Still, she wanted to take a little credit for herself.
Cora rushed the rest of the way to Salinda, and they met in a tight embrace. The smell of rosemary filled her senses, such a beloved aroma that always reminded her of her foster mother.
“Maiya knew you’d come tonight,” Salinda said, squeezing Cora tighter.
When they released each other, Cora scanned the trees around them. “Is Maiya…”
“She stayed back at camp.”
Cora’s heart sank. She still wasn’t sure her party would be permitted to enter the camp, but she hoped she’d at least get to see Maiya. Regardless, it was impressive that her friend’s claircognizance had grown so strong. She’d predicted Cora’s arrival the last time she’d come too.
“She knew exactly where you’d be this time. South end of camp, toward the lake.” Salinda’s eyes left Cora to land on the figures lingering slightly behind. Some of the mirth left her expression, and her voice took on a subtle edge. “She also mentioned you’d be bringing friends.”
Cora understood the woman’s apprehension. Doing what she was doing—bringing strangers to the commune—would have been against the rules when she’d been considered one of them. It was so much worse now that she was an outsider. A royal. “I did,” she said, masking her grimace. “Please allow me to introduce you to Mareleau and her son, Noah. Mareleau, this is Salinda. The woman who raised me for six years.”
Mareleau tipped her chin in greeting. It must have rankled her pride to be introduced as simply Mareleau and not her full title as queen, but they were all better off if they spoke as little of royal matters as they could. For now, at least.
“And you remember Valorre,” Cora said. Some of the Forest People had met him when they came to fight at Centerpointe Rock, and he’d basked in the reverence they’d shown him. He tossed his mane, eager to draw Salinda’s attention. Cora didn’t mention Berol, for the falcon had already taken to the skies on their way here. She didn’t thrive off meeting people the way Valorre did.
“It’s lovely to see you again,” Salinda said to Valorre, offering him a respectful nod.
Valorre’s emotions flared with pride.Ask her if she thinks I look fashionable?—
I’m not asking her that right now, Cora mentally conveyed, then spoke to Salinda out loud. “This may sound like a strange request, but we desperately need someone’s aid in suppressing Mareleau’s magic.”
Salinda squinted, studying Mareleau. “Bernice is our most skilled warder now. She took Druchan’s place as an elder witch.”
Cora’s breath caught at the mention of Druchan. He hadn’t been fond of Cora after she’d returned to the commune with tidings of war, but he’d fought at Centerpointe Rock anyway. And died. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for that.
Salinda continued. “Bernice can create a lasting ward around another’s magic, but…I’ll need to see if I can convince her to leave Nalia.”
A spike of emotion slammed into Cora. She’d kept her mental shields down to sense her proximity to the camp, and now she felt a hollow grief that wasn’t her own. She spoke through the secondhand pain. “Is something wrong with the High Elder?”
“She’s been unwell for days,” Salinda said. “She’ll only allow Bernice to tend to her. We think she’s…”
Salinda didn’t need to finish. High Elder Nalia was dying.
“I’m so sorry,” Cora said, and this time her own grief mingled with her foster mother’s. Nalia was beloved by everyone in the commune. She’d been one of the few people who’d supported Cora when she’d confessed the truth of her history and identity. She’d always been old, wrinkled, and hunched. Yet fierce too. When Cora had last seen her, she’d seemed as healthy as ever.
“She’s had a full and long life,” Salinda said, her voice rich with emotion. “There isn’t a single person alive who hasn’t known her from birth. We knew she’d eventually leave us. Now, come. Let’s get you and your friend to my tent without drawing too much attention.”
The witch namedBernice sat before Mareleau in Salinda’s tent, burning a bundle of fragrant herbs in a clay pot. Cora had never been personally acquainted with the witch when she’d lived in the commune, but she recognized her curly red hair and her wide build. Bernice was clairalient and used scents to cast wards. Both Bernice and Mareleau kept their eyes closed while they sat on Salinda’s cot. Meanwhile, Salinda rocked Noah in her arms. He’d woken after Mareleau had dismounted Valorre—who was now wandering the woods nearby—and, after being nursed, was content enough to be held by a stranger.
The tent grew hazy with the smoke, but it was a comforting aroma. The blend of sage, rosemary, frankincense, and mugwort was commonly used for wards and protection. Cora could have selected them on her own, but she knew better than to think she could do what Bernice was doing. Cora could protect a physical space with herbs but she had no experience in shielding someone else’s magic. And Bernice was doing exactly that. The magic sizzled in the air, thickening around Mareleau as the witch guided the smoke around her. The Forest People called it quiet magic, and it was the kind Cora used to dismiss as unimpressive. Now quiet magic had become ingrained in Cora’s soul.
Bernice released a slow exhale. “It is done. It should hold until morning. After sunrise, I’ll cast it again if you’re still here.”
Mareleau opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, voice tight. Mareleau wasn’t used to interacting so freely with strangers, especially with those so far beneath her station. Yet she was being respectful. Or perhaps just quiet. She hadn’t said much since they’d arrived.
Salinda returned Noah to his mother’s arms and faced Bernice. “How is Nalia?”
Bernice rose from the cot, not meeting Salinda’s eyes. “The High Elder has asked me not to speak on her condition, so I won’t.”
Cora frowned, studying Bernice’s pursed lips, her suddenly tense shoulders. She expected to sense the same sorrow Salinda emitted, but Bernice seemed more annoyed than anything. Salinda gave the witch a sympathetic smile but didn’t press for more.
Bernice left the tent before Cora could make sense of the exchange.
“Now that we’ve taken care of your friend,” Salinda said, “will you tell me why you’re here?” If the edge in her tone wasn’t evidence enough of her apprehension, it flowed from her in waves. Gone was the joy of their reunion. Not that Salinda was angry. She was more wary, as she had a right to be. Cora was clearly not here for a casual chat.
