I glanced over at Posey. She nodded sharply. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”
“How do I find it?” Gemma murmured.
“Do you remember how you found me that day in the Vilia’s woods?” Talan asked from above us. “You followed that ravine and entered my lair.”
Gemma smiled a little. “The demon’s lair. Yes. The air pressed down on me. There was a fist in my chest, pulling me forward.”
“You sensed the great magic hidden there and followed it. You foundme, darling. Your power showed you the way.”
“I did. It did.” Gemma leaned against Talan’s leg and kissed the back of his knee. Some of the light was coming back to her eyes.
“And this will be easier,” I said. “You’re not finding a demon’s lair, you’re finding a tree. That’s Mother’s magic.Philippa’s magic, and yours too.”
Gemma, clinging to Talan’s leg, drew a shaky breath. “Philippa Wren and her house of ivy.” When she looked up at me, her jaw was set. “I can find it. Iwillfind it.”
I drew her into a quick, fierce embrace. “Good. I’ll find Farrin and meet you there. Posey, cover them.”
I dashed off into the trees without a backward glance. I hated to leave them, but my legs were feline, fluid, unstoppable, and their stride fortified my resolve. After splashing across a frigid creek, I decided I’d reached a safe enough spot to catch my breath. A sturdy pine loomed nearby. I would climb it, give myself a moment to concentrate, and follow the rope of glamoured power that connected Gemma to me and to Farrin.
Just then, a thunderous noise exploded through the trees to my right. A grove down the creek line snapped and splintered. I ducked to avoid a flying branch and darted out of a falling pine’s path just as huge dark shapes tore through the wreckage. My mouth went dry at the sight of them: one was a fae war-horse, cloaked in moss and mud. Its enormous antlers plowed through pines like they were nothing.
Two wolves pursued the war-horse, each of them twice as big as our priory horses. Wild fae cries tore through the air, followed by two familiar sounds—Ryder’s crossbow firing and a voice as clear as a bell.
An invisible cord tugged at my navel.
Farrin.
I ran after the war-horse, low and fast to avoid being spotted by the wolves. Getting closer, I saw what I had dreaded: Farrin and Ryder sat astride the monstrous beast. It ran smoothly, even docilely, its hot breath steaming in the air; Ryder must have wilded it. He was loading another arrow into his crossbow, and Farrin—gods, she was beautiful, fearless, her braid come loose and her hair streaming behind her. With Ryder’s body shielding her back, she clutched the creature’s wild mane, singing a shrill battle hymn against its neck.
Even though the song wasn’t for me, my legs pumped faster at the sound of it, and I was so distracted by this new burst of energy that I didn’t spot the danger until it was too late.
The war-horse jumped over a snowdrift onto what looked like a flat stretch of ground—but it was a reeking bog covered with fresh snow, and the horse plunged straight into it. The mire wasn’t deep, but it was thick and rimmed with ice. The horse lost its footing, and Ryder and Farrin went flying.
I ran to catch my sister before she cracked her head open, the fae’s triumphant cries ringing in my ears and my blood roaring with fury. Ryder landed hard not far from us, shook the snow from his hair with an angry growl, and pushed himself to his feet.
Farrin clung to me with a breathy laugh. “Oh, thank the gods. I claim—”
“No! Not yet. We have to find the key. Accord or no, I don’t trust Ifanna to keep her promises.” I glanced up. “Ryder?”
“Just tell me where to go,” he said gruffly, retrieving his crossbow from the muck. Just past him, the war-horse climbed out of the bog, its ears flat and angry, its eyes a brilliant red.
“Take Farrin and go to Gemma. She’s due west.” I pointed along the invisible cord of magic that pulled at my gut.
“I can feel it too,” Farrin said grimly. “It’s from the glamours?”
I gave her a smile. “Right in one.”
Ryder spat out a few harsh words at the war-horse, wilding it once again, then helped Farrin mount the beast and climbed up behind her. I turned to face the oncoming fae with my sister’s war song in my ears—a song for strength, for speed—and the sound of it shot me forward, as if the ground beneath my boots had risen up to launch me.
The fae barely had time to see me coming. I vaulted between them, dagger in hand, and by the time I landed, they were down, their throats slit and their baffled wolves splattered with green blood. Before theycould round on me, I pulled a second dagger from the strap at my waist and threw a blade right into each of their throats. They bled out in seconds.
I strode over to them and ripped the weapons from their glistening hides. Standing over them, I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath—a mistake. For as soon as my heartbeat slowed enough that I could think, I realized I hadn’t yet seen Gareth.
My stomach dropped, my battle-fevered blood going ice-cold. He wasn’t with Gemma or Farrin. Why wasn’t hewiththem?
As if he’d heard my thoughts—and maybe he had, maybe some strange bit of fae magic had whispered into his ear at just the right moment—a sudden agonized scream tore through the forest.
I knew that voice. I felt it in my bones, as if it were bound to me by our own kind of magic. Whatever was hurting him, I felt it too.
