We followed a path into the forest lit by red-tinted lanterns nestled among the ferns. The path wound through the trees and over gnarled and grasping roots, finally taking us up a hill so steep I had to cling to rocks in the path to make it. Hannah bounded eagerly ahead, her long golden hair flashing in the lanternlight. She’d dressed perfectly for this in her dark, well-fitted clothing. Her flame tattoos glowed in the darkness.
When we reached the top of the hill, we found a dangling rope waiting for us, the end hidden far above in the dark branches of the trees. A paper fluttered in the wind, tied to the rope with twine, with a single word inscribed upon it.
Swing, it read.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HANNAH WENT FIRST, fearless as she held on to the rope and plunged forward into the darkness. I heard her whoop with surprise, and then the rope came back empty.
I grabbed the rope, held on tight, and leaped. I hurtled through darkness, over the sound of rushing water, and crashed into a net on the other side. I grabbed for the net, letting go of the rope, and then Hannah’s hands reached for me, and she helped me climb onto solid ground.
“Look,” she whispered, pointing up.
Above us was the treehouse, or, more accurately, tree village. Woven platforms connected via arching bridges and tunnels of tightly bound branches, like strange and beautiful giant birds’ nests. Faintly, I could hear music and laughter coming from above.
“How do we get up?” I asked. The trees were thick and had no low-lying branches to use for climbing. There was no ladder, no climbing rope, nothing.
Hannah flashed me a grin. “Well, that’s the challenge, isn’t it?”
“I thought the hill and the rope were the challenge,” I said, but Hannah was already striding for the tree trunks as if she knew exactly what to do.
I followed.
Hannah ran her hands along the trunk as if checking for a secret ladder. Finding nothing, she stepped back and squinted at the higher parts of the trunk in the near-darkness. Then, she grabbed a lantern and made another round, examining the base of each tree carefully.
“What should I be looking for?” I asked, moving to one of the tree trunks.
“Handholds. A secret button or lever. Anything that looks like it might help us,” Hannah said. She crouched down and craned her neck to see into a hole between two of the roots, then hesitantly poked her fingers inside.
I joined her in looking around the roots of the trees, but I drew the line and sticking my hand into dark holes that had probably been made by animals with sharp teeth. I ran my fingers over the scabby bark of the roots, pausing at one.
“There’s a keyhole here,” I said. “Look.”
Hannah looked. “Then we’re looking for a key,” she whispered excitedly.
Another minute, and she’d found it pressed into the bark of one of the trees in a groove that fit the key’s shape exactly. It was a massive, heavy, golden skeleton key with etchings and filigree on the handle.
Hannah inserted the key into the lock and twisted. A popping sound came from above, and one of the trees twisted and split in half as if it were a mechanical toy unfurling for our inspection. Handholds appeared.
“No staircase?” I said, frowning at the prospect of climbing so high with nothing but those slender nubs to support my weight. “Not even a ladder?”
Hannah bent down to put some dirt on her hands, dusting them together. “Have you ever gone rock climbing?”
“Not without a safety harness. Is there a spell to catch us if we fall?”
“Maybe,” Hannah said. She took a deep breath and started climbing.
I looked at the tree village far above us.
I was at this school to stay safe, not flirt with more danger.
But I wanted to see what Flameforge had designed.
“Put dust on your hands—it’ll keep them from slipping,” Hannah called down to me, and I did as she suggested.
A rope hit me in the head as I was beginning my climb. I peered up and saw Hannah’s face at the top.
“Found a rope!” she called with a note of triumph in her voice. “It’s up here for the slowpokes.”
I tied the rope around my waist and climbed after her, perfectly happy to be labeled a slowpoke in the name of safety.
Hands were waiting for me at the top. Flameforge members hoisted me the last few inches and helped me pull myself onto the woven floor of the treehouse.
“Welcome,” one of the members, a girl with hair the color of a sunset, said gravely. “Good work finding us. You are the tenth to make it.”
I got to my feet and brushed off my hands. My stomach was jumping from the climb, but I felt a little exhilarated too. “Is that a good number?”
The girl tipped her head to the side with a sly smile and didn’t answer. A glance at Hannah’s shining face told me that it was.
We crossed one of the arching woven bridges and joined the main party, where Flameforge members and the other eight hopefuls were drinking chilled cider and eating savory mortal snacks like chips and popcorn. I was amused at the sight of potato chips piled in ornate wooden bowls that looked like they ought to be holding dragon’s eggs or something similarly epic and strange.
The others cheered for us, chanting our numbers and congratulating Hannah for climbing without the rope. Then, after we’d gorged ourselves on chips and cider, we explored the rest of the tree village, which was crisscrossed with rope bridges and clever swinging platforms and other interesting physical challenges.
“We’ll meet here for the rest of the year,” one of the members, a boy with hair spelled to look like a flame, explained. “We build a new member house every year for the society recruitment night, and then we use it after until the next year. Members only after tonight, of course.”
“Is it safe to be out in the forest like this?” I asked, thinking of Tearly’s warning the first day I’d met her. Never go in the west woods alone. Or was it the south woods?
“Flameforge isn’t safe,” he answered. “But it is valiant and strong.”
I had a feeling Flameforge wasn’t my society. I thought of the nice teas at Stormtongue and the cupcakes of Dewdrop. Perhaps I ought to take a wander through Toadcurdle’s muddle tunnel just in case my people were there.
Whoops of delight sounded behind us, and I turned and saw that another batch of students had made it to the treehouse. They slapped each other on the backs in celebration and ran across the bridge to join the main party.
“Where do I sign up?” Hannah was asking the boy.
He pointed across the series of ropes and swinging wooden obstacles. “If you can cross the course, the paper and pen are at the end.”
Hannah straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready.” She looked at me. “Kyra?”
“I think I’m going to go back to the other society parties and take another look,” I said.
Hannah nodded. “I’m going to stay.”
“How do I get down?” I asked the boy. I had to shout to be heard over the excited squeals of the two flushed and sweating first-year girls who’d just reached the top of the tree and crawled over the side. “Do I climb back down the way I came?”
He waved a hand toward a tunnel-like bridge. “Follow that. It will take you where you need to go.”
“I don’t—”
“Follow,” he said mysteriously, and turned and reentered the crowd of the party.
Hannah gave me a quick hug. “Wish me luck,” she said. “Are you going to join Stormtongue or Dewdrop?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” I said.
“My bet’s on Dewdrop!”
“And Tearly thinks Stormtongue,” I replied. “We shall see.”
She hugged me goodbye again—she seemed extra affectionate in the wake of her success in getting to Flameforge—and then I crossed the tunnel bridge alone. The sounds of the party grew fainter, and I was alone with the flickering lanterns and the quiet of the dark forest. I reached what appeared to be a carved woo
den slide. It curled around the tree like a petrified, prehensile tongue, disappearing into the shadows below.
My stomach clenched, but I took a deep breath, sat down, and pushed myself forward.
I hurtled through the darkness, whooshing past trees as the slide went on and on. I thought it would curve downward once and end at the ground, but it was like a rollercoaster, twisting around thickets and dipping into valleys. I tried not to scream, but I couldn’t help but let out one sharp cry of startled surprise as I plunged down the final and steepest drop at the end. I landed in the dirt, surrounded by evergreens, in complete darkness.
I stood and brushed the dirt from my legs. In the distance, lights glowed. Music from the other parties drifted toward me.
I wasn’t far from the school.
Just as I was about to set off toward Dewdrop, I heard the ominous crunch of footsteps in the underbrush, and panic clutched at my throat.
What exactly had Tearly said about the north woods, or east woods, or was it the south woods? Which woods was I in?
My imagination conjured up a vision of a fragmyr.
I’ve seen fragmyrs that were taller than the North Tower, Lucien had said.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, grabbing a stick from the ground in front of me.
“Kyra?” a voice came in answer. “Is that you?”
Griffin?
I pushed through the branches and saw him standing on a path with two other students behind him, all of them carrying casks on their shoulders. Griffin gleamed faintly in the moonlight as if his skin were lit from within.
“What are you doing alone in the west woods?” Griffin asked, a note of amusement in his voice. “Didn’t anyone tell you that’s a bad idea?”
“I just came from Flameforge,” I said, gesturing behind me at the slide that was now obscured from sight by the evergreens. “I’m at the edge of the woods, really. It hardly counts.”
Never mind the fact that my heart was thudding fast as a drummer’s solo.
“You,” Griffin said fondly, “are a brave thing, aren’t you? Is that who you’ve joined, then? Flameforge?”
Was that humor in his voice, or derision?
“No,” I said. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, come with us,” Griffin said. “We’re making a delivery to Briar, our sister society.”
“I…” I didn’t have a good excuse, but the thought of crashing the Briar society party filled me with equal parts terror and delight. Well, perhaps slightly more terror than delight. “I thought you have to be invited to a Briar party.”
“And I’m inviting you,” he said, as if I were being idiotic. “Come on, Kyra.” He reached out his free hand for mine.
I thought of our kiss in the library. Then, I thought of what Lucien had said. Stay away from my brother. He’s dangerous.
Lucien had been ignoring me since our punishment was finished. I was mad at Lucien.
I took Griffin’s hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE BRIAR SOCIETY party was held in the old greenhouse on the outskirts of the school grounds, which was supposedly haunted. Candles lined the winding paths through the overgrown greenery inside, and chandeliers hung from the glass ceiling above. Statues were positioned at intervals, depicting, according to Griffin, past members of Briar who’d gone on to become fairy queens and powerful ladies. Somehow, the whole space was spelled so that rose petals drifted from the ceiling like rain the entire time, swirling and falling like pink, fragrant raindrops. Servers dressed in white and powdered and painted to look like the statues moved among the partygoers, carrying platters with the fanciest fairy food I’d ever seen before—rolled up mint leaves stuffed with nuts and meat, cheeses, and shots of some liquid that flamed on the top.
The greenhouse was somehow huge and intimate at the same time. The plants looked as if they’d been allowed to grow wild for some time, and vines and flowers crowded close to the paths and made leafy green tunnels where their stalks met overhead. The rose petals gathered atop the leaves like a dusting of pink snow.
Griffin led me down one of the winding paths toward the center of the greenhouse, where the main party was in full swing. The Briar members and their invited hopefuls were dressed in ballgowns that flashed and glittered. They wore masks that covered only their eyes and nose. Music filled the air, a hypnotic fae music that made my feet itch to dance, and my eyes feel heavy and sleepy.
Griffin set down the cask and opened it. Servers rushed to bring goblets for him to fill. The liquid inside was golden and thick, almost syrupy. It drizzled into the goblets, glittering in the light of the candles. It smelled like apples and sunshine, and my tongue felt dry with thirst just looking at it.
“Kyra?”
I turned and saw two of the triplets who were friends with Griffin. Sylla and Nylla, I was pretty sure, because Marit had a beauty mark on her upper lip.
The fae girls stared at me, clearly astonished at my presence. They were both dressed in pale dresses that looked like mist from a waterfall that had been enchanted to hold the shape of a gown. Delicate necklaces as fragile-looking as water droplets glimmered at their throats. They looked like water nymphs that had just climbed from some rushing stream.
“Hi,” I said, feeling woefully underdressed in my jeans, but determined to be unapologetic about it. “Nice party, isn’t it?”
One of the triplets raised an eyebrow. “Who invited you, Kyra?”
“I did,” Griffin said, appearing at my elbow and dropped an arm over my shoulder possessively. “She’s with me.”
The girls frowned, but they didn’t scold him.
Someone called his name, a student with curling horns protruding from their forehead, and Griffin moved away to speak to them, leaving me alone with the two fae girls.
They studied me like I was an insect that had wandered too close to their shoe.
“You’re a bit underdressed,” one said.
“It’s edgy,” the other said. “I rather like it. A middle finger to propriety and politeness.”
It was my turn to frown. Their thinly veiled animosity was fast replacing my uncertainty with anger. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice when talking to potential recruitments?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Why don’t you join Briar? I’m sure you’d fit in perfectly here,” one of them said with obvious sarcasm.
I felt the sting of her disdain like a slap, and I didn’t answer.
“Sylla,” Nylla murmured reprovingly as she offered me a small smile of apology. “What she means to say is, I don’t know that Briar is the best fit for a middling student. We don’t want you to have a bad time at the school. One’s society is so important for fitting in well and having a good experience.”
I rubbed a hand across my forehead, wondering where Griffin had gone and if I wanted to wait for him or if I wanted to simply turn and walk away from this mess.
“Headache?” Nylla reached for one of the goblets and pressed it into my hand. “Drink this; it’ll help.”
Thinking of the Stormtongue tea I’d had earlier, I took a sip. Maybe it was enchanted to make the one who drank it feel good. I could certainly use a bit of that.
The liquid was like thin honey as it fell onto my tongue. Whatever it was, the drink was delicious, like the scent of strawberries mingled with the joy of a warm summer evening and the relief of a cold drink on a hot day.
I swallowed the rest in a gulp and stared into the bottom of the goblet, wanting more. The air smelled like a thousand crushed roses, but not in an overwhelming way. The scent was perfect in its intensity.
“There,” Nylla said. “You’ll feel better in a minute, just wait.”
I set down the goblet and glanced around again for Griffin. My gaze slid over the garlands of flowers, the flickering candles, the floating rose petals. Everything seemed to have an extra glitter to it now, and I wished Lyrica and Hannah were here with me to see this. It might be snobby Briar, but it was still beautiful.
“Want to dance?” Nylla—or was it Sylla? —asked. I couldn’t remember which was which now. Their expressions looked identical.
I found myself nodding. The music was beautiful.
“You need a different dress,” Sylla—or was it Nylla? —said. She reached into an unseen pocket and pulled out a vial of glistening paste. She dipped one finger into it and brushed the stuff across my collarbone and over the shoulders of my shirt before I could say anything.
“There,” she said, replacing the cap on the vial and putting it away.
I looked down.
My shirt and jeans had transformed into a dark green gown with a plunging neckline. The fabric hugged my hips and flared out, mermaid-style, around my legs. Golden roses coiled up my bare arms and around my neck.
“Oh,” I said, touching one of the golden roses with my finger. “How’d you do that?”
“Enchantment,” Sylla or Nylla said with a flick of a smug grin. “Come on, mortal girl. Let’s see how you dance.”
The main party area was surrounded by more yellowed candles and dripping with garlands of roses that hung from the ceiling, forming the suggestion of a tent. In the center, people danced—elegant, heartbreaking fae dances that made my mortal-raised eyes well with sudden tears at the beauty of it. Which was rather unlike me. The dress swished around my legs, light as air, and the blood in my veins felt like fire and sunshine.
Nylla and Sylla joined the dance, beckoning to me. But then Griffin was at my side again, his arm sliding around my waist protectively. He stared down at my dress.
“You changed,” he said.
“Nylla did it. Or Sylla.” I was grinning a little foolishly. I felt giddy and strange.
“Did you drink anything?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting. “You seem… relaxed.”
“I had some of the drink in that casket,” I told him. My eyes were still on the dancers. My feet itched to join them. The music had slipped into my brain like a fever, and I was helpless against its call.
Griffin didn’t take his hand away from my waist, however, and so I stayed beside him. He wasn’t exactly holding me back, but it was enough to restrain me.
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