Larkin moved to leave when Sela’s hand gripped her wrist. Her eyes were strange again; they had lost their emerald hue, turning pale in the dimness. “Where light is, shadow cannot go.” Her voice was strange. Whispery and faint.
“What?” Larkin asked in surprise.
“Remember.” Sela’s eyes slipped closed.
Sela often communicated with the tree, but this felt different. It hadn’t felt like Sela was speaking at all. Larkin stared at her, breathing hard. I’m just tired. It’s a trick of the light. But she couldn’t shake her fear—fear that she dared not look at too closely for the truths it might reveal.
Moving fast, Larkin slipped out and made her way to the dock, where Denan, Tam, three other guards, and four of Denan’s pages were waiting for her. She took the seat directly in front of Denan, who took the helm.
They rowed away from the tree’s spreading roots and set the sail, the boat launching forward fast enough to throw her backward. She held the bench with a white-knuckle grip as the wind sent the boat skittering up and down waves that grew larger by the minute.
Above, the sky grew darker with thunderheads. Lightning traced across the heavens, followed by a protracted, rumbling growl of thunder. The boat slammed into a wave, spraying Larkin. She gasped and pulled her cloak tighter. The boat began its laborious climb up the wave, crested, and pitched over the other side before slamming into another wave.
Larkin’s stomach roiled. A fat raindrop smacked her directly in the eye. “We need to take down the sails!”
“He won’t let you die,” Tam said.
Denan tipped his head up, welcoming the rain on his face with a grin, the exhaustion of yesterday completely forgotten. The cursed fool was going to get them all killed.
She grabbed her husband’s shirtfront. “Take down the sails before the whole ship breaks apart.”
He gave her a bemused look. “There’s no chance of that. Besides, we’re nearly there.” He pointed ahead.
Through the rain, Copperbill Island came into view. The wind scoured the island, trees and grass bowing under it and enchantresses ducking into it, their clothing streaming to the side. At the top of the central hill, three large buildings stood unbent by the storm—the few land-built buildings in the Alamant.
Larkin’s relief at sighting land was short-lived, as she bent over the side and heaved her breakfast into the lake. Humiliated, she pushed away from the gunwale. Thankfully, Tam pretended not to notice. Denan handed her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She slumped in relief as her nausea faded.
When they were nearly to the island, Denan ordered the guards to take down the sail and handed Larkin a paddle. “This is the tricky part.”
“Tricky part?” Larkin echoed in a high, disbelieving voice. She gestured to the cresting waves behind them. “What was that?”
“That was the fun part,” Tam said.
Denan dug his oar in. “If we weren’t on the leeward side of the island, we wouldn’t be able to dock at all.”
Without the sail, the boat slowed. Denan called out commands, and they paddled hard. When they were nearly to the dock, Tam threw a rope to the men working the dock and missed.
“We should have brought your grandma,” Denan said. “I bet she could hit it.”
“Shut it!” Tam threw again.
This time, the men caught it, looped it around a piling, and drew them in. A wave caught the boat and tried to drag it back into the lake. The rope and paddlers strained.
“Hang on,” Denan said.
As soon as the wave passed, they sidled in hard. They slammed into the dock. Larkin banged into the gunwale, the breath knocked out of her. She gasped and sat back, her hand going to her chest. The men, all former soldiers, tied off both ends of the boat. The guards stepped out as if nothing had happened.
Denan looked down at her as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. “We used to go out in storms all the time at the academy.”
“Why?”
“Because one day we might have to fight mulgars on the lake,” Denan said.
The idea made her shudder.
“A little mint tea, and you’ll be fine,” Tam said.
She sent him a scathing look, which he accepted cheerfully as he hauled her onto the dock. The men bowed. They all bore signs of old injuries, limps, missing limbs. One appeared to be blind.
Tam directed the guards into position. Larkin and Denan climbed the hill that bisected the island. The first building was the enchantress headquarters. It was rectangular, the walls made of magical barriers. The supports were not elegantly carved, but utilitarian and varnished to an almost black. With all the lampents inside, it resembled a stately greenhouse.
The moment they passed the corner of the building, the wind cut off. Larkin sighed in relief and smoothed her damp hair out of her face. It was warm, but the lake water had chilled her, and she shivered.
The guards fanned out around the door. Denan and his pages went inside the building. Larkin hung back to watch the enchantresses drilling on the field. Moving as one, they flared their sigils. The resulting pulse knocked down the first row of dummies. They rushed forward, stabbing the dummies through the hearts, before charging on to the next group.
Larkin felt a swell of pride and loss, for she would never fight beside them again. When General Aaryn had been injured, Larkin had led these women into battle. Together, they’d knocked their stubborn fathers and brothers on their backsides with that maneuver. Then they’d removed their helmets, letting the breeze flare their long hair to the side. They’d stared down at the men from their families as those men realized they’d been attacking the very daughters they sought to avenge.
Larkin had demanded they stand down.
And they had.
When the mulgars and wraiths inevitably turned on the druids, the enchantresses had fought beside their husbands to save their fathers.
They’d won that battle too. It was the first time in her life she’d felt powerful.
Now, standing on a different hill on a different day, Larkin felt a kinship, a oneness with her fellow enchantresses.
“We are not our fathers’ daughters.” Denan stood behind her. “We are not our brothers’ sisters. We are not our husbands’ wives. We are our own. Warriors who fight for what’s ours.”
“You heard that?” And then made the effort to memorize it.
“I’ve never been prouder of you than in that moment.” He gestured to the women. “They repeat it every morning before drill.”
Her eyes widened. “They do?”
He nodded.
A part of her wished she was still leading them. But it was not her place, any more than restoring the magic had been. The glory would always go to others, but she’d played her part as best she could.
That had to be enough.
“Come on,” Denan said gently, as if he sensed the loss of the warrior she’d been. He probably did. He’d suffered that same loss.
They stepped past the guards huddled next to the building, Tam cracking a joke about one of their broken noses. Inside, there were seven rooms—three on either side with a large room in the center. Light came from the lampents that hung from five great chandeliers. The air smelled of damp soil and sweet blossoms.
The pages lined up with a dozen others against the far wall, all of them waiting for any messages that might need to be delivered. Enchantress commanders worked over a large table in the center.
Larkin took off her sopping cloak and hung it from a peg next to a dozen others just like it. Shivering in her damp clothes, she approached the unit commanders. On the table were maps, ledgers, and scattered papers. The women’s eyes were bloodshot, their fingers stained with ink—they’d been up all night.
“Where’s General Aaryn?” Denan asked.
The conversations cut off, the enchantress commanders bowing as they noted their king and queen. Larkin was surprised to see Caelia among them, her unit commander mantle over her shoulders. After all, sh
e was still in mourning for her father-in-law, the king.
Caelia had the same dark hair and hooked nose as her brother. The eyes were different though. Caelia’s were blue where Bane’s had been a mesmerizing gold ringed by brown.
A beat of sorrow pulsed through Larkin at the memory of the boy she had loved. The boy she had failed to save. Another emotion to stuff in a chest and sink in the lake.
Someday, they would all burst open and drown her.
“Waiting for you in her office, Majesties,” Caelia said.
Larkin wondered if Denan’s mother felt as strange being called General as Larkin felt being called Majesty.
She was relieved when she left the main room for Aaryn’s office with Denan. There were chests and bureaus along most of the walls, bits of cloth or yarn sticking out here and there. Aaryn sat behind her desk, looking nearly as wet as they were. She held a steaming cup of tea in her hands and wore a purple knit shawl around her shoulders, probably the same one she’d started at the council meeting.
She stood when they came in. “Oh, you both look half drowned.” She opened a chest and carefully rifled through the contents.
“Have you found the missing enchantress?” Denan asked.
“Varcie,” Aaryn supplied.
Larkin was relieved she didn’t know the woman.
“She hasn’t been seen since yesterday.” Aaryn pulled out two beautifully woven cloaks. The knotted, three-headed snake of Denan’s house took up the back. She placed one around Larkin’s shoulders and the other around Denan. “I’ve been meaning to give you both these anyway. Had I more time at my loom, they would have been done months ago.”
Beeswax had been rubbed into the fabric to make them waterproof. Larkin had spent every planting barefoot in the mud and soaked to her skin. What she wouldn’t have given for a cape like this and a pair of sturdy boots.
Larkin burrowed into it for warmth. “They’re wonderful. Thank you.”
Denan sat in one of the chairs, draped the cloak over him like a blanket, and tucked his hands under his armpits for warmth—strange, as the man was always hot. “Where have you searched?”
Aaryn shut a drawer and searched another. “Her hometree and the barracks. We started on the edges of the island as soon as it was light. We didn’t want any assassins escaping into the lake. I’m hoping—”
“General,” someone called from the other room. “They found her!”
Aaryn slammed the drawer shut as a young page darted into the room, pulled a damp missive out from under her shirt, and handed it to the general.
Letters
The silence in Aaryn’s office was loud enough to choke on. Aaryn scanned the missive, dropped it onto her desk, and leaned against it for support. “She was my best unit commander.”
Denan leaned forward and picked up the missive.
“What happened?” Larkin asked. Maybe it was an accident. A foolish hope. But maybe.
Aaryn seemed incapable of answering.
Denan swore. “He was my trainer at the academy.”
Unable to stand the suspense for another moment, Larkin snatched the missive.
The search party had followed two sets of tracks across the island. The first set was Varcie’s. The second belonged to her weapons trainer—another ardent. Varcie had tried to hide from him in a bunch of rushes. A fight ensued. She killed him, but he’d mortally wounded her. She managed to drag herself nearly a league before she died.
Aaryn hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the girl was one of their best.
Aaryn sank into her chair. “She was so eager to prove herself—first in the ring and the last to leave. Her trainer would have known that.”
“So the ardent killed her early last night?” Denan asked.
“Must have,” Aaryn said.
“She repaid the favor before she died,” Larkin said.
A fierce pride shone in Aaryn’s eyes. As there should be. Varcie was ambushed by someone she trusted. But even dying, she’d managed to take down an ardent. And now she was gone. They’d have to replace her with someone lesser. Curse the wraiths.
Denan stared into nothing. “King Netrish, Alorica, Sela, and now Varcie.”
“They’re picking off our most powerful,” Larkin said. “Our leaders.”
“Alorica was only a guard,” Denan said.
Larkin’s instinct was to defend her friend, but Denan wasn’t trying to insult Alorica. Only stating a fact.
“Perhaps they thought Alorica and Tam were you and Larkin?” Aaryn said.
The thought of Alorica losing her baby and facing death in Larkin’s place knocked the breath from her. She should have seen this coming. Should have realized Maisy wasn’t an aberration. That other ardents like her were possible.
“The wraiths are demonstrating abilities we’ve never seen before,” Aaryn went on. “All these long centuries, they’ve been holding back. Until now. Why?”
Denan glowered. “Because they knew that as long as we had the White Tree, they could never completely defeat us. They’ve been biding their time.”
And now the tree was dying. Memories swarmed Larkin. The taste and feel of rot as their king caught her. The sucking sensation as he dragged her into the shadows . . . She shuddered.
We’re not going to win this fight, she thought. Not against creatures who can never die. Not without the White Tree.
If Denan and Aaryn were thinking the same thing, none of them said it. It simply wasn’t the kind of thing one said.
A page stepped inside. “General Gendrin and his commanders are here. They’re removing their weapons now.”
“He’s late,” Aaryn mumbled as she pushed to her feet.
Larkin and Denan stepped into the main room. The enchantress commanders were clearly crestfallen—with tear-streaked faces they were trying to hide. One of their own was dead. A woman they’d trained with and strategized with and fought with.
Caelia stood with her back to them at the windowpane, watching the enchantresses drill in the rain.
“Varcie knew what being an enchantress meant,” Aaryn said. “We all do. Cry if you must, but don’t let your enchantresses see you scared.” She looked at each one in turn until they met her gaze and nodded. “Now, what are we going to do so this never happens again?”
“Set a watch,” Caelia said.
“Build a watchtower,” said another.
“See both begin immediately,” Aaryn said.
“We should have set a watch after the king’s death,” a woman muttered.
Aaryn whipped around and fixed the woman with a sharp stare. “Why didn’t you bring that up at the time?” She didn’t look away until the woman did. “You will oversee the watchtower, Nelury. Fail, and you lose your command.” She waited.
The woman shifted her weight ever so slightly.
“I’m waiting,” Aaryn said.
“Understood, General,” the woman said.
It was strange to see Aaryn as a commander. When Larkin had met her, she’d been a wife and mother. A woman who took great pride in her weaving and her two children. And now, she led all the enchantresses. But she hadn’t tried to change who she was—she still knitted and wove. And she didn’t put up with people disrespecting her.
Why couldn’t Larkin be more like her?
Gendrin stepped in, half a dozen men filing in after. His eyes were a little less lost, if still bloodshot. But his shoulders were back, and he moved with purpose.
He bowed to Denan. “The first two boats of my men are docking now. All they know is they’re here for training exercises. More will be arriving throughout the day.”
Denan nodded in approval.
Aaryn motioned to one of her pages. “Bring the enchantresses in.”
The boy ran out. A few minutes later, over a dozen enchantresses came into the room. They were mostly dry, so Larkin guessed they’d been waiting in the barracks.
“Everyone know what they’re doing?” Aaryn asked her commanders.
<
br /> A chorus of “Yes, General,” and her leaders started moving. The commanders took three enchantresses and split into each of the four rooms. Caelia moved into Aaryn’s office.
Gendrin’s men looked about in confusion.
“What’s going on, sir?” one asked.
“Training exercise,” Gendrin said.
The men exchanged uneasy glances.
Aaryn stepped close to Gendrin and dropped her voice. “My commanders will test your men. If they’re clear, they’ll take over. All goes well, and we’ll expand to testing more men in the other buildings.”
Gendrin nodded.
Denan moved toward the door. “We’ll start with Tam. He hasn’t been tested yet.”
If anyone is human, it’s Tam, Larkin thought. Denan must have thought along the same lines, or he would have insisted the man be tested earlier.
Gendrin directed four of his men into the other rooms and followed the last one in.
Denan and Tam returned, deep in conversation.
“Do you think his wife suspected he was an ardent?” Denan asked.
It took Larkin a moment to realize they were referencing Varcie’s killer, or rather, the man he’d once been.
Tam wiped a drop of water off his nose; he was making a puddle on the floor. “Maybe we shouldn’t have played all those tricks on him.”
Denan chuckled. “He was furious when we put all the birds in his office.”
Tam sniffed. “How were we supposed to know he’d be gone for two days?”
“Gah,” Denan said. “I still gag every time I smell bird droppings.”
Light, how much troublemaking did these two get into at school? Larkin shook her head in disbelief. “So that’s why Aaryn is a good commander. She kept you two in line.”
Denan tipped back his head and laughed.
“Anyone who could manage those boys could handle an army.” Aaryn pointed to her office. “Go, so you can see how it’s done.”
Inside, Caelia sat at Aaryn’s desk with a ledger open in front of her. Three enchantresses waited in the wings. They’d removed all but one chair, which sat in the center of the room.
“Name?” Caelia asked.
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