Turning away from the view, I step up onto the planks of a vast porch wrapped around a sprawling manor. The treehouse is nestled into a crook of the Nyawa, where giant limbs meet to create a natural womb. Unlike the other buildings I’d seen on the way in, this exterior hasn’t been painted. It is covered, instead, in creeping flower vines. They shroud the house in living art, with leaves and blooms so thick, the wood beneath is entirelyhidden. Railings span the sweeping edges of the entire structure in gnarled curves, carved to mimic the sprawl of the branches around us.
A few rocking chairs sway gently in the breeze near the open archway that leads deeper inside the house, and an easel, empty at the moment, is perched in the farthest corner of the porch facing the snow-tipped mountain peaks. It’s colder this high, but as I lean over one of the railings, a warm breeze brushes over me, warming my chilled fingers.
Adira’s home is befitting of a queen, but not in the way of my world. There, history tells of monarchs locked in their castles, closed off from the kingdom around them. Adira’s Grove, and her palace nestled at its heart, is open to the elements. There are no walls dividing her from her people, nor from the natural world, poised on the precipice of adventure and freedom.
It’s the kind of place I would have imagined as a fifteen-year-old girl locked in the labs of the Amelioration camps. A place of whimsical beauty—a world that was open and airy, that had no concrete walls to hold me in.
The air thins at the memory, and my ribs pull tight around my lungs as a thundercloud opens overhead.
“You’re making it rain.”
I jolt at Adira’s voice. When I turn around, the princess is leaning against the threshold that had most certainly been empty only seconds before. She watches me in the same unnerving manner she had in the tavern, motioning vaguely to the sky with faint amusement. “As much as I enjoy the monsoon season, the journey back down the steps is far more treacherous when wet.”
“I seem to recall you getting your share of amusement watching me attempt the same journey,” Niko remarks, breezing past me to kiss Adira lightly on the cheek. “With none of the same warning.”
“Well, I like her.” Adira tilts her head with a serene smile. “And when you’re trapped in an eternal stasis, watching a prissy king fall on his ass while his hair goes flat is the epitome of entertainment.”
“Now you’re just being unkind,” Niko says, strolling past her and ducking inside the house. He calls over his shoulder with a flourish, “My hair isneverflat.”
Adira raises a furtive brow before following him into the house. I trail after them, wondering both at the fact the princess seems to believe I’m capable of controlling the weather, and that she apparentlylikesme, as that hadn’t been my impression at all.
The interior of the house is spacious but comfortable. The same sweetly warm breeze that trailed across the porch flows through the open archways, sending the flames of the numerous candles sputtering. Niko settles himself on a cushy purple sofa, his lithe frame sprawled out like he’s entirely at home. Adira’s mouth goes flat when he props his boots up on the small coffee table. She shoves them back to the ground with an impish glare, before shouldering her way onto the couch beside him. His ribbons give her a wide berth, floating lazily in the air behind him, even as she lays her spear across her lap, sharp end pointedly turned in his direction.
The two act more like siblings than adversarial monarchs, and I wonder again at the veracity of Adira’s admission:there is no one in the world I hate more than the King of Carrion.
“Did you receive my gift?” Niko asks, scooting over to make room for the small princess.
She tucks her bare feet beneath her and fits him with a withering stare. “‘Gift’ is a generous way to describe you sending Sam into my Grove in the middle of the night to dump a bunch of unconscious Strayed on my doorstep.”
Niko hums noncommittally. “Which part is it that you object to? The time of day, the unconscious evil, or Sam?”
Adira gives him a flat look, those storm-gray eyes churning dangerously. “You know very well I do not allow Strayed, unconscious or not, into this Grove. And youalsoknow very well that there was no way I could refuse Sam entrance after what happened the last time. Not without permanently destroying our relationship.”
Niko picks a piece of lint off his shirt. “I was under the impression a permanently destroyed relationship isexactlywhat you’re after with Sam.” There’s a savage edge beneath the casualty of his voice, one borne not of anger, but of loyalty.
“You played me, Niko. And you used your best friend to do it. That’s low, even for you.” Her eyes narrow on the king. “He is far too good for the likes of you. I hope you know that.”
Niko gives her a soft smile. “I’ve known it since we were nine years old.” He kicks his feet up on the table once more to Adira’s clear irritation. “Now, are you going to tell me what you’ve learned from my scheming, or are you going to make me grovel on Sam’s behalf first?” He glances at me with a wicked grin when he finishes, “I assure you, my groveling is quitethorough.”
Adira makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, thwacking his shoulder lightly with the broad end of the spear. “Spare me,” she mutters. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she motions to where I’ve been lingering in the archway. “You may as well sit, Willa, as this involves you, too.”
I sink stiffly into the folds of an armchair, anxiety pricking at the back of my neck. With each connection, it feels like the island itself winds another root tighter around me, preparing for the day I’m tethered here irrevocably. I shake off the notion, reassuring myself with Niko’s own words:You could imagine the wards open. You could imagine a whole new world.
As long as I get a hold on my magic, I’ll never be trapped anywhere again. Not even Letum.
“They know who Willa is, and what she’s capable of,” Adira begins with a hesitant glance in my direction. Like she knows one wrong word will send me running.
“I’d gathered as much from her most recent interaction with them,” Niko says. “Is that what this has all been about then? Testing her?”
Adira’s expression is indecipherable. “Not her.” Dread sinks into the pit of my stomach. “You.”
Niko’s jaw tightens, and his ribbons spear wildly toward the ceiling as he snarls, “Dawson.”
Adira nods gravely. “After I looked into the minds of the Strayed Sam brought, I sent my Silva Lucai to listen to the forest. It has been whispered everywhere, Niko. Dawson saw you collapse on the beach. He now knows your limitations. He knows when he comes for Willa, when he comes for the island…you won’t be able to kill them all. And the rest of the kingdom knows it now, too.”
Horror settles over me, sickly hot and viscous, as I realize the Strayed attacks have been purposeful. A way to draw Niko out, to test the limits of his power in order to exploit them. With Niko the only one in the kingdom able to take a life, there will be nothing to keep them from overwhelming the island. From coming and coming until they’ve bled every bit of power from the Carrion King, and there’s nothing left to stop them from shredding me apart.
“Yes,” Adira agrees, though I hadn’t spoken aloud. “They will come for the king and then for you, and there will be no one left to stand before their evil. Unless you master your magic and turn the tides.”
