“Beware the danger…”
“Did you hear that?” Viri demanded.
“In its midst.”
“Hear what?” Reeve asked.
This time, the words came louder, as if they echoed from all around her.
“Beware the beasts.”
“That!” Viri cried, her heart picking up speed. “The nursery rhyme—tell me you can hear it.”
“They lie in wait.”
Reeve tensed beside her. “I can’t hear anything.”
“Beware the wood…”
Goosebumps rose on her flesh as the final line whispered in her ears.
“…Or meet your fate.”
The ending of the song faded into silence, broken only by Viri’s anxious breaths as she frantically scanned the clearing for any sign that they weren’t alone, even though she knew that was impossible. They were deep in the heart of the Mistwood. No one could—
A gasp left her when something moved on the far side of the trees, a figure stepping out of the shadows. Reeve froze at her side, proving she wasn’t hallucinating, his hands shifting to the hilts of his daggers.
But his weapons weren’t necessary.
Because the figure—it wasn’t some blackmist beast. It was a person.
Afamiliarperson.
Every muscle in Viri’s body locked in stunned disbelief at the sight of the young girl walking toward them, looking healthy and happy in a clean white cloak, her sandy curls as wild as ever, her brown eyes bright with mischief.
“Jessalyn,” Viri breathed. “What—How—”
She couldn’t finish her question, a strangled sound leaving her, part sob, part laugh, and she leapt forward, desperate to embrace Soren’s sister, her relief too overwhelming to care how Jessy had escaped the reapers and found her way into the deadly forest. Those answers could come later; for now, Viri just needed to hold her and see for herself that she was truly safe.
But before Viri could make it more than one step, Reeve’s arms wrapped around her from behind, hauling her backward.
“No, Viri,stop.”
Something in his voice gave her pause—a combination of urgency and horror that she’d never heard from him before.
“Reeve, what—”
“That’s not Jessalyn,” he said sharply, still holding her tight, as if worried she would leap forward again.
“What do you mean? Of course it is!” Viri tried to push out of his grip, but his arms were like steel around her. “Let me g—”
She didn’t finish her demand before Jessy’s lips stretched into a wide, open-mouthed grin.
Viri jerked back into Reeve at the sight of razor-sharp teeth, three rows deep. She nearly gagged at the grotesque vision, and would have if Jessalyn hadn’t still been transforming, her whitecloak turning to black rags that covered her from head to toe, leaving only her hands visible—pale, too-long fingers with talon-like nails—and a sickly gray face belonging to a creature that was decidedlynotJessalyn. It was the eyes that were the worst, though, now vivid scarlet slits that glowed from within the shadowy hood, chilling Viri to the bone.
Reeve swore loudly and released her to draw his sword, snarling one word as the figure glided slowly toward them like a specter of death.“Wraith.”
It shouldn’t have been possible—wraiths had left the island long ago with the mages and all the other magical creatures—but Viri couldn’t deny the evidence before her. She fumbled for her daggers, trying to recall everything she knew about them, her knowledge limited to what Wynter had shared while treating Reeve’s grimblade poison: that wraiths attacked body, mind, and spirit. Viri could now add that they were shapeshifters, her heart simultaneously crushed and grateful that the real Jessalyn was nowhere near the beast they faced.
