“But she’s my mother,” Belis whispered, “she’s calling to me.”
I felt my heart constrict painfully in my chest. I could feel her heartache as if it was my own and the realisation hit me that I could not drag her away from this.
“I can’t tell you not to go, Bel, you have to choose.”
Belis reached out a hand to her mother. Then she drew it back and turned away. The ghost vanished back into the trees. Belisshut her eyes, tears trickling down her face.
I spun back to the eagle. Miraculously, it was still on its lofty perch, scanning the path below.
I hurried towards its tree, towing Belis behind me. For a moment it simply eyed me, then it launched itself from the branch and wheeled into the air. Its outstretched wings were wider than my arms and it landed heavily on my shoulder, causing me to stagger. The eagle regarded me with those glowing golden eyes and blinked. I tried to repress a shiver at that cruel beak so close to my face and looked back at Belis.
She had her spear out in front of her, ready to strike. I didn’t fancy her chances of killing the thing before it could rip my eyes out and hoped that I hadn’t made a mistake. It blinked at me again and chirped, then tugged at the collar of my tunic.
“I think it wants us to go this way,” I said, trying not to speak too loudly.
“You want us to take navigational advice from a bird?” Belis sniffed, still gripping her spear. “Based on how it cheeps at you?”
“Just trust me on this, Belis,” I said, still staring at the bird. “I think I’m making a connection.”
The eagle had strong opinions on which way we should go, digging its claws into my shoulder if I took a path it disapproved of. The sun was low in the sky by the time the eagle croaked in triumph. Before us was a huge, gnarled oak, the largest in the whole forest. The great flock of starlings I had seen earlier was encamped in its boughs, covering almost every inch of the branching arms of the tree. I came to a halt, the eagle chittering in my ear. Belis stopped next to me.
“Has your eagle run out of ideas?” she said, glaring at the bird. It blinked back at her and beat its wings.
“I think this is the centre of the forest.” I looked around, unsure where to turn next.
One of the starlings hopped down from its branch, landing at the foot of the tree. It stood on a protruding root that had wrapped itself around a small pond as if the tree was hoarding the water for itself. Belis approached the tree, pausing at the edgeof the water. Something swished beneath the surface and Belis glanced at it then froze. I looked down, my spare hand flying to my knife.
Belis’s reflection floated in the spring, smiling back at us. Not a reflection, another Belis. Slowly she rose, water sloughing off her like snakeskin. She yawned loudly and grinned at the Belis standing next to me.
The other Belis seemed to grow taller and older. Golden bracelets appeared on her wrists and heavy torcs wrapped around her neck. The rough linen dress she was wearing brightened, then vanished behind heavy velvet robes. A thin circlet grew to crown her head, spikes fanning out like the rays of a sunrise.
“What are you?” Belis cried, staring at the copied form before her. The eagle on my shoulder screeched and tightened its talons into the soft flesh of my arm.
The other Belis smiled, and when she spoke it was as harsh as the howling of the wind.
“I am your true self. You cannot save your sister for there is no love in you. You are cold and cowardly. I know your heart and it is carved from stone. You are not the hero of any story. Give up, go back, run from these lands as you ran from the battlefield and seek a small life where none will find you.”
The other Belis smiled once more and then lunged towards us. Belis brought her arms up but as the doppelganger reached her she shattered into a swarm of buzzing flies. They flew at Belis’s eyes, her mouth. She clawed at her face, trying to get them off. I grabbed her arm and dunked us both under the water. When we resurfaced the flies had scattered.
“What was that?” Belis asked, panting.
“Neither shadow nor ghost nor anything that ever lived,” I said, picking damp hair off my face and calling back the eagle, which had leapt off me as I threw myself at the water. It was sitting on the tree roots, scratching at the wood with long talons.
I squinted at the tree. The bark was twisting around, seeming to form a long arch, almost like a door. I stepped closer andplaced my hand on the rough trunk. My fingers slid through the bark and I closed them into a fist and pulled back. The tree vanished and a figure slumped forward, landing on top of me.
Belis hurried over and peeled them off me, lowering the body to the ground. They were covered in a thick woollen cloak, a scarf pulled over the face. Belis knelt over them and looked up at me.
“It must be the witch,” she said. I nodded, wiping sap from my hands.
“Unwrap the scarf. She must be struggling to breathe.”
Belis pulled the scarf back but a hand, thin and birdlike, reached up to grab hers. Belis shrank back and the figure sat up, looking over at us.
“You are notshadowbitten?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar to me, female but deep and strangely rasping. I shook my head.
“We came here to rescue you, on behalf of Arawn,” Belis said. “We’re alive, humans come to beg a favour from the lord. You’ve been in here a while. Did something lock you in the tree?
“I wrapped it around myself as protection from the corruption,” the figure said, then pulled back her scarf. She grinned at us, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth. It took me a moment, but I recognised her. Rhiannon, an old queen of Britain, who had died perhaps a thousand years ago after a long and eventful life. The teeth had been an inheritance from her fae mother, the crown from her mortal father. We had met a handful of times, rarely under pleasant circumstances.
