It’s the last place I wish to go. And filled with the last people who want to see me, I have no doubt.
It doesn’t take me long to find the small cottage that smells like bread and cinnamon. I bound up the steps, throw open the door, and march to Oliver’s chair by the fire. Delia sits next to him, one hand resting on his arm, the other holding a small bowl of porridge. Ren and his family sit around the table. I kneel, ignoring their stalled conversation and shocked expressions. The lines on the king’s face have doubled since I saw him last.
“I come with much grave news,” I say, never taking my eyes off Oliver. “But first I must know: did Greta and all the other girls arrived safely with Ren?” I’ve feared for them ever since I first saw the strange men wandering through the mountains. To my relief, Oliver nods.
“Yes, they arrived late last night. They said you’d be coming.”
“They didn’t mention you might bust our door down in the process,” Laura says, earning a pointed glance from Oliver. Andrew places a hand on her arm that she shrugs off. Ren squirms, while Delia shyly swirls her spoon in her porridge.
“The king must hear all I have to say.” I tear my eyes away from Ren and Delia, and return my attention to Oliver. “King Ensel’s army is camped in the mountains, heading straight for Bryre. They’ll be here by tomorrow afternoon.”
Oliver sits straight up in his chair, brow creasing. “The girls said he died. They said”—he clears his throat—“you threw him into the ocean. That there was no way he could have survived.”
“That is true. I did. But somehow he still lives. I don’t pretend to understand it. Barnabas is with him and he plans to bypass his own spells by entering the castle through the wall the briar patch has torn down. It’s a loophole in the spell.”
Oliver signals to Ren. “My boy, I’m afraid I must ask you to start delivering messages right now. Alert the council elders and have them rally our troops. Every able man must arm himself by dawn tomorrow.” The king stands. “We must prepare to meet the invaders. They won’t have a chance to get close enough for the wizard’s plan to work.”
Ren scribbles on a piece of paper.
“Wait,” I say, “there is more. Darrell the trader killed one of the girls on the road back. Her name was Emmy. I—I couldn’t save her. Her family needs to know.”
A gasp slips out from Delia’s lips, and Ren’s father sets down his spoon. Oliver’s hands clench into fists. “I am grieved to hear that. Darrell is a horrid man. We’ve had a price on his head for years.”
“You will not need to worry about him any longer,” I say. The king’s eyes widen in surprise, but I detect a hint of approval, too.
“I know Emmy’s brother and where her family lives. I’ll deliver the news on my way back from alerting the council.” Ren finishes writing down his messages, then dashes out of the cottage.
I rise to my feet before Oliver. An odd, searching expression creeps over his face, and I wonder if Ren told him who I used to be. I fear if he knows, he won’t like what I have to say next.
“I will help you defeat Ensel. And Barnabas.”
“My dear, I don’t know that—”
“This is just as much my fight—more so, even—than anyone else’s.”
Oliver considers me for a moment. He nods to Andrew, his steward. They head for the private chambers in the back of the cottage. Oliver gives Delia’s shoulder a squeeze as he passes.
But before he turns away, I catch a glimpse of something new in his eyes.
Pride.
DAY SEVENTY-FOUR
BY DAWN BELLADOMA’S TROOPS BEGIN TO APPEAR IN THE FOREST HILLS above the main road. King Ensel and his army do not attempt to mask their approach. They don’t need to. The hills and woods provide a natural defense, leaving no good place for King Oliver to make his stand. It will also make it harder for us to find our attackers.
But we have a plan.
Guards surround the city, most heavily at the spot where the briars and thorns consume the wall. Barnabas and Ensel will head straight for it. The king, myself, Ren, and a platoon of soldiers wait between the trees in front of the wall for them to arrive. Ren’s parents guard Delia somewhere in the city. Now that she’s home, Oliver will not risk her being taken a second time.
Our troops are heaviest at this spot, but we’ve also bolstered the men at the main gate and the eastern and western gates, just in case Barnabas tries something unexpected.
Since I returned to sound the alarm, Bryre’s people have been preparing. Stockpiles of weapons were dragged out into the square for any able-bodied citizen to take up. Farmers, blacksmiths, and bakers alike joined the regular members of the guard. A pallor of grim resignation hovers on every face.
No one can kill Barnabas without sacrificing themselves. No one really believes we can stand up to him and Ensel and win.
But no one wants to be a coward, either. Barnabas is only a man, after all. His skin can be pierced by a sword or arrow, but the magic inside him is what we all fear—what it will do to the person who takes his life.
And so we wait for Ensel and Barnabas to make their next move.
I stand apart from the battalion, avoiding the looks of fear and resentment that continually plague me in this city. Ren and I assisted the council with arming the city. I had to swallow my fears of these men who, not long ago, wanted to kill me. They only tolerate me now because they have been ordered to do so by the king.
But I hear them whispering. Many are convinced I am here as a trick. A spy for the wizard. The constant press of the crowd’s gaze on my back makes me want to curl up somewhere cold, dark, and empty. But this is my mess, my fault—my fight. They may not welcome me, but I will defend them.
Restless not-quite-soldiers creak and mutter in their ill-fitting armor while the sun beats down on us all. Not long before midday, a commotion begins within our ranks. Someone shoves through the guards and meets with resistance. With a quick nod to Oliver, I flutter off to investigate. Several guards struggle to hold back a girl with a sword from entering the front lines.
“Greta?” I say, amazed. The guards loosen their hold and she shakes them off.
“Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?” she huffs. “After what that trader did to Emmy and the horror Ensel put us through, I’ve got just as much of a stake in this fight as any of you.”
My cheeks flame with anger and sorrow. “I’m sorry, I tried to save Emmy, but I . . . I could not.” I can hardly look Greta in the eye. I made her a promise, but I could not keep it.
She squeezes my arm. “You tried. That is all anyone can ask.” Despite her bravado, grief shines in her eyes. “Now take me with you to the battle. I refuse to sit idly by while Ensel kills us all and takes the city for himself.”
I have to admit, Greta is a fierce ally. I lead her back to our group by the hole in the wall. Greta gasps when she sees the monster briar and the gaping hole in our defenses.
“What happened?”
“The wizard’s enchanted plant—part briar, part creeping vine—has been pulling this wall down little by little every day for months. Barnabas has been planning this attack with Ensel for some time.”
“What a devil,” is all she can say.
Soon sounds of skirmishes and striking swords ring through trees. Ensel’s men have met our scouts. I itch to join the fight, but I’m determined to defend the king. My once-father.
I’ll do anything to keep Barnabas from succeeding in his plans.
The sun is high in the sky when the first soldiers appear in the trees, but the thick forest makes it nearly impossible for our archers to shoot. Dark clouds gather overhead as more and more soldiers weave through the woods.
Barnabas must be near. My heart stutters an uneasy pattern, and my claws unsheathe of their own accord.
I’ve debated all day and night what I should do. Batu declined to help us fight the wizard, but someone has to stop him. I’ve never wanted to kill someone so much in my life
, far more so than when Barnabas told me half-truths of how the wizard destroyed my family. He did much worse.
But killing him has a price. And it’s terrifying.
Our archers hold their bows high, ready to fire at the king’s signal. But when the trees begin to thin and vanish into the ground, they lower their bows. It’s as though the trees’ lives unwind until they are nothing more than seedlings. Several men flee into the city. No one wants to die the horrific death that comes with killing a wizard. The rest shift uncomfortably, but stand their ground.
I smell him and his corrupted magic before I see him. The familiar, sickly sweet, honeyed scent.
Barnabas enters the tiny clearing he’s made in front of the wall, wearing a heavy black cloak I’ve never seen before. It moves strangely, as though it is made of shadows. His silver hair is wilder than ever and his eyes have a faraway look in them. The air around him shimmers, like he is not quite in focus. His hands move in circles, and the storm clouds above us expand and darken. A flash of lightning crackles over our heads, and thunder rumbles loud enough to shake the ground. Fear swims through the ranks. Everyone’s nerves are strung as tightly as bowstrings.
Ensel, flanked by several guards, guides his horse a few feet behind Barnabas, relying on him to elicit enough fear to get them close and clear the path in the thick woods. All of our battalion save a few brave souls shrink back, forming a line of people in the hole eaten through the wall. The foundation, though covered with briars, remains intact. I only hope it is enough to keep them out.
Ren lunges forward at the sight of them before I can stop him. A line of guards blocks the path to the wizard and their king with swords raised, and Ren halts, growling.
“Ren!” I cry. “They’ll kill you!”
Oliver puts a restraining hand on my shoulder. “You will only distract him. That will indeed get him killed.” His voice is tight with anger as he glares at Barnabas.
A balloon swells inside me, threatening to pop. Oliver is right, of course, but that has no bearing on my desire to protect Ren.
Greta stands beside me, sword at the ready, silent and strained. I have no doubt she wishes to do the same thing. But it is my duty to protect them all. I seethe quietly, waiting for an opening.
Ensel laughs from behind his host of guards and shouts to Oliver. “What’s this? Sending your best?”
Ren charges again, but Barnabas waves his fingers and Ren soars through the air, smashing into the city wall. He slumps to the ground, blood trickling down his cheek, as the force of the wind shoves our guards back and whips my hair around my face.
I don’t move an inch. Barnabas hurt Ren.
A flash of lightning strikes the ground just in front of the wall’s foundation, scaring the guards back a couple more feet.
A howl escapes my throat. Red is the only color I see. I’m swallowed up in it.
Red. Blood. Fury. Instinct.
I take off into the air, claws drawn, tail poised to strike. I hate this man more than anything. He hurt Ren. He wants to hurt my real father. My sister, my friends. He wants to hurt my city.
He lied to me to make me hurt them too. That is unforgivable. I may not be able to kill him without dying, but surely I can incapacitate him in some way.
As I swoop down at Barnabas, I dig my claws into his back, ripping his black cloak in the process. I land on my feet behind him. He turns to stare at me for a moment, stunned. Then he laughs. It ricochets through my brain, fueling my anger.
Shadows curling out from his hands yank my feet, sending me crashing down to the forest floor. Ensel’s soldiers swarm me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Barnabas attempt to pass through the wall, and hesitate at the foundation. I lash out with my tail and kick and scream, desperate to get to him, but there are too many hands, too many men charging me.
I am animal. Instinct takes over.
My body moves according to its own will, thrashing and clawing and stinging. Screams surround me. I crouch, quivering, on the forest floor, scanning the area for any other trace of attack. Blood coats my face, my hands, my tail, even my feathers. More than a dozen mangled bodies lie at odd angles between the trees.
Near the wall, Barnabas’s scowling form shimmers and fades from view. “No!” I cry. But it is too late.
Oliver and the Bryre guards gape, as do Ensel and the rest of his troops. Frustration explodes inside my chest. I settle my gaze on Ensel. He tries to guide his horse back farther into the ranks of his guards. I lock on my new target and pounce. I knock him off his horse, and we tumble to the ground. Ensel scrambles to his feet, wild eyed and red faced once again.
The coward runs.
I am the fox, and Ensel is the rabbit. We careen over the rocks and trees and leaves, ever faster and desperate.
Behind me, more fighting breaks out near the hole in the wall, but I can’t help Greta and Oliver now. Ensel can’t be allowed to escape.
A landmark I recognize lies ahead—a blind drop into the ravine. It comes up suddenly, so it’s easy to miss unless you know what to look for. Ensel will have to veer in one direction to avoid it.
I can take the path ahead and cut him off. He’ll come right to me.
I aim for the grove about twenty paces from the ravine, flying straight up into the trees. My tail is taut and prepared to sting. Just because Barnabas gave him the antivenom doesn’t mean the sting won’t hurt.
I want to hurt him. I want him to feel all the terror of every girl he paid Barnabas to steal.
I don’t wait long. The second he enters the grove at a breakneck pace, I drop like a stone. He stumbles and splays on the ground, but I remain standing. Barnabas used to say I land like a cat—upright and cocky. He was right.
Ensel scrambles back, reaching for the sword that slipped from his grasp when he fell. I step on the hilt. His hands scrabble at it, but it doesn’t budge. I place my other foot on his chest.
I sting. And sting. Until his shirt is shredded and bloody, and his eyes are dull.
By the time I reach the city walls, dusk hovers over the monster briar. Scattered boot prints near the wall are the only remaining trace of Ensel’s army, and Oliver, Greta, and Ren are nowhere to be found. I clutch the arm of the nearest guard. “Is the king alive?” I hold my breath until he nods with wide, frightened eyes. “Where is he? Where is Ren?” I choke out the last word.
“The—the king went back to the palace. Ren was taken to his home. I think that girl went with him.” I release the guard, then run straight to Ren’s house and burst into the kitchen. Laura doesn’t stir from his cot by the fire. Only when I fall to my knees by Ren’s side do I realize Oliver is back in his usual armchair. Greta and Delia huddle on a settee near the fire and glance up at my entrance.
I clutch Ren’s hand. His face is ashen, and a strip of bandage winds around his head. He doesn’t move. Despite the pallor, his face is peaceful. Hope blossoms in my heart.
“How is he?” I whisper.
“The doctor says he’ll recover. He’s been unconscious since he got here. His father is delivering messages across the city in his place.” Laura’s tone is clipped. She doesn’t want me here. One glance at my bloody clothes, and I can’t blame her.
“Kymera, my dear,” Oliver says. “The attack is over. You terrified Belladoma’s mercenary army. Most of them deserted after you took out that entire regiment in seconds. Once word arrived that Barnabas had vanished and King Ensel was dead, they ran.”
Greta smirks. “No mercenary will keep fighting if the man paying them is no longer around to do so.”
Oliver takes my free hand—despite the caked blood and flesh. “I know you suffered because of what Barnabas tricked you into doing. But thank you. You have my deepest gratitude.”
My jaw drops as my skin turns a deep shade of red.
“Thank you, sire. What about Barnabas? Do we know where he went?”
Laura spits at the mention of Barnabas’s name. I ignore it and focus on Oliver.
His expres
sion hardens. “Barnabas was up to his usual tricks. He distracted me and the guards by wrapping tendrils of weed grass around our ankles while he tried to cross the boundary. Thank heavens the foundation was enough to prevent him from entering the city. By the time I got free, he’d vanished.” Oliver examines me with an odd expression. “Are you hurt, child?” It takes me a moment to realize he’s asking how much of the blood on me is actually mine. My ribs hurt a little and scrapes zigzag all over my body from running through the forest without regard to branches.
“No—at least I don’t think so.”
He waves to Laura. “Would you draw a bath for Kymera, please?” She leaves the room at once after a curt nod. “I’m sure she will wash your clothes, too, and help if you have any wounds that need tending.”
The thought of bathing here makes me oddly uncomfortable. “I don’t know that I could. I should not impose. I just wanted to talk to you. There’s much I need to tell you, sire.”
He places a soft, warm hand on my cheek. It almost reminds me of Barnabas when he was pretending to be my father, but with Oliver it is different. The difference between genuine care and a mask of lies. “I insist. We can talk more tomorrow. Tonight we must rest. Who knows what the morning will bring?”
Delia smiles shyly at me, and Greta places a firm hand on my arm. “I’m glad Ensel is gone. And I’m glad you’re on our side.”
I smile. “And I’m glad you’re on mine.”
Laura reappears and ushers me down the hallway into a steaming room. My body aches for the water and to relax, even for an instant.
“You can take your things off behind that screen. Scrub until all that guck”—she wrinkles her nose—“is off you. I’ll put a fresh towel and a nightdress out.”
I do as I’m told, but before I can slip into the water, a scratching at the window startles me. Curling my wings around me, I tiptoe over as the scratching gets more frantic.
Hovering outside the window is Pippa. I thrust it open and she zooms inside, nearly knocking me over with her frenzied flapping and tongue licking at my cheeks. I bat her away, laughing. I can’t believe she lives. I was so sure she had perished in the cottage fire along with the chickens.
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