by Shae Ford
Thud.
D’Mere sank to the floor when the pressure relented. She crouched as the world swam, trying to blink the darkness from her eyes. Elena’s body lay at her boots, having been driven down by the pommel of Left’s sword.
“I’m fine,” D’Mere snapped at his look. She spoke hoarsely; her throat nearly sealed shut by Elena’s grip. “She’d better be alive.”
Left nodded.
“Good. Take her to an empty room — and make sure she has her weapons. If Aerilyn’s to have any chance at all, she’ll need them.”
Left slid the twin daggers into the sheaths on Elena’s arms and then scooped her body off the floor. He carried her easily through the doorway. D’Mere lost track of his muffled steps almost as soon as he’d gone.
All was going well. D’Mere drew the cowl over her eyes once more. She made certain it covered the rising bruise on her neck, and listened carefully for Aerilyn. Her steps sounded down the hall not a moment later: heavier than usual.
Right had finished his task, then. The rest would be easy.
Aerilyn’s golden brown hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her boots were muddy, her breeches stained. And for whatever reason, the entire bottom half of her tunic had been torn away.
She stumbled into the room and froze mid-yawn when she saw D’Mere. “Countess! You … you’re alive.”
“I am,” D’Mere said coolly. She wasn’t certain what Aerilyn knew, and she was determined not to say too much. “I’ve had a trying few days, girl. You must know that I can’t stay for long — I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to Pinewatch.”
Aerilyn’s eyes squinched at their bottoms. “What have you done? Why is Midlan after you?”
“What have I done? I stood against the King. I refused to help him wage war with the Kingdom, and so he made an example out of me. Things are changing swiftly, Aerilyn. I fear the seas may be next … so I’ve come to warn you.”
“You were the one who started the trouble in the seas. I know it was you,” Aerilyn said, the vehemence in her voice dulled by a heavy yawn. She seemed to be struggling to hold her glare. “Chaucer disappearing, a bag of heads …”
“Nothing more than a series of nasty rumors. The council failed to negotiate a treaty with the King and, rather than face the wrath of their people, they put the blame on me.”
Aerilyn’s body swayed with her blink. “Well, that certainly … seems like something the council would do.”
“And it’s precisely what they did,” D’Mere said calmly. She stepped over to Aerilyn and wound her fingers through her hair — tying it into a knot that matched her own.
“But it … it isn’t fair. It’s not fair for you to … take the blame …”
Aerilyn looked about to tip over. D’Mere grabbed her shoulders tightly. “Nothing’s fair about the council’s games. The lesser men band together against the strong until all that’s left is weakness. But weak men can’t bear the weight of rule for long. That’s how all regions fall. The High Seas will soon belong to Crevan.”
Aerilyn’s eyes had fallen shut while D’Mere spoke, but she slowly forced them open. They were perilously red. “It’s all been for nothing, then. I came all this way because I hoped you would speak to the King on our behalf, I hoped you might be able to get us a treaty. But if the council’s turned its back on you … if Crevan … oh!” Her head slung forward into D’Mere’s shoulder. “I don’t know — know what to do!”
She held Aerilyn carefully, lips pursed against her sobs. There would be no saving the seas. Midlan had likely begun its march upon the council, if it hadn’t already reached the gates. But the King’s wrath would be a mercy compared to the force that stalked D’Mere.
Its soldiers never tired, they never stopped. A handful of them had even tried to swim after her boat. She’d turned to watch as the twins rowed for the middle of the lake, her skin tightened against their screams.
They were terrified of the water. Their arms flailed and they rent the night with blood-chilling shrieks. Still, they marched on — until the water covered their heads and stilled their flailing in death.
Even if D’Mere did manage to escape the Grandforest alive, they would follow her across the Kingdom. Their pursuit would be as relentless as the sun’s journey across the skies. They would never slow, they would never stop …
Aerilyn slumped hard against her chest, reminding her of the task at hand. D’Mere shook her awake. “Why don’t you open the window, my dear? A breath of cool night air might help sharpen your eyes.”
While Aerilyn stumbled over to the window, D’Mere slunk back. She was careful to hang in the shadows of the doorway when Aerilyn drew the curtains aside.
“Is there any way you might consider speaking to the council?” Aerilyn murmured as she leaned against the sill. “I know you can’t do much … but if people … knew the truth …”
D’Mere had been listening so intently to the scout’s excited call that she almost didn’t hear. “The council? What good would that …?”
She stopped. An idea crept up to her as she thought about the chancellor’s island fortress. She wouldn’t be able to outrun her enemies, but she might be able to stop them — once the council was out of the way, of course.
“Yes. I’ll leave at once,” D’Mere promised.
“Thank you.”
Aerilyn leaned into the night and breathed deeply. Her weariness made her vulnerable. It was difficult not to imagine her as a child. When she turned from the window and wandered sleepily to her bed, D’Mere almost regretted everything …
Almost.
CHAPTER 24
A Cage
Elena woke with a curse.
She’d been a fool to listen to the Countess, to allow her to speak at all. She would’ve done better to carve a line across her throat and spare herself the trouble. Instead, she’d fallen straight into another of D’Mere’s games — one in which she enraged Elena to the point that she’d dropped her guard.
Now her skull throbbed and her heart stung horribly. As she lay still in the darkened room, trying to blink back the film of her pain, D’Mere’s words coated her tongue in some bitter truth:
The only people you love are the ones who’ve hurt you … it suits you.
As much as Elena hated to admit it, the Countess was right. She’d spent her entire life believing that she deserved what she’d been given. It made her torment easier to accept. She supposed there was a certain amount of comfort in the thought that all was as it should be.
But at some point, her comfort had become her cage.
D’Mere taunted her from outside the door while Holthan sat heavily upon its top. The world beyond was dark: there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t be hurt again, once she left. She’d accepted the cruelty and the games out of fear, nothing more. Uncertainty jammed the door’s only latch.
Perhaps she would never know if she deserved any goodness in her life. But she knew for certain that staying locked away would only leave her open to more cruelties, other torments. The sorts of people drawn to the cries of a caged woman were exactly the sorts who would stand upon its top. Her pain would never end, as long as she believed herself to be broken.
Though the Countess’s words had been meant to hurt her, they’d unwittingly drawn the veil aside. Now Elena could see how she’d been trapped. She had to try to forget the lies she’d told herself. She had to leave the cage behind. There was no hope in comfort.
Walking into the uncertainty was her only chance of finding Jake.
Only after her pain had dulled did Elena think to be shocked that she was still living. The Countess had her pinned and unconscious. Why hadn’t she slit her throat?
She was feeling along the ridges of her neck, wondering if it had been slit, when something hit her: perhaps she was still alive because the Countess hadn’t been after her.
Perhaps …
Aerilyn.
Elena jumped to her feet, squinting when the ache in her he
ad sloshed forward and struck the backs of her eyes. The hallway seemed to tilt as she struggled to hold her footing. By the time she’d reached Aerilyn’s bed, she’d managed to get her focus back.
But it didn’t stay for long.
“Aerilyn?”
She was lying in the darkened chamber atop her sheets, unmoving. Elena pressed her ear against Aerilyn’s chest and was relieved to hear the slow, steady thud of her heart. But she didn’t stir — not even when Elena shook her did she do anything more than sleep.
The Countess must’ve drugged her … again. It seemed like she preferred to put Aerilyn to sleep rather than have to talk to her. But why would she have come to Pinewatch if she hadn’t meant to talk to Aerilyn? If she hadn’t meant to kill Elena? Why would she have risked staying so close to Lakeshore?
One thing Elena had learned over the years was that the Countess never did anything without a purpose. Sometimes it didn’t make sense until after the hammer had fallen, but she knew to look closely.
The window was opened a crack. A cool breeze swept in while Elena was thinking, stirring her from her thoughts. She’d stepped over to close it, annoyed, when a strange sound caught her attention.
It was the noise of heavy footsteps dragging through the grass — of snapping twigs and stones kicked aside. It was the sound of an army that wasn’t even bothering to cover its march. And it was heading directly towards them.
Elena’s vision sharpened, but the shadows that draped down from the monstrous pines were too thick for her eyes. Still, she could tell by how the shadows writhed between the pale gaps that there was a large company of men heading towards them.
Garron’s house was practically defenseless. There were a few mercenaries staying at the house, but most camped in the village below. Elena couldn’t face an army on her own. She had to think of something quickly.
Perhaps she might be able to frighten it away.
Aerilyn’s bow stood in a corner of the room, propped between its quivers. Elena grabbed the one with the exploding arrows and draped it over her shoulder. The magic in it was so strong that it seeped through her armor. Her skin came alive where it touched: it gathered in itching bunches and protested her every move.
For all of her training, Elena had never fired an arrow. She hated archery, hated the guesswork of aiming, the nearly dozen steps that had to be perfected in order for the arrow to fly true. She loathed the possibility that, even with a perfect draw, one shift in the direction of the wind could knock an arrow completely off its course.
She preferred the weight of something more predictable.
Her fingers curled when she reached back to draw an arrow. Memories of Jake flooded her as she readied the bow. She could feel him in this spell, see him behind her eyes. Her mind was so focused on him that her strength wavered for a fraction of a second at the height of her draw — and the arrow slipped free.
It fell well short of its mark. The head struck the base of a pine just outside the window and exploded. Flames ate quickly through the tree, bolstered by its sap. With a huge chunk already blasted out of its base, it only took a moment for the fire to weaken it.
Elena heard the tree groan, saw its spiny branches come closer. She jammed the bow over her shoulders and hauled Aerilyn’s body into her arms. The hallway shrank with her sprint. She thought she was prepared for the tree to strike the house, but the resounding crash still jolted her.
Doors swung open. Men cursed at the sight of the flames devouring the floor beneath them. Elena knew they would all go sprinting for the front door, and she planned to be well ahead.
She held Aerilyn tightly against her chest as she tore down the stairs. Horatio stumbled from his chambers, eyes wild and the wooden ladle already clutched in his hands.
“What was that confounded noise about? What’s happening up there?”
“The house in on fire, and we’re under attack,” Elena called as she shoved past him. “Follow me if you want to live!”
She threw her shoulder into the front door and broke it off its latch. The cook’s panting erupted into swears when he saw the horde waiting for them outside.
Blackened figures stood silently before them, their edges barely illuminated by the flames rising from the house. They stood so impossibly still that Elena almost didn’t see them. Some of the shadows were the size of men — some were much larger. They looked almost like … giants.
Something tugged on her memory: the image of a body washed up from the lake …
Elena froze as the fires grew and cast a light across the nearest man’s face. He was a desert man. His deadened, milky-white gaze fell from hers and dropped onto Aerilyn. His mouth opened, and he let out a shriek.
Maids, servants, and mercenaries tumbled out of the house behind them. Torches were beginning to flare up down in the village — no doubt awakened by the noise. One of the mercenaries shoved past Elena. He wore little more than his underthings and the sword at his hip.
“All right, who needs a gutting?” He bellowed at the frozen army. A handful of his comrades clustered around him, weapons drawn.
The man at their lead didn’t answer. His eyes never moved from Aerilyn. They widened, he shrieked again — and this time, the others joined them.
Elena tore away as they charged, sprinting for the woods. The mercenaries swelled in behind her and cut the deadmen off. Their swords fell in skilled arcs. They fought angrily. But the horde never stopped.
The man at their lead swiped an arm at a mercenary’s blade — only to have it hewed at the wrist. He didn’t cry out. He didn’t so much as grimace. His mouth hung slack and his dead eyes stayed locked onto Aerilyn. Even when a second mercenary swiped off his head, his body lumbered a few paces more before it collapsed.
A string of curses flew from Elena’s lips as the deadmen broke through the mercenaries’ line. She was well into the trees but could hear their footsteps pounding behind her. A swell of men from the village tore into their flank and slowed the deadmen further. But they would never stop.
Elena had seen the corpses of men who looked like this before, after their battle in the Endless Plains. And she suddenly understood why the Countess had come to Pinewatch, and why there’d been so many dead Midlan soldiers at Lakeshore. It wasn’t the King she feared: it was Gilderick.
Lord Gilderick’s army of deadmen was coming after her.
Even though it made sense, Elena couldn’t believe it. That horrible witch of a woman! Was there nothing she wouldn’t do to survive? She’d used her own daughter as bait — she’d thrown Aerilyn into Gilderick’s jaws and put all of Pinewatch in danger.
The crash of Garron’s roof caving in sounded off in the distance, but the noise of battle was growing fainter. Perhaps the mercenaries had been able to hold the deadmen off —
“Argh!”
Elena saw the shadow out of the corner of her eyes and managed to dart away just in time to avoid the swipe of a deadman’s arm. It was a forest man. An involuntary gasp raked Elena’s throat when she saw his face.
She knew this man. He was one of the guards at D’Mere’s castle. His eyes hadn’t given over to death quite yet. They were still dark, but vacant. His tongue lolled as he moaned:
“El-na … El-na.”
He was trying to speak her name. That must’ve been what he was saying. She slowed for a moment, a breath to listen. And it cost her dearly.
A pair of monstrous hands ripped Aerilyn from her arms just as a monstrous fist collided with her ribs. Elena steeled herself against the shock of a second blow and tore Slight and Shadow from their scabbards.
She managed to bury them in the back of the giant who had Aerilyn before the second flung her away. The world spun as she rolled onto her shoulder, but she quickly found her feet. Elena knew the giant wouldn’t go down easily. His throat was far out of reach. His stride was too long. It would do her no good to run.
She would have one chance at finishing him — and she’d be lucky to get it.
When he barreled towards her, she matched his charge. Elena drove Slight downward, burying him deep in the giant’s thick chest. She pulled herself up by the dagger’s grip before his arms could wrap around her and swung Shadow for his throat.
Blood poured from his wound in arcs and torrents. The giant fought on even as his body slowed. Elena ripped her daggers free and tried to dart away when the giant’s arm struck her in the back.
He swatted her down and she fell hard upon her stomach — but somehow managed to scramble away before his body could crush her.
She had to find Aerilyn.
Following the other giant’s trail wasn’t difficult. His heavy steps left tears through the foliage; the wounds in his back made the brush tops shine with gore. After a few moments of panicked sprinting, she saw them: two giants and the forest man crouched in the path ahead of her. While the forest man stared listlessly at the trees above him, the giants’ heads stayed down.
The wounded giant was bent over Aerilyn. The other held … something else.
Elena couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a pair of emaciated legs dangling from them. She’d set her eyes upon the wounded giant when a slimy voice burst out:
“Fools — this isn’t the Countess! She’s slipped past us again. All isn’t lost, however … this pretty little thing knows where she’s headed. Move, all of you! No, leave that here. Her body isn’t any use to me.”
Elena crouched low and stayed perfectly still while the giants and the forest man tore away. Once they were gone, she sprinted for Aerilyn.
The merchant’s daughter lay still in the grass, her eyes gazing upwards. They seemed so distant, so transfixed by something that hovered in a world just beyond them. Elena knew that look. She’d seen it before. And her heart plummeted from such a surprising distance that she felt it shatter at the bottom.
“Aerilyn!” She grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her head from the ground. She tried to get her to move, to blink. But she wouldn’t. She … couldn’t.
