“Bane?” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking.
He looked away and wiped surreptitiously at a tear spilling down his cheek. “Do you know what they’re going to do to me?”
Something wrenched within her. The beast take her, she couldn’t tell him.
Bane read everything he needed to know from her expression. “I’m going to die for burning down a couple trees.”
“You almost killed three people, Bane.”
“Almost and dead are different. I needed a distraction.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “They’re the enemy, Larkin, or have you forgotten that?”
“The woman who defended you to King Netrish—you nearly killed her and her son. She’ll bear the scars of it her entire life. How is she your enemy?” Her legs felt weak and her head light. She slumped down where she stood. “I almost died too.”
“Larkin, I never would have done it if I’d known you were going to be there.” When she didn’t respond, he hauled himself up and came to sit beside her, resting his forehead on the point of her shoulder, a reversal of the way they’d sat as children.
“There has to be a way out of this,” she said. “A way to get you home.”
“Not without you.” Pulling back, he looked at her. “And not without my sister. Have you seen her?”
Averting her eyes, Larkin shook her head. “Not for a few days.”
“She probably doesn’t even know, and they’ll never tell her.” Bane’s eyes hardened with fury. “It’s the spells they weave with their music. They have her under their thrall—like that damned piper has you under his.”
She winced but didn’t argue. What was the point?
Bane took her hand. “If something happens to me, you have to promise me the two of you will escape.”
It bothered her that he’d brushed aside Caelia’s children as if they didn’t exist. “No girl has ever escaped them.”
He made a half-strangled sound. “Larkin, I can’t leave you with them.
Above them, the trapdoor squealed open. “Time’s up, Larkin,” Denan said.
Bane jumped up and was halfway up the ladder when a spear point appeared, pointed right at his throat. “She’s not yours,” Bane seethed. “You stole her.”
“I want you to know I spoke up for you,” Denan said.
“Is that what you’re telling Larkin so she won’t hate you?”
Denan sighed. “Larkin, someone is coming. There’s very little time.”
She glanced up to see Bane looking at her with such possessiveness that something inside her recoiled. He strode across the room, wrapped her in his arms, and claimed her, his lips bruising against hers, his arms too tight around her bruised ribs.
She tried tell him no, to push him back, but he was beyond listening.
Half a second later, he was ripped away from her. Denan held him, one arm across his shoulders, one under his arm. Bane struggled and cursed. Larkin couldn’t catch her breath. She staggered toward them, not sure what she meant to do.
Talox approached her, gently steering her toward the ladder. “Magalia is coming back with your supper,” Talox said. “And if she catches you here, she could report on all three of us. It won’t go well for anyone, especially Bane.”
“What more could they do to him?” But she forced her legs to move. Bane whirled and kicked. “Stop!” she chided him. He bucked and threw his elbow back at Denan. “Stop it!”
Talox pushed her up the ladder. “Denan can handle him. Let’s go.”
Bane went limp. Larkin cried out in horror.
Denan looked up at her, face red, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. “He’s unconscious, not dead. Now, hurry up.”
Not dead yet. Tears streaking down her cheeks, she hustled up the ladder and peered through the trees, making out a hooded figure in the distance. Larkin hurried back to her own cell. Denan lifted the trapdoor to shut it but paused when he saw her watching him.
“When?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
At the sounds of a struggle coming from above, Larkin shot out of bed. Though it was the middle of the night, she hadn’t been able to sleep. She hurried to the ladder and looked up as the trapdoor swung open. A shadowed face looked down at her. “Larkin, come on.”
She blinked in disbelief. “Alorica?”
“Hurry up!” the other girl hissed.
Larkin shot up the ladder. It was darker than she’d ever seen it in the Alamant, the stars hidden behind black clouds. Alorica hurried through the copse, gleaming blue and green flowers lighting the way.
Larkin ran after her. “What’s going on? Where are we going?” She stopped short at the sight of two more cloaked figures.
“Larkin,” Bane said in a relieved voice. He pulled her into his arms and squeezed, her sore ribs barking in protest.
“What is she doing here?” a fourth person said from behind them. Larkin could make out the planes of her face in the light of the lampent she held. At first, Larkin didn’t recognize her, but that pale skin, the raven hair. “Caelia?”
She glared at her brother. “Denan won’t ever stop hunting her. If you want your freedom, you have to leave her behind.”
Bane crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving without her.”
“You foolish, stupid—”
“I’ll go with him and protect him. Make sure he reaches Hamel safely.” Larkin at least owed him that. “Then I’ll come back with Denan.”
Caelia threw her hands up in frustration. “And what makes you think you can protect anyone?”
Larkin let her shield flare, her sword materializing in her hand.
Caelia’s mouth fell open. “Every piper in this place will come for you once they know about this.”
“And I’ll return with them willingly.” Larkin expected Bane to argue. He didn’t.
Caelia considered her a long moment. “Your mother saved my life once. After this, we’re even.”
“Saved your life? When?” Bane asked.
Caelia’s head dropped, and she turned away from them.
Bane grabbed her arm and pulled her around. “Saved your life from what?”
Caelia tried to squirm free, but he wouldn’t let her. “I was pregnant!” All the fight drained out of her. Shocked, Bane let her go and stepped back. “I didn’t know who the father was. I started bleeding, and the bleeding didn’t stop. Papa found me like that. After everything I’d done to him, he didn’t turn his back on me.” Caelia wiped a tear from her face. “Pennice never told a soul.”
And when Larkin had been in trouble, Mama must have called in the favor. Feeling uneasy, Larkin turned to Bane. “Did your father tell you to marry me?”
Bane shrugged. “He asked me if I wanted to.”
She breathed out in relief.
Caelia spun on her heel and marched away. “I won’t let my brother die,” she muttered to herself. “They’re fools to think I would.” She led them through the trees, quick on her feet despite her enormous belly.
Still reeling from shock at the revelation, Larkin hurried to keep up. “What about Tam? Denan?”
“I took care of Tam,” Alorica admitted. “Wasn’t as hard as you might think.”
When Larkin looked back at her, Alorica shrugged. “All I had to do was kiss him. He completely forgot he was on guard duty.”
“You darted him, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Alorica admitted gleefully. “Fool smiled and said in the end he came out the winner, whatever that means.”
Caelia laughed. “The kiss—that’s how they get you. This time next year, you’ll be having his babies.”
“We’re not all as soft as you.”
“We’ll see,” Caelia said. They reached the docks and climbed into a waiting boat. “Keep your movements smooth and even. We don’t want to agitate the water.”
They pushed into the lake and started paddling. Larkin stared at the black water with flecks of glowing colors, waiting for the bloom
of red tentacles beneath them. She broke out in a sweat, her breathing coming faster and faster until her head was spinning.
“The lethan doesn’t attack boats,” Caelia said.
Larkin still couldn’t calm down. At the first tree they came to, they pulled up at the dock, and Larkin practically jumped off the boat.
“Follow me. Stay silent,” Caelia said. “Don’t touch any flowers.”
They hurried up the stairs, careful to keep their garments from brushing against the plants and setting off a ripple of color. When they were halfway up the tree, they stepped onto one of the bridges.
Caelia pulled out a handcart loaded with flatbread. “Alorica, take the boat at the dock back to your tree and then push it into open water.”
“Why?” Alorica said in a bored tone. “It’s not like Tam doesn’t know it was me.”
“He won’t tell,” Caelia said.
“Alorica’s not coming with us?” Bane asked in disbelief.
Larkin couldn’t make out Alorica’s expression in the dark, but she was sure it was scathing. “And leave this place? I’m free to learn my own trade—one that pays quite well, once I’m past the apprenticeship. Tam treats me like a queen. He’s already given me a ring with five different gemstones, and the finest cloth makers in the Idelmarch couldn’t come close to matching the luxury of their fabrics.”
“Ancestors, you’re shallow,” Bane said.
Alorica shrugged. “You’re just mad you’re no longer the best catch around.”
“What about your family?” Larkin asked softly.
Alorica hugged Larkin goodbye. “Tell them Atara and I are happy. It’s all my father ever wanted for us.”
Larkin didn’t know what to say to her enemy turned ally. What would the king do to her if he discovered she’d helped them? “Will you be all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” Caelia answered. “Tam will make sure of that.”
Still, Alorica hesitated. “I want you to know I’m sorry, Larkin, about Venna. I should have listened to you.”
Larkin couldn’t get any words around the hard knot in her throat. Alorica turned and slipped back into the shadows.
“This next part is the riskiest,” Caelia said. “Use your magic to cut through the wall. There’s a boat waiting for you on the other side.”
Bane took hold of Caelia’s arm. “You’re coming with us.”
She rested her free hand protectively on her belly. “No, Bane, I’m not.”
He stepped closer. “I didn’t come all this way just for Larkin. I’m not leaving without you.”
“I have two sons.” Caelia’s voice wavered. “I won’t leave them.”
“Bring them with us.” Bane’s voice was far too loud.
Caelia shushed him. “I know this will be hard for you to understand, but this is my home now. I love my husband. I love my children.”
“What about Papa and me?” he said, voice tight. “Don’t you love us?”
“Of course I do. But that isn’t my life anymore. Besides, I have to distract the guards so you can make your escape.”
“This is ridiculous!” Bane growled. “You’re coming with us.”
Caelia jerked free from his grip. “Head for the mouth of the river and don’t stop. You’ll need all the lead I can give you.”
“Caelia—”
“I’ve made my choice, Bane. If you try to force me, you’ll only get yourself caught.”
Bane ground his teeth.
Caelia hugged him hard. “Don’t stop in Hamel. Find another town, change your name, and start over.” She ushered them into the handcart, covered them with a blanket, and settled a basket filled with loaves of bread on top of them. “If they do catch you . . . Bane, do whatever you must to escape, but, Larkin, don’t fight them. They only lock up the girls who try to escape, but if you hurt someone or one of the trees . . . Just don’t.”
Before either of them could respond, Caelia started off, the wheels moving in oiled silence. Through a crack in the blanket, Larkin watched as they crossed bridges that connected the trees, sweat running in streaks down her face.
Finally, they came to a bridge that led to the outer wall. She reached out for Bane, and he took her hand in his. Caelia stepped into the light of the bridge and started across.
She’d reached the halfway mark when a voice rang out from the tower. “Identify yourself.”
“Caelia. I’ve come with food for my husband, Gendrin, and his company.”
“You may pass,” the sentry replied, clearly pleased.
Caelia started back across. As soon as they were under the tower, she jerked off the blanket, pulled out a rope from the base of the handcart, hooked it around an arch, and let it drop. “Hurry.”
Bane took hold of her arm. “Caelia—”
She hugged him hard. “Go.” She led the handcart away.
Larkin looked down, down, down. If she fell into that water . . . The lethan rising toward her, red tentacles spreading. Closing her eyes, she swayed unsteadily.
Bane pushed Larkin to the rope. “Go.”
Steeling herself, Larkin swung out over nothing, hands slick with sweat, and started down, Bane right behind her. The light was so low she had to make her way mostly by feel. By the time they’d neared the bottom, her arms were shaking and her ribs were on fire.
When the water was nearly lapping at her feet, Bane said, “The boat should be waiting on the other side. Use your magic.”
Larkin concentrated on the thorn in her right hand and the one on her arm. The barrier bloomed into her sight as the sword formed in her hand. It sliced through, and the wood curled away, leaving a circle large enough for them to crawl through.
Bane climbed through first, then held the boat steady while she climbed in after him. She took up one of the leaf-shaped oars. “No splashing. It will make the water glow.”
Slow and steady, they inched their way across the lake toward the river. The current took hold. Larkin looked back, at the trees with glowing flowers like stars between their branches, at the water that gleamed with life. Beyond the wall, the White Tree glowed in the night. A pang sounded in her chest like a tuning fork, longing vibrating through her limbs.
“Larkin?” Bane asked.
She turned her back on the Alamant.
Larkin and Bane spent the entire night paddling through the lazy, fat river. She couldn’t help looking behind them every few minutes, convinced the pipers would appear at any moment. They never did.
By midday, she was so exhausted from lack of sleep over the last three nights and her muscles were so overworked that she could barely hold up her head, let alone the paddle. The thorn in her arm was a dull throb she was starting to think would never go away. Thankfully, the current picked up, and the paddles weren’t as necessary.
“We have to rest, or we won’t have any strength if they do show up.” Bane jerked his chin toward a chest tied to the bottom of the boat. “What’s in there?”
Larkin barely had the strength to lift the lid. What she saw made tears inexplicably well in her eyes. She held up the irregular fruit. “Gobby.” She tugged out something that was wrapped up, pulling back the cloth to reveal the dense travel bread of the pipers. “There’s a hooked spear for fishing too.” Not that Larkin had any idea how to use it. She lifted out a beautifully carved water gourd.
She passed him some food and water and settled down to eat. Bane bit into his bread, his gaze dark. Larkin knew him well enough to know what he was thinking. “Caelia had her reasons.”
His jaw bulged. “She’s still under their spell. It’s the only explanation.”
“I told you before, it doesn’t work like that,” Larkin said gently.
He cast her a suspicious look. “You would say that if you were still under their spell, wouldn’t you?”
She wasn’t, but she didn’t feel like arguing. She would see him safely back to Hamel, then she was returning to the Alamant.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Ba
ne chucked the gobby rind into the river. “Finish eating, then we better paddle some more if we have any hope of outrunning them.”
Arms aching, Larkin lifted her paddle again. The river narrowed, the gently sloping land rising until walls of rock encased them on every side. White caps crested the waves, boulders lying in wait beneath. Larkin pushed off from a boulder and frantically paddled for the center channel. The prow dipped. A freezing wave slapped Larkin, leaving her gasping and soaked. The boat surged upward, heading toward another rock.
She lifted her paddle to push off, but her sluggish arms didn’t move fast enough. They slammed into it so hard her teeth rattled. She tensed, waiting for the boat to come apart. Instead, the craft careened sideways, tipping dangerously.
“Lean to the right!” Bane cried.
She held on to the opposite gunwale, arms shaking with exertion. For a moment, the boat hung precariously. Helpless, Larkin lifted her head to the heavens, praying to her ancestors for help. Far above, a rope stretched down one side of the ravine. This was where they had crossed to escape the wraiths, where Venna had fallen to the river.
The boat slammed back down, sending another freezing wave over them. They spun, careening off rocks and bouncing over waves. Larkin paddled with all her remaining strength. She’d finally aligned the prow downriver and back in the center channel when Bane shouted, “Larkin!”
She followed his pointing finger to see the river disappear in the distance—a waterfall.
She’d sat beside the falls while Denan told her about the curse. How could she have forgotten? She desperately paddled backward, but the river had them now. The paddle slipped from her exhausted fingers, the river pulling it away from her. It spun and dipped before shooting off the edge. Gripping the gunwales, she watched helplessly as the boat tipped, open air beneath them.
“Venna,” she whispered, the word like a prayer on her lips. “If you can hear me, please help us.”
And then they were falling.