The Forest King’s Daughter

21

Sylvans see not what lurks in shadows.

There lies our advantage.

—G AXIX, D RACU PHILOSOPHER

M ORNING DEW STILL CLUNG TO THE LEAVES WHEN the king and his chosen group of Huntsmen reached the hill, about two hours’ march from Scarhamm. Though exhaustion dulled her senses, Cassia recognized the area—a weed-covered mound she must have passed a hundred times without giving it a second glance. At the king’s nod, Veleda strode to it, holding her hands high, palms facing outward as she chanted in a clear voice. The earth groaned, a cloud of dust rose from the hill, and a hidden door yawned open.

The king stood next to Cassia, his daunting presence adding to her jangling nerves.

Dread sat heavy in her stomach as the scout disappeared through the doorway, returning to signal it was clear. Alof and Burke filed in without hesitation. After a brief backward glance, she took a breath and followed, Veleda close behind her along with a dozen or so Huntsmen. As the opening was too narrow for him, the Sylvan king remained above with a more sizable guard.

Cassia ran her hand along the rough wall, trying not to think. The earthen floor was sloped, angling down into the root-choked earth, where the temperature dropped as they went deeper. It brought her back to the night of her capture, making her heart kick faster. At least she wasn’t alone this time.

But this was still the last place she wanted to be.

After a few minutes, the incline flattened into quiet tunnels where the Huntsmen could walk two abreast. They saw no sign of Azpian enemies, though she was viscerally aware that an ambush could come at any moment. Whenever they reached forks in the path, Veleda pointed the way. It wasn’t long before they came to a cavernous space filled with small thatch-roofed houses clustered around a central area with a well. There were no sounds, no light from fires, no signs of life. A hint of acrid smoke lingering in the air was the only evidence of recent habitation.

Burke motioned two of the others to scout with him. They returned in a few minutes, their expressions grim. “The homes are all empty. No one is here.”

Cassia’s relief was so great, her knees sagged. Zeru must have cleared out the entire settlement.

Alof called out, “Veleda. Can you See where they’ve gone?”

Veleda nodded, moving forward. “I can scry them for you.”

Silently, Cassia cursed herself for not having considered this possibility. If Zeru’s family was hiding nearby, the Seer could lead the Huntsmen straight to them. Not only that. If her father got hold of Zeru…

Fear gripped her stomach. It wouldn’t be a quick death.

The Court Seer reached into her pack and produced a container of some oily substance, using it to draw a circle on the dirt floor. Carefully, she added runes of protection around the rim, taking her time to be precise. As she finished, she said the ancient words of power and a spirit appeared in the circle, its shape indistinct.

“Show us the Dracu who live in this settlement,” Veleda commanded. “Show us where they are now.”

The spirit’s form faded. In the circle where it had been, an image appeared of Dracu gathered in groups in a space that looked much like the cavern they were in, dimly lit by a few torches hung on walls of rough rock. Even in the gloom, Cassia spotted Zeru immediately. He was in his daytime form, complete with horns but lacking wings, strolling through the camp with his usual grace. A child approached, and he crouched down to talk to her, saying something that drew a smile. As he continued on, he received friendly nods.

Cassia couldn’t look away. Among his own people, Zeru was relaxed in a way she had never seen. He was obviously adored by those who knew him. She watched with an ache in her chest as he approached two Dracu who had to be his parents. The resemblance between them and their son was clear. His father, whose horns were twisted like Zeru’s, looked forbidding as he gave a curt nod and spoke. As Zeru replied, his parents seemed intent on whatever he said. When he finished speaking, his mother embraced him.

Cassia’s stomach clenched with envy. It had been years since she’d embraced her own mother. Zeru’s father put a hand on his shoulder. By the way Zeru stiffened, Cassia had the sense he wasn’t accustomed to this display of affection.

She swallowed against a thickness in her throat. It was clear Zeru loved his parents, and they loved him. She was glad she’d warned him, no matter what happened.

Taking one last look, she mouthed, Goodbye , clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling.

Zeru’s head twitched and he sniffed the air, turning slowly, his eyes searching the camp before passing over her. He blinked, and his eyes came back to rest on her. She felt her own eyes widen. He looked as if he could see her. She was certain that was not how a scrying spell was supposed to work.

Though she couldn’t hear him, she read his lips. Cassia!

Stifling a gasp, she turned her back to the vision, hoping no one else could see it clearly enough to understand what Zeru had mouthed. “That cavern could be anywhere. We should return above for instructions.”

Burke spoke with firm confidence. “We have orders to burn this settlement. When that’s done, we can go after the Dracu.”

Cassia eyed Burke with sudden dislike. He was a loyal Huntsman, carrying out orders efficiently, but he would never be one to question whether those orders were right. Her stomach clenched as she surveyed the proof of daily life—worn clothing hung to dry on a rope that ran between two houses, a small stack of firewood next to an outdoor stove, a broken pot that had been mended with mud and straw. This wasn’t like some areas of the Cryptlands she’d seen, with colorful mosaics and delicate oil lamps—places where wealthier Dracu clearly lived. Forcing the people who inhabited this settlement to rebuild their homes could be a hardship beyond bearing.

“First Huntsman,” Cassia said in her most authoritative voice, “the settlement is empty. The targets are gone. Nothing has gone as planned.” She lowered her voice to give the impression of imparting valuable advice. “We should return above and report rather than guessing what to do. And guessing wrong.”

Guessing wrong was something you didn’t risk. Not with the king.

After a moment of thought, Alof nodded. “You’re right. We’ll go back for orders.”

On his word, the Huntsmen retreated through the tunnels. Veleda dismissed the spirit, falling in behind them. She grabbed Cassia’s sleeve, slowing her steps until the Huntsmen were out of earshot.

“If you go back,” Veleda said in a low, harsh voice, “your treason will soon be discovered. I can’t protect you from this.”

Cassia stilled, the breath stopping in her chest. Veleda knew.

The reality of her situation yawned before her like a massive hole. A hole she’d dug herself. Maybe, she thought wildly, maybe if she explained to her father… if she argued her position well enough… if she threw herself on his mercy… maybe he would forgive her.

“I don’t expect you to protect me,” she said, doing her best to hide her terror.

“And yet that’s what I’ve done all these years,” Veleda snapped. “I hope it wasn’t a waste.”

“Are you going to tell him?” she asked, wishing her voice sounded steadier.

Veleda eyed her. “I’ll try to avoid direct questions. But if the king asks, I have no choice. I’m bound by oath.”

Her stomach roiling as if she’d drunk poison, Cassia forced herself to move forward. There was only the soft sound of their footsteps until they reached the surface. As she emerged, she squinted against the sudden brightness. Her father’s shape was a menacing outline against the light. It struck her how unique and wild his appearance was compared to everyone else. He was taller than any Sylvan or Azpian, any creature except for the northern giants, whom she had never seen. His antlers seemed to span the ages, his eyes as keen as an owl’s. Though he was lord of the forest, she had a sharp sense of how different he was, how alone in the world. A familiar pang of longing to be closer to him was overshadowed by fear. If she explained why she’d betrayed him, would he listen?

Before she had time to ponder what she would say, her father barked, “Court Seer! My First has given his report. Give me yours.”

“King Silvanus,” Veleda said, stepping forward with her hand on her shoulder in salute. “The Dracu have gone into hiding. The spirits have shown me their image, but their location remains obscure. If we return to Scarhamm, I can summon more to—”

“Someone alerted the Dracu to our plans,” the king intoned, his eyes roving over the assembled Huntsmen. “Who was it? By your vow of loyalty to me, Seer, tell me truthfully.”

Veleda took a breath, her eyes fixed forward. “If you wish, I can ask the spirits now.”

“If you know,” he said, his tone making the branches rustle nervously, “speak.”

The Seer gave Cassia a regretful look before answering with obvious reluctance. “Your daughter Cassia alerted the Dracu to our plans.”

There was a brief, explosive silence.

“Did someone order her to do so?” the king demanded finally. “Who was complicit?”

“She is solely responsible,” Veleda answered quietly. “No one else.”

All eyes turned toward the betrayer. Cassia stood as if pinned by sword point, unable to breathe. Her father moved to loom over her, his eyes storm clouds of condemnation. Something primal inside of her quailed, unbearable tension crawling up her throat. All her resolve that she had done the right thing crumbled as she stared up at him. Revenge was woven into his bones as much as his connection to the forest was. And she had betrayed him.

“Is it true?” he asked, each word a stinging slap of dry reeds hitting stone.

Somehow, this was the most unexpected thing. He was asking her. Asking her instead of telling her what she’d thought or felt or done. If only she could lie. Or stay silent. But she found she could not keep this truth contained.

“Yes,” she croaked.

His eyes closed for one beat of her heart. But that flicker of eyelids was more emotion than he had shown since… since he’d glowed with pride when she’d lit the gardens with the light of the Solis Gemma. Now, there was only fury and disgust.

Her cheeks were wet and cold. As she jabbed a knuckle at the offending show of weakness, she saw the ring’s glow. Her father grabbed her wrist, pulling the ring into wider view. Cassia wanted to speak, but her throat had iced over.

“You are unworthy,” he pronounced. “Unworthy of the title of Deathringer.”

Yes , she silently agreed. She had never been worthy of that title, and she’d known it always, always, beneath every hope that she could live up to it. She wanted the killing to end. And it never would. Suddenly, she could see that with clarity. Yes, fighting was necessary to protect the Sylvans and their forest. But her father relished it.

She had shoved her memories of the night she’d received the ring down with all the other things she hadn’t wanted to examine. She had dismissed Gutel when he’d told her the Sylvan king was at least partly responsible for human hostility toward their kind, because he wouldn’t stop hunting them. He had even made the trees bloodthirsty to add to his power. Silvanus lived to fight, to hunt, to war. She could see now that this, too, was woven into his bones as much as his stag antlers and his bear strength. The only thing he had ever delighted in was battle. And she couldn’t stomach it.

Enough death. She wanted no part of it anymore.

He took the ring between his thumb and forefinger. She willed the band to come off, even as a piece of her cried out at losing something that had become intrinsic to her. At losing her connection with Voz. With Zeru. With the land in the clouds she would never see again. Still, she willed the ring off. This was the only way she could escape the role he expected her to play.

But it would not budge. Pain tore through her as her father tried to remove the gold band. Her veins filled with fire all the way up her arm. She gasped, her knees buckling.

“Don’t let him take it!” the Seer cried. “Cassia, by the Old Ones, don’t.”

“Be silent!” the king shouted. “Take the ring off and give it to me,” he commanded, releasing her hand.

Head bent, Cassia pulled at the ring with thumb and forefinger, fighting against the dizziness and wrenching pain, her brow furrowed with the effort. But the warm gold was like a part of her, stuck fast. She had a brief flash of memory of the Dracu queen giving her the same command when she was a child, on the night she’d first worn the ring. Now the ring was fused to her even more firmly.

“I can’t.” A dark realization came to her. The magic knew the truth she had always denied. “I… I do not have a strong enough bond with you, Father.”

Suddenly, she felt the weight of a massive hand press against her neck. Fear stilled everything inside her but for her racing heart. Grim death was in his eyes. She had seen him snap the necks of Dracu with no effort at all. Was he really going to kill her?

His hand squeezed.

A sudden flash of light burst from the ring. A growl rumbled next to her ear, and rays of reddish brown swirled into a fox creature with pointed ears and wings. The Vozarra leaped at the king, its glistening fangs sinking into the bare flesh of his arm, forcing him to release her. Suddenly free, Cassia stumbled back in disbelief.

The white markings on the furry head were distinctive, confirming her identity. It was Voz, come to protect her!

Her father reacted with swift and silent brutality. He took the animal by the scruff and tossed it aside as if it weighed nothing. Voz’s wings snapped open to fly back at the king, teeth bared, snarling, golden eyes alight with violence. The Huntsmen drew their swords, closing in, but the king needed no help. Despite the blood dripping from his arm, he grabbed one fragile wing and whipped it away from him with punishing force. Cassia gasped as Voz’s small form twisted through the air and hit a tree before crumpling to the ground. The sickening crack of breaking bones echoed through the forest. The furry body lay still. It all happened in a moment.

“No!” Cassia tried to run to Voz’s side, but her father grabbed her shoulder in a biting grip.

“Leave it,” he said harshly.

She looked up at him. It was like seeing a stranger. As if he had stepped out of one of the ancient tomes in Welkincaster, as if he were one of the Old Ones without feeling or mercy. She wondered if she was seeing him clearly for the first time.

“She was trying to protect me,” she said unsteadily. “You… you would have killed me.” Gutel had told her a Vozarra would only appear in this realm if her life was genuinely in danger.

“Return to Scarhamm,” the king commanded, his sharp gesture toward the path stirring the Huntsmen from their frozen stillness. “Now!”

The Huntsmen obeyed without hesitation, falling into line. Burke glanced back at Cassia, but he went without a word. Veleda hesitated.

“Go!” the king shouted.

“You will rue this day, Silvanus,” Veleda warned him in a resonant voice. But after a long, hard stare at Cassia, she went, too.

Cassia stood alone with her father next to the hill, the opening to the Cryptlands gaping behind them like a screaming mouth.

She stared at the limp, furry form of the Vozarra curled under a tree. It was wrong to see that lively spirit so still. Could a spirit be killed? She didn’t know. Pain ripped through her. The grief was like a key unlocking all the rage she’d held inside. Years of pain she’d pushed down so no one would think she was weak. Years of fury at how unfair her father was to her, demanding more and giving less than he did with any of her sisters. He treated her like she didn’t matter. No, as if she didn’t exist. As if she were nothing but an extension of the bit of metal and stone she wore on her finger.

Her ring. In that moment, she felt the truth of that, too. It was hers . She had suffered for it. It was her burden. Her gift to use however she saw fit. And he had killed the spirit of it. The spirit of her ring! Her protector when he, her own father, would have taken her life.

Something inside her snapped.

“You cursèd monster!” she shrieked, flying at her father like a maddened animal, hitting his chest with her fists. It was like hitting stone, the pain in her hands adding to her fury. “That creature was trying to protect me! You were going to kill me!”

His face was blank and cold, but his eyes glittered. “Return home with the others.”

Teeth bared like a feral thing, she snarled, “No.”

Wind gusted, and the sky darkened overhead.

“Return home now,” he repeated.

“No!” she screamed.

“Return. Home.” The king said it with the finality of divine judgment. The wind howled, the sky over the hill an ugly grayish green.

She lifted her face as rain pelted down, stinging her cheeks. Let him try to frighten her with a storm, let him bring hail and lightning down on her. She would not comply. “I will not go home! And I will never use the ring to harm anyone again!”

Three times. Three times he’d demanded, and she had denied him.

The king’s shoulders stiffened. He turned his head to the side, showing the craggy profile that had been carved in a different time. “Then you are banished from Scarhamm. If you return, you will be treated as an enemy.”

Cassia gasped as the sky flashed white, thunder rolling over the forest moments later. “Banished?”

“Do not try to come home. I keep my word.” The edict held no emotion, as if he were speaking to a stranger. Without another word, he moved down the path away from her. His dark shape blended with the storm-dim forest, only glimpses of his white antlers lingering between the trees like flitting ghosts in flashes of lightning. And then he was gone.

And she was alone.

She stumbled toward Voz’s still form. She fell to her knees, pressing her face against the silky fur as sobs tore her throat. The rain turned to hail that beat at her back and made her shake.

She was not sorry she’d defied her father. She only wished she’d done it sooner. At least then Voz would still be alive. If she could take the ring off, she would hurl it as far from herself as it would go. She would denounce it along with her heritage.

But then who would she be? Who was she without the ring? Without her family? Her people?

She rested her face against Voz’s side as cold rain pelted her back, making her shiver. After a while, numbness overcame her, leaving only exhaustion. Craving an escape, she let herself drift into sleep.

In her dreams, she heard was a voice crooning, “Sylvan girl, you are broken only to be reborn. Come now, and I will make you something greater than the Deathringer.”