by Amber Argyle
She looked back at the house—the image ingrained in her memory: her mother sobbing and reaching for her, Sela curled in Nesha’s arms, Nesha doing her best to shield her sister, her expression blank, as if she’d been broken. Her father lay sprawled out on the ground, dangerously close to the fire.
“I love you!” Larkin screamed. Their last memory of her should be of defiance and devotion. She’d never see them again. The door slammed shut.
The ground was freezing. Her feet grew numb and clumsy. When she stumbled, Hunter pulled her up and marched her across the bridge, water pouring over their feet.
She was surprised how many people waited for them on the other side—nearly half the town turned out. They bore torches, their faces frightened or angry or pitying. The baker sold salted bread and dried apples to the gathered crowd. “Hot bread, fresh from the oven. Dried apples from last harvest!”
“Our seeds are rotting in the ground,” one man cried, and others fell in with the same complaint.
The cobbler’s wife spat on Larkin’s skirts. “All my little ones are sick.”
“The forest is angry!” her sister cried. “She demands sacrifice.”
The cobbler’s wife had lost her own daughter to the forest last year. How could she wish the same fate on another daughter, another family? A group of boys lobbed fistfuls of mud at her. Larkin ducked, wincing as one hit her chest, cold mud oozing down the inside of her shirt.
Hunter drew his ax and faced the boys down, his expression frighteningly fierce. “That will not happen again.”
The crowd stilled. The boys brushed muddy hands on trousers. Hunter glared at them before leading her on again. Garrot hung back so he walked beside Rimoth, directly before Larkin.
“Did you have to get them quite so riled up?” Garrot asked in disgust.
“Righteous indignation,” Rimoth said fervently. “Why should they suffer because of this willful girl?”
“Willful? This was not my doing!” Luckily, she had a lot of experience holding back her tears. She refused to let them see her cry. Instead, she spat at Rimoth, hitting him in the back of the head. “The forest take the lot of you, and may the beast suck the marrow from your bones!” It was the strongest curse she knew.
“Silence her,” Rimoth hissed.
Kenjin tugged out a handkerchief and made to tie it across her mouth. She bit him. He yelped and cuffed her head. She glared at him through the ringing in her ears. Lightning fast, Hunter punched the other man in the stomach. Kenjin doubled over, all the breath leaving his body and coming back in a strangled wheeze.
“She will not suffer more than is needful,” Hunter ground out. “She will hold her tongue now.” His black gaze met hers, demanding obedience. “Courage, girl. Don’t let them see your pain.”
How could he show compassion while leading her to the crucible? Still, he was right. Larkin squared her shoulders. She knew how to deal with pain, how to hold her tears until no one was looking. She lifted her chin and gave a curt nod. Hunter hauled her past the town, coming toward Venna’s hut—nearer the forest than anyone’s, save Rimoth’s.
Venna’s grandfather, Vyder, peered out of his house, Venna peeking out from behind him. “What’s the meaning of this?” he called to the people streaming past.
“Larkin faces the crucible,” Kenjin said as he mopped the wet from his forehead.
For half a moment, Venna’s pitying eyes met Larkin’s before her grandfather slammed the door shut and latched it. The women and children hung back around his hut—fear of the forest ran too deep.
When they’d finally reached the forest’s outskirts, the crowd thinned to only three dozen people—a good number of grown men wouldn’t willingly come this close to the trees. Garrot held out his hand for those remaining to hang back as he strode toward the forest. “Bring her to me.”
Hunter guided her forward. She studied the Forbidden Forest. The Curse Tree stood like a dark tower in the night. Beneath it, stakes taller than her had been pounded into the ground. Chains and manacles gleamed in the torchlight. The shadows of the boughs shifted as they sang their enchantment. She would not pass this night alone, of that she was certain. But whether Denan would come for her or the beast, she wasn’t sure.
Shivering and wet, she held her head high as she strode to the center of the stakes, faced the forest, and held out her hands. Hunter stood before her and tugged at the knot binding her hands, which gave with surprising ease. The chains clinked as he shifted them. He locked her wrists in the manacles, the key shrieking in the rusted lock. The cold metal bit unforgivingly into her. He stepped back as she stood with her arms splayed, unable to take a step in either direction.
“Sometimes the innocent must pay for the sins of the guilty,” Hunter whispered.
“What does that mean?” Larkin asked, disgusted at his self-righteousness.
Hunter stepped back as Garrot approached to drop a key on a leather cord around her neck. He adjusted it so it was visible in the center of her chest.
Larkin stared at the dangling key, water dripping down its length. “What need has a beast of a key?” She dared him to deny Denan was coming for her.
“Perhaps not all beasts have claws,” Garrot said. “Survive the night, and I’ll marry you to the lord’s boy.” Garrot looked over the crowd. “Go home, lest the beast take you by mistake.”
The crowd grumbled and grudgingly dispersed. Larkin stood straight and tall long after the sounds of their leaving had been lost to the rain and the forest’s call.
Sometime in the darkest part of night, the rain stopped. A vapor rose from the ground. She could feel the press of it against her bare skin. It muffled sounds and left Larkin completely blind. She shivered violently. The manacles leached what little warmth her body dredged up. She knew when the numbness and cold wore off, her arms would ache something fierce. Still, she marched in place, knowing she could freeze to death before morning came.
Exhausted as she was, sleep wasn’t a temptation. Denan would be coming for her soon. She was honestly surprised it had taken him this long.
At the rustle of grass and the snap of a twig, she stiffened and strained to hear anything in the gloom. Then she heard it—the slog of a foot releasing from the mud—but it wasn’t coming from the forest. Heart pounding, she tried to look over her shoulder, but she couldn’t make out anything. “Who’s there?”
“Larkin?”
She blinked in surprise. The voice was soft and feminine, familiar. “Who’s out there?”
The steps came closer. “Larkin?” the voice said again, and this time, she recognized the speaker.
“Venna?”
Someone brushed her back in the darkness. Larkin shied away from the touch; touch always meant pain.
“I would have come earlier,” Venna said breathlessly, “but it took forever for Rimoth to fall asleep. Here, step on this.” She came around to stand before Larkin, resting something hot and heavy before Larkin’s numb toes—a fire-baked rock, generously wrapped in rags.
Larkin obeyed, a moan slipping from her mouth at the heat. Her feet tensed and cramped, simultaneously curling around and repulsed by the unfamiliar warmth. “What’s Rimoth doing at your house?”
Venna tugged off her cloak and wrapped it around Larkin’s shivering shoulders. “Standing watch. Some of the men are even sleeping on our floor in case you try to escape.”
Larkin laughed bitterly. How could she possibly escape?
Venna’s trembling finger searched out Larkin’s lips. “I brought soup. It’s not much, but it’s hot.”
Larkin opened her mouth, swallowing the trickle of soup. It was thin, but it warmed her from the inside out. She finished it in a dozen swallows. “Thank you.”
“I wish I could do more.” Venna’s voice shook—no girl willingly came this close to the forest, especially at night. “Throw the rock away when they come to unchain you so they don’t know I came.”
Larkin felt her presence moving away. “Why are you he
lping me?” she whispered, desperate not to be left alone again.
Venna hesitated. “Because it could easily be me in your place, could have been any of us, except maybe Alorica. I imagine her father would buy his way out of it.”
Despite everything, Larkin laughed. “Venna, you don’t know what this means. I—Thank you.”
“I should—” Venna’s voice cut off at the sound of a loud cry and a struggle from the Forbidden Forest.
“Go,” Larkin hissed. Venna vanished, followed by the fading sounds of her slogging steps. Trapped, Larkin huddled under the cloak still warm from the other girl’s body heat.
Larkin heard movement to her right, along with ragged breathing and staggering steps, and then a thump. If only she could see something! Still, she would not be found like this, helpless as a baby bird fallen out of its nest. She might not be able to run, but she would still fight, when the time came.
Agonizing minutes passed. She froze as she felt a presence before her face, close enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.
“They’re giving you to me?” Denan said softly. “One of their most prized possessions, presented like a bird in a cage.”
She was certainly not anyone’s prized possession. She squeezed her sore palm and tried to get the magic to rise inside her again, but there was no reassuring buzz. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
She tensed, let her arms take her weight, and kicked out with her right leg. Her shin connected with his side. He grabbed her firmly behind the knee and held her tight. She balanced precariously on the rock. The manacles dug painfully into her wrists. Her one chance, and she’d blown it.
Denan drew her closer, so she was practically straddling him, the warmth from his body invading hers. His fingers brushed against her neck. “No magic this time? Why?”
“Let me go.”
He grabbed the cord around her neck and tugged the key over her head. His hands slid along her arm, the key fumbling for the lock before it opened with an unholy shriek.
Suddenly free, Larkin pitched back and wrenched herself from his grasp. The remaining manacle swung her to the left. The edges dug in deep. She tried to jerk her hand through the opening. Warm blood ran down her chilled skin.
“Will you force me to dart you again, Larkin?”
Then she truly would be at his mercy. She looked for him, wishing she could see through the impenetrable darkness. “I’m supposed to let you take me?”
He sighed. “Even if you wanted to, you can’t go back, Larkin.”
Trembles overtook her—bone-deep, teeth-rattling trembles. She clenched her teeth to keep them from giving her away and jutted out her chin. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
He stepped closer, gently took hold of her hand, and removed the last manacle, but he didn’t let go. She could feel him, coiled tight in case she struck out or tried to run. Still, she couldn’t help it. She jerked her hand back even as she whirled and took a single running step. Fast as a lightning strike, he had both arms around her chest, his grip firm. She struggled, trying to break free.
“Last chance, Larkin.”
Lying helpless for the next full day . . . She forced herself to relax. She’d known this was coming, and she couldn’t see any way out of it. “Why are you doing this?”
He didn’t ease his grip. “Why are you fighting so hard? I saw you with the amulet. It showed you what you needed to see.”
She cringed away from his breath against the back of her neck. “I didn’t see anything!” A lie. It had shown her something—diving into turquoise water. But what did that mean?
“Maybe you should try again,” he said.
“I gave it to the druids.”
He gasped in disbelief. “No, you had to have recognized it. You connected with it. I saw you!”
Anger rolled off him. She tensed, waiting to feel his fists. “What did you expect me to do with it?”
“The amulet will tell you.”
Larkin could still feel the turquoise water’s kiss against her skin. “You’re as crazy as Maisy.”
He turned her around to face him, which was pointless. She couldn’t see anything in the dark. “If you knew the value of that amulet, you would not have given it up. There is only one like it in all the world. You have to get it back.”
“Why would I do anything for you?”
He hesitated. “I’ll let you go.”
Everything within Larkin stilled—her body, her lungs, even her very heartbeat waited breathlessly. “Only to try to take me again.”
He released her and took a step back. “I will make a vow, Larkin, to never force you into the Forbidden Forest.”
Her knees buckled at the mere chance at freedom. “Why would I trust you to keep this vow?”
“It’s either that or come with me now.”
She didn’t trust him. “After all this to get me into the forest, you’re going to let me go over an amulet? Why?”
“Who said I’m letting you go?”
“You just said—”
“You might not come with me tonight, Larkin, but you will come. We have the same heartsong, and you have a destiny. I am willing to wait a bit longer.”
Her destiny was her own making. “I will never willingly come to you, piper, but I will accept your vow. It might take me a few days to retrieve the amulet—Garrot has it.” The thought of taking something from that particular druid made her shiver with dread.
“Bring me the amulet, Larkin. Should you find yourself in need, squeeze it in your hand so it pierces the skin and think of me. Help will come, I swear it.” There was genuine worry in his voice, as if he was concerned for her welfare.
“You mean you will come?”
He didn’t deny it.
She scoffed. “I would never call for you.”
“I already saved your life once tonight. Why not again?”
She took a step back. “What?”
“Did you not hear the beast fall?”
“The thumps I heard earlier?”
“The forest is swarming with gilgad coming out of hibernation. The druid . . . Well, I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to let him spend the night helpless to the elements and the forest. After all, it’s what he did to you.”
One of the druids had watched her this whole time? Had he seen Venna? A full-body shudder took her. “Who is it and what did you do to him?”
“Get the amulet, little bird.” She sensed Denan backing away from her, easing into the shadows from whence he’d come.
Larkin stood for a beat. She wanted so badly to run, but there was nowhere the druids wouldn’t find her. And if she left one of them to die, what would happen to Bane and her family?
She turned and stumbled through the dark toward Venna’s house.
Hand out to keep her from plowing into anything, Larkin staggered in the pitch black. Eventually, she heard the soft grunt of pigs—Venna’s house. Rimoth was supposed to be on sentinel duty. Larkin changed course, moving toward the manure smell and animal sounds.
When she heard the animal’s faint breathing, she stumbled into a fence and used it to orient herself toward the house. She hadn’t taken two more steps when she tripped over something in the dark and landed in a sprawl across legs and mud.
“By the beast,” someone burst. “What is going on?”
“Rimoth?” Larkin recoiled off him, scrubbing where her outer thigh had touched him.
“What are you doing free of the crucible?”
Larkin hesitated. If she told the druids Denan had let her go, they would want to know why. She couldn’t tell them it was so she could steal the amulet back. She jumped to her feet. “Hunter is hurt. He needs help.”
Rimoth grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. “Ho the house!”
Sounds came from their right, and a door was thrown open, revealing a faint glow of ember light. A beat later, a handful of men spilled out, bleary-eyed and carrying weapons.
“What is it?” H
orace asked, what remained of his hair standing on end.
Rimoth jerked his thumb back at her. “The girl says Hunter is hurt.”
“Start some torches,” Horace said to his son. Torches were shoved into the fire’s embers. They flared to life, making Larkin squint. Horace started toward them. His eyes widened at the sight of her bloody hands. “Who let her free?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Rimoth’s eyes narrowed on her.
“Hurry,” Larkin said. “There are beasts in the forest.” Just then, Venna peered out at Larkin from behind her father. Larkin still wore Venna’s cloak. She could only hope the men wouldn’t notice. “Come on.”
Rimoth jerked her back to him. “Is this some kind of trick, girl?”
“Trick?” She wanted to punch him, but that would involve touching him more than she already was. She settled for glaring. “What kind of trick involves me coming to you?”
He shoved her away. “Fine, but if it is some kind of trick . . .”
Larkin didn’t wait to hear his threat. She turned on her heel and ran toward the forest. The men fell in behind her and quickly surpassed her. They entered the Forbidden Forest without hesitation, as if they knew exactly where Hunter was. Larkin faltered on the outskirts, unwilling to go inside, even with the druids ahead of her.
They found him a half-dozen steps inside and gently turned him. Horgen took off his cloak to settle over him. Had Denan darted him? Killed him? Rimoth sent three more men to fetch a team and wagon, then turned to Larkin.
In three strides, he’d shoved her into the Curse Tree, his forearm pinning her collarbone. “What did you do to him?”
She pushed against his arm. “Nothing!”
“Liar! How did you get free? Who helped you?”
Larkin shoved him away, snatched a stick, and held it out like a sword. He eyed her warily. She almost wished he would charge her so she could use it.
“What is the meaning of this?” Garrot galloped bareback across the fields. He slid from the animal’s back and crouched beside Hunter. He searched him for some kind of wound, finding a bloody mess of flesh on his right calf. “I’ve seen this before. He’s been bitten by a beast.” He bent down and sniffed Hunter’s breath. His eyes closed in relief. “Get him back to the house.”