“Just a few more steps.”
Elspeth clenched her hand so tight it hurt.
They stumbled. Then, as if the trees had spat them out, they were free. The whispers silenced. The faces vanished.
The unpleasantly human trees had gone still. Elspeth let go of the mule, dragging a hand through her braid. The horse and mule pranced a short distance away from the trees, the gig swaying between them, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Are you all right?” Charlotte asked.
Elspeth was pale and gasping, eyes fixed on the trees like she still saw faces in them. Setting her cane aside, Charlotte draped the cloak around Elspeth and took her hands.
“Elspeth.”
Elspeth’s gaze snapped to her.
Charlotte squeezed her hands. “Breathe with me a minute.”
Elspeth swallowed, but she followed Charlotte’s breathing through several cycles. By the time they finished, her body had relaxed. She sighed.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Are you all right? You seemed...”
Elspeth shook her head. “It was awful. Them faces.”
“Voices, too, I suppose.”
“You heard ’em?”
Charlotte smiled faintly, unwilling to admit it had been real. “Well, I heard something.”
Elspeth let out a long breath. “But you got us out of it. You didn’t let ’em get to you. I was...”
Charlotte’s skin prickled. Elspeth’s hands were tight onhers, her voice soft, but Charlotte didn’t see how she’d done anything special. She was practical and stubborn and could sometimes put those qualities to good use; that was all.
She pulled away, reaching for her cane. “It was very upsetting. I hope you don’t think less of yourself for reacting like anyone would.”
Elspeth smiled crookedly.
“That’s about the nicest thing you’ve yet said to me.” She caught the mule by the bridle and stroked his neck. “Animals seem all right, anyway. Where are we?”
They turned to survey their surroundings.
It was a little woodland vale, caked in snow—except for flowers blooming in a slab at the foot of a headstone before them. The headstone was carved with yarrow instead of the usual things. Charlotte touched it, wondering whether it was the Lord of the Wood’s and, if so, who had buried him.
She hoped not. If the Lord of the Wood was dead, there was no hope of finding their siblings. They could either wander the wood until their dying day or go home defeated and pretend Arthur and Maggie might one day emerge unharmed.
Her forehead throbbed. Now the danger was past, the memory of the faces and voices tumbled through her head.
Nonsense, she told herself, but the voices sounded discordantly.
“Come on,” Elspeth said. “Let’s see what’s what.”
xxx. In which Charlotte gains a new pet
The snow was up to Charlotte’s ankles, dampening her socks. She was colder than she’d been all day, but the bite of snow distracted her from the memory of the faces and voices.
Nearby, a blue tit alit on a branch and burst into song. Elspeth laughed, running a hand through her hair. Charlotte let out a breath; the forest had been so silent. Whatever this place was, the sickness hadn’t touched it.
