are they going to do to him?”

  His gaze slowly softened. Sick horror spilled from the top of her head down her limbs. She shook her head, wails bubbling up in her throat. “You can’t! You can’t!”

  He held his hands out, palm up. “I’m not doing anything, Larkin. I—”

  She grabbed the front of his tunic in her fists. “You have to stop them, Denan! You can’t let them kill him!”

  He gently covered her hands with his own. “I already tried.”

  “Please. I love him.” Hurt flashed across Denan’s eyes, and he turned away. She forced herself to release her hold on him. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll act like a wife. I’ll bear your children. Please.”

  “I wouldn’t want you l
ike that,” he said softly. “Not as payment for some kind of favor.”

  “If you don’t,” she said, voice trembling, “I’ll never forgive you.”

  He took a step back, and she knew that he wouldn’t help her.

  “No wonder Magalia hates you. Instead of saving her husband, you killed him.”

  Denan went ashen. He staggered back and leaned against the ladder, his eyes screwed shut. She’d hurt him. She’d wanted to hurt him—to lash out and hurt someone like they were constantly hurting her. She was not sorry, even though her pain wasn’t his fault.

  “The best I could do was make sure my men were guarding you two,” he said, his breathing haggard. “So you could say goodbye. He deserves to hear his sentence from you.”

  They hadn’t told him? Her hands covered her mouth. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and her legs buckled. She collapsed into a boneless pile on the dirt floor. She was cold and hot, sweating and shivering. She tried to picture a world without Bane in it—a world where his gentle teasing and raven hair didn’t exist, a world where he would never take her in his arms, the smell of earth and mist washing over her with the sure knowledge that everything was going to be all right.

  Denan crouched before her, watching her with a helpless look in his eyes. When the wave of grief had spent itself, she felt numb and distant. She pushed herself up. Denan turned away from her and climbed the ladder. Forcing herself to focus on the fact that she was about to see Bane, she climbed after him. A mere dozen steps away was another trapdoor, Talox beside it.

  She hadn’t seen him since they took him away in the boat.

  Talox took one look at them and groaned. “Denan, I already lost rank and just got done running patrols for a week straight.”

  “I’m your commanding officer, not Netrish.” Denan rested a hand on Talox’s shoulder. “She needs to say goodbye. It’s a kindness.”

  Talox looked between them and nodded reluctantly. Denan opened the trapdoor and nodded for her to go.

  “What do I say?” she whispered.

  “The truth.”

  Shocked he was letting her go alone, she hurried down. Bane was in a room almost exactly like hers. He was propped up on the bed, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other drawn up, one hand wrapped around it. He looked up when she came down but made no move toward her. She halved the space between them and stopped, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle.