Stolen Enchantress

  From the darkest recesses of unconsciousness, Larkin felt a sudden urge to cough. Her body seized, water pouring from her mouth. She gasped in a short, tortured breath, which mixed with the water in her lungs. She coughed again. Spots and blackness sparked before her unseeing eyes. On her third cough, she realized a hand was pounding her back.

  She finally managed to draw a decent breath. The ringing in her ears subsided enough she could hear Bane swearing violently. “Larkin?” He shook her. “Larkin?”

  She was too busy gasping for breath and coughing up water to answer. He shook her again. She shoved him off her.

  He fell on his backside. “Are you going to be all right?”

  She could only nod, her vision coming back gray and spotty.

  “All right. I’ve got to try to find the boat. Stay here.” He took off at a run.

  Larkin spat out the last of the water, and her body relaxed from its locked position. She collapsed on the rocky bank, clarity slowly returning.

  At Bane’s shouting, she tipped her head to the side. He hauled at the submerged boat, fighting to get it out of the current before the river claimed it. Not having the energy to care, she closed her eyes.

  Water splashed her, the cold making her gasp. Bane crouched over her, his eyes pinned on the forest. “Get in the boat.” Something about the way he said it . . .

  She braced herself, pushing up. He wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled her to her feet, water and dirt falling from her. He dragged her backward into the pool at the base of the waterfall, toward the boat, which was now floating.

  She followed his gaze. There were . . . people staring at them from under the trees—people with black lines etched into their gray skin. Black eyes with sickly yellow irises spiked like thistle watched them. They wore crude black armor. One of them hissed at Larkin, its gums black as its eyes.

  “Mulgars,” she gasped. She fumbled to pull up her shield—this was the part she’d known was coming, the part where she had to use her magic to protect Bane—but the mulgars only watched them.

  “Why aren’t they attacking?”

  “Get in the boat,” Bane hissed.

  She struggled to get inside, falling headfirst into the puddle of water at the base—a lot of good she’d be in a fight. Bane climbed in after her, took hold of their one remaining paddle, and pushed them away from the shore. He paddled furiously toward the mouth of the river.

  Larkin kept her shield up, as big as she could manage. The mulgars silently watched them slip past and made no move to stop them.

  “What are they doing?” Bane asked.

  She shook her head, shivering and exhausted. “I don’t know.”

  They finally reached the river, Bane easing up as the boat sped forward on its own. He found a bucket in the chest, which thankfully seemed intact. They bailed out, Larkin barely moving. Bane finally handed her a blanket from the chest. She wrapped it around herself and instantly fell hard asleep.

  She started when Bane shook her awake. It was night, the stars hidden behind clouds.

  “I’ve got to have some rest,” he said.

  She must have slept most of the day away. Blearily, she took her turn. They passed the rest of the night and all the next day this way, seeing no signs of mulgars or wraiths or pipers. The river kept up its relentless pace. They were making good time. Still, she couldn’t help but check behind them every few minutes. She knew what the pipers would do if they caught Bane, but what about her? Lock her back in that cave for months? Banish her?

  It didn’t matter. Finding a way to stop this madness was all that mattered.

  She was resting, watching the boughs arch over her like a roof, their leaves like lace against the gray summer sky, when Bane cried, “Larkin, look!” He sat up in the boat, his finger pointing to something ahead.

  The never-ending splay of trunks and branches thinned, revealing fields beyond, and beyond that was Hamel. She blinked, surprised at the changes she saw.

  A wall of black rocks nearly four stories tall had been built around the town. Gates were open to the north and south. In front of the druid house to the southeast, hundreds of tents had been staked in perfect rows and columns. In the pasture in front of those tents, men in black uniforms and armor drilled to orders she was too far away to hear.

  Bane pushed her shoulder. “Get down. Keep out of sight.” He covered her with the blanket. As they came out of the shadows and into the light, those in the fields spotted a boat coming out of the Forbidden Forest. They pointed, shouting in alarm.

  Larkin’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. She couldn’t catch her breath. She peeked out of the blanket, watching the bank slip by. When she’d left, everything was the previous year’s rot and mud. Now green had taken over the fields and trees. Flowers bloomed, and the air was warm with promise.

  If only those promises had ever applied to her.

  Bane picked up their remaining oar and paddled, his gaze fixed on the soldiers marching toward them at a fast clip. He steered toward a pocket of still water, running the boat partially aground on the bank. “Get to your house. I’ll come for you when I’m sure it’s safe.”

  She wouldn’t be there. She’d done what she came to do—see Bane safely home. Now she would go to her family, let her mother know she was safe and well, kiss her baby sisters. Then she would go back into the forest to wait for Denan to come for her.

  She threw off the blanket and gave Bane a quick hug goodbye. Trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes, she jumped into water up to her knees and pushed the boat back into the river. She watched as Bane paddled on without looking back. Would she ever see him again?

  If she did, she hoped she’d found a way to protect their people from the curse. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen her, Larkin splashed out of the river and wove through the thick willows. Before leaving the cover of trees, she scanned her family’s partially plowed fields. She was relieved her home had withstood the flooding. Weeds had been freshly chopped down, but she didn’t see anyone. Perhaps they’d gone home for lunch? Heart light with hope, she broke into a sprint, coming down the hill.

  “Mama! Mama!” Larkin called toward the house, hoping to catch sight of any of her family—even Nesha. The door opened, and Sela burst out, legs and arms flashing in the sunlight, and threw herself into Larkin’s arms.

  Larkin clutched her sister. The familiarity of the little girl’s bony body vibrating with energy made her weep with relief. “Where’s Mama?”

  Sela shook her head.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Sela pointed back to the house.

  Gathering her tattered courage, Larkin pushed to her feet. “Show me.”

  Sela’s hand fit in hers, much like Wyn’s had, and her sister led her inside. Larkin had to drop her shoulder to open the warped, weather-beaten door. She stepped into the tiny space—she’d forgotten how small their hut really was, how dark and dirty. Her mother lay on the sleeping mat, the baby against her breast. A stew bubbled on the fire.

  “Larkin?” Mama gasped.

  “Mama?” Larkin’s legs lost their strength, and she collapsed. Mama set aside the baby and lunged toward her. They embraced, holding each other so tight nothing would ever pull them apart.

  “You’re alive!”

  “The pipers took me, but they’ve been kind and gentle. Mama, oh, I have so much to tell you.”

  Mama pulled her back. “You were safe? Then why would you come back?”

  “It’s just until tonight.”

  Mama embraced her again and started sobbing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry.”

  Larkin stroked her mother’s hair. “You tried. You did everything you could.”

  “And it still wasn’t enough,” Mama wailed.

  Sela wrapped her arms around them both. Brenna screamed in indignation for having her meal interrupted.

  When they finally pulled back and wiped their eyes, Mama looked Larkin up and down, eyes widen
ing in disbelief at the rich clothing she wore. “If the druids find out you’re here . . .”

  “I’ll leave tonight. They’ll never know I was here.” Knowing the easiest way to explain was to show her, Larkin formed the shield. Her mother gasped, leaning away from the shield like it might burn her. “You have magic?”

  “It’s all right,” Larkin soothed. “Mama, nothing is what it seems—not the pipers, not the druids, not the beast of the forest. My magic isn’t the only kind. There are darker kinds, and they’ve done some horrible things. I can help stop it. I can make things better for everyone, but I have to go back to do it.”

  Mama blinked at her. “Go back to the pipers?”

  Larkin shrugged, letting the barrier dissipate. “I have to change things. After I do, everything will be better—for all of us.”

  Her mother crawled back to Brenna, picked her up, and settled her against her breast. “Things have changed since you left, Larkin. The druids have brought their army.”

  The men in black uniforms. “Why are they here?”

  Mama shrugged. “They’ve been building fortifications, drilling soldiers, stirring up the townspeople. Half the men have joined them.”

  Sela spooned up a bowl of soup and handed it shyly to Larkin, who took it with a smile. Sela fetched her own bowl and sat beside Larkin. Larkin brought the bowl to her mouth and sipped. She was surprised at the flavor—chicken and some early greens with bobbing dumplings. There were also hints of thyme and sage. Where had her mother found the money for such luxuries?

  Larkin set the bowl down. “Where is Nesha?”

  Sela pointed toward town.

  “Why aren’t you talking to me, sweetie?” Larkin asked.

  “She hasn’t said a word since you were taken,” Mama said.

  Larkin’s eyes slipped closed. She had to make this right, so no other child would lose their sisters. “What is Nesha doing in town?”

  Her mother wouldn’t meet her gaze. “She got a job, remember? She cooks and cleans.”

  Larkin blinked in surprise. So that was where the money came from. “Someone hired her?” She left the other words unspoken—Idelmarchians didn’t hire cripples.

  Mama frowned. “She’s been fortunate.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “She sleeps in the servant quarters at work.”

  Larkin relaxed. If Nesha knew Larkin was here, the townspeople would be storming across the bridge, intent on burning her at the stake. Larkin considered asking after Harben, but she couldn’t bring herself to say his name aloud.

  Mama seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. “He lives in town with his new wife.”

  The words were like milkweed sap—all bitterness and poison. Larkin lifted the bowl to take another sip when a knock sounded at the door.

  Larkin froze and carefully set down her bowl of soup. Sela’s head came up, and she looked at Larkin, whimpered, and hid behind Mama.

  “Larkin, it’s me,” Bane said.

  Letting out a relieved breath, Larkin lifted the bar and opened the door.

  “I went to Garrot,” he blurted.

  “You did what?”

  Bane held out a calming hand. “They came to me right after you were taken. Told me if I managed to bring you back, they would protect you.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Her mouth fell open, and she glanced behind him, relieved when she didn’t see a mob storming her house. Was there time for her to make it into the forest before they came for her? “You can’t trust the druids, Bane!”

  He reached for her hand. “The druids—they’re not what you think.”

  She jerked back. “They tried to kill me!”

  He shook his head. “Garrot thought it was kinder than making you a slave to the pipers, but I convinced them I could bring you back, that eventually the pipers’ thrall over you would fade.”

  “I’m not under their thrall!” She sensed movement beside the door. “What have you done?”

  “I’d say he finally understands,” a new voice said. Garrot slid into view. Larkin tried to throw the door shut, but his foot shot out, jamming it open. He forced his way inside. Sela’s open-mouthed, silent screams joined the baby’s vocal ones.

  “I told you to wait, Garrot,” Bane growled.

  She’d been in this position once before with Garrot. Only then, she’d been defenseless. That wasn’t true anymore. She called up her shield and her sword, glorying in the buzz from her arm and wrist. “Get out.”

  “Larkin, please—” Bane began.

  Garrot eyed her magic with a desperate kind of hunger. “I have no desire to discuss anything here. You will come quietly.”

  Larkin shifted to the side, standing in front of her mother and sisters. “I’m done being quiet, Garrot.”

  He tilted his head. “Not yet, I think. I have your other sister in my care, Larkin. Come quietly, and she will remain safe.”

  “There’s no need to threaten her,” Bane said.

  Larkin’s head came up. “Mama?” she asked without turning.

  “It’s true,” Mama said in a horrified whisper. “Nesha has been working for Garrot since before you left.”

  All that Nesha had done, and still Larkin couldn’t let her come to harm. Though it warred with every instinct she had, she let her magic dissipate. Garrot stepped aside and motioned to a cart just beyond the door. “We’re not ready for people to know you’re here yet. Get inside and cover yourself with the blanket.”

  She wasn’t ready for them to know she was here yet either. “I want Bane gone.”

  Bane took a step toward her. “Larkin—”

  “He leaves or I’m not coming.”

  Bane took another step toward her. Garrot caught his arm. “There is time for the rest later. Go to your father. He’s been worried.”

  She felt Bane’s eyes on her. She held her chin high, refusing to look his way. Finally, he left. She waited until he had plenty of time to go before stepping outside. She climbed into the wagon and drew the blanket over her. She had no desire to peek out, no desire to know where he was taking her.

  The blanket was pulled off Larkin’s head. She sat up in the cart. She was in a large barn, a milk cow in one of the stalls. Her arm throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Garrot stood at the end of the cart. She scooted to the end of the wagon and hopped to the ground. “Where is Nesha?”

  “In the kitchen, making our lunch.”

  Her sister had chosen this man over her. Why? What had she done to deserve such a betrayal? Someone else was missing from this little gathering. “And Rimoth and his mad daughter?”

  “I thought this meeting should stay between us.”

  Larkin snorted. At least Maisy wouldn’t be leading the charge against her.

  “I would see you integrated back into this town,” Garrot began. “Your family will receive a monthly stipend equal to that of a lower-level druid—enough to keep them comfortably in a modest house.”

  She blinked at him in disbelief. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been bent on killing her. Now, he wanted to help her? She didn’t buy it. “What do you want in return?”

  Garrot lifted an eyebrow.

  “You wouldn’t help me out of kindness, Garrot. It isn’t in you.”

  “I do what I must, Larkin.” Larkin recognized the phrase—the pipers used it. “I protect my people, as the pipers protect theirs. So, now you need to decide: who are your people? The people of the Alamant or the Idelmarch?”

  Her mouth fell open. “You know about the Alamant?”

  “I am a Black Druid. We know the truth of the forest.”

  She wanted to hit him. “And yet you allow girls to be taken?”

  “Allow?” he growled. “Your pipers haven’t given us much of a choice.”

  “You’ve known all along what’s been happening to the girls, and instead of telling us the truth, you let rumors of the beast take the blame. You let the families of the Taken think their children devoured!”
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  “Rumors we started over two centuries ago.”

  She gasped in disbelief and disgust. “Why?”

  “You think the curse only affects the Alamant?”

  Worried she was going to be sick, she covered her mouth with her hand. “You could find a way to tell everyone the truth.”

  “The truth that their daughters are stolen by men who possess magic, men we are powerless to stop?”

  Men the druids were powerless to stop. “You would have lost all control over us.”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “And I know the secret is safe with you. You literally cannot tell anyone. None of us can, once we learn the truth.”

  She gave him a hard smile. “I can show them.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you will. I think you will do what I tell you.” He held out his arms in a gesture of abundance. “And in exchange, I will give you everything you want. It’s not such a hard bargain, is it?”

  He didn’t have anything she wanted—except complete control of her family. “And in return?”

  “First, tell us what you know of the pipers—their numbers, location, armor, and weapons.”

  She could only think of one reason he would want to know that. “You’re going to war? How? The forest is crawling with wraiths and mulgars. And the pipers are inside a lake behind a magic barrier.”

  “None of that is your problem,” Garrot said evenly.

  Larkin leaned back, trying to pretend her shoulders didn’t ache. She wouldn’t mind the druids going up against the far superior pipers. Perhaps it would teach them some manners. Her mouth came open as the realization struck home. “The night you made me face the crucible—you came out of the forest. You’d just sold me to Denan.”

  “And then he didn’t take you. Caused me all sorts of problems.”

  “Problems like the town turning against me. You knew I was innocent, yet you fed the townspeople’s superstitions and fear. You wanted them to kill me.”

  “No,” he said. “They would have done it anyway—there’s no reasoning with a mob—but I needed their loyalty more than I needed you alive. You had been no end of trouble for me.”