It was the breath you took after being underwater too long, after thinking you might not make it back to the surface. It was cool water trickling down a parched throat. It was the relief of a shady tree at the height of Midsummer. And when I looked down at my own hands, I realized that the shimmering sheen of shadow encasing them was not Oberon’s. It was mine, and it obeyed me—writhing with every twitch of my fingers, pulsing with every beat of my heart, following me like a faithful pet.
“Shadows,” I whispered. “Myownshadows.”
“Yes!” Oberon nearly laughed, reaching out to grip my hands tightly. “You are heir to my power, Marina. A Shadowspinner.”
“Shadowspinner,” I repeated the word softly, and couldn’t help but picture Oberon and Titania’s dance at the revelry. Her light skating across his shadows, like they had been made to balance one another. Madeforeach other.
Oberon released me and stood back, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “This is enough for today. As I unblock more of your power, it will become increasingly difficult to control, and I do not want to exhaust you. We can practice with this for now.”
“I feel fine,” I said with a shrug. “Wonderful, actually.” I pulled the shadows out a little at a time and let them dance in my palm. They had an iridescent quality, a sheer, pale green, which could be glimpsed from certain angles, and I was utterly fascinated. When I moved my hand through the air, they trailed off my fingers in elegant, curling tendrils, like honeysuckle vines cut from the night sky, or took on the form of insects—beetles, moths, even spiders. All my old, familiar friends.
“That is an effect of the magyk,” Oberon said, clasping his hands in front of him and watching me closely. “Our gifts are closely tied to our emotions, so releasing your full gift will also affect your emotions. The exhilaration you feel now will give way to other things—anger, contentment, despair, joy, confidence, fear, desire, exhaustion. You will be inundated, and you must keep them in check. Remember, they are byproducts of this unlocking. Do your best not act on them, no matter how good it might feel.” He raised an eyebrow. “You understand?”
“Of course,” I murmured.
Chapter twenty-five
Sorrow & Soil
For several hours, westayed in the grove, and Oberon taught me what he knew. He showed me how to bend the rowan trees to my will, shaping their roots and branches into simple forms like teardrops or spirals, and how to create a shadow-canopy over my head, resembling the night sky, then he showed me how to dissipate the shadows into a dark mist that would confuse or mislead anyone who encountered it.
By midday, however, exhaustion had crept into my limbs. I welcomed the respite when Ceres appeared, carrying a picnic basket packed with miniature mushroom, parsnip, and carrot pies, whole wild peaches, and brown bread studded with walnuts, along with a clay jug of sweet apple cider. Oberon formed us a table and chairs from oak roots, and we ate at the edge of the grove while I amused myself by sending out flying shadow-beetles to bother Sir Toby. He chased them merrily between the rowan trees, then rested below the table, on alert for scraps of our lunch. Oberon remained mostly silent, and I could tell there was something else on his mind. I imagined it was likely the same thing hanging on the edge of mine, so I finally pulled my shadows back in and turned to face him.
“When do you think I will be ready?” I asked. “For…for the Rot?”
Oberon released a heavy sigh and shook his head slowly. “I had hoped we might address that today, if you are feeling up to it.”
“Of course, I am,” I said, standing up.
“Do not be so eager, Marina,” he warned, pulling himself up too. “What we must do now is no pleasant task. I hate to ask it of you so soon after you have arrived, but…I do not know how much time we might have left.” He began walking away from the grove and I followed. Sir Toby trotted beside me, leaning into my leg and allowing me to hold onto his worn, leather collar for support. I had not bargained on the magyk pulling so much energy from me, but was determined to see this through.
The closer we came to the Rot, however, the heavier I felt—as if I was wearing a layer of chainmail over my clothes. When we finally came into view of the seeping, crawling darkness, I nearly collapsed, and leaned into the trunk of a beech tree, while Sir Toby sat at my feet, whining. The shadows curled from my hands involuntarily and crawled back along the forest floor, trying to escape the curse.
“It has grown,” Oberon muttered. He surveyed the damage with little visible emotion, but the way his hands twisted behind his back told me he was distressed.
“You said it spreads slowly…imperceptibly,” I pointed out.
“Normally, yes.” He began walking again, staying parallel to the dark boundary between the living forest and the Rot. In the daylight, it was easier for me to see just how far back the diseased area stretched. It seemed to be closing in from the outside of the Arden, slowly choking as it moved toward the center—the heart of the forest. I followed carefully, keeping my hand on Toby’s nearest head and my eyes on the Rot, searching for any clue as to what it was, where it came from, or how I could get rid of it.
My healing gift had been intended for humans, and was most effective on them, but I had also noticed over the years that it gave me a special touch for other living things. It was the reason I preferred working in the Abbey’s garden to the infirmary. Plants were simpler beings, and if one of them died under my care, there were no mourners, and no funerals. No grief. No guilt suspended in the center of my chest for months afterward like an invasive tangle of vines, impossible to hack away. In a foolhardy attempt at optimism, I told myself that maybe healing the Arden would be as simple as keeping root rot out of Locksley’s gardens.
But I knew it would not be that easy. The Rot went on for miles, it seemed, having consumed much more of the Arden than I originally thought. Trees, grass, flowers, shrubs, all dead. Creeks and streams dried up, the cracked earth of their beds stained black. The warm, sweet smell of decay choked me, and I began to see evidence of how the Rot spread, like a poison, a disease, where one touch was enough to infect. We passed by several trees already half-gone, golden leaves hanging on for dear life as the Rot consumed their fellows further back along the limb. Oberon stopped suddenly and held out an arm to stop me from going further.
“Look.” He pointed ahead, and I had to fight down a surge of bile when I saw the bodies. It was like a scene frozen in time, then painted over with a macabre brush. A picnic of some sort, with nearly a dozen fay lying prone on the forestfloor. Baskets of food, bottles of wine, and musical instruments were spread between them on blankets. It would have been idyllic, were it not for the pall of death. The bodies looked like they’d been burned, mouths open in what might have been joyful smiles, were it not for the crumbling skin peeling away from blackened bones. Now, they just appeared to have died with writhing, agonized screams tearing their throats.
“What…happened?” I asked, covering my mouth to block the smell.
“They fell asleep,” Oberon replied sadly. “Too much to drink, likely, and they did not see it coming. This happened over five years ago, on the anniversary of Lyric’s death. The Rot…jumped, for lack of a better word, consuming a large portion of the forest overnight.”
“Does that always happen on the anniversary of her death?”
“It does seem to grow faster at that time, yes.”
“Have you ever watched someone…die from it?”
“Yes,” Oberon murmured. “It was only a few weeks after her death, after the battle where many of our people had also been killed. One of my personal guard…had lost his husband during the attack. He walked straight into the Rot and let it consume him. I have never witnessed a slower, more painful death. It does not kill instantly, just seeps beneath your skin, tearing you apart from the inside, and only killing once it reaches your heart, like a poison.”
Horrified silence settled over us both, and it took me several minutes to work up the nerve to speak again. “I want to get rid of it, but what if I can’t? What if my power isn’t enough?”
