Hunter must have doubled back to watch her from the forest, and a gilgad had attacked him. But that meant he knew Venna had helped Larkin. When he woke, he’d tell Garrot. No doubt the druids would conclude that Venna had freed her. Larkin couldn’t let the other girl suffer for helping her.
Garrot’s gaze turned deadly as he marched toward Larkin. “Why are you still here?” Larkin held up the stick in warning. He shoved it to the side and gripped her shirt in his fist, pulling her nose to nose with him. “Answer me.”
Hands up in surrender, Larkin tried not to stare at the blood on his hands. “I don’t know!” she lied.
The wagon jostled toward them. Garrot dropped his voice so only she could hear him. “Why did he give Hunter the antidote?”
“What antidote? Oh . . .” Garrot had sniffed Hunter’s breath moments before—breath that probably smelled like pepper, like the liquid Denan had given her after darting her—the darts that used gilgad venom. Denan hadn’t hurt the druid; he’d saved his life.
Teeth clenched, Garrot stepped back and called to Rimoth. “Put the manacles back on and take her to the druid house. I’ll question her later.”
The wagon maneuvered as close to the trees as the driver could get it. Garrot stepped away from her to attend Hunter. Rimoth’s clammy hands pawed her arm, clamping the manacles back around her torn wrists. He led her along the forest’s periphery toward his house. She glanced back once to see Venna watching her from the rise her house was built on. Larkin gave her a nod. Though she hadn’t had time to grab the heated stone, no one had noticed it. If they did, Larkin would never reveal Venna had given it to her.
The other girl disappeared back inside her hut. Larkin stumbled on an exposed root, stubbing her toe. Concentrating on the path before her, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. It was almost a relief when she stepped into Rimoth’s warm home. The druid tossed the keys to the manacles on the dining room table. Larkin edged closer to the fire’s warmth.
But Rimoth took her by the elbow, dragged her into the kitchen, and threw open the cellar door. “Go or I’ll shove you down.”
“But—”
He planted his hand on her back and pushed. She fell down the stairs, knocking her thigh and head. The door slammed above her, and she lay in the dark, stunned and exhausted. At least it was dry and warmer than outside. After a moment, she pushed herself off the stairs and felt around. She found some shelves. It took her a while to figure out what was on them: sprouting potatoes, limp carrots, something fuzzy—beets, maybe. Lumpy garlic and papery onions hung in loosely woven bags.
Larkin helped herself to some carrots and potatoes, brushing away as much dirt as she could on her soggy, borrowed cloak before crunching through them. When she’d had her fill, she wrung out Venna’s cloak, curled up, and fell asleep.
Larkin woke sometime later to a sliver of daylight shining in her eyes. Her clothes were still damp under her arms, between her legs, and where she’d slept against the packed dirt floor. She shifted, her muscles screaming in protest. She held her manacled hands up to block the too-bright light. Crazy Maisy peered at her from the other side of the trapdoor.
“You’re beginning to look like me,” the other girl mused.
Larkin looked down at herself. She was filthy, her clothing ragged and torn. One of her toenails had been nearly torn off—it hung at an angle. Knowing it would only hurt more every time it snagged, she braced herself and ripped it the rest of the way off. She tensed at the sting, bruises aching anew.
Maisy opened the trapdoor fully and held out her hand, a key dangling from her fingers.
“What are you doing?” Larkin asked breathlessly.
Maisy swung the key, seemingly mesmerized by its motion. “You won’t get a better chance to search for that amulet of yours.”
Larkin’s mouth fell open. She started toward the other girl, but then stopped. One thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t trust Crazy Maisy. Her father probably stood just out of sight, waiting to confirm something he shouldn’t even know about.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maisy tossed the key up, caught it, and held it to her chest. “You resisted the pipers. No girl has ever resisted them before.”
“How do you know that?”
Maisy sashayed down the stairs. “You are not the only one to hear the pipers’ songs—the forest’s songs.”
Larkin backed away from Maisy. “You’ve seen them before—the pipers?”
Maisy laughed bitterly. “Dead ones, yes. And the ones without souls.” What did that mean? The other girl gently took Larkin’s bruised hand and unlocked the manacles. Larkin’s eyes watered at the sight of her torn and bloody wrists.
“You’d be better off with the dead ones than to stay here, but I can’t know for certain. I never saw them alive.” Maisy dropped the key around Larkin’s neck and disappeared up the steps. Larkin gaped after her. Even when she wasn’t acting crazy, she was still crazy.
Larkin couldn’t decide if she was more afraid of Garrot and his druids or Denan. Either way, she had to get that amulet. If anyone saw her, she would claim she needed to relieve her bladder, which was true. She edged to the top of the stairs and peeked out. No one waited to kick her back down the stairs. She climbed the last few steps. Fresh bandages and salve waited on the kitchen table. Silently thanking Maisy, Larkin hissed in pain as she daubed her bleeding, cracked wrists with ointment and wrapped them. After the initial flare of pain from being handled, they felt better. She did the same for her bleeding toe.
She peered into the dining room, bedroom, and even out the windows. All she saw was Maisy pacing on a rise, facing the town as if she were standing watch.
Larkin slipped up the narrow stairs, only to find Maisy hadn’t been lying. She was truly alone. Larkin searched the four rooms upstairs, checking under every rug, mattress, and blanket, inside every pocket, drawer, and trunk. Her wounds opened as she moved her hands, which made her even more grateful for the bandages. When she came to the fourth room, she instantly recognized Rimoth’s perfectly pressed, greasy clothing.
If Rimoth slept up here, that meant Garrot had taken over the larger, fancier bedroom downstairs. Larkin peered out the window to find Maisy gone. Two men strode toward the house. They were too far away to make out their features, but she recognized their clothes—Garrot and Rimoth.
Larkin flew down the stairs and jerked open the door to the bedroom. Inside was a large bed, an armoire, and a washbowl on a stand. She looked around the room, knowing she didn’t have time to search everywhere. Where would Garrot keep the amulet—in the bed or his clothing? Or worse still, somewhere on his person?
Larkin went to the armoire first and opened the double doors. Inside was a coat, a change of clothes, and a bag. Larkin checked the bag, wincing when she left a dirty smudge on the pristine handkerchief. Nothing. She turned to the coat and shoved her fingers into one pocket and then the other. Still nothing. Tears of frustration and defeat welled in her eyes, but as the coat settled, she noticed an unnatural lump at the breast. Stretching onto her tiptoes, she squeezed and felt something hard beneath the cloth. Her scrambling fingers found a hidden pocket and dove in. She took hold of her freedom, gripping the amulet to her chest in pure joy.
She glanced out the window to see Garrot and Rimoth coming in through the front gate, the latter dragging a mulish Maisy. Larkin donned the cord and tucked the amulet under her bodice. She panicked when it bumped against the key. No time to put it back on the dining table. She set it on the kitchen table instead and opened the cellar door enough to slide inside. She’d just closed it when the kitchen door swung open.
Rimoth cursed. “She moved the table too.”
“Were she my daughter, I’d beat some sense into her,” Garrot said.
“Is she still there?” Rimoth hauled open the cellar. Larkin had settled herself in the corner, arms wrapped around her legs. She looked up at Garrot, remembering to squint as if th
e light hurt her eyes.
“Get up here,” Garrot said. “We already know Maisy let you out.”
Larkin climbed the stairs where the druids and Maisy were waiting.
“Why did you let her out?” Garrot asked the other girl.
Maisy’s eyes glittered with barely suppressed rage. “You’re going to pay for your sins, Garrot.”
Garrot raised his hand to slap her, and then lowered it slowly. “Someday. But that day isn’t today.” He turned his back on her and faced Larkin. “How did you escape the crucible?”
Mimicking Maisy, Larkin met his gaze. “Denan let me go.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. The lump of the amulet felt conspicuous and heavy under her dress.
Rimoth stepped closer. “Hunter could have died. Tell Garrot the truth.”
Larkin resisted the urge to touch the amulet. “What truth?”
Maisy rolled her eyes at her father and Garrot. “It’s painfully obvious, isn’t it?”
Her father leaned forward, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Garrot threw his hands in the air. “Out with it!”
Maisy whirled back to Larkin. “She’s not a virgin.”
Larkin’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Maisy stalked forward, and Larkin was sure she was going to tug out the amulet from her dress. Instead, she patted Larkin’s stomach. “There have been rumors all over town—Alorica has been at the heart of most of them—but there’s usually a smidgen of truth in the lies.” She looked expectantly at Larkin, who gaped back.
Garrot rubbed his eyes. “The forest doesn’t care if the girls are virgins or not.”
Maisy stared at him. “Even if those girls are pregnant?” Garrot’s head came up, and Rimoth stiffened. Maisy opened a box on the table and took out a lump of bread. She handed half to Larkin and gnawed on the other half. “Take your stripes, girl. Better that than waste the druids’ time with any more of this nonsense.”
Why was Maisy helping her? Larkin shivered with dread. “Bane and I . . .” She couldn’t finish the lie.
“This confirms nothing!” Rimoth cried. “For all we know, she’s lying to protect herself.”
“Bring the boy,” Garrot said to Rimoth.
What seemed an eternity later, Rimoth ushered Bane into the room. Larkin’s gaze locked on his, unspoken questions asked and answered.
Was she all right?
Yes.
She didn’t look all right.
She was.
Bane was going to kill the druids.
He’d better not.
He was sorry he hadn’t been able to stop this.
So was she.
“Bane, is Larkin pregnant?” Garrot sprang the question on him.
Bane’s head came up in surprise. “What?”
“Don’t look at her, boy!” Garrot grabbed Bane’s face. “Just answer the question yes or no. Is she pregnant?”
Bane hesitated, clearly not knowing the right answer.
“Is she?” the druid roared.
“Yes!” Bane shouted. Deafening silence resounded in the room. Bane lifted his chin. “I’m going to marry her.”
Garrot searched Bane as if he could ferret out the lie in his face, but then he turned away. “Give them their stripes and let them go.”
“But, sir—” Rimoth began, arms stretched out imploringly.
“I’ll give her two days. If the forest hasn’t taken her in two days, she can marry him.” Garrot slammed the door behind him.
Rimoth stared after him, jaw working. He glared at Bane. “Strip to your waist.”
When it was Larkin’s turn, she unlaced her bodice, aware of the hungry way Rimoth stared at her bare back, but she was already out of her body. Her twenty stripes didn’t even hurt.
When it was over, Larkin simply stepped back into herself, flinching at the pain that waited for her. She and Bane walked out together. Larkin didn’t realize Maisy had followed them until she whispered Larkin’s name. She turned to find the other girl standing in the doorway. “Make it true, quickly.” Maisy waved them away and shut the door without another word.
“Why would she help us?” Bane asked.
“I don’t know,” Larkin replied.
That evening, Larkin lay naked from the waist up, a blanket over her backside as her mother spread witch-hazel-infused rags across the welts on her back. The fire sputtered pitifully. They were running out of firewood, and it was impossible to keep any dry in this deluge.
She picked at the scab on her palm. Now that the sliver was out, it didn’t seem to be infected. Mama hummed as she worked—a lullaby she’d never known the words to—while Sela played with little animals Papa had carved for Nesha when she was a baby. The ox had three legs, the horse was missing its ear and tail, and the sheep had been broken in two, but Sela didn’t seem to mind.
Nesha pushed open the door and stood dripping on the threshold. “Is it true?”
Larkin stiffened from the cold and shifted to look at her sister. “Is what true?”
“That you’re marrying Bane in two days. And that”—her voice shook—“you’re pregnant with his child.”
Larkin stifled the need to roll her eyes. “We had to tell the druids that so they’d let me go.”
“Nesha,” Mama said gently. “Come inside. You’re letting all the cold in.”
Nesha’s glare shifted to Mama. “You did this.”
Mama rose, arms stretching toward Nesha. “I did what I had to. Surely you can see that.”
Nesha shook her head as she backed away. “No, Mother. I don’t see. I will never see. And I’ll never forgive you—either of you.”
She slammed the door behind her. Larkin stared after her sister in bewilderment. “What was that about?”
Mama put some valerian tea on the fire. “I broke off her relationship with the boy she was involved with.”
Larkin felt a rush of sympathy for Nesha, along with a flash of anger. “Who was he? I’ll kill him for leading her on.”
“It’s not his fault any more than it was hers. He would have married her, had his father agreed. Better to end things now—before she’s even more involved.”
Larkin rested her forehead on her cupped palms. “Then why did she do it in the first place?”
Mama rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. “Hope is a powerful emotion—and sometimes a cruel one.”
An uneasy feeling crowded Larkin’s chest. “And now she has to watch me get what she’s always wanted. Again.”
Mama poured her some tea. “Get some sleep, Larkin. You’ve had a trying week.”
When Larkin started awake later, the fire had turned to embers. Judging by the pounding on the stone roof, it was raining harder than ever, as if the skies were determined to wash away everything. But that wasn’t what had woken her.
Denan played for her, calling her with his heartsong. It surprised her that she knew this, but the song of the forest was different from the song he played for her now. This song made her think of his arms around her, his lips on hers. She pushed the image away and sat up, looking around the room. She was relieved to see Nesha had come home sometime in the night; Sela cuddled in her arms. Mama slept alone. Wherever Papa was, Larkin hoped he stayed there.
She sat up carefully and pulled on her freshly washed dress. She tugged on her cloak—Bane had promised to return Venna’s when they’d parted—and clogs and slipped into the night. At their orchard, she glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then stretched to reach the second bough, her fingers closing around a leather-wrapped parcel. She took it out and tucked it into her palm.
She slipped down the hill and crossed the fields toward the forest. She paused a stone’s throw from the trees. She didn’t trust Denan to keep his word, and she wanted a head start if she had to make a run for it. The music stopped, and his shadowed form came to the trees’ edge.
“You have it?”
She threw the package toward him. He scooped it up and unwrapped i
t. For a moment, the amulet glowed in the moonlight. She had difficulty dragging her gaze away. “You will keep your word? You will leave me and my family alone?”
“I will not force you into the forest.” He turned the amulet in his hand and then tossed it back to her. Without meaning to, she caught it. Another vision swept over her.
She stood high up, a breeze tugging at her long, curly hair. She dropped the robe from her shoulders. It puddled at her feet. She stepped out in the moonlight.
Larkin struggled to pull herself back from the vision, to stop the tide of images pushing into her head.
“Larkin, within the forest is safety. Remember that.” He disappeared back into the shadows.
“Wait! You have to take this!” She held out the amulet for him.
“Now you understand how important the amulet is; you will not lose it again.”
After all he’d put her through to get the cursed thing, now he didn’t want it? “I’ll throw it in the river! I swear I will!”
“You will do no such thing,” Maisy said. Jumping, Larkin turned to find Maisy watching her from the hilltop a dozen paces behind her. Her voice was deeper now, stronger. “You can’t throw off the truth, even if you wanted to.”
Larkin wasn’t surprised to see the other girl. Maisy had been shadowing her since all this began. Larkin tightened her jaw. She would show them. She would show them both. Maisy following her, Larkin marched through the fields, coming to an overlook of the river. She gripped the amulet in her hand, cocked back her arm, and—
She couldn’t do it. She tried again, but her hand fell to her side.
Maisy chuckled. “Once found, power is not so easily put aside.” The other girl slipped away, back into the darkness.
Feeling betrayed by her own body, Larkin looked down at the amulet. She couldn’t deny the awareness that tingled through her hand. It felt like power—something she’d never known before going into the forest. Hating herself even as she did it, she hid in the willows, hiked up her shift, and tied the amulet around her waist.