The Forest King’s Daughter

Prologue

Sylvans are our natural enemies.

That is the purest truth known to Dracukind.

—G AXIX, D RACU PHILOSOPHER

Z ERU CLOSED HIS BURNING EYES, REELING AS ALWAYS from that first shock of brightness as he pushed his face aboveground. He raked his hands through his hair and wiped dirt from the twisted horns that grew from his head as he marveled at the cold, white light of the moon, so different from the flickering torchlight of the Cryptlands. Even after a year of these forbidden trips into Thirstwood, he still shivered as he looked at that glowing disc. It might be the closest he’d ever get to seeing the sun.

Patting his pocket, he made his way along the winding paths toward the meeting place. If Cassia was late, he would pull her hair and make her cry.

No. Even as he had the thought, he knew he wouldn’t. Though Cassia was a Sylvan, she was his friend. He looked forward to these meetings above all things.

As he reached the massive yew tree, a girl’s voice called in singsong, “Dracu, Dracu!”

His scalp prickled as a thrill surged through him, but he sat himself against the trunk to wait. Not the trunk of a blood tree, though, which could trap an unwary traveler with its branches and drink them dry. More appeared every year, turning the canopy crimson with their red leaves.

Cassia’s footsteps grew louder, frustration crackling in each step. “I know you’re here!”

Zeru muffled a laugh.

She burst into view like a sprite, her dark golden hair tangled about her shoulders, the freckles on her nose visible in the glow of the moon. On the night they’d first met, he’d reached out to touch them, and she’d slapped his hand. That was when he knew he liked her. Despite the fact that her pointed ears and softer features had proclaimed her his enemy.

Cassia’s eyes narrowed on him. Sylvans had poor night vision, which meant he could see her expression but she couldn’t see his.

“Why do you always hide?” she demanded.

“Because you always find me.” He shot to his feet, baring his teeth in a sharp grin. “I thought Sylvans loved to track their prey.”

She looked away. “My father was going to take me hunting, but my mother said I was too young.” She gave him a measuring look. “You haven’t gone yet, have you?”

“Twice.” Never mind that he was banned from going again.

“Where?” Her face flickered between curiosity and doubt. “It’s forbidden for Dracu to hunt in our forest.”

Talking to Cassia was like navigating a bramble-choked path, full of snags. He could not tell her much without endangering himself, but he wanted to know more about her. “Everyone knows that, Sylvan. I didn’t say I’d hunted here.”

But of course he had. There wasn’t enough game in the Cryptlands. On nights of the full moon when the trees were sleepy and the wards placed by the Sylvan king were thin, the Dracu dug their way up into Thirstwood. Zeru’s father had taken him to track small game—hares and weasels, mostly, as deer and boars were rare. On the second hunt, Zeru had killed two hares. He’d stepped lightly alongside his father with a heady feeling of accomplishment at the meat he’d bring home to his family. But then they’d run into the Sylvan king’s hounds. Their shining white fangs rushed closer at a terrible speed, Sylvan Huntsmen following with bows and swords drawn. Fear had rushed through Zeru’s veins, freezing his feet to the ground. He’d sworn he could feel the hounds’ breath before his father had swept him into the nearest escape in the ground.

At the next full moon, Zeru had begged for another chance. He’d promised to run if he heard the hounds. But no matter how he’d pleaded, his father had stood firm. He would not take Zeru again until he was older.

In stubborn defiance, Zeru had snuck out alone. The last thing he’d expected was to find a lost Sylvan girl. When he’d looked into her wide eyes and seen tears icing her cheeks, something had gripped his chest, and he’d spoken softly to her—more softly than a Dracu should ever speak to an enemy.

“What about your mother?” Cassia asked, drawing him back to the present. “Does she hunt, too?”

“Of course. Doesn’t yours?”

Cassia shook her head. “My mother hates the sight of blood.” She tilted her head to the side. “Tell me more about the creatures who live underground. You said there are different kinds of Azpians, but I only know about the Dracu.”

Zeru didn’t want to talk about anything to do with the Cryptlands. Forbidden as it was to be in Sylvan territory, it was worse to give an enemy information. Searching for a distraction, he saw a caterpillar making its way across a fallen leaf.

Picking up the leaf, he said, “I brought you something.”

“What is it?” Her face lit with excitement.

Over the months, he’d given her two other gifts: a holed stone, which was supposed to bring good fortune, and a fish-bone comb he’d found while exploring. He shouldn’t have. Sylvans were greedy and would come to expect more. But Cassia wore the holed stone around her neck on a string, and the comb was tucked into her hair. So, at least she appreciated his gifts.

Her smile faded as she took the leaf, blinking at the caterpillar, which had lifted its upper body in curiosity. “What do I do with it?”

He hid a grin at her confusion. “Name it.”

“Zeru,” she said without hesitation.

He fought an urge to slap the leaf from her hand. “Zeru is a noble name given to me by my mother. Choose another.”

She wrinkled her nose, bringing the freckles closer together. “Leafy?”

He nodded, relaxing.

She stared down at the twitching creature, holding it uncertainly.

He let out a laugh. “That’s not your gift.”

“Oh.” She set the leaf down carefully at the base of the nearest tree. “What’s my real gift?”

“What about my gift?” he asked, stalling. “Did you bring me something?”

She blinked. “I don’t know what Dracu like.”

“I don’t know what Sylvans like,” he countered, “but I’ve brought you gifts. This is your third.”

Stepping closer, she promised, “I’ll bring you something next time.”

He held in a smile. Though she was eager for the gift, she didn’t understand what it meant. In Dracu tradition, a third gift sealed a connection with another person. It meant you valued this friend above others. He’d found something better than a fish-bone comb this time.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She obeyed immediately, a smile still curving her lips. She was too trusting. He had an urge to drop the caterpillar into her hand. Instead, he took the ring from his pocket. The metal was misshapen, the gemstone a smooth cabochon, its dark yellow color reminding him of Cassia’s hair.

As he placed the ring in her palm, her eyes opened. “Where did you get it?”

He lifted his chin defiantly. “It’s mine.”

She slid the ring onto her finger. “My father says Dracu lie.”

The fact that she was right made him angry. He’d found it in his mother’s jewelry box among so many beautiful things—opal brooches, strands of black pearls, hematite bracelets that reflected the torchlight. She wouldn’t miss this plain old ring. “Give it back, then, if you don’t want it.” He made a swipe for the ring, his claws extended.

She yanked her hand away. “You gave it to me.” The gemstone gleamed. “I’ll never take it off.”

Warmth fluttered in his chest, as if her hand had touched him there. “Never?”

After a hesitation, she nodded. “Never.”

They stared at each other. He knew she was a Sylvan, and he was a Dracu, but they’d found each other and now he’d given her three gifts. They would remain friends.

“Remember,” he said, “next time, it’s your turn to bring me a gift.”

“Next time…,” she said, trailing off.

He felt it, too. The ground was trembling and groaning like the belly of a hungry beast. The trees began to shake, raining blood leaves onto Cassia’s hair.

“The hunt?” she asked, her eyes wide.

But the rumble came from below, a burbling cackle of voices blending with the earth’s deep groan. It wasn’t Sylvan Huntsmen. It was worse.

He grabbed her hand, and they ran, tripping over fallen logs and spiky shrubs. Branches whipped out to slice Zeru’s face and catch at Cassia’s clothing. Shifting and tearing free, darting like stags, they burst into a clearing enclosed by blood trees. In the center, the flat earth rounded up and up as if a mountain were being birthed.

Zeru turned away, pulling Cassia with him, but a latticework of branches blocked their escape.

“No!” He stared in disbelief, his heart frantic in his throat. He’d heard the trees could move their roots and branches like limbs, but he had never seen it.

In the center of the clearing, the earth swelled, then erupted, spewing a nightmare of beasts with weapons drawn. All the creatures of the Cryptlands were familiar to Zeru, but he had never seen so many together, and never like this—wild, violent, and out for blood. Skrattis howled battle cries as they hefted axes and cudgels. Imps flew like arrows, their tarry eyes and mouths with sawlike teeth opened wide and seeking. Pit sprites filled the air with clouds of soot that blocked the moonlight.

Cassia tried to pull her hand from Zeru’s, but he held on. She was thrice-gifted, his friend for life, and he would protect her.

In the center of the chaos, the Dracu queen rose from the ripped earth, her crown of onyx spikes gouging the sky, her green hair wild, her cloak whipping behind her in a keening wind. The curving horns that rose from her head proclaimed her a Dracu, her emerald eyes daggering around the clearing. Leaves shook loose and branches snapped as she singled out Zeru and Cassia. Her voice was a tempest of accusation as she growled, “Return my Dracustone to me.”

At that moment, Zeru’s mother and father emerged from the earth. His father’s expression made Zeru tremble almost as much as the queen’s eyes. His mother’s eyes rounded in horror as they fell on the small Sylvan by his side.

“Cassia,” Zeru breathed, putting his palm out. “Take the ring off so I can give it to the queen.”

Cassia grasped the ring, her eyes going wide. “I said I would never take it off.”

He shook his head. Didn’t she know this was life or death? Before he could say anything, Cassia was ripped from him. Bulbous-eyed imps with their bat-like wings flew toward her as pit sprites obscured her in a dark cloud. Zeru roared and fought to get to her, but a hand clamped his shoulder in a giant’s grip.

“Leave her!” It was his father, a general in the queen’s army, and Zeru felt the weight of his command. “You have done enough damage this day.”

“You have ruined us,” his mother said, her voice shaking. Her despair was worse than anger.

He couldn’t think while his friend was at the mercy of the vilest members of the Azpian realm. The winged imps had swarmed over her, their small, coal-flat eyes lit with violence. Drakes slithered from the ground, their scaled, serpentine bodies undulating through the crowd. He saw their teeth, sharp like needles, and imagined them sinking into Cassia’s skin.

“Help her!” he begged, struggling to pull from his father’s grip.

A hand met his ear with a stinging clap. “You dare to ask that after what you’ve done?”

The shrieks of imps blended with his father’s grim voice, the terrible harmony stabbing into his ears.

“What did I do?” he cried.

“The Dracustone ring,” his mother wailed. “A Seer prophesied it would be vital to our people. I was charged with keeping it for the day when the queen could wear it. And you have given it to an enemy.”

Zeru couldn’t speak. He stared at his mother in agonized silence. How could he have known?

His neck prickled as he turned to see Huntsmen on black horses entering the clearing through a gap between trees. Their swords swung in bright arcs, their mounts’ hooves trampling. Imps and Skrattis shrieked, no longer in bloodlust but in fear, fleeing and dying with gasps and gurgles. Drakes dug their way into the ground. Pit sprites dissolved into puffs of smoke, leaving the scent of brimstone.

The largest of the riders approached, steam rising from the nostrils of his stallion. His bone-white antlers announced his ownership of Thirstwood forest. The Sylvan king.

“Bring my daughter to me,” he said, his voice a storm rumbling through the woods.

One of the Huntsmen strode forward carrying a small form. There were scratches and cuts on Cassia’s cheeks, and her freckles were coated by a smearing of blood, but her chest was moving with quick breaths. Zeru’s legs went weak with relief. At least she was alive.

At the same moment, the truth broke into his confused mind. Horror coursed through his body, leaving his fingers and toes tingling. He had given the Dracustone to the Sylvan king’s daughter.

The king grabbed Cassia’s hand. He inspected the ring with a satisfied expression that was there and gone in a heartbeat. A chill ran through Zeru’s body at the cold way he let Cassia’s arm fall before nodding to the Huntsman. “Take her to Scarhamm.”

Zeru watched, a terrible tightness in his chest as Cassia’s limp body was lain across the saddle.

“The Dracustone belongs to me,” the queen said with ringing conviction. “Give it back, or by the Ancients, we war.”

The king laughed, a rockslide of mirth. “The Solis Gemma was given to my daughter. Freely. It belongs to me now.”

Her eyes glowed like green lamps. “The ring was not the boy’s to give. Make her return it.”

“I will tell her to use it,” he said, leaning down to loom over the queen, “to destroy our enemies who hurt her this day.”

Fog swirled from the queen’s mouth as she said, “Then you have chosen war.”

The king’s eyes seemed to glow. “At last.” He wheeled his horse and rode away.

Zeru stared as the last of the Huntsmen disappeared. Around him lay gruesome corpses of Skrattis, imps, and drakes, but all he could think of was the sight of his friend, bloodied and helpless. She was alive. But would she know that he had tried to help her? He would meet her on the next full moon to tell her. And get the ring back. He could still fix this.

At the sound of his name, he made himself turn to face his parents. His father’s voice was like claws against granite, carving each word into Zeru’s mind and memory. “All of Dracukind will pay for what you have done today. And you most of all.”