Forest of Souls

by Lori M. Lee

  He steps out from beneath the pavilion. His dark hair has been pulled back and knotted at the nape of his neck. Despite the disguise, the proper thing to do would be to dismount and bow. But I don’t waste time on pleasantries or protocols.

  “I need your help. It’s urgent.”

  Prince Meilek’s brows rise. Behind him, two other soldiers stand. I recognize them as his Blades, although they’re also dressed as regular soldiers.

  He gestures for them to keep their distance and gives me a warm smile. “Shall we walk?”

  I dismount and shove the reins at another of his soldiers. The soldier looks confused but grudgingly accepts responsibility over the drake.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve been well treated since we last met,” Prince Meilek says, his words ending in a question. There is genuine concern in the way his eyes sweep over my face.

  “I have.” I gesture around us. “Can we speak somewhere more private?”

  “It’ll be dinner soon.” Torches have already been lit throughout the camps. “We’re to dine with Ronin tonight to welcome the lord’s return to his manor. There’s a stream down that way to wash up. It should be quiet enough.”

  Despite my impatience, I nod and allow him to lead us. His two Blades keep a respectful distance.

  “Is your sister here yet?” I ask lightly.

  “Not yet, but I left her to ride ahead two days ago. She should arrive by morning.”

  “Is she bringing a large entourage?”

  If he finds the question strange, he doesn’t show it. “Larger than I would have recommended, but not so many that we won’t have enough tents.”

  I school my expression into blankness. This doesn’t make sense. If the queen isn’t bringing her entire army, then where are all her soldiers?

  As we weave through the crowd, Prince Meilek’s body language doesn’t betray any awkwardness or resentment, despite what happened in Vos Gillis.

  I stuff my hands into my pockets and blurt, “I need to apologize. For the last time we met. I shouldn’t have raised my swords to you.”

  He gives me a crooked smile. “You shouldn’t have, no. But I understand why you did.”

  “I wouldn’t have killed you.” I cringe at how that sounds, but he only laughs. How he can forgive me so easily baffles me. In his place, I’m not sure I’d be as understanding.

  “You couldn’t have, anyway,” he says. “But you’re a natural warrior. Kendara used to say that you try too hard, that you’re too afraid to fail. I don’t think that’s it, though. You simply fight with all the fire in your being.”

  I flush a bit at his praise. What does one say when the prince of Evewyn compliments your skill after you’ve committed treason?

  “You only won because I gave up one of my swords to save Kudera,” I point out. “Otherwise, the fight could have gone either way. We do share the same sword master.”

  Prince Meilek doesn’t look surprised. “Of course you’d notice. You were her star pupil, after all.”

  That’s not true. Sadness and anger surges within me. She never meant for me to be Shadow. She only trained me because of a promise she made to my mother.

  “Back in the Prince’s Company, you always attacked first. That doesn’t seem to have changed.”

  “There’s no point letting my opponent make the first move. If I attack quickly, I can end it quickly.”

  “Kendara always cautioned me to attack only when absolutely necessary.”

  “That’s because you’re you,” I say. Still, I consider the implications. Prince Meilek must exercise caution because his loss would devastate the kingdom. I need no such restrictions. Because I am expendable.

  I shake my head. I have to stop thinking this way. Kendara pushed me to fight my hardest so I would have the skills to survive.

  As we pass the last few stalls in the market, something catches my eye. Nearly hidden by the growing gloom and a stack of small crates is a man washing dishes. It’s not him I notice; it’s the distinctive tattoos stretching from the ends of his eyebrows and into his hairline.

  Confusion washes over me. “What’s he doing here?”

  Prince Meilek follows my gaze. His feet slow and then stop.

  The wounds I’d given Eyebrow Tattoos are gone. He’s dressed in common clothing, sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he dunks dishes into a tub of soapy water. A lightwender must have tended to his hands, although I can’t imagine him allowing a shaman to perform magic on him.

  “Was he dismissed from the Valley of Cranes?” Maybe he’d been fired for allowing the prison break.

  “He wasn’t dismissed,” Prince Meilek says.

  I follow his long strides as he cuts between two stalls. At the sounds of our approach, Eyebrow Tattoos looks up. His expression when he recognizes Prince Meilek is almost comical. The plate in his hand slips into the tub, splashing his shirt. His face goes ruddy as his expression twists into panic.

  Then he turns and runs.

  “Blades,” Prince Meilek snaps. The two Blades at our backs bolt after him.

  I’m not about to be left behind, so I take off as well. I follow closely as they sprint around people and tents, drakes and campfires. Eyebrow Tattoos is surprisingly fast. He knocks over a pot, spilling stew and hot embers. Smoke billows into the darkening sky. People shout and dash into our path.

  I leap over a man crouched over the spilled stew. Prince Meilek is right beside me, a focused predatory glint in his eyes. I’m suddenly glad I didn’t try to run when he caught Saengo and me those weeks ago.

  The tents end as the ground slopes gradually downward toward a stream filled with splashing children and people bathing shamelessly in the torchlight. Eyebrow Tattoos has nearly reached a small copse of trees when one of the Blades finally tackles him. They go down in a crush of limbs and armor.

  The Blade ends up on top, pinning Eyebrow Tattoos. In an instant, the other Blade has his sword drawn and pointed at the man’s throat. He stops struggling immediately, his chest heaving from exertion.

  Prince Meilek and I catch up a second later. In a clipped voice, Prince Meilek asks, “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your post in the Valley?”

  Eyebrow Tattoos shakes his head frantically. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to run. I just—I panicked. I-I wasn’t supposed to be seen.”

  “Seen by whom?”

  “By you.” His eyes are huge. His forehead is shiny with sweat. Is he scared of Prince Meilek?

  Granted, the prince looks rather forbidding at the moment, with no trace of his usual kindness. “Who gave you this order?”

  “Th—the queen, Your Highness.”

  Ah. Eyebrow Tattoos is terrified of what the queen will do to him now that he’s broken her orders.

  “And why would she do that?” Prince Meilek asks calmly, a threat beneath his words. This isn’t just the prince of Evewyn. This is the captain of the Queen’s Guard, and he doesn’t tolerate lies.

  “I don’t question my queen’s orders, Your Highness.” His gaze darts frantically past the prince and his Blades, seeking escape.

  So an Evewynian army marched east more than a week ago, before mysteriously vanishing, and now we find an Evewynian soldier hidden among the camps. The implications make my skin prickle.

  “Are you the only soldier stationed here?” I ask.

  Eyebrow Tattoos notices me for the first time. Disgust curls his lip. “You. Don’t speak to me, shaman filth—”

  “Answer the question,” Prince Meilek says.

  Eyebrow Tattoos swallows delicately against the sword at his throat. “I … I can’t possibly know—”

  “You’re lying.” My fists clench, imagining the grips of my swords. “How many others are there?”

  The Blade holding the sword moves the edge against Eyebrow Tattoos’s neck. Blood beads against the steel. With a whimper, he tries to wiggle out from beneath the weapon but stops when the other Blade presses a foot to his chest.

  “You
will answer the question, or I will leave you in the shaman’s care for questioning,” Prince Meilek says. “I trust you recall how your last meeting with her went.”

  I bare my teeth in a grin, impressed that the prince’s expression doesn’t give away the bluff. At least I think it’s a bluff.

  “I don’t know!” Eyebrow Tattoos shouts, squeezing his eyes shut. “I swear! I just know they’re spread out. Through the camps and the manor house.”

  My thoughts race. Why would Queen Meilyr include soldiers among Ronin’s house staff? What could they hope to do in a manor house filled with Thiy’s most powerful shamans and shadowblessed? In a manor house … made of troll bones.

  “Why?” Prince Meilek repeats.

  “I know why,” I breathe as all the pieces suddenly click together.

  It’s a trap. Queen Meilyr plans to ambush the leaders inside the manor house, where they won’t be able to fight back at their full strength. I press my palm to my chest, feeling the frantic flutter of my heart.

  Ronin has to be warned. He has to—

  And then I remember. The letter Saengo had found in Ronin’s study. The arrangements the queen had mentioned. Ensuring preparations were made for additional staff.

  No. I sway on my feet. Ronin can’t have agreed to such a plan. His purpose has always been to keep the peace.

  And yet, this at last answers the question I couldn’t solve at Spinner’s End: Why me?

  Only a soulguide could have brought so many leaders together in one place. Phaut said there’s never been a gathering like this one. Queen Meilyr gambled on me awakening as a soulguide, and it had paid off.

  A plan involving the placement of so many hidden soldiers could never have been guaranteed without Ronin’s help. What a perfect fool I’ve been. I knew that Ronin’s priority was his own power, and yet I didn’t see this coming.

  Does Ronin even believe the things he’s said about soulguides? There’s a pang at my center, in that dark, still place where my old fears crouch in wait—that I am destined for nothing. That I am nothing.

  Prince Meilek gives me an expectant look, but how do I even begin to explain? Once Ronin and Queen Meilyr have won themselves all of Thiy, the only threat remaining will be the Dead Wood. A threat they can control, so long as they have me.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Ronin and Queen Meilyr are planning to ambush the leaders in the manor house.”

  The corners of Prince Meilek’s lips tighten, but he doesn’t otherwise react. “That seems unlikely.”

  I gesture to the man on the ground. “Your proof is right here.”

  His eyebrow twitches, a sign of his skepticism. But he addresses Eyebrow Tattoos. “Is this true?”

  The man moans miserably, like he’s already been condemned. Prince Meilek repeats the question. Hands clasped for mercy, Eyebrow Tattoos nods.

  Prince Meilek steps back, his jaw set. “Take him to the camp for further questioning. Learn everything you can, but speak of this to no one. I’ll meet you there shortly.”

  Once the Blades have gone, he turns on his heel, stalking into the nearby trees. His fingers clench and unclench at his side.

  I sympathize that he needs to process, but we can’t wait to act. I follow after him. “Prince Meilek, we need to warn everyone.”

  He ignores me as we move deeper into the trees. They’re lush and green, the tall grass undisturbed and scattered with blue wildflowers. The sun has disappeared beneath the horizon, but full dark hasn’t yet settled. Beneath the branches, the remaining light is a diffused glow.

  He goes only far enough that the sound of rushing water drowns out the noise of those downstream. “Do you know what will happen if we share this information on the word of a single unreliable source?”

  “I know what will happen if we don’t. Saengo’s father, the head of House Phang, has already confirmed the queen emptied northern Evewyn of its troops and led them east. I can produce proof of his message if you insist, but we’re wasting time by arguing.”

  He prowls along the water’s edge, his agitation feeding my own. “I have to speak to Mei and find out for myself what’s going on. Maybe I can stop her.”

  “You can’t. Who knows how long she’s had this planned? Whatever you say now won’t change anything.”

  Queen Meilyr must be as adept as Ronin at constructing webs, because she’s woven so many lies and secrets around her brother, her own captain, that he hadn’t even been aware of her plotting.

  “And even if, by some miracle, you do manage to change your sister’s mind, what about Ronin?” I say. “Whether she’s there or not, Ronin might continue with their plan and kill everyone, anyway. We have to warn them.”

  A muscle works in his jaw. Although his expression is hard, there’s a wounded look in his eyes. His sister’s betrayal cuts deep. But will he betray her in turn? I can’t claim to understand how difficult this must be for him. Despite everything she’s done, he must still love her.

  “The news needs to come from you. As Evewyn’s prince, you might be able to convince the other leaders that your people aren’t their enemy. But if you won’t do it, then I will.”

  I turn on my heel only to jolt back again. A small knife pierces the shore shy of where my foot would have been.

  A man with ribbons in his braids emerges from the trees, along with four others. I recognize them as the music troupe from only a few hours ago. In place of instruments, their hands grip swords. One wears a belt lined with small throwing knives.

  Eyebrow Tattoos might not have run in this direction at random. I silently curse myself for leaving my weapons in my satchel, which is back in the market with my drake.

  How long before Prince Meilek’s Blades come searching for him? As Prince Meilek and I shift closer to each other, a sixth figure breaks from the trees. In the dark, I don’t immediately recognize him. But when I do, my stomach clenches in renewed fury.

  “Jonyah,” I hiss.

  Thick scars marble much of his face, the flesh shiny and taut. His head has been shaved, but the fuzz of new growth stops above his temple. The scars continue down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.

  “Sirscha, Sirscha. That’s twice now I’ve sneaked up on you.” The fire destroyed his lips, slurring his words. “Are you sure Kendara trained you?” His physical appearance is all that’s changed. He still walks with a swagger, still puffs out his chest to emphasize his size.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Prince Meilek asks. The cool edge to his voice makes me shiver.

  But Jonyah’s flinty eyes pass over him, dismissive. His instincts were never very sharp. “Keep quiet, Your Highness. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “You will lower your weapons at once.”

  “My orders come from someone above you, so no.” Jonyah stomps down into the strip of patchy grass that lies between the trees and the bank of the stream. His large boots make a squelching sound, crushing the water reeds that push through the mud. Gesturing to his face, he asks me, “What do you think? It was the best the healers could do without magic, but I kind of like it.”

  He’s not looking for sympathy. He wants fear.

  “I think your soul hasn’t changed much, still shriveled and foul, like a ripe plum left in the sun to rot.”

  He barks laughter, loud enough to startle awake birds sleeping in the branches. Frantic wings snap leaves as they take flight. “You’re always good for laughing at, Tshauv Taws. Should have been a court fool.”

  I smile sweetly. “And you’re always good for mindless obedience. Should have been a dog.”

  “You think you’re so important? You’re just another shaman who needs to be put down. I’d kill you now, but the queen wants you alive.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “As her Shadow, the duty of bringing you in fell to me. You made yourself pathetically easy to find.”

  It rubs me that he’s right. I didn’t try very hard to conceal myself, but neither did I expect Jonyah to be here, or th
at any Evewynian would attack me in Prince Meilek’s presence.

  “And we found you conspiring with the prince no less.” He turns that vicious smile to Prince Meilek, who merely lifts one eyebrow. “Take them.”

  I dig my heel into the loose dirt just as one of the men makes a gurgling sound and falls facedown into the grass. A knife protrudes from the back of his neck. Some distance behind him, shrouded by the dark, stands Phaut with her sword drawn.

  Everyone bursts into movement. I dive at the nearest musician’s feet. He tumbles, hitting the ground hard. My hand finds two of his throwing knives. I tug them free before backing away to avoid a wild swipe of his sword. Over his shoulder, Phaut’s blade flashes in the moonlight as she fends off Jonyah and a second musician.

  I duck another strike and smash the heel of my palm into the man’s nose. He cries out and staggers back, blood spilling down his face. I rush past him, flinging the knives. They both find their mark in Jonyah’s and the musician’s backs. The musician falters, falling to his knees, but Jonyah doesn’t. He was trained by Kendara, after all.

  He knocks aside Phaut’s sword and drives his blade through her chest. Everything inside me turns to ice. Her gaze finds mine, startled and pained. Then she falls.

  “No!” I scream, charging at him. My chest heaves with great gasping breaths. Tears burn my eyes. My heart has become a war hammer, smashing against my ribs.

  The musician rises from the ground, lunging for me. He’s already clawed the knife from his back. I barely keep my feet as he grabs me around my waist and aims the weapon for my side. I twist around, smashing my elbow into his face. He drops the knife. I catch the blade between two fingers, flip it, and drive it beneath his chin. He makes a choking sound as red foams at his lips.

  Another knife sings through the air. I yank him in front of me. He spasms as the blade impales his chest.

  Dropping my shield, I yank the knife from the man’s throat and fling it, but not at the knife thrower. The blade buries in the back of one of Prince Meilek’s opponents, allowing him to steal her sword. Then I lunge for the knife thrower who stands between Phaut and me. She lies just beyond, the shape of her indistinct in the deepening night.