Chapter 1
Seren
Only the strongest survived the Dreadwood—if we didn’t kill them first.
As the only humans living in the forbidden forest, our task as soldiers was grim. Liriens were a threat to be eliminated. No questions. No exceptions. That was the Viori way.
I unfastened the rope to the watchtower, tension coiling in my gut. No matter how much I’d prepared myself for this moment, the Viori way suddenly felt less fair.
Esme watched me with wide, expectant eyes. A leather armor vest hung loosely over her woolen tunic. My sister’s skin paled against the silvery moonlight as I placed the soft rope in her hands. The two long brown braids over each shoulder made her look so young. “I’m right behind you.”
Esme’s knuckles whitened as she tried to lift herself. Her feet swung, seeking a foothold on the evergreen’s branches, and I fought the temptation to interfere. Months would pass before she climbed a rope properly. This first, struggled climb to the watchtower was part of the process.
She slipped, her hands skidding against the rope. That will leave rope burn. Spots of color stained her cheeks. “I can’t do it, Seren!”
“You can do it.” I kept my tone patient. “There aren’t any tasks tonight you can’t do.”
Esme stomped, then turned back to the rope.
“Tuck your knees higher to your chest,” I offered.
“I’d rather climb the branches,” she grumbled.
That would be easier. Faster. At this rate, we’d spend the first hour of the night shift getting up to the watchtower.
Many minutes later, after crashing through branches and showering pine needles down at me, she was up.
I grabbed the rope, locking my feet as I ascended. Eight practiced pulls and I swung over the watchtower’s side.
My bag slid onto the wooden floor, and I squeezed her shoulder. “You did really well.”
Her lower lip puckered, and she rubbed sores below her thumbs. “Not as good as you.”
“I’ve had eight years of practice.” Not to mention I’d been climbing ropes since I was four—an advantage of being my father’s shadow.
“Sit.” I knelt beside my pack. My mother’s healing potion worked wonders with rope burns. As I dripped some onto her hands, the potent scent of pine stung my nose.
“Rub it in. With any luck, the sores will heal by our next night shift.”
Esme sniffled—either from the cold or pain—not meeting my gaze. “I hate this. Why do I even have to be in the stupid Vangar?”
My sister had just turned fifteen, meaning she was ready for initiation—three years of training before pledging compulsory service in the Vangar, our militia.
I’d pledged five years earlier, at eighteen. My twin siblings, Tara and Madoc, had pledged two years before me.
But Esme had never enjoyed traipsing through the forest, preferring instead to follow our mother, snuggle the goats, or tend to the garden. My mother’s Ibarran blood ran strong through Esme. The realm of lovers and magic had no propensity for bloodshed.
The twins were thoroughly Pendaran, like our father. Of Lirien’s seven realms, Pendara was known for two things: its brutal cold, and deadly soldiers.
While I hadn’t been built for the Vangar like Tara and took after my mother’s petite frame, I had wanted it more. “The Vangar needs our service.”
“They don’t need mine.” She sniffled. “Why can’t I just be a cook? I don’t want to kill anyone—I can’t.”
“The cooks that travel with squadrons do all the hunting, fishing, and butchering. And they learn how to fight.”
Esme groaned and sank on the floor. “What if I fail?”
“They’ll still send you on raids—test you. You’ll die if you fail. I’m not going to let that happen.”
Esme didn’t respond. She stared out into the endless dark of the forest, her small form curled up under the blanket I’d spread. The soft sound of her sniffles broke the silence, twisting a knife in my heart. She shouldn’t be here. She wasn’t ready, no matter what the Viori demanded.
Papa had wanted Esme to train with Madoc. I’d trained with Tara, so it should have been my brother’s turn. Both Esme and I had protested. We were closer. She still slept beside me when she had nightmares—which was often. Esme feared shadows.
But maybe I should have let Madoc do this as the weight of my responsibility was enormous.
“It won’t always be this hard,” I whispered. Actually, it would be harder, but that wasn’t the point. “You’ll get used to pushing yourself. You’re more capable than you think, Es. You’re a Ragnall. We’re good at this.”
“You say that because you’ve never failed at anything.” Esme curled up, resting her cheek against the fur blanket.
If she only knew. I’d never mentioned my many training failures, and thankfully, neither had Tara. I chose not to argue. Spending her birthday evening in a watchtower during a bitter night was miserable enough.
Twirling my fingers, I frosted the tips of the branches above us with icicles that sparkled in the starlight. My ability to manipulate snow and ice mostly felt useless, given that we lived in the cold forest, but Esme had always loved my icy creations.
“Look.” I nudged her with a smile. “I decorated for your birthday.”
Esme gave the icicles a halfhearted glance, then rolled onto her side, turning her back to me. “I’m not a kid anymore, remember? That’s why I have to do this. Unless you also have secret fire powers so I can warm up, ice won’t make me feel better.”
Ouch.
Would she resent me for training her? It felt possible.
“You know it’s not me forcing you, right?”
Esme was quiet. After a few minutes, she whispered, “Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like in Lirien?”
My breath caught. That Esme had voiced such a thought was bad enough … but what was worse was that I had wondered.
What if my siblings hadn’t been twins? If my parents had never left?
We would have grown up among the wealthy and elite in Ederyn, not shivering in the frigid forest, scrounging for food, learning to be soldiers whether we had the inclination or not.
I killed the line of thought before it carried me away.
“Father would be in prison or dead—executed for a crime he didn’t commit.
Tara and Madoc would also be dead. They would have been murdered when their existence was discovered.
We wouldn’t exist. But if Father wasn’t executed, neither you nor I would have the powers we were born with.
We would have been Bloodbound to Pendara since Father was from there and only allowed to develop warcraft gifts, if we possessed them—which we don’t. And the—”
“I get it.”
“Do you though?” I drew my knees up and vanished the icicles with a scowl. “We’ve all shielded you for too long. Maybe it would have been better to tell you about the atrocities I’ve seen Liriens commit against Viori. Learning to defend ourselves—preparing for inevitable war—is survival.”
Esme curled up tighter. “Or we could all just stop killing each other.”
If only it was that simple.
A twig snapped below us.
I peered over the tower.
Something—or someone—moved in the shadows.
The creatures that roamed the forest—and there were many—mostly didn’t scare me. Creatures were manageable.
Other humans, on the other hand, were terrifying. Especially Lirien soldiers bent on killing as many Viori as possible. They viewed us as rebels, a threat to their tyrannical king. No matter that we’d set up our territory in the wilds of the Dreadwood, forbidden lands they had no use for.
The musky scent of sweat cut through the forest’s earthy aroma, wrong and foreign. The forest held its breath, shadows thickening like predators watching from the trees, the silence too heavy to be harmless.
My gaze locked on the forest floor beneath me.
There. A solid form in the thicket below my post. A Lirien. A Viori would have announced themselves by now.
My heart sped.
I turned to Esme, pressing a finger to my lips. She knew better than to make noise now.
Don’t look, I wanted to tell her.
Maybe she needs this lesson, though.
Hurry.
If the Lirien slipped past me and someone farther into the territory had to handle them, I’d be responsible for the failure. Once they moved far enough from the tree for me to lower myself and remain unseen, I’d have to act.
I grabbed the rope. “Stay here,” I mouthed.
Esme gripped my forearm, fear on her face. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Without waiting for her response, I climbed down. Next year, if I made officer, I wouldn’t be assigned posts at the edge of our tribe’s borders. Maybe then I’d finally get all the sap out of my hair.
I sank onto the forest floor, damp earth swallowing the sound. Tara had devoted a full year to teaching me how to walk soundlessly.
Crouching low, I searched for the Lirien.
I held my breath, listening carefully. A few pine needles rained down on me and I winced. Esme.
How often had Tara seen me as a liability?
A soft crunch focused my attention.
The Lirien stood twenty feet away, head cocked. His profile revealed a strong forehead. Wavy, dark hair, like mine, was tied behind his neck with a strap.
He hadn’t seen me.
Pulling a dagger, I rose slowly. The Lirien’s reasons for being here didn’t matter—one Lirien could wreak havoc. Failing to intercept them meant murder, rapes, executions, or worse, kidnappings back to Lirien, where even grimmer fates awaited. They viewed us as their enemies as much as we did them.
I could do this.
Even with Esme watching.
Still, I hesitated. She’d have to witness death sooner or later—learn to kill—even if she hated me for it.
Esme coughed softly.
The Lirien looked up.
Dammit!
I had to act. Now.
The blade spun through the air, a streak of deadly silver—then stopped, caught cleanly in his gloved hand.
His eyes snapped to mine.
What?
Adrenaline surged as I darted behind the closest tree. My cheek scraped bark, pain bursting across my skin.
I’d never seen reflexes like that. Had he been expecting me? Watching me? My foolish arrogance stung as I swallowed hard, scrambling for a plan.
I never should have hesitated. My strength was no match against a man his size.
I gripped a branch, sharp needles stinging through my glove as I hauled myself up. Swinging my feet toward my hands, I hoisted myself into the tree as the Lirien’s quick footfalls approached me. He lunged from behind the trunk, toward where I’d been moments before.
I dropped from the branch, slamming into his back with all my weight.
He thrashed, his grip faltering as I drew another dagger. This close to him, I had the advantage. My blade slashed his throat, his gurgled choke cutting through the silence.
I let him fall, his body crumpling onto the forest floor in a heap. Blood pooled beneath his twitching body, its sharp tang heavy in the air.
That was too close. My shoulders heaved as I wiped my dagger on the ground below me, my heart still racing.
“Impressive,” a deep voice said.
I froze.
Another man stepped from the darkness. A sword tip poked between my shoulder blades.
The chill of the sword at my back seeped into my skin. The muted rustle of leaves broke through a sudden ringing in my ears.
Godsdammit.
I was going to die in front of Esme.
Or worse.
“You might kill me, but my scream will bring dozens of Vangar.” I turned slowly, unwilling to admit defeat even while the blade hovered inches from my neck. A flick of his wrist would end me.
This man wasn’t as tall as the first. Still, he had a commanding air. A dark, hooded cloak shadowed his face. The earthy scent of pine and decay mingled with his clove-and-rosemary scent, an unsettling blend.
“You won’t scream, Seren.” His tone was amused, yet it carried a dark weight that twisted my stomach.
He knows my name?
“Then you’re underestimating the lengths I’ll go to see you dead.”
He tilted his head, studying me like a predator weighing effort against reward. “Oh, I’ve underestimated nothing. The question is: how far will you go to save her?”
He gestured.
Another man stood at the base of the tree below my post.
He held Esme, hand clamped over her mouth. The forest blurred, shadows consuming the pines. All I saw was the blade at her throat, poised to shatter everything I fought to protect.
Her eyes, wide and shimmering with tears, begged me to do something. Trust lingered in her gaze—fragile, undeserved trust. She thinks I can still save her. Gods, she doesn’t see the failure standing before her.
All my training, all my promises to protect Esme—useless. I was just a scared girl fighting against a man who knew my greatest weakness.
“Fuck you,” I gritted, forcing steel into my voice. “She’s only fifteen. Let her go, and I might let you live.” My heart thundered, every beat a reminder of how close I was to losing her. My dagger felt useless, its weight mocking my lack of choices.
The man tilted his head. “You’re just like him, aren’t you? Sadly, much smaller, though.”
Like him?
“Who are you?” I demanded.
He extended a sealed scroll. “Deliver this to your father. Remind him that shadows always follow. That his sins have found him.”
I went rigid.
How did he find us?
“My father?”
The shadows of his hood were impenetrable.
“Yes, Seren, daughter of Brogan Ragnall.”
I didn’t respond. That knowledge meant my entire family was in imminent danger. “Let my sister go,” I managed. “Whatever quarrel you have with my father, she has nothing to do with it.”
“True, but as you said, she’s just fifteen and much less trouble than you.”
The hilt of his sword slammed against the side of my head, a sickening crunch reverberating through my skull.
“Seren!”
Esme’s scream ripped through the dark, jagged and raw, as the world tilted violently. My vision blurred, the ground rushing up to meet me. Cold. Unyielding. Pain splintered through my skull, but it was nothing compared to the wildfire of helplessness burning inside me.
I failed her.
I failed them all.