Though most of the activity is relegated to the trees above, a few women are scattered along the edges of the path. Dressed in overlapping, dyed leather armor with matching braces laced over their wrists, they each carry a spear similar to the one I’d seen with Adira.
Sentries.
Their skin, all of varying shades and descents, is painted in a similar manner to the princess, which I now see is an homage to the trees they call home. They blend into the shadows so fully, if it wasn’t for the whites of their shrewd eyes tracking Niko, they’d hardly be visible at all hidden in the exotic foliage.
“The Silva Lucai,” Niko whispers. “The most honored of the Grove Dwellers.”
The Silva Lucai don’t bow as the King of Carrion passes like those in the city had; they only readjust their grip on the spears and fall into a readied stance. The more we pass, the more insistent their whispers, until they feel like a physical wave, lapping at our ankles.
King of Carrion,they say.Rot. Death.
Niko doesn’t acknowledge them, only continues to stride forward, his booted footsteps unnaturally silent on the mossy forest floor. The trail grows narrower the deeper we travel, until it whittles down to little more than a footpath wending between the thick trunks.
We walk on in silence, until the trail ends at the foot of the largest tree yet.
At least as wide as my apartment building and definitely as tall, the magnificent trunk is gnarled with age, the natural weave of the wood as beautiful as any painting.
I gaze up at the pure mass looming above us.
“The Nyawa. Tree of souls,” Niko says softly beside me.
“It’s magnificent.”
“It is.” I swear I feel Niko’s gaze sweep over my skin, but when I glance over, he’s already turned back to the tree. “It’s older than anything else on the island, even more ancient than the Crocodile. Its trunk houses the souls of every one of Adira’s people. From its roots, their souls feed the soil of the Grove, and nurture all those who live beneath its canopy.”
My eyes sting at the consonance of the idea. Something so pure, so balanced. Where life is given freely with no demands in return. I blink rapidly in an attempt to shove the rising emotions away before Niko sees them. Before he realizes just how lonely I truly am, no matter that I’m the one who crafted my life this way.
If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He walks around the trunk to where the tree bucks up against the rocky mountainside. “Ready?”
Following him, I see a small set of stairs that appear to be natural to the trunk of the tree. They wind up and around the side, spiraling so far up into the canopy, there’s no determining where the staircase ends.
My heartbeat ratchets higher as Niko steps onto the first stair. There is no handrail, nothing to stop me from tumbling right off the side. While I’ve never possessed an inherent fear of heights, the fall from my apartment building has done little to endear them to me. The terrifying rush of the air around me, the rapid rise of the unforgiving concrete below—I’m none too eager to repeat any of it.
Niko senses my hesitation, turning to me with something entirely too close to amusement. “You make death your cozy little pet, but balk at heights? How contrary of you.”
I slide my gaze from the narrow stairway to his smug face. Then I raise my chin and push past him. “Just admiring the construction, is all,” I reply lightly, stepping onto the first stair before my brain can catch up with my body.
Niko laughs as he steps up behind me, leaning so close that his breath tickles my hair. “I’d never let you fall. Not before we’ve had our fun.”
Something curls tightly near my spine, and I force myself to begin climbing upward in a futile attempt to ignore it. “You should be more careful who you taunt, old man. My idea of fun might be pushing you off this tree and listening to you scream the entire way down.”
Niko laughs again, and the sound rumbles through my veins. “Another excuse to nurse me back to health, I’m sure. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you enjoy me entirely at your mercy.”
His voice is a dark caress that slides over my skin, and I charge further up the stairs to escape it. My head suddenly feels far too light for my feet, like I’m entirely too aware of my body. Which is not opportune, clinging to the side of a tree a few hundred feet in the air.
But Niko isn’t done. He keeps step behind me, his scent of ice and sandalwood invading my senses, as he leans in once more. His death unspools from his wrists to come trace the outline of my arms, a shadowed implication of what the king could do with his hands if he only deigned to touch me.
“There’s no need to injure me. You need only to ask politely.”
I make a strangled noise of frustration and stomp up the steps before he can notice the desperate clench of my thighs. There are a million reasons why Niko can never discover theremay be more than surface substance to his taunts. For one, his arrogance will be impossible to live with, not to mention the humiliation I’m sure to suffer at his refusal to even entertain the thought of actually touching me.
And far more importantly, I refuse to grant him any modicum of power over me. Not when I’ve just clawed a bit out for myself.
Anger and embarrassment mingle so furiously in my stomach, they’ve driven my feet all the way up to the landing platform before I have time to consider the dizzying height any further. Breathing heavily, I brace my hands on my knees, absorbing my surroundings. The Nyawa rises higher above the canopy than any other tree, its tallest branch reaching nearly as high as the surrounding mountains. From here, I can see the Lunaedon and the lagoon beyond. The sprawling city, and its ship filled harbor. The forest itself stretches for miles and miles, labyrinthine and glowing against the night sky.
The mountains surrounding the Grove shield the land on the other side, but I’m left breathless at the pure size of the kingdom. When Niko referred to it as ‘the island’, I’d imagined something small, but Letum is expansive. Like it could be explored for months and months without ever seeing the same thing.
Freedom.The word sweeps through me, even as I attempt to shake it off. Its antithetical for a place to represent freedom; homes are only chains to ensnare, an iron weight to be escaped. I have no intention of allowing roots to bind me to any land, especiallyhere,beneath the shadow of the King of Carrion.
