The White Tree circled it slowly, dipped in the cup, and held it out for Larkin. “Drink the sap.”
Larkin didn’t want anything from the Black Tree inside her. “Why?”
“To dull the pain.”
Light, hadn’t Larkin endured enough pain for one lifetime? Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she took the cup, hesitated, and then gulped it down. She was surprised that it tasted the same as the White Tree’s sap—sweet and resiny with a mineral finish.
Within minutes, her head felt tingly and light, and the world was painted with rainbows.
“Kneel down,” the White Tree said.
Larkin knelt before her. The White Tree placed the heel of her palm on Larkin’s forehead and closed her eyes. Warm, buzzing magic nudged into Larkin’s head, her face. It spread downward, and when it met her sigils, they lit up with joy.
When Larkin’s whole body was alight with it, her newly embedded thorns began to feel warm. Then they grew, tunneling beneath her skin. The pain was there, but the sap kept it bearable. When the White Tree was done, Larkin peered at her legs, arms.
Beautiful curving vines and flowers and geometric shapes covered her limbs. She flared them experimentally, and they gleamed like liquid silver beneath her skin, with none of the shadows of the Valynthians’ sigils.
“You cleansed them?”
The White Tree nodded. She looked tired, as if the magic had cost her. “Never before has a human borne both warrior and barrier magic.”
Larkin looked from the beautiful sigils to her sister. “What must I do with them?”
“Do you remember the dream I gave you of working in your father’s fields, your scythes felling wheat?”
Larkin hadn’t known that dream came from the White Tree. “Yes.”
“First, you must pulse to cleanse the shadows. And then . . .” The White Tree pressed her hand to Larkin’s forehead again, and she saw a weave full of blinding light and razor sharpness. A weave that would change her blades.
Over and over, the weave appeared in Larkin’s head, until it was branded in her memory.
She collapsed on her haunches. “But if I perform this enchantment, I’ll still be inside the tree when it falls.”
“Yes,” the White Tree said.
Larkin’s eyes fluttered shut. She was going to die. But to save her family and all mankind, she wouldn’t hesitate. “You can’t—” Her voice broke. “You can’t tell Denan.” Not with how broken he was. How afraid of losing her.
When it was finished, the White Tree stepped back and held out her arms. “Pick me up and place me in the font.”
This was her baby sister. “She’s just a child.”
“I know her better than you, Larkin. If it is within my power, I will save her.”
Larkin hesitated and picked her up. “Let me speak with her—just her.”
The White Tree blinked hard, and her eyes turned emerald.
Sela beamed at her. “Larkin!” She wrapped her arms around her and buried her head in the crook of her neck. “Where have you been?”
Exactly how long had the White Tree kept Sela asleep? Larkin breathed deep the smell of sunflowers and sunshine and mud.
“I miss Mama, Larkin.”
Larkin squeezed Sela tighter. “I miss her too.” She never wanted to let go. Never wanted this moment to end. But no matter how tightly she held on, it couldn’t last forever. “I love you, sunshine.”
“Love you too.” Sela sighed. “The White Tree says I should go to sleep again, Larkin. She says when I wake up, it will be time to go home.”
Larkin leaned down, placed Sela in the font, and kissed her forehead, her amulet slipping out of her tunic. “Sweet dreams.”
Sela’s green eyes were swallowed with white. The White Tree reached out, cupping the glittering amulet in her hands. “All the good that ever was in him is in this amulet.” The amulet glowed a faint silver. She closed her eyes, opalescent tears flowing down her cheeks. “But it is just an echo, a memory of what he was.”
How must it have felt for the White Tree to lose her mate and a good portion of her magic all in one day? And then to suffer through the Black Tree’s evil while so many of her people died for so many years?
All the horrors of the curse had happened to her too. Yet she hadn’t chosen darkness like the Black Tree.
“I’m so sorry for all that you have suffered.”
The White Tree reached up, resting her hand on Larkin’s cheek. “Of all the humans I have known, you are one of my favorites.” She released the amulet, her hands tucking against her chest. “I’ve given everything I am to end this, but I’m tired. So very tired.”
She sighed, her eyes slipping closed as if she wasn’t strong enough to keep them open. Her body jerked, her back arching. Vines shot from her back and sank into the center of the font, shooting down into the depths of the Black Tree.
Her poor sister’s little body. Larkin choked, her hands over her mouth. Suddenly, arms wrapped around her from behind. Denan. How long had he been there, watching? She sank into his embrace.
From all around them, a deep, eerie moan echoed, the branches swaying ominously.
Facing the Fire
When Larkin turned from the font, she found all of her friends from the Alamant waiting for her at the base of the steps. She’d never thanked them for risking their lives to save her. And if she didn’t do it now, she would never have another chance. Like she hadn’t had a chance with Atara and West.
She bit her lip, fighting back tears. Her hand in Denan’s, she descended to stand before them. “Thank you. For coming for me.”
Talox picked Larkin up and hugged her so hard she thought a rib might crack. Again. “You gave me back my life and my Venna. I would face the fire for you, my queen.” He set her down and stepped back. “Denan. Can Tam and I speak with you a moment?”
Denan shot Larkin a look, silently asking if she’d be all right. She nodded for him to go. The three men stepped aside, leaving Larkin alone with Caelia.
“Bane would have wanted me to come,” Caelia said.
That’s why the woman had left her children. For Bane. To honor him in the only way she could.
Caelia gave a small smile. “Nesha let me meet Soren. He scowls just like his daddy.”
A tear fell, tracing Larkin’s cheek. She quickly wiped it away. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for failing to save him.”
“Oh, Larkin,” Caelia said gently. “You were running from a wraith army in the Forbidden Forest. You couldn’t have known.”
It had been so hard since his death. If not for Denan, Larkin wasn’t sure she would have survived. Her husband with his obsidian eyes, golden skin, and angular face. He moved with precision and grace. She memorized each expression and movement for recall in the afterlife. If there was one.
“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me for leaving him? For putting him through my death?” Twice. Denan hadn’t shown any signs of resentment toward her, but they had to be there, buried deep.
Caelia followed her gaze. “Did you know Gendrin and I aren’t really heartsongs?”
Larkin shot her a disbelieving glance. “But you said you were.”
“He found me in the forest. Saved my life. His selflessness, his goodness, his kindness . . . How could I not fall in love with him?” She gave a small smile. “Though after I discovered the truth about the pipers abducting girls, I fought him with everything I had. Even then, he never played the heartsong. He let me choose.” Her gaze bored into Larkin’s. “I don’t need an enchantment to know he’s my heartsong.”
“He’s still never played the song for you?” Larkin asked in disbelief.
Caelia met her gaze. “Love is a choice, Larkin. Denan will always choose you.”
Larkin hoped he would move on, someday. He deserved to be happy.
Overhead, the sun had already reached its zenith. If Larkin wanted forgiveness, she had to ask before it was too late. “Thank you, Caelia.”
Larkin was afraid this would happen. That Denan would blame Tam for letting Larkin go with the wraiths. Would hate him for it. So of course Tam would have followed Denan around. Plied him with jokes, which Denan would have responded to with stony anger. She couldn’t let these two lose their friendship. They needed each other.
Especially after she was gone.
“He didn’t betray you, Denan,” she said softly. “He only did what you taught us both: put our people first. Even if that means before you.”
Denan’s hands fisted.
“You’re not really angry with him,” Larkin said. “You’re angry with me.” Tam had just been a convenient target.
Denan wouldn’t look at her, which only confirmed her suspicions. Not wanting to have this conversation in front of everyone, Larkin reached out, taking his hand. “Come with me.”
She led him up a side branch toward Eiryss’s coffin. If nothing else, he’d probably like to see it. “You were all supposed to be resting.”
“The world is ending,” Denan said. “How could I sleep? And I didn’t like being so far away from you.”
For a while, they climbed in silence. When they reached Eiryss’s broken coffin, Denan bent down and picked up a piece of the amber. “You found her, in the end.”
“She was never lost,” Larkin said. “Nor has she ever been the monster history made her out to be, Denan. She only ever did what she had to. They all did.”
She waited for Denan to say something, anything, but he remained silent. Implacable. One thing that had always worked before was sparring. “Come on.”
She crossed to a place she’d noticed on her climb with Ramass. A place where one branch diverged into six, leaving a small room lined in white moss, the sides graced with mushrooms and flowers of so many vibrant colors, sizes, and shapes. It was like a little garden.
She turned to him and took a defensive stance. He stepped back and shook his head. “I don’t want to spar with you.”
Her hands fell to her sides. “Then talk to me.”
He pulled his hand through his hair. “I’m not angry, Larkin. I just . . . You were gone—twisted into a monster. I grieved like you were dead. And then I became angry. And that anger made me strong enough to come here and do what I needed to do.”
She knew all about channeling anger, using it to numb pain.
He dropped to the ground, his hands over his eyes. “I killed you while you begged me not to. You died at my hands for the second time.”
Larkin knelt beside him and wrapped him in her arms, her chin resting on the top of his head. She was shocked again at how thin he’d grown; he was still muscular, but the skin now stretched far too thin over his body. He clearly hadn’t been eating.
“I can’t watch you die again,” Denan said. “I can’t be responsible for the deaths of more of my friends. I just can’t.”
Light. How could she force him to endure this twice? What could she say to make it better? She ached to tell him what was coming for her, to warn him. Be comforted by him. Say her goodbyes. But she couldn’t risk him being distracted in battle any more than he had risked her.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me about my father’s death.” She looked at him, willing him to remember this conversation later. “You were protecting me, even though it cost you.” Like I’m protecting you now.
He met her gaze, his obsidian eyes overflowing with dread and grief. “And if we lose each other again?”
She blinked back tears. “If there is an afterlife, I will find you.”
“And if there isn’t?”
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed away his tears. “I have no regrets, Denan. None. If our story ends with one or both of us dead, I would still choose us.”
He buried his head in her chest and wept. She held him tight, murmuring reassurances into his hair. She wished with everything she had that she could take away his pain. But that was impossible.
Or maybe it wasn’t.
She tipped his face up and wiped his cheeks with the hem of her tunic. The movement exposed the length of her leg. She took one of his hands and rested it on the smooth skin. Then she tipped up his chin and pressed a feathery kiss to his mouth.
One, two, three times.
He sucked in a breath, his hungry hands tracing fire across her body, and deepened the kiss. “Larkin, we don’t have any maidweed tea.”
She liked that he was already breathless. She tugged him to his knees and undid his belt. His skirt armor clanked as it fell. “That’s not a problem for wraiths.”
He trailed hot kisses down her jaw and to her neck and then up to her ear. “Are you sure?”
In answer, she pulled her shapeless tunic over her head. “I’m sure.”
Fighting
Her arms wrapped around her sleeping husband, Larkin watched him as the sky gradually lost its rich, vibrant hue, fading to a pale, smoky gray. Far above, the Black Tree’s branches bit into the sky like thorns, making it bleed crimson along the horizon. Sunset was less than an hour away.
It was time.
Tonight, either mankind or the last of the sacred trees would go extinct. And if the Black Tree won, what then? His mate was gone. It wasn’t like there would be any saplings after him. Perhaps the first time mankind had taken a thorn, he or she had ensured the mutual destruction of both species.
Larkin wished she could let Denan sleep longer. She wished this wasn’t their last night together. She reached down, running the back of her hand along his scarred cheek.
He startled awake, his eyes wide and unseeing. He reached for his sword.
Larkin placed another hand on his shoulder. “Shh, it’s just me.”
He stilled and glanced toward the bloody horizon. “Light, why did you let me sleep so long?”
“Because you needed it.”
“And you don’t?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t slept since I became a wraith.” She pushed to her feet and pulled him up. Hand in hand, they returned to the main platform. Someone had built a fire and filled an ancient pot with fish soup at the base of the dais.
The Valynthians and Alamantians both sat all around the steps, guarding Sela while she fought to reach the Black Tree’s heart. Larkin dished up the thin soup and handed Denan a bowl. He nodded his thanks and drank it down in one go.
Only Garrot stood alone, at the edge of the platform behind the dais. Arms folded, his eyes on the horizon, he looked lonely. Lost. Hating him was a habit as natural as breathing. But he was clearly trying to change. And even if he wasn’t . . . Larkin didn’t want to end up like Iniya—so full of bitterness that it destroyed any chance of happiness.
If this was her last night—humanity’s last night—she would die at peace. Larkin fetched a bowl of soup and crossed to stand beside him. He looked at her in surprise.
“Why did you come?” she asked.
He considered her. “Becoming a mulgar made me face what I’d done.” His throat bobbed. “Nothing could be worse than that. Except maybe not doing what I can to repair the damage.”
Maybe Garrot could change, just like her father had.
For the first time, she didn’t feel hate when she looked at him—or fear or repulsion or fury. Instead, she felt compassion. She held out the bowl of broth. When he hesitated, she motioned for him to take it. He did so, gingerly.
“I’m never going to like you,” she said. “But you’re clearly trying to change. That counts for something.” She moved away, feeling like a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Larkin,” Garrot called after her.
She turned back. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a lovely gold chain, which he slipped over his head
and held out to her. She stared in shock at the ring dangling from it. A large ruby, the band made of twining vines. The ring Bane had given her when he’d asked her to marry him.
She took it, closed her eyes, and held it to her breast, tears threatening.
“I genuinely believed Bane a traitor,” Garrot said, “same as you. When I returned to the Idelmarch, I went through his things and found this. I took it, meaning to send it to his father. But it became a reminder to be a better man. The kind of man who would give his life for someone he loved.”
That was why he’d really come. Eyes shining, she nodded her thanks and strode to Caelia, who sat on the dais steps. She held out the ring and the chain. Larkin was tempted to keep them, but they were not her family’s heirlooms.
Caelia’s eyes widened. “Those were my mother’s.”
“Garrot gave it to me. For what it’s worth, I think he’s genuinely sorry.”
Caelia slipped the ring on her own finger and held out the chain for Larkin. “I think my mama would have wanted you to have it.”
Larkin would have loved it. “I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”
Caelia frowned at her in confusion and then shrugged and slipped it over her head.
Larkin’s gaze drifted up to her sister. Sela’s eyes darted beneath her closed lids as if she were sleeping. Or nightmaring. Her body was still shaking, the branches still forcing their way deeper into the tree. Creaks and groans and snaps came from beneath Larkin’s feet. She imagined the White Tree rooting into the Black Tree’s every weakness, expanding, and cracking.
How much was this costing the White Tree? More importantly, what was it costing Sela?
Sunset loomed before them. Mere minutes away. All of them sensing it, the Valynthians gathered around Larkin.
“Have you gone deep enough?” Ramass called up to Sela.
Sela’s white eyes shot open. A single rainbow tear slid from the corner of her eye. “I need more time.”
Denan ground his jaw and turned to them. “You know what to do.”
Already, Larkin could feel the shadows gathering. Eiryss began to weave. Tam, Caelia, Talox, and Garrot all piled inside the dome. Ramass, Hagath, and Ture lined up outside it. Denan hung back with Larkin.
Wraith King Page 40
