Chapter 63
Mora
Fury weaved through Mora’s innards, twisting around muscle and sinew until it danced with her smoke—why did Imani insist on riling her at every opportunity?
“Where are you going?” Imani asked, jogging to catch up.
“Go fuck yourself,” Mora seethed, pivoting away from camp and slinking into the woods.
She’d gleaned enough—Castellan worried for his sister, fearing the worst after too many unanswered letters; a valid concern.
While Didi must have been doing well if she’d been allowed to leave the family manor, these were dangerous times.
She would have fared better if she’d waited until things settled.
Could Mora blame her for taking the first opportunity to roam free?
No. Being trapped made even the smallest sliver of fresh air enticing.
Impossible to deny. Mora would have taken her chances too.
If the Fates were kind, Didi would be safe, enjoying whatever freedom she could lap up before her brother took the throne and everything changed.
A new, gilded cage waiting as she entered her royal life.
Perhaps she and Mora could survive the pageantry of the Crown together.
Branches cracked under Imani’s feet as she followed Mora through the trees, the sun seeping through the canopy to light their path. Spindly evergreens casting eerie shadows on a mess of rotten leaves and dwindling piles of snow.
“What do you want?” Mora snapped, turning to face the Naturalist, her fingers curling into tight fists.
Imani’s breath caught. “Your hands,” she whispered, slowing to a halt.
Mora peeked down at her fists to find nothing but sunlight glittering along with her natural golden glow. There was no blood. No gore. Not even a hint of chocolate—she’d made sure of that. “What are you on about?”
“I could have sworn...” Imani shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I...” She couldn’t hold Mora’s gaze. “I came to talk,” she finally mumbled, running her hand over her freshly shaven head.
“I’m not interested in talking with you.”
“Gods, you're insufferable.”
“You followed me into the woods to tell me that?” Mora huffed a dry, bitter laugh. “I assure you, I already know.”
Annoyance flared in Imani’s eyes. “If you don’t want to speak, then listen.”
Glowing amber clashed with ruddy brown, Mora’s stare narrowing. A warning in their glowing depths—she’d already told Imani what would happen next time she pushed things too far. Still, Mora held her tongue, willing to entertain whatever she needed to say.
Imani straightened, her chin dipping in a quick nod before she marched to the nearest elm tree and lowered herself to the ground.
A thick root leaned into her touch, crusty patches of lichen and delicate moss cracking along undulating bark.
Imani tipped her head back, fingers curling around it, and took a deep breath.
For a moment, the forest was quiet, finches settling on nearby boughs, watching in hushed silence.
The sudden lack of bird calls so jarring hairs rose on the back of Mora’s neck.
The elm’s branches tremored, a rumble shaking the soil.
Mora stumbled back, nearly tripping on a boulder sticking out from the dirt, her mouth falling open as dozens upon dozens of tiny buds dotted the branches, growing ever larger until leaves unfurled.
A sudden burst of rich, dark green stretching out above them. Shading them from sunlight.
It was almost like her dream, if only they were gold.
A natural curtain descended upon them, leaves rustling, their sudden weight pulling on the branches until they nearly snapped.
A charm of finches dove from the tree line, chirping their displeasure as they flew away while Mora watched in awe.
Fingers gracing a leaf fluttering and bobbing near her face, stretching as if it longed for her touch.
“They took me when I was sixteen,” Imani whispered, out of breath, a sheen of tears lining her lashes.
Mora didn’t need to ask who. She knew. The haunted look on Imani’s face was confirmation enough; it was the look of someone who’d been locked in a cage, torn away from everything they once loved.
The King’s Guard had come for her, to take her to Cannamar.
Imani exhaled deeply, resting her head against the elm’s rough bark.
“I lived up in Faldon Mills, surrounded by trees—I never stood a chance at hiding myself.” A sweet aroma curled round them, decadent and earthy.
Life greeting death for the first time in months.
“I caught my girlfriend kissing someone else, hiding in the forest where she thought I wouldn’t find her.
I was so angry, I could feel the pressure inside of me, as if something grew within my chest, and I...
” Imani shook her head, sweat gleaming on her brow as she continued to push her power, reaching for the highest branches.
The elm grew taller, stretching toward the sun.
“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” Imani finally said, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t even know what I’d done.”
Something in Mora’s heart softened, the thrum slowing to a mournful cadence. If her own power had revealed itself differently—if she hadn’t been alone with her mother when it happened—she may have experienced the same fate. A fate that befell too many.
Mora sat across from Imani, cuddled between clumps of dead ferns and thick roots, cold mud soaking into her trousers.
Clusters of white mushrooms lining the ground at her side.
Goosebumps pricked her skin, a pleasant throb pulsing on her thigh—she swore she could feel the bite mark there, but that couldn’t be.
Mora had dissipated, any blemish, any cut, any bruise erased from her skin.
Still, she felt the imprint of the Fae’s—no, Eris’s—sharp teeth.
She curled her arms around her center, stifling the shivers threatening to rack up her body, and offered Imani an encouraging nod. Mora didn’t know what to say—I’m sorry felt too hollow, words she knew the Naturalist wouldn’t appreciate.
Imani smiled in thanks, but shadows lined her eyes.
“I knew what would happen if they found me, so I ran as far north as I could muster, until my legs gave out. I’d like to think I wasn’t far from Westmont, but I imagine I barely made it halfway.
I was hungry, scared, and alone, lost among the trees.
Trees I could suddenly reach out to and influence.
Plants that reacted to my intense emotions.
” She paused, nails digging into the thick ridges in the bark, chunks of dark moss gathering beneath. “It was awful.”
“I can’t imagine,” Mora said, voice thick. A squeezing feeling enveloping her chest.
“I woke the next morning to a dozen men standing over me with their swords drawn. I was a gangly fucking kid lost in the woods and they threatened to slit my throat if I so much as lifted a finger.”
“Dear gods.” Mora’s fingers grazed her throat, tracing the path of Jonah’s blade, remembering the sharp sting followed by a sudden wave of warmth, blood spilling from a gaping wound.
Pain seeping inward in a feeble attempt to tear her soul from her body.
To threaten to do such a thing to a child...
Mora wanted to find those men, steal their blades, and slam them into their abdomens.
Let them watch as their intestines spilled on the floor, blood and shit pooling all around them while they writhed.
It didn’t matter that they were following the Laws.
Cruelty was a choice. They took pleasure in what they did, and they deserved to pay.
She hugged herself tighter, trying her best to hide the way her body trembled.
Overcome by shame at the thought of the legacy her grandparents had created for her and her family when they enacted the Laws of Confinement...
and her parents’ failure to undo them properly.
Imani’s upper lip curled. “They had an Indentured with them, some emaciated old man who enchanted a drink they forced down my throat. Gods, it tasted awful. Thinking of it makes me want to gag.” She turned and spat on the ground, scrunching her nose as if she could still taste it.
“I know it wasn’t his fault; he had no choice... but I’ve never stopped hating him.”
“I hate him too,” Mora offered, burnt sugar swimming on her own tongue. She understood what it was like knowing the taste of your downfall.
“It made me feel weak. Tired. Even my eyelids were heavy. Still, they hogtied me and carried me back to my village, carting me through the streets like a damned animal. Then, I was kept in a cage the entire trip to Cannamar, drugged out of my fucking mind.” Her voice quieted.
“I don’t know if my family watched them take me. I haven’t seen them since.”
The words tumbled from Mora’s mouth before she could stop them. “I’m so—”
“Don’t fucking say it,” Imani snarled.
Her eyes drifted upward to the elm tree’s highest branches, her face distant.
The sky was the brightest blue, thin streaks of barely visible clouds breaking away like gossamer ribbons.
With every breath Imani took, more and more leaves blocked their view, until only shadows descended upon them.
“I spent three years there, sleeping on cold stone floors with little more than a sheet for warmth, under near-constant watch. Surrounded by the cruelest fucking guards who would kill me if I so much as blinked in their direction. Three fucking years being trained by fellow Halflings so maybe, one day, some noble prick or the Crown might find me useful. Three fucking years. Gone.” Grass pushed through the soil around them, yellow and purple wildflowers sprinkled among the blades. “All because I can do this.”
The tightness in Mora’s throat was unbearable. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“No, I didn’t.” Shaking her head, Imani ignored the drag of the elm’s ridged bark against her scalp, her lips peeling back in a sneer. “Nor did I deserve what happened after. None of us did.”
Mora was almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”
“No one told us the Laws were being overturned. When it happened, some asshole guard stormed into my room while I was sleeping, grabbed me by my nightgown, and dragged me outside.” She looked back at Mora, eyes brimming with fury.
“I thought he was going to kill me. Instead, they gathered us all in the yard, marched us across Cannamar bridge, and told us we were free. It was the middle of the night and we had no food or water. No supplies—gods, I wasn’t even wearing pants. And there was nowhere for us to go.
“What choice did we have but to walk to Reverie and pray they’d take kindly to us?
It wasn’t easy. We were a large group, but there were so many children and elderly, and it was fucking cold.
A few of us didn’t make it.” She swallowed, muscles in her jaw tensing while a tear slipped free and spilled down her cheek.
“The rest of us were met with the same world that damned us before... To the people, we were monsters, set loose on Berwick without reason. By a Crown who did nothing to protect us.”
She paused for a moment, her sigh heavy. “The only thing I’m grateful for is finding Jade. I may not be able to protect her from the cruelty of this world, but she’s never known Cannamar, and I will do everything in my power to make sure she never does.”
Imani lifted her hand from the trunk, soft bits of moss and bark clinging to her fingertips.
“I’ve hated the Crown for too many years, Mora.
I always will. But...” She smiled, wiggling her fingers before curling them into a fist. Leaves fell from the elm tree, swaying in the arms of a crisp breeze as they were gently guided toward the earth.
“I see you,” Imani said, pulling away all the life she’d given.
Death reigned anew, wildflowers wilting before their eyes. “And I realize I’ve misjudged you.”
Mora swallowed thickly. “I’m not perfect, Imani.
Nor is…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “... Was my family. What happened to you, to so many Halflings, is unforgivable. My mother should have done more; from the moment she was crowned, she should have pushed the Council harder...” Mora shook her head, knowing there was nothing she could say to make things right.
No possible way to atone. “I don’t blame you for hating me. ”
Imani offered a minute shake of her head.
“You’re three years younger than I am, little more than a child yourself when all of this happened.
Gods, you’re barely an adult now. It was never your say.
” Her expression grew serious and she leaned closer.
“You and Castellan better make things right.” Mora didn’t miss the threat in her tone—if they strayed from their promise, Imani would do everything in her power to make them suffer.
“I don’t want the crown,” Mora whispered.
“Which makes you the best person to take it.”
Pride swelled in Mora’s heart—she knew how much those words meant, coming from Imani, and the joy it would have brought her mother to hear them. Letting them down was not an option, even if it meant entering into a loveless marriage and bearing the weight of her birthright.
Mora’s smirk barely reached her eyes, though it quickly grew into something mirthful. “How do you know my age?”
With a dark blush, Imani rubbed the back of her neck. “I paid enough attention to know the royal birthdays at one point in my life.”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for the type,” Mora teased.
“Hey, there wasn’t much to talk about in Faldon Mills.” Imani stood, brushing the dirt and crushed leaves from her trousers before offering Mora a hand. “Friends?”
“Friends,” Mora repeated, ignoring the twinge of panic in her belly when Imani’s warm fingers wrapped around hers. The Naturalist pulled her up, an easy smile on her lips, and Mora smiled with her, wider than she had in ages.
When they let go, Imani dragged her forearm across her face, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “If nothing else, this will make Jade happy,” she said, those ruddy brown eyes darting back toward camp. “Let’s—”
The color drained from her cheeks, her lips parting at whatever she saw. Imani ran before Mora had the chance to say a word.
Then, the Halflings screamed.