by Amber Argyle
Bane ignored her. “It’s forbidden to hit a woman with child.”
The constable dragged Harben away—the word of the lord’s son standing as judge and jury. She watched. Perhaps it was worth telling the whole town she was pregnant if it meant her father was punished for what he’d done to Nesha. But Larkin mentally stumbled at the thought of her sister—how she’d betrayed Larkin’s trust.
“Leave him alone!” Raeneth cried, trying to pry the constable off.
He glanced down at her rounded belly. “Fornication is punishable too.” He motioned for her to precede him. All the fight drained out of her.
Larkin turned her back on them and pushed outside, dragging Bane with her. Once they were out of earshot, she whispered, “I was with you last night in the woods, if anyone asks.”
“Where were you, really?”
“Returning that blasted amulet.” She quashed her guilt at the fact that it now hung over her navel. Bane nodded. More important things to worry about. “Find Nesha. Make sure she gets back to the house. If she won’t go, tell her Mama is having the baby.”
“I know where she is,” he said. Nesha had gone to him for help. Good. At least she had some sense in her.
Larkin pulled up her muddy skirts and sprinted through the town and over the bridge, water bubbling around her ankles. Over the sound of the river, she could already hear her mother’s pained cries.
Sometime after twilight, Larkin wiped the gore from the baby and laid her gently in her mother’s arms. “What will you call her?”
Mama’s face lit up with joy. “Brenna, after my great-great-grandmother.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
Her mother suckled the child. “She was a determined woman—like this girl must be if she is to survive.”
“Don’t say such things,” Larkin said. “She’s a perfectly healthy baby. Everything will be fine.”
“Papa won’t like it,” Nesha said.
Remembering what she’d seen at the tavern—the secret look her father had exchanged with a very pregnant Raeneth—Larkin bristled. “Why should we care what Harben thinks? He a lazy, no-good, lying, stealing, cheating . . .” She sputtered as she ran out of insulting names. “I hate him! I hate him, and I’ll never speak to him again!” She deflated, all the fight draining out of her. She’d lost something—something that should have been hers, but it wasn’t. It never would be.
Mama sighed in exasperation. “Nesha, take the afterbirth and bury it beneath the Curse Tree. Tie up a ribbon asking the forest to curse your sister.”
Nesha smiled smugly at the honor. “Yes, Mama.” She wrote on a bit of ribbon, took the bowl with the afterbirth, and disappeared outside.
“Larkin,” Mama whispered. “How long have you known?”
Larkin washed her hands. “About what?”
“Raeneth.” Larkin stiffened and turned to her mother in surprise. Tears slipped down Mama’s drawn cheeks. “If she delivers a son, he will grant me a divorce.”
More than anything in the world, Harben wanted a son, and he would throw the rest of them away to get one. Larkin should be past the hurt, but there it was—an icy, achy feeling that spread through her muscles. “Good. We’re better off without him. I hope they beat him senseless.” Fifty canings for infidelity, delivered over two days, plus whatever he got for beating them.
“He will take his caning, as you have, then petition for a divorce. He will get it and the land. I’ve taken care of you and Nesha, but the little ones . . . I was hoping you and Bane would adopt the baby as your own. Perhaps take Sela as well. At least until I’ve saved up enough money to rent a room in a small house.”
Larkin’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “No. You will all come live with me and Bane. There is more than enough room in that old manor.”
“What if Daydon doesn’t agree?” Her mother’s voice was very small.
Larkin took her mother’s hands. “He’s a good man, Mama. They both are.”
Hope entered her mother’s eyes for the first time in a long time. Larkin went about cleaning up. Nesha stomped back inside, soaked through. Larkin glanced at the sky behind her; dark wasn’t fully upon them yet. She had time to stop in at the lord’s house.
“That was fast,” Mama said.
Larkin reached for her cloak. “I’ll go talk to Daydon and pick up Sela.”
“You won’t be going anywhere tonight,” Nesha said as she wrung out her own cloak. “The bridge has washed away. I buried the afterbirth on this side of the river. The curse will have to wait.”
Larkin jerked open the door to see for herself. In the dying light, she could make out the churning river with no line of old, creaky wood dividing it in two.
Mama groaned. “Blast. Now we’ll have to use the coracle every time we need to go into town. We’ll worry about that in the morning. For now, let’s get some sleep.”
Mama gave Larkin a look that said she’d better not tell Nesha what they’d talked about.
From her place beside the door, Larkin woke to a cold, wet shock to her right side. Gasping, she bolted upright. In the ember light, she saw black water rushing in from under the door. Nesha yelped from beside her and sat up, water dripping from her hair. The fire hissed steam before gutting out, leaving them in total darkness.
“Girls, pack up everything in the coracle. We need to get to higher ground,” Mama said.
What remained of the wheat seed was already inside. Working blindly, Larkin and Nesha scooped up the remainder of their food and some of their bedding and piled it in the little boat as the water rose above their ankles. Thank the ancestors that Sela was safely with Bane and Venna.
Larkin took hold of the mooring line, felt for her cloak, and tried to push the door open. Water pushed back. “Nesha, help me.”
Working together, they shoved the door open. More water rushed inside and settled around their shins. Something hot touched Larkin’s calf, and she yelped and jumped back. The remnants of their fire floated about her legs, the bigger pieces still hot enough to burn. Larkin kicked them away.
She plunged outside and was soaked in seconds. She looked toward Hamel but saw no light to mark the town. No one would come for them. No one would even know they were in trouble until morning. “Wait inside, Mama. Nesha and I will find a way out.”
They held the boat’s rope and started toward the next highest hill. As they moved downhill, the water grew deeper and the current stronger. From behind Larkin came a splash, and Nesha sputtered and gasped. The rope went taut, and Larkin braced herself to keep the boat from being swept away. Nesha couldn’t swim. She must have gone under and grabbed the boat to keep afloat.
Larkin towed them both back to the hut. “Go back to Mama. Take the boat with you.” Their hands brushed in the dark as they exchanged the rope. Larkin circled the entire house, but the water was above her chest everywhere. She knew from experience the coracle wouldn’t hold two people. They were trapped on a rapidly shrinking island. It might be hours before anyone noticed their plight, and perhaps longer still before anyone came for them.
Moving up the slope, Larkin splashed through water up to her knees back to the house. “Stay here until the water’s too deep, then climb on the roof.”
“What are you doing?” Nesha asked in surprise.
“I’m going for help.”
Mama gripped her arm. “No.”
“Mama,” Larkin said soothingly. “Only one of us can fit in the boat at a time, and the rain hasn’t let up.”
Mama gripped Larkin’s hands, her voice shaking with tears. “The water’s moving too fast. You won’t know where you’re going.”
“The current will move me downriver. I just have to cross the channel.” Larkin gently untangled her mother’s fingers. Undoing her cloak, she wrapped it around Mama’s shoulders. Even when wet, the wool was warm, and she shuddered without it. “I’m the only one who can swim.” To her sister, she said, “Hold it steady while I climb in.” Nesha gripped the sides while Larkin slid in
one foot and then the other. She took the single paddle. “Let go.”
Instantly, the river caught hold of Larkin and carried her downriver, to the west. Instead of fighting the current, she paddled hard to cross the river. If she could reach the opposite shore, she could hike back to Hamel. They could launch a bigger boat to fetch her mother and sisters. But first she had to keep from being toppled over in such a lightweight craft, and then she had to make it to the opposite shore before she crashed into the Forbidden Forest.
The craft bobbed along, picking up speed the closer she came to the main channel. There, she careened down a dip and back up again. The boat launched into the air, hitting the water hard. The craft spun, old leather straining. She slammed into something. The boat came apart beneath her. Cold enveloped her and drowned out all sound. She hurtled through something that whipped at her. With no sense of up or down, she scrambled to grab hold of whatever it was. Branches? She must have already hit the Forbidden Forest. Something struck her leg. A blaze of pain stabbed her side. She was going to die. Around her waist, the amulet slapped her stomach. She grabbed it through her clothes. Help me!
A vision opened, superimposed over the darkness. Below her, a small bird left the nest for the first time, shooting away from her feet. She bent in half and kicked after the bird, though the branches and debris snatched at her.
Wind wove through her fingers. Her face popped up, and she tasted sweet air. She gulped it down as she struggled to keep her head above water. Branches scratched at her. Her hands clawed at the water as she managed to catch one. It broke under her grip.
“Help!” she screamed.
The river pulled her back under. Something caught her ankle. The current was so strong she couldn’t kick free. Her hands scrambled through the air above her head.
Suddenly, something fibrous was in her hand—something like a rope. She grabbed on with both hands. The rope went taut, hauling her toward her trapped foot and against the current. It was all Larkin could do to hang on. And then she was free. She took a desperate breath as the current whipped her around like a fish on the end of a line.
“Hold on,” Denan cried.
Seconds later, his hand gripped hers and plucked her out of the river and against his strong chest. Completely spent, Larkin collapsed. Denan’s trembling hands patted her as if searching for injuries. “Ancestors, Larkin, you have an uncanny knack for nearly getting yourself killed.”
Larkin found she couldn’t dredge up any more fear—it was already spent. “You said help would come. And it did.” The amulet had saved her. Denan had saved her. Her hands reached out and touched the rough surface beneath their tangled bodies—a tree. She was in the forest somewhere. The water must have flooded out the trees. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Besides the screaming? The amulet drew me in.”
She closed her eyes. Was that it, then? After all she’d done, she was trapped again. “You have to let me go. My mother and sisters—they’re stuck on our rooftop.” Even as she asked, she knew he would never release her.
“I know.”
She stiffened and turned to face him. “They’ll die if I don’t get help.”
He pushed to his feet. “Which is why you must save them.”
“You’re letting me go—again?”
He chuckled bitterly. “I make a very bad kidnapper. Also, I promised never to force you. Say what you will about me, Larkin, but I keep my promises.”
She tried to look around but could see next to nothing in the dark. “Where are we?”
“The river flooded the forest. We’re in the boughs of a tree along the bank. Keep up with me. Step where I step.” His hand found hers, and he tugged her along after him.
With Denan’s help, she managed to cross the branches of an enormous tree. He moved with the grace of a cat. Larkin began to make shapes out of the shadows. Dawn was coming. Finally, they reached the shallows. Denan splashed down and held his arms out to her. She dropped to him and splashed in water up to her knees. Taking her hand again, he led her out of the water and onto dry ground.
She started toward Hamel, but he didn’t let go. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to make you swear to come back?”
His form was a dark contrast to the forest behind him. She almost lied to him—what if he changed his mind and refused to let her go?—but then she shook her head. “No.”
He sighed and released her. “Well then, fly away, little bird.”
She left the forest at a jog. She would have gone faster but she still couldn’t see the ground. Finally, she was able to make out the faintest square of light—a window illuminated by embers. She reached an outlying farm and banged on the door with her fist. “Please help! Please!”
She didn’t stop pounding until someone yanked open the door. To her shock Kenjin, Alorica’s father, stood before her. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“Our house is underwater. My mother and sisters are trapped. Please, you have to find the men with fishing boats and go fetch them.”
Kenjin looked down his nose at her. He either didn’t believe her or didn’t care.
“The river,” his wife, Patrina, said from upstairs. “It’s covered all the lower fields.”
Kenjin pushed past Larkin and peered at the moving river not more than two-dozen paces from his own front door. The dim light revealed the river swollen to more than five times its normal size. The water ate up fields and swaths of the trees where it entered and exited the forest. “The embankment didn’t hold,” he growled.
“Please,” Larkin begged. “You can’t leave two women and a baby to die.”
His jaw hardened. “Boys, fetch my horse.” Kenjin shoved his feet into his boots. “Quickly now!”
Larkin sagged in relief as Alorica’s two teenage brothers rushed to the stable and brought out a heavy-boned draft horse. Kenjin swung onto the animal bareback. Without looking back, he tore down the road toward Hamel.
“You might as well come inside,” Patrina said as she lit a candle. “Alorica, fetch some dry clothes.”
Alorica glared at Larkin.
“Thank you,” Larkin said, “but I have to make sure they’re all right.” Hurrying after Kenjin, Larkin glanced back toward the forest. She could feel Denan’s eyes on her, watching, waiting.
Larkin woke not knowing where she was. A wardrobe crouched in the corner and a small stand hovered by the bed. She had collapsed in Caelia’s room after her mother and sisters were rescued. On the stand was a tray with some bread, a cup of water, and an enormous ruby ring. Coming fully awake, she reached out, took the ring, lay back, and held it up. She slipped it on her finger and admired the bright slash of color in the dreary gray light of a rainy morning.
But lying in the bed of one of the Taken and wearing a dead woman’s ring made her uneasy. Sitting up on the straw tick mattress, she downed the water and tore into Venna’s soft bread. She chewed as she stood, surprised at how much her legs hurt. She glanced down to find them covered in welts and bruises.
Wearing her ragged shift, she stepped to the window, the glass smeared with rain. Outside, the river glutted itself on her family’s fields. She searched for the place her home should have been. There wasn’t so much as a ripple. She studied the dark line of green forest beyond. She did not fear it as much as she once had. After all, Denan had saved her life. He had her in his grasp, and he let her go—again. Though he was certainly still a villain, he was a human one.
She turned away from the forest. Munching on the bread, she looked around for her clothes. Nothing. She opened the wardrobe, hoping to find them inside. Instead, she found Caelia’s old dresses. She reached out and ran a finger down the finely woven cloth, remembering the way the girl who’d worn them had burned so bright and hot that Larkin had been afraid to touch her.
Pulling back her fingers, she wrapped herself in the blanket, poked her head out, and peered up and down the hallway. There were four rooms—Bane’s was right next to
hers on the left. The one across from Larkin was empty, the door open. Through the window, she could make out the frantic scurrying of townspeople.
Curious, she slipped inside and peered out. Floodwater had spilled over the trenches the townspeople had built and invaded the first row of houses. People carried goods—bedding, furniture, and baskets and pots of food—stuffing them into buildings higher up. She caught sight of Bane, his dark head rising above the others as he directed people carrying goods up to his own barn.
“I thought I heard someone.” Larkin turned to find Venna standing behind her, her gaze catching on the ring. “Bane threw away your old dress—said it wasn’t even any good for rags. You’re to wear Caelia’s clothes.”
Larkin fidgeted with the ring. Wearing Caelia’s dresses will not make her fate mine, she tried to reassure herself. “And Daydon is all right with that?”
“He keeps mentioning that his grandchild needs taking care of,” Venna answered without looking up.
Larkin hated this lie more with every passing day. Moving with a confidence she didn’t feel, she went back to the room, opened the armoire, and pulled down a dress and shift. The cloth’s movement released the musty smell of something shut away for too long. Venna turned her back as Larkin pulled them on, pretending that her skin wasn’t crawling to have them off.
“My mama?” she asked as she tied the belt.
“Still sleeping, as is Nesha.”
“How’s the baby?”
“She seems fine.”
Relieved, Larkin slipped on a pair of leather boots that laced up past her ankle. They were supple and well made. She hurried down the ladder, Venna following. In the kitchen, bread was rising on the table, more bread cooling beside it.
Venna cut another slice for Larkin and opened the door to the cellar. “There’s a ham the lord said we could have.”
Unable to resist, Larkin tore into the bread. Venna came back up with a chunk of ham the size of her fist, as well as some carrots. Larkin watched as she cubed the ham and rinsed the carrots. “Why are you helping me?”