I didn’t believe that smile, not for a second. He hid his revulsion well, but I knew better. My heart twisted as I imagined what he must be thinking.
“I’ll slow my pace to match yours,” I muttered. “Just try and keep up the best you can.”
As we ran, the forest grew quiet. Too quiet. Besides the crunch of our boots in the snow and Gareth’s labored panting, there was nothing. My nape tingled with misgiving, but when I scanned the darkness, I saw nothing but more trees. Somehow that made me feel worse. I started doubting my senses; was I following the right trail? Maybe damaging my glamour had muddied my connection to Gemma.
But then, so suddenly and brutally that it was like crashing througha thick sheet of ice, we tore through something cold and sharp—a magical barrier of some kind. Damaged ward magic, I guessed, meant to guard against intruders but no longer intact. We plunged into darkness, and sounds exploded all around us—the clash of swords, battle cries. Shot arrows, rumbling earth. My sister singing.
We tumbled down an icy slope into a sunken clearing. I caught Gareth’s arm at the bottom, steadying him, and took a moment to grasp what I was seeing.
A colossal tree stood before us, even bigger than the Heart Tree in the Rosewarren barracks. Its bark was black, its shape gnarled, and it wasthrashing. A dozen branches snapped through the air like whips. With each movement, the ground beneath us quaked.
“The tree that never sleeps,” Gareth whispered.
I looked around, my blood pumping fast. It was dark here, the snow dull and the air thick with shadows, but my sentinel eyes were sharp. Ryder and Posey were engaged in combat against two armored fae. A fierce cry made me whirl around to see Danesh and Edra fighting three fae on the other side of the clearing. Four more fae leapt toward them through the trees, spears in hand.
And amidst all of them, choking the clearing, were huge white flowers as tall as the fae themselves, weaving and rattling like angry snakes. I watched in horror as one of them lunged for Danesh, the dark pistil at its center yawning open.
Danesh dropped and rolled right before the flower’s head slammed into the ground. The impact flooded the clearing with a rancid, sour stink. Danesh pushed herself up with an angry roar and slashed her sword through the flower’s thick stem. The whole thing collapsed and convulsed, hissing furiously. Watching it made my gorge rise.
“Where in the name of the gods is Bette?” Danesh cried.
Bette—the earth elemental in our ranks. I allowed myself a quick hope that she was alive, then bolted for my sisters, who were at thebase of the giant tree. Talan stood guard over them, his face bloodied, chopping down any flower that snaked too close.
And my sisters… Gemma was slumped beside Farrin, her sweaty face tight with pain and her hands clutching the root nearest her. Farrin held her up, singing something so vast and multitonal that its magic rushed toward our friends like water from a broken dam.
I knelt in front of them, and Gareth sank down to my left.
“It’s in there,” Gemma murmured. She nodded toward the tree, then glanced over at me. “I can feel it. The tree has a tight hold on it. It’s lodged deep.”
Gareth touched Farrin’s arm, gave her an encouraging smile. “Can you get to it?” he asked Gemma.
“I think so, but I’ll need all of Farrin’s attention to get me through it.”
“You mean she has to stop singing for the others?”
Gemma nodded miserably, her eyes bright. “I’m so sorry. There’s so much magic here, and I can’t… It hurts so much. I can hardly breathe. Her music will keep me conscious.”
“You are brilliant and brave,” I told her, “and I’m so proud of you.”
I glanced up at Talan, whose body flickered right before my eyes. He was Talan, beautiful and raven-haired, and then he was a tangle of thick roots, shielding us from the battle beyond. He ducked the blow of an attacking flower, then reared up and decapitated the awful thing with one smooth hack of his sword. At the same moment, the solid shield of roots stood in the same spot he did. A demonic illusion. He was right there, still guarding my sisters, but to our attackers, he would simply look like more of the tree.
“I won’t let anything get to them,” he shouted back at me, his voice fierce, battle-hard. “Go. Hurry!”
“Give me your sword,” Gareth said to me. “I’ll help him.”
From somewhere beyond him came a scream of agony—a woman’s scream. A Rose’s scream.
Wordlessly I gave him the sword and turned away from the sound, shoving past my anger to focus on Gemma. “Tell me how to help you.”
“We have to dig,” Gemma said. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Follow my lead and keep an eye on the tree. Once it realizes what we’re doing…”
It would stop fighting the others and come straight for us.
I nodded. “I’m ready.”
Gemma briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were bright as blue fire, and her hand, marked by the scar from the Three-Eyed Crown, glowed just as brilliantly. Her power rose up fast, her body suddenly scorching hot. She pressed her lips together, grabbed the nearest root, and tugged hard.
It came free with a thick, muscly snap. Gemma tossed it to the side and let it writhe, which it did for only a moment before falling still, crisped, slightly smoking.
