by Everly Frost
An hour later, the crop fields give way to a thick wilderness of bushes and vines. The bushes are as tall as trees and the color of a crow’s wings—stems and leaves inky black—but the vines are crimson, thorny and twisted, strangling the bushes so savagely that black sap trickles and drips from them onto the dusty ground. This must be the plant Nathaniel wants me to use to dye my hair.
The vines and bushes form a wall penning us in on our right-hand side while the Misty Gallows continues to curve at our left, leaving a path for us that is only ten paces wide.
Nathaniel’s arm tightens around my waist. “We call this place the Bitter Patch. It’s a warning to all humans who dare to pass into Mathilda’s land.”
“I take it that’s us,” I say.
He nods. “Don’t worry. She won’t hurt us.”
“You,” I say, trying to make light of the darkness around us. The way Nathaniel spoke about the witch yesterday, she sounded almost like his friend. At the very least, not like an enemy. I’m not sure how she’ll feel about me. “She won’t hurt you.”
“Us,” he corrects me firmly. “You have my protection.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, but my response sticks in my throat. A hush has fallen over this place and it feels like the environment has eyes. Even whispering sounds too loud.
My inner tension increases when Nathaniel steers Flare away from the Gallows toward a particularly prickly-looking patch of thorns and bushes.
Drawing Flare to a halt in front of it, he slips from the horse’s back. “Wait here for a moment.”
He strides toward the nearest bush, reaches carefully into the thick mess, and draws back a wash of vines.
My eyes widen when he reveals a tunnel of sorts through the wall of vegetation. It stretches far into the distance, carving its way through to form a dusty path trickling with black sap.
Nathaniel catches hold of one of the vines and uses it to tie the rest of the covering back, leaving an opening wide enough for Flare to walk through.
Returning to me, he stops at my thigh. “We need to travel along the tunnel to reach Null, but the Bitter Patch grows quickly. I’ll need to cut parts of it along the way so we can pass through. I left my weapon behind in Bright. Can I use your sword?”
“Of course.” Reaching for the liquid weapon attached to my left shoulder, I detach it so that it takes solid form again.
The moment it solidifies, the air shifts around me.
A cold breeze scrapes across my cheeks like fingernails.
I jolt away from the sensation, suddenly on edge.
Flare jostles to the side as if he sensed it too. His sudden movement forces me to grip with my thighs so I don’t fall off while I lurch for his reins with my free hand.
Nathaniel quickly sidesteps Flare’s big body so he doesn’t get crushed. “Aura? What’s wrong?”
“Did you feel that?” Gripping Flare’s reins, I cast a worried look back along the path between the Bitter Patch and the Misty Gallows. I’m not sure which direction the strange wind came from, but Flare snorts in the direction of the Gallows.
Nathaniel shakes his head but swings in that direction too, suddenly tense. “What did you feel?”
I struggle to describe it. “Pain. Anger.”
If there’s a threat, I need to face it. Sliding quickly from Flare’s back, I step clear of the nervous horse, gripping my sword as I turn to face the Gallows.
Nathaniel doesn’t have a weapon, but he urges Flare back toward the Bitter Patch, quickly slinging his reins around a vine to keep him out of the way.
“It’s okay, buddy,” he says, speaking calmly. “We’ll take care of it.”
Returning to stand beside me, he studies the mist as tension grows around his mouth. “It could be Mathilda, but I don’t know why she’d make her presence known like this unless she’s angry about something.”
The silence is heavy. It’s like waiting for the mist to exhale.
Inwardly, I sigh.
It feels like everything wants to come at me out of the fog today. Wolves, moths, horses, and now what? I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
Flare nickers and backs into the Bitter Patch behind us. The fact that he’d rather prick his hide on thorns than face the oncoming threat tells me that whatever’s coming is far worse.
I can’t sense anything now. It’s all too quiet.
I start counting heartbeats, inhaling calming breaths. Whether it’s the dark witch herself or not, I tell myself I can handle it.
In preparation, my starlight power simmers within my chest, ready to release if I need it.
A sudden crack splits my hearing.
The trees at the edge of the Gallows directly in front of us shudder and sway as a woman appears out of nothing. A branch behind her crumbles into dust as if she annihilated it with her magic.
Her hair is long, wild, and as black as a crow’s feathers, the same color as the vines behind me, while her eyes are a piercing green, large and luminescent, her lashes darkened to jet black. A fire-colored pelt, possibly from a tawny fox, rests across her shoulders while beneath it she wears a ragged, charcoal dress that hugs her voluptuous curves. The dress plunges in a low V at her neck with a high slit up her right leg that splits apart as she storms toward us.
“Nathaniel Shield,” she screams, her voice so sharp that I wince. “How dare you bring this violence to my home!”
“Mathilda?” He stands his ground despite the fact that he’s weaponless. “What in the dark stars—?”
“Fae weapon!” she screams, pointing at me. She continues to storm toward me. “That weapon bears the blood of innocents. I heard the echoes of their screams…” She gasps for breath, her hand pressed to her heart. “All the screams…”
Nathaniel’s focus flashes to my sword. The blade must have upset her. The sword isn’t mine. It came with the armor I’m wearing, which belongs to a fae named Serena—the Queen’s former Champion. She tried to kill Nathaniel last night. I stole her armor after I defeated her.
My stomach turns because I don’t know what Serena did with this sword, whom she might have hurt—humans and fae probably. If she killed humans, then I can understand why Mathilda is so upset that I raised the sword here.
I have to get rid of it, but my options are slim. As much as I hate what crimes might have been committed with it, we need this blade.
Opting for the easiest solution, I slap the sword to my shoulder so that it liquifies and disappears against my armor again.
I quickly hold out my hands, palms up and empty.
“It’s gone!” I say. “I won’t reach for it again.”
Mathilda’s wild eyes rise to mine. “I’m not talking about the sword!”
I stare at her in confusion.
If not the sword, then… what?
Her lips twist as she inhales to cry out again. “I’m talking about you!”
Chapter 7
Mathilda spins to Nathaniel, who has frozen beside me.
“This fae is a weapon,” she says. “She has killed a thousand humans. I sense their deaths on her like blood.” She squeezes her eyes shut, tears leaking from them. “Damn you for bringing her here.”
Nathaniel’s expression hardens in the same way it did when he faced Imatra this morning. “You deal in darkness, Mathilda. Darkness and death. You are not innocent—”
“But I always calculate my actions. Weigh them against the consequences. What she did—”
Nathaniel’s roar cuts her off. “Was not her fault!”
Mathilda jolts. “How can you be sure?”
“Because she was a child when it happened. She doesn’t remember it.”
I’m rocked to my core by Nathaniel’s defense of me. The sincerity and genuine belief in his statements shock me. He’s acting like my shield, my defender, my champion.
I don’t remember anything about the night I killed the army. Not the deaths, only the pain in my chest when I gained consciousness, forming my first thoughts
as I escaped the vast, cold place my mind was trapped in.
Mathilda glares back at Nathaniel, stepping right up to him. “You’re wrong.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not.”
Mathilda’s voice softens, becoming quiet in a way that feels dangerous. “You were wrong all along. You misinterpreted what your father said. The white-haired girl needs to die.”
Her silhouette flickers.
Behind her, another tree branch cracks and crumbles to dust.
She reappears right in front of me.
Her clawed fingers reach for my throat. Her eyes are glowing emerald orbs, dark magic flickering and swirling inside them, a power itself drawn from death. The vines and bushes at the edges of my vision curl and shrink as if the life is being sucked from them to power her spell.
Her voice whispers inside my mind…
…blood of innocent humans…
…from blood to blood…
…they will be avenged…
My starlight power cracks inside me, a powerful bright surge as I raise my arms to defend myself.
Mathilda’s hand closes around my neck, but my power blasts outward, an explosion so violent that it throws her back onto the path. Dark light washes out from her body as she tumbles through the mud.
Mathilda skids to a stop at the edge of the path, carving a groove in the mud, her pelt askew and her hair even more wild around her head. Her mouth gapes open as she stares at me in astonishment.
I only now realize how dangerous my actions might have been.
Under the Law of Champions, I’m not allowed to hurt a human in any way. The punishment is my death. I’m lucky Mathilda is a witch.
Mathilda’s surprise quickly shifts into anger, her eyebrows drawn down and her face draining pale. She rises to her feet, lifting from the ground with a power I can’t see or feel. Her magic isn’t like Imatra’s or the power of the Frost fae over wind—it sucks at the air as if she’s draining the natural environment to make herself stronger. Vines wither and curl on the other side of me, crumbling like the tree branches.
Every time she uses her power, some part of the natural environment dies. I’ve never seen dark magic in action, but the death of nature appears to be the consequence.
She stares at her hands as if she’s trying to work something out. “I sensed darkness and light. A binding. A challenge…”
I didn’t think she could get any paler, but she wobbles before she regains her balance. “You invoked the Law of Champions.”
She strides toward me again, but Nathaniel reaches for me this time, his hand closing around my arm. He murmurs, “Stay calm. Mathilda and I have to work this out.”
Mathilda grinds to a stop in front of me.
Her sharp eyes follow the curve of my cheeks from one side to the other. The line of her sight as it flickers from one part of my face to the other traces the symbol that Nathaniel drew on my skin.
“She invoked the Law of Champions, killed your people, and still you gave her your family name. Why?”
“I’m doing what I promised my father.”
“He never told you to mark her.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “Aura has my trust. You need to accept that.”
“She will kill you, Nathaniel!”
Pain suddenly stabs my heart. Mathilda is volatile and powerful, but her worry is genuine. She may not be human, but she acts like Nathaniel’s protector.
“You have betrayed your name,” she cries. “You have spat on your father’s grave. You have destroyed his memory—”
Nathaniel’s fierce roar cuts her off. “No!”
She blinks at him in surprise, taking a step back like she did when he yelled at her the first time. She seems genuinely surprised by his anger. I don’t understand the nature of their relationship, but her shock makes me wonder if he’s ever acted against her wishes before.
“My father taught me to follow my heart,” he says, lowering his voice. “He taught me honor. He taught me to trust my instincts. He taught me everything that compels me to—”
He stops so suddenly that the silence is like a weight descending around us.
Mathilda narrows her eyes at him. “Compels you to what, Nathaniel? And for what? A faded fae who will never return what you give?” She spins from him to me. “Why don’t we see what motivates her heart?”
I freeze as she dares to hover her hand above my chest without my permission. At least she doesn’t touch me this time. The gap between us fills with dark light and a look of concentration crosses her face. In the distance, another tree branch cracks and disappears into dust. At this rate, she’ll strip all of its branches.
“Stop,” I order her, but not because she’s hurting me. I grew up with a deep respect for nature. My people harness the power of our environment but never to its detriment. Our magic works in harmony with nature, unlike this dark magic. It hurts me every time she sucks the life from a branch or a vine. I sense the pain she’s causing the environment, even if she doesn’t.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” I say. “Ask me anything and I’ll speak the truth.”
My offer has no effect on her, her gaze fixed on the location of my heart. Her forehead suddenly creases deeply as if she’s very confused. Then her eyes fly wide.
She gasps.
Nathaniel’s fist snaps out, wrapping around Mathilda’s wrist.
“That’s enough,” he says, but Mathilda is already pulling away from me.
She stares at me as she backs away, stopping three paces from us. “Darkest of stars,” she whispers. She looks at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time, her eyes searching my face, her gaze running across my hair. Her speech is disjointed, like parts of complete sentences that she’s refusing to speak aloud. “White-haired girl… faded now… but she glows when you touch her…”
A deep sense of unease spreads through me. I suddenly feel the need to press the heel of my hand against my heart to remind myself that my heart is beating. That she hasn’t taken anything from me or hurt me in any way.
A glance at Nathaniel tells me he’s just as unsettled by her reaction.
“Speak, Mathilda,” he orders her. “Explain what you saw.”
She casts a glance at me before she shakes her head. “No.”
But her expression is softer now as she turns to him with a sigh. “You’ve made a complicated choice, Nathaniel. You were already walking an impossible path. Every step you take now will come at a cost.”
He says, “There’s no price too high.”
I don’t fully understand what’s going on right now, but I recognize the determination in Nathaniel’s declaration. He’s planning something that involves me—that he seems determined to carry out despite the Law of Champions—and he’s willing to risk everything along the way.
Before I can speak, Mathilda says to me, “You carry Nathaniel’s family name. It’s written on your body in the most fundamental bond of loyalty. It will give you hope, but also pain. What remains of your heart will be torn apart before the beginning of the third day. I pray you survive it.”
She spins to Nathaniel. “I sense a shift in the east. Cyrian has been drawing massive amounts of energy from his environment in the last day, but I don’t know why. As for Aura… you will hurt her more than I ever could.”
I shiver as her silhouette flickers.
In the distance, the remainder of the tree crumbles as she disappears.
Nathaniel stares at the empty space she left behind. We’re both frozen where we stand.
“Please explain to me what just happened,” I say, needing answers.
“After my father died, I told Mathilda about his last words. She always questioned my interpretation. She disagrees with me bringing you here. She thinks I was supposed to kill you.” I suck in a sharp breath, but Nathaniel quickly continues. “That’s why she said I was wrong all along.”
“Does she have Sight?” I ask, trying to shake off her pr
edictions.
“She can’t see the future—she can’t see details or events—but she can sense pain and suffering, both future and past. That’s how she sensed your past just now. She warned my father about the final battle, too, but he didn’t listen. Now she thinks I’m not listening to her, either.”
“She’s worried about you.” I stare at the empty space she left behind, knowing that Mathilda’s fears are well founded.
Nathaniel clears his throat as he turns to settle Flare. The firehorse shakes his head vehemently while Nathaniel unwinds his reins from around the thorny vines.
“She’s not wrong about me,” I say quietly. “I have the blood of innocent humans on my hands.”
In less than two days, I may have Nathaniel’s blood on my hands too. Although… Mathilda’s prediction places my greatest pain earlier than that. Less than a day away, in fact. I try, and fail, to suppress the shudder raging down my spine.
Nathaniel pauses in the process of straightening Flare’s harness. “When I look at you, I see a woman, not a killer with blood on her hands. I need you to remember that.”
I swallow against the emotions rising inside me, my fear of what lies ahead of us battling with my desire to believe what he says.
He inclines his head toward the tunnel and holds out his hand for the second time today. “I’ve known what I had to do since the day my father died. We’re almost there. Are you willing to come with me?”
Nearly everything I’ve encountered today has come at me with ferocity, taking me by surprise. It’s time for me to start confronting my environment head on. I take his outstretched hand, but only to wrap my fingers around his for a brief moment before I step into the tunnel.
I catch his breaking smile as he watches me stride ahead of him into the dark.
Chapter 8
The air inside the tunnel is surprisingly fresh and crisp. The scent of the sap isn’t heavy, but instead lightly sweet. When I accidently brush up against the crimson thorns, I discover that they’re soft and malleable to the touch. Nathaniel asks for my sword to cut the first set of vines that block the way. I would prefer not to destroy them, but I can see how Flare’s hooves could get tangled in them and put him in danger, so I hand over my weapon. I’m surprised when I don’t sense any pain from the plants.
