I sighed, moving the basket onto my stomach and looking up at her. “We should have brought a torch.”
“It will be a full moon. Our eyes will adjust.”
And they did, slowly, but the moon only confused things worse. Now every little pool reflected its light, pockets of white in an otherwise black landscape. Far in the distance, wolves howled… strange, for a wetland, but not impossible, I supposed.
We passed another pond, and from its depths, the moonlight almost appeared…floral,somehow. I put a hand to Marcy’s breastplate, patting it.
“Hold on.”
She did. I climbed down, handing her the wicker basket, and neared that strange formation. It was no reflection, but a lotus flower giving off its own radiant light.
I drew a sharp breath.The Silverwood Lotus.This was a rare find, as coveted to the apothecary as quicksilver to the alchemist, and ironically inverse of that; it was said that a tea from the leaves of this flower could leech metals from the bloodstream. It could cure a hatter of his madness.
“Your Majesty, perhaps—” Marcy started, cutting herself off. There was no deterring me and she knew it, so she let it go with a sigh and sat down beside me. My hands sank into the water, tracing down its long stem. I was up to my armpit in the putrid depths when my hand felt mud, and deeper down, the rhizome.
Those distant howls grew nearer.
“We should go.”
“Just a little more.” I carefully worked my fingers lower to the plant’s true root system and slurried the mud around them. “The root hairs have to be intact. The most potent part of the lotus is in its root system. You want to speed this up? Grab some wet moss or marsh grass so I can preserve it.”
“Gods,” Marcy groaned, but she did as I asked. There were more howls, and I wasn’t immune to the bone-deep dread of finding ourselves surrounded by wolves in the dead of night. If the people of Thornmarsh were starving, they probably were, too.
But if I left this plant here, it would be gone by tomorrow. The lotus had an incredibly short lifespan, only a day that it could be harvested before it was worthless…not to mention it only bloomed at night, and I probably wouldn’t even be able to find it again if itdidlive another day.
And if every noblewoman who ever used ceruse was poisoned, then this was their means of salvation.
I removed the lotus from the water and swiftly wrapped it in Marcy’s offering of moss, but her attention was elsewhere. She rose to her feet, drawing her blade. “We’re surrounded.”
Chapter 39
I stumbled backwarduntil I collided with Marcy’s armor, clutching the lotus. There were four of them, reeking and blood-soaked, not wolves but something other.
They stood at twice my height, with wolven heads and legs, but everything else was distinctly human. Their starving bodies were covered by stretched, torn flesh. They lacked the modesty of man and prowled naked in a circle around us. The darkness was a small mercy.
“Stand behind me,” Marcy urged. “Don’t let them near you and keep your backside protected. Do you see those claws?”
I did. Long, black knives jutted from every fingertip. “What are they?”
If there was any man left in the beings, they didn’t respond to the curse of my voice. They continued to snarl, pacing around us for an opening.
“I don’t know.”
I looked up at the moon and beseeched aid from the Lord of Night, but there was no sign that He heard me. Shivering, I moved to Marcy’s rear, and she retrieved a dagger from its holster, handing it to me.
One of the creatures saw me as the easier target and lunged. I ducked, and his claws struck Marcy’s plates with a loudbang, but they didn’t penetrate. She spun, baring her teeth, and brought the sword down in one smooth motion, cutting him across the chest.
He sprang back, blood leaking freely from the thick gash in his torso, but he didn’t act wounded. His teeth snapped and he rejoined the others in their circling.
Marcy backed us both up to one of the pools, one wide enough to protect us from more rear-flanks. Another wolf-man probedat our defenses, feigning a swipe and leaping back before Marcy could strike.
“They’re trying to find a weakness,” Marcy examined. “We—”
The next attack was no feint. All four of them assailed her, risking every one of their lives in the full assault. She yelled and shoved me back with a kick, knocking me into the water. It was surprisingly deep and impossibly thick, more slurry than pond. By some strange mercy, not one of the monsters came for me, their focus fixed entirely on my knight. As I fought to keep my head above water, the lotus still tight in my grasp, I caught glimpses of her battle.
She threw the smallest of them back, striking out despite the maws sinking into her shoulder, her leg, her unused arm. The blade found its mark, penetrating his neck, and the beast clawed up her sword before falling on his back, dead.
A terrible scream escaped Marcy. She swirled around, two of the wolves leaping back, but the one attached to her shoulder remained, grabbing her arm to prevent the sword’s downfall. He grabbed her head, and I couldn’t see what happened next—I only heard her muffled anguish, a bellowing sound as she raised her leg and kicked him right between the legs.
