The Forest King’s Daughter

9

There is nothing so beguiling,

so deceptively charming,

as a Dracu with a plan.

—E XCHARIAS, S YLVAN POET

A SMALL MAN STOOD IN FRONT OF THE HEARTH, HIS fists raised in a defensive posture. He was wearing a pointy green cap atop a shock of unkempt white hair, his snowy beard flowing down over a brown tunic and coming to a point past his knees. His nose was red, his eyes a brighter red, and his cheeks… well. Cassia wondered why his hat was not also red.

“You dare enter the sacred realm,” he said, his eyes shifting restlessly around the room. “Intruders!” he shouted as if there were someone to hear him.

Cassia put the apple in her pocket, stepped forward, and offered a bow. “We didn’t mean to intrude. We were sent here against our will. Or at least I was. We mean no harm.”

She went to step closer, but Zeru’s arm came up to stop her. “It’s a kobold,” he said. “They’re small but dangerous.”

Cassia swallowed. She had never seen a kobold, but she knew they were Azpians, creatures who dwelled underground most of the time. And as such, the stranger was even more dangerous to her. She wondered briefly what an Azpian could be doing here , but the place seemed to defy all logic.

“That’s right,” the man agreed, his eyes burning. “If I had my bow, you’d already be dead.”

Zeru put a palm up in a peace gesture and sheathed his dagger. “You startled me, that’s all. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The man’s lips drew back to show sharp teeth. “Outsiders are not welcome. How did you even get here?”

“As the Sylvan told you, we were sent,” Zeru said. “We have a task to complete, and then we’ll go.”

The kobold looked at Cassia in horror. “A Sylvan?” He said it the way one might say pickled sheep’s brains?

She frowned. “He’s a Dracu. Is that any better?”

The man put his fists, hardly larger than two walnuts, to his forehead. “Did the wards fail? Did that worthless Summoner forget to reinforce them again?” He dropped his arms and peered around the room. “And what in the cursèd forest happened to my castle? You’ve… you’ve… wrecked up the place!” His face twisted into a grotesque scowl. “I’ll be dismissed! I’ll be given some horrible task for eternity. Sorting grains of rice from a pile of ashes maybe. Noctua will think of something awful for me this time.”

Zeru cleared his throat. “We did not… wreck up the place. We arrived last night and found it as you see. We need only learn something from your library, and we’ll leave again. Maybe you can help us?”

“Help you?” The man looked outraged.

Cassia searched for a less fraught subject. “You mentioned Noctua. Are you… one of the Ancients?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” the man snapped. “My people are long-lived but mortal. I was a hero in life, and the Ancients rewarded me by bringing me to guard this sacred realm.”

“You’re saying you’re the spirit of a kobold hero?” Zeru asked, not without skepticism.

The man’s eyes burned with a proud fire. “With my bow, I killed ten giants in one battle defending my lord’s lands. My aim was the truest of any archer who lived. Surely you’ve heard of me.”

Cassia hesitated. “You haven’t told us your name.”

“Gutel!” he said, as if she should know that already. “Gutel the Great.”

As he waited expectantly, Cassia almost wished she could lie.

The kobold waved a hand. “It matters not. Hrimgrimnir will bludgeon you to jog your memories.”

“Who or… what is that?” Cassia asked.

“Oh, you’ll see.” The kobold watched the doorway behind them, practically rubbing his hands in anticipation. “You’ll see soon enough.”

They waited, all silent. After a minute or so, Cassia asked, “Is Hrim…” She trailed off.

“Hrimgrimnir,” the kobold said impatiently.

She nodded. “Right. Is he quite large?”

“Indeed, indeed. Taller than the trees. You can’t miss him.”

“The thing is,” she said tentatively, almost sorry to dash his excitement at their impending bludgeoning, “this place is empty but for us. You’re the first person we’ve seen since we arrived.”

The kobold’s chest rose and fell for a few moments. “That can’t be right.” He looked between them, his eyes settling on the amulet around Zeru’s neck. “Where did you get that?”

“It was given to me,” Zeru said, a hint of warning in his tone.

“That’s not for a Dracu to wear!” the kobold said. Without warning, he leaped forward and snatched for it.

But Zeru merely sidestepped him. He put a hand to the man’s green hat as his arms wheeled in frustrated grabbing motions.

“It belongs to the welkin!” Gutel shouted. “Give it back!”

Zeru looked at Cassia, as if she would know how to handle this.

“Why don’t we tell you how we came to be here?” she suggested. “Is there somewhere we could sit?”

After a few seconds of unsuccessful vying for the amulet, the small man gave a shout of frustration and dropped his arms. “Very well. Since Hrimgrimnir is taking his blessed time about it.” He gestured toward a doorway. “In here will do.”

In the end, none of them sat. Zeru stood by the window. The kobold took a place in front of the parlor hearth, his chin high, his hands behind his back as if ready to pass judgment. Cassia settled for leaning against the wall.

It was a sitting room containing a small hearth, shelving, two wingback chairs, and a low table with a game board of some kind. Plates, which might have once lined the shelves, now covered the floor. But they were made of metal—gold, silver, and copper—and were not broken. Unlike the ceiling beam that had fallen in one corner.

Zeru explained in succinct terms how they’d come to be there: A Seer in the Cryptlands had given him the amulet, and it was used with the ring to create a doorway that led here.

“The ring? The Solis Gemma?” the kobold asked, perking up. “Where is it now?”

At Zeru’s curt nod, Cassia held out her hand.

The kobold gasped. “A Sylvan wears the sacred stone.” He passed a hand over his eyes, his expression aggrieved. “How?”

“It was an heirloom passed down in my family,” Zeru explained.

“Impossible,” the kobold declared, his suspicion palpable. “The Solis Gemma couldn’t have become a Dracu heirloom.”

Zeru gave a sidelong look at Cassia before adding, “The queen knew of the artifact, but she left it in my mother’s keeping as one of her most trusted confidants. Prophecy said the Solis Gemma would help the Dracu win the war against Sylvans, but the queen had not yet been able to wear the ring.”

“That’s not true,” Cassia put in, refusing to let his lies go unchallenged. “The prophecy says the ring will end the war, not who will win.”

“Our Seers say otherwise,” Zeru replied, his expression defiant. “Every full moon, my mother would take the ring from its hiding place and see if the queen could wear it. But she couldn’t bear to be near the ring. After every failure, my mother would put it back into safekeeping.” He paused, seeming to calculate what to say next. Finally, he shook his head. “Anyway, I didn’t know all that until it was too late. When I first saw the ring, I thought it some hideous old thing my mother would never miss. And for some unknown reason, I gave it to her .” He indicated Cassia with a slight lift of his chin.

She was stunned. All this time, she’d imagined the most nefarious of reasons for Zeru giving her the ring. Her father had insisted that Zeru had hoped it would kill her. Could it really have been a simple mistake? Then again, he might be lying. She also hadn’t missed the fact that he’d given her something he thought was hideous.

“Why did you give it to the Sylvan?” the kobold asked incredulously. “Are Dracu and Sylvans not enemies anymore?”

“We very much are,” Zeru assured him. “I was young and easily duped. I thought the girl was my friend.”

Cassia’s teeth ground together. “The important part,” she said, as evenly as she could manage, “is that I came to have the ring. And now the Dracu wants it back. However, the ring can’t be removed.” Plus, I’ll die before giving it up.

“Not until I find out how to weaken the mystical bond between the Sylvan and the ring,” Zeru said, his eyes hard and determined. “Though it was an heirloom in my family, the magic of it belongs to my queen and I must return it to her.”

But the kobold was shaking his head. “No. It belongs here. In Welkincaster.”

Cassia and Zeru exchanged a look. The kobold’s intentions didn’t fit with either of their plans.

“How long has the ring been in your family?” Gutel asked.

Zeru’s answer came quick and challenging. “At least two generations. My mother said it was her mother’s.”

Gutel’s face showed signs of an inner struggle. “Then regardless of how the Solis Gemma was lost to Welkincaster, it has been a long time since the gemstone was here in the sacred realm. A long time without its power, which kept the castle in good repair and the forest healthy.” He looked around the room, a heaviness about his expression. “A long time for me to be asleep.” He said no more, but his head hung low.

Cassia hesitated, her mind snagging this new information. “You’re saying the ring does all that? Keeps this cloud in good repair?”

The kobold raised his eyebrows. “What else?”

She glanced at Zeru. “It’s been used… as a weapon.”

Gutel glared. “Yes, in the Ancient Wars. A great corruption of the ring. But that’s in the past.”

Zeru cleared his throat. Before he could say more, Cassia broke in. “And the others?” she asked gently. “There were more spirits here with you before?”

An almost imperceptible sigh moved the kobold’s small frame. “Many others. I do not know if they still sleep and can be woken or if they are gone to Noctua’s kingdom, to the land of the dead. After enough time, all spirits return there.”

“Where were you?” she asked. “We didn’t see you when we arrived.”

Gutel shrugged. “Asleep in the hearth. You wouldn’t have seen me, as I was not to be seen. When the ring is in residence at Welkincaster, it used to mean the Lady was in residence. Perhaps the gemstone’s arrival here woke me.”

“And by Lady…,” Zeru prompted.

“Lady Solis. Even the Ancients need a place to retreat sometimes. That is why the welkins were created. The stories tell us these places were once filled with laughter and song. Many of the Ancients visited one another on the welkins, even bringing great champions such as myself to visit.” His chest expanded as he took another long pause, his eyes unfocused. “But the Lady hasn’t been here in a long time. I myself have only seen her once, when I was brought here long ago. This place is to stay in readiness for her return.”

Cassia swallowed. If that was true, she was standing in the place of an Ancient. A truly sacred place. But it was neglected. That much was clear. As if something sinister had grown where laughter and song once lived.

“It sounds like we shouldn’t be here,” she said, darting a look at Zeru. She had told him as much, and he’d dismissed her.

“We’re not leaving until we find out how to remove the ring,” Zeru said, his eyes warning her not to contradict him. “Gutel, can you read Runic?”

The small man stood taller. “Of course! That’s my written language.”

Zeru looked far too smug. “That is excellent news. What about Old Sylvan?”

That elicited a sour face. “I had no desire to learn. I’ve always found Sylvans to be an insufferable lot.” His eyes shifted to Cassia. “With their self-righteous claims of honesty and their endless hunting. If you ask me, kobolds would still be living peaceably in human homes if it weren’t for Silvanus leading his Wild Hunt, luring humans into his traps—”

“That is not true!” Cassia snapped. A shiver ran through her as she realized she did not know her father’s full history, and therefore might not have spoken the truth. She amended her statement. “At least, not until after the humans began hunting us.”

A glint in Zeru’s eye told her he was enjoying her discomfort. “Have your people gone to such lengths to forget their past? Your father is known for his violent nature.”

Cassia’s voice was hoarse with loathing. “It was your queen who promised war. I heard her myself.”

Zeru’s eyes narrowed. “She only wanted the ring back so that your people couldn’t use it against ours. Instead of offering a pact, your father relished the idea of war. He wants to wipe us out. Or rather, he wants you to do it. With my ring.”

Overwhelmed by everything she’d heard, she turned and headed for the door. She couldn’t let him confuse her. It felt treasonous to even listen.

“Run, Sylvan,” Zeru taunted. “That’s what you do best.”

She halted at the door, her back to him. “If I were scared of a challenge, I wouldn’t have come. It was my willingness to be here that allowed the doorway to open. Don’t forget that.”

She slammed the door behind her, feeling the reverberations run through her body as her breath heaved in and out.

Through the closed door, she heard Zeru speaking to the kobold. “You see why I need your help. The Sylvan is not going to cooperate, and I need to find answers by the next full moon. I was forced to make a vow to return her home by then.”

Cassia waited for the kobold’s reply, which came after a short pause. “I’m as determined to get the ring back to its rightful place as you are. More so, I’m sure.”

Did Zeru realize Gutel’s endgame didn’t match his own? Now there were three people with different ideas of who should have the ring.

But it was the reminder of the full moon that ran through Cassia’s body like ice water. This would be the first full moon without her there to help. She could not return home without learning how to use the ring to kill. And she had precious little time to do that, considering she still had no idea where the knowledge was hidden.

A new purpose in her step, she returned to the library, making a pile of several likely books. After flipping through a couple of volumes, she found a section about some of the Ancients. She read until the light faded, ignoring—or pretending to ignore—Zeru’s grim presence when he finally joined her. As stars began to appear outside the window, she sighed and rubbed her eyes. If only she had Dracu sight like him, she could probably keep reading with a bit of moonlight. As it was, she would have to continue in the morning.

“Did you find out anything about the ring?” Zeru asked sharply as she turned to slip out.

She stiffened in the doorway. “No,” she said, hating that it was the truth.

“Anything it all?” he pressed, clearly not satisfied with her answer.

She turned to face him. “Nothing. Happy?”

“Not especially,” he said, returning his attention to his book. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to conceal that small book under your arm.”

“It’s a book about flowers,” she said bitterly. “Are you worried I’ll garden you to death?”

“Hardly.” He turned a page, his sharply angled face catching highlights on his cheekbones, forehead, and the curving blade of his nose. “I’m worried you’ll damage one of the books.”

Her hands curled into fists, but she forced herself to turn away, planning to have the final word for once. “If you’re implying I’m careless, I might remind you that you were the one who nearly fell off the cloud today.”

She’d taken several steps before his parting shot drifted to her. “And you were the fool who helped me up. Why did you squander what could have been your only chance to rid yourself of my presence?”

A direct hit that nearly made her trip on the stairs. It felt like a wound that might fester. Why had she helped him? She hadn’t let herself think too hard about that particular failure. His words still rang in her ears as she tried to sleep. And in her dreams, she was the one falling through an empty night sky.