by Lori M. Lee
Roots and branches all converge at once. Prince Meilek shouts my name again as I throw up my arms, my craft blazing, shielding me. Some of the trees’ sharp edges scatter into dust, but most slice past me, barely brushing my magic. Behind me, the queen lets out a hair-raising scream.
I whirl in time to see roots close around the queen’s throat. Her scream becomes a strangled choking, and then there’s a wet, gruesome snap. The queen goes limp.
“Mei!” Prince Meilek shouts. Before he can take two steps forward, I snatch up my sword and fling it. The point slams into the earth at his feet, startling him back again.
Branches snag my arms, dragging me off my feet. I let them, watching in horror as they also haul the queen’s corpse into the Dead Wood, thick roots wrapping around her waist and legs.
My craft burns through the branches ensnaring me, but they’re replaced by more just as quickly. The Soulless’s power surges through the trees, blistering beneath my skin. I grit my teeth. How is this possible? The queen’s body slowly rises from the ground, the branches lifting her until she almost appears to be standing before me. Her head lolls on its broken neck.
The queen’s eyes open, and I flinch. They’re empty, the brown irises flat, the whites veined with red.
“Sirscha,” she says. The word is a strangled, scraping sound.
Terror bleeds through me, taking hold of my ribs and filling me with icy dread. I swallow and whisper, “I released your familiar.”
The branches squeeze my arms, stinging skin. It worked. The talisman lies broken in the tall grass, empty of its charge.
The queen releases a rattling cry. “You killed him.”
Him. My breaths grow quick and frantic.
The terrible truth constricts my chest. “It wasn’t your familiar, was it?” I ask. “Who were you keeping in that talisman?”
The queen hisses, lips pulled back over bloodied teeth. “I meant to restore him, but you’ve ruined everything.”
With a soft, horrified exhale, I say, “Your brother.”
When he tore his brother’s soul, he must have held onto it even through the mindless grief and destruction. Somehow, by whatever strength of love or desperation, he kept his brother’s soul from passing on and created a talisman for it. For safekeeping, for the day he could give back the life he took.
“Is it so impossible?” the queen croaks in that shattered rasp. “You and I might have been strong enough to restore him. But you killed him.” The branches squeeze tighter. I grit my teeth against the pain. My bones feel ready to snap.
“I didn’t kill him. You did.” Sharp edges slice into my skin, drawing blood. “I gave him peace. I want to give it to you too.”
“I will never know peace. I am tethered, bound by the souls just as I bind them. My soul is too fractured a thing to exist without the trees.”
It’s nearly impossible to think through the pain and the shock, but something about his words lingers. Back in Mirrim, Priestess Mia said that they’d experimented with soulrenders to alter the nature of their bond, including binding themselves to more than one familiar in an attempt to amplify their magic.
Could it be possible that the Dead Wood is his conduit? Kyshia had mused that the Soulless had done something to his soul to make himself invulnerable. After the experimentation he endured at the Temple of Light—the ways in which his magic has changed, no longer bound by the rules of our craft—is it so unbelievable that he might have the ability to bond with more than one familiar?
“The trees are your familiars,” I say. I want to be sure. No more guessing. No more mistakes.
A branch snakes around my waist, squeezing so hard that my ribs crack. I gasp through my teeth, the pain singing through every nerve and muscle.
“Yes,” the queen hisses. “So long as the Dead Wood exists, I cannot be stopped. But you, Sirscha Ashwyn, are just a girl. I could pull you into the trees and make you my own, just another soul bound to mine, raging against your bonds.”
The bitter taste of fear coats my tongue, but I swallow it down. “You’re too far away.”
The branches constrict around me. I scream through my teeth, head thrown back. My magic pulses against the crushing limbs and they fracture into dust, freeing me. I fall, stumbling as my feet hit the ground, but the Soulless’s magic doesn’t relent. I duck a branch and then roll to avoid another that stings my cheek, breaking skin.
Roots rise around me as branches descend to form a tangled cage of earth and bark. With a furious cry, I slam my boot against the roots and focus my magic inward, expelling the Soulless’s attempt to grip my soul.
The cage shatters. The Soulless’s magic withdraws. I press my fists against my aching stomach, breathing hard as if I’ve just fought a long battle. My entire body hurts, blood dampening my sleeves where the trees tore through cloth and skin.
Queen Meilyr’s body sinks to the earth, the roots wrapped tight around her, delicate spidersilk spilling between the dead limbs.
“You and I are the only ones left,” she says. Behind her, the bowels of a tree yawn, revealing a wet black pit, stinking of rot. Hands push from within the bark, ready to accept the addition to their forest. “Without you, I am the last. But your betrayal will be paid. Every soul I take, every fool waiting for you to save them will be the cost.”
My fingers unfurl, nails digging into my abdomen. I’d told the soldier at Spinner’s End we would save them somehow. “Taking innocent lives only proves you’re the monster the Empire made you to be.”
The queen’s mouth stretches into a terrible grin as the trees drag her body into the black crevice. My stomach heaves against my lungs at the wet, sucking sound.
Faces rise from the depths, squinting through the bark as the tree swallows the queen up to her neck, and the Soulless speaks through her one last time. “When the world burns down around you, leaving you no ground, you will come to me.”
Emerging from the Dead Wood, I find Prince Meilek waiting. He doesn’t look at me. He watches the Dead Wood, eyes wide and red-rimmed, as if expecting to see his sister walk out after me.
I don’t know what to say. All I can offer is, “I’m sorry.”
He inhales sharply, and his gaze meets mine. The pain there is so stark that my own breath catches. I look away.
“Where is she?” he asks in a whisper.
I don’t reply because it would be pointlessly cruel. He already knows. His trembling hands curl into fists. Everyone is silent, even the remaining soldiers. He lowers his head, eyes squeezing shut, something damp tracing a line down his cheek.
There’s nowhere to grieve in private, and no time either, but I move past him to return to Yandor.
After a moment, once he’s gathered himself, Prince Meilek joins me, and I treat Yandor’s wound with herbs and bandages we find among the queen’s supplies. The Queen’s Guard and the remaining soldiers don’t stop us. Some even help, murmuring things like, “My prince,” or “Your Highness.”
Prince Meilek doesn’t acknowledge their words. His eyes are now dry, but his grief is plain to see. Still, he can’t break down when he’s the only leader Evewyn now has.
Once we see to all of our various injuries, we decide Sab Hlee would be our nearest bet for finding food and shelter, if it’s not abandoned.
Although it takes hours with Yandor injured, we arrive at the encampment to find it still occupied. Ronin’s former soldiers greet us warmly, but the camp has a quiet, solemn air to it. They explain that while some soldiers returned to their homes, most had no homes to speak of. So they’d remained, banding together to wait out the impending war.
Prince Meilek offers them all a place within Evewyn should they choose, and then we set about the task of alerting everyone to what’s happened. We send a falcon north to Falcons Ridge, asking Lord Phang to gather his reiwyn neighbors and lead them south. Their support will be needed when Prince Meilek returns to Vos Talwyn to claim the throne. We also send a falcon to Kou to return the ships to Needle Bay, thi
s time under a flag of peace.
Once everything’s settled, I’m eager to find a bed. A shadowblessed soldier shows me to a recently vacated tent, and I’m grateful. Exhausted, mentally and emotionally, I’m asleep the moment my head hits the pillow. My dreams are blessedly empty, save for the distant scratching of fingers against a door as if the souls of the Dead Wood are still trying to reach me.
Sometime later, I awaken to Saengo pulling back the blanket to climb into the small cot with me. When I start to rise, she presses a palm to my shoulder and I gladly sink back into the warm blanket.
“What time is it?” I ask, my voice hoarse with sleep.
Saengo laces our fingers together. “A couple of hours until dawn. Theyen brought me by shadow gate as soon as we received the news. Are you okay?”
My eyes drift shut again, but I can still picture the queen’s corpse as she delivered the Soulless’s warning that my betrayal would be paid for. “I messed up again,” I whisper.
“No one could’ve guessed whose soul was in that talisman,” she says. She’s always so poised, even in the worst of times. “If you messed up, then we all did.”
I sigh, and she scoots closer on the thin mattress, resting her cheek against the side of my head.
“Theyen had to leave again to report the news to his mother in Penumbria. He’s concerned with how the Empire will react once it’s known Prince Meilek is sheltering you.”
For a heartbeat, anger chases away the cobwebs of sleep. “I’m Evewynian, and they have no power over shamanborn. Queen Meilyr was their enemy, and now she’s dead.” I’ll send a falcon in the morning to the Ember Princess. If House Yalaeng thinks they can attack Evewyn because of me, then they need a reminder that I know their secrets.
Saengo sighs lightly. “Well, you’re already a wanted criminal in the Empire. Might as well embrace it.”
I smile, but the Empire’s secrets have done enough damage. For now, the peoples of Thiy need to be made aware of the danger lurking within the Dead Wood. If we manage to survive the Soulless, then the Nuvali must be told the truth about House Yalaeng. What they do with that truth will be theirs to decide.
But I put away that worry for another time. I don’t want to think about whether the Empire will punish Prince Meilek for my lies, or whether Theyen’s alliance with the Ember Princess can be salvaged, or whether either kingdom can set aside their differences to face a common enemy.
Right now, all I want to do is sleep and feel relief for Saengo’s safety—and Prince Meilek’s and Theyen’s. This strange, unexpected family that I wasn’t given, but that chose me all the same.
“Did you send a falcon to my father?” Saengo asks. I nod. “Good. Once Theyen returns, we’ll join with him and return to Vos Talwyn.”
My chest tightens at the hope blossoming in her voice, the smile I know she’s wearing.
She whispers, “We’re going home, Sirscha.”
Home. Pain and longing wrench within me. I want it as desperately as she does, every bit of my soul aching for it.
But there is no going back to the way things were. I don’t want what we had in Vos Talwyn. I want something better. And we will never have that until the Soulless is defeated.
Every soul trapped within the trees is a conduit. I suppose I’ve always known what must happen, known the impossible task I must face before Saengo can be safe—before the kingdoms can know peace.
I must destroy the Dead Wood.
END OF BOOK TWO
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is the part where I try to find something profound to say, but as I write this, all I’m capable of finding within me is gratitude.
Infinite gratitude for Ashley Hearn, who is both an editorial genius and a delightful geek. Thank you for taking this journey with Sirscha and for lighting my way whenever it was needed (and it certainly was needed). I’m also immensely grateful to the Page Street team for all the time, effort, and love they put into the creation and promotion of this book—I’m blessed to know that Sirscha is in such good hands.
For Suzie Townsend, who has been my champion from the start. Thank you for going above and beyond, and for always being a voice of reason when I’m being perhaps a bit dramatic. I’m so very grateful to have you, Dani, and the entire New Leaf team in my corner.
For Mindee Arnett, who has also been on this journey with me from the beginning. I can’t wait to see where we go from here.
For my Fellowship: Lyn, Patricia, Audrey, Emily, Imaan, and Aamyra. You make me smile every day, and I’m so grateful we met. That’s one thing Naruto did right!
For my family, who are my best and fiercest cheerleaders.
For the educators, librarians, and booksellers—where would Sirscha and I be without you helping to put her into the hands of readers? Thank you for what you do, for loving books, and for sharing that love with others.
There aren’t enough words to express my gratitude for my readers. I hope Sirscha’s story resonates with you in whatever way you need, and that she can return even a small measure of the love you’ve shown this book. Thank you for sharing your time with Sirscha and for accepting her into your hearts. Thank you for giving her a place where she can return home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lori M. Lee is the author of Forest of Souls (Shamanborn #1), Gates of Thread and Stone, and The Infinite. She’s also a contributor to the anthologies A Thousand Beginnings and Endings (Greenwillow/Harper) and Color Outside the Lines (Soho Teen). She considers herself a unicorn aficionado, enjoys marathoning TV shows, and loves to write about magic, manipulation, and family. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband, kids, and an excitable shih tzu.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Newsletter Sign-up
Copyright
Copyright © 2021 Lori M. Lee
First published in 2021 by
Page Street Publishing Co.
27 Congress Street, Suite 105
Salem, MA 01970
www.pagestreetpublishing.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
eISBN-13: 978-1-64567-211-1
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020945229
Cover design by Laura Benton for Page Street Publishing Co.
Cover illustration by Charlie Bowater
Cityscape and spiderweb vectors © Shutterstock
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