She didn’t finish her sentence, but I heardthe Plagueas clearly as if she had spoken it aloud. The Plague raised the dead … But not like this, I was sure. The dead who had walked the land were terrifying, mindless approximations of the people they had once been. This was just … Baldbeak.
Maybe he hadn’t really died at all?
No, he had been dead. I was certain of it. I had felt him cool and unresponsive beneath my touch. And now here he was, ruffling his feathers, looking quite as usual.
“Look,” I said, “please don’t tell anyone about this, all right?”
She gestured at the empty forest around us. “Who would I tell?”
“Patrick, for one. Just … I don’t quite understand what happened here either. So can we just keep it to ourselves? Please?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could say anything, there was a familiar shimmer in the air. The shape of a man, standing at ease and—impossibly, maddeningly—adjusting his cuffs. As if that mattered right now.
“I must admit, I’m curious as to what you could possibly be talking about,” Patrick said. “Though I am relieved to find that you have already slipped away from Ban Morin’s men. I thought I might have to perform a daring rescue.”
“How long have you been following us?” I demanded, jumping up and backing away from him, just as Mieka said with relief, “Thank Plague you’re here.”
“You can’t stay here,” he said, which wasn’t an answer to my question. “Ban Morin’s men won’t stop hunting you, and you’re too far from the monastery to make it on your own. I can help you.”
“Oh, like you helped us back there?” I said. My hands clenched into fists. “Were you watching us the whole time? Did you see the Priest get killed? Did you see what happened to Baldbeak and do nothing?”
“Yes, I have been following you, but I was not … Netta, wait!”
I turned and started to stumble away over the uneven ground, nearly tripping on the little hillocks and tufted grasses that I couldn’t see in the growing darkness.
“Netta!” I heard from behind me. “Don’t be foolish!”
“Netta!” Mieka’s voice, this time.
I gritted my teeth as I made my ungainly way to the cover of the trees—and then halted. I had no idea where Spire was and no means of getting there except on foot. I couldn’t return to the Followers, if any of them were even still alive. It seemed all other possibilities had finally been eliminated.
I turned and saw Patrick waiting.
“I did not see what happened with the Followers until it was too late,” he said softly. “I did not arrive in time. I am sorry. I saw the Priest on the ground, the others fleeing … There was nothing I could do except come to find you and Mieka.”
“You have a knack for beingnot quite on time.”
“If I had reached your tower earlier, I would have done my best to prevent that attack again too.”
“I don’t trust you,” I said.
“I know.”
What choice did I have now? I could strike out for Spire on my own, but with Ban Morin’s men out searching for me, it seemed foolish not to accept any help. And Mieka worked for Patrick, and she was a true friend, I believed. Perhaps I could rely on him now, at least for a little while.
I bit my lip, but I accepted the arm he offered me, and we walked back towards Mieka.
Patrick’s horse and carriage were concealed in a small clearing. They were not as ornate as Milady’s, but the gleaming wood panels on the sides and the brass fixtures whispered wealth.
Patrick consulted with one of the outriders, then turned to Mieka. “Ride with Sarrow here. I’ll send you a raven later.”
Mieka looked from Baldbeak to me, then gave me a quick hug. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered. “Give him a chance, all right?”
Patrick opened the carriage door for us. Baldbeak hopped in immediately, probably thinking that this was perfectly suitable transportation for a recently resurrected raven, but I hesitated.
Patrick watched me. “You can’t go back, my dear,” he said gently.
“Don’t call me that.”
