Chapter 20
A Sylvan never truly dies, because our spirits live on after death, first in our birth trees, and then, when that grows old or is cut down, in the Netherwhere with Noctua.
—EXCHARIAS, SYLVAN POET
Though it seemed like days had passed since she’d gone to the Forgotten Realm, it was morning when Thea returned home.
Seeing everyone gathering for what appeared to be a larger patrol than usual, she rushed to her room to change, arriving at the yard along with another couple of stragglers.
The patrols were assembled, groups of three and four standing in readiness to deploy.
The Sylvan king stood in the center of the Huntsmen, which was unusual.
Tordon usually organized the patrols ahead of time.
Enora moved through the crowd to Thea’s side, speaking quietly. “You used to be out here early every morning.”
Thea sighed, giving a noncommittal shrug. She couldn’t deal with her sister’s concern right now.
Five more nights until she was trapped forever.
The Sylvan king turned his head, looking over his Huntsmen.
The circles under his eyes were darker than Thea had ever seen.
His antlers stretched as proud and wide as ever, but the head carrying them looked bent, as if the weight of responsibility was too much for him.
Finally, he cleared his throat. Rain began falling as he spoke.
“Strange things are afoot in Thirstwood,” the king said, his gravelly voice strong despite his appearance.
“We have faced threats before, but the reports of a larger scucca has the Seers confounded. Right now, the wards on our walls are holding, but you are going into danger whenever you leave those gates. We were at war for many years, and you all fought faithfully. I trust that you will fight now for us, for me, as you have always done.”
“Always!” Burke cried out, his voice strong and sure. “We’ll never cower from our enemies, King Silvanus.”
While Huntsmen agreed heartily, the word cower reminded Thea of Damon’s story about being put into the cave simply for being afraid of the shadows. She had to steel herself against remembered sympathy. He didn’t deserve it.
The Sylvan king nodded to his Second Huntsman in approval. “Do not fight an unknown enemy. If you see anything strange, report back to Scarhamm immediately.”
“Why not kill first and report later?” Cedric asked, his grin infectious.
The weight of the Sylvan king’s stare fell on him. “There are foes we cannot destroy with our swords. You would have been wise to learn that when we faced the scuccas.”
Cedric bowed his head, his smile gone. “Yes, sire.”
Tordon took over, his tone calm and assured as he gave specific instructions to each patrol.
“This is us,” Enora said when it was their turn. “Coming?”
“In a minute,” Thea said, meeting her sister’s eyes. “I want to speak to Father.”
Enora’s eyes sharpened, clearly curious. When Thea said nothing more, she sighed in frustration and went off to meet Burke.
In minutes, the patrols had left the yard, and Tordon had returned to the fortress. Only Thea and her father remained. The rain picked up, falling faster. For a moment, Thea wondered if he had brought this bad weather. After all, the Sylvan king could summon storms at will.
“Where did you go tonight?” he asked, his voice full of suspicion.
Thea swallowed, not expecting him to interrogate her. She had meant to ask him questions. “What do you mean?” she prevaricated. “I’m here, ready for patrol.”
He breathed in deeply, exhaling on a long breath. “You stink of magic. Tell me where you went.”
The sound of pelting rain covered her gasp, but she knew her surprise showed on her face. She seemed less able to hide her emotions lately, and she didn’t like it.
“You will tell me where you went,” he commanded, the rumble of thunder on the edge of his words.
The Sylvan king had demanded an answer three times, and her tongue wanted to loosen, to tell him the truth. But when she opened her lips, her throat tightened. The shadow magic would not allow it. “I will not.” She might have said she couldn’t, but his growing temper was making hers rise to match.
Her father’s eyes darkened with fury. “You dare speak to me in that tone.”
“You have never spoken to me in that tone,” she countered, her pulse throbbing in her temples. “I have a great deal more sympathy for Cassia now that I know how it feels to be lectured like this. What happened to your trust in me? Is it so easily broken?”
“You speak of trust? You stand on the edge of disaster, my daughter.” Lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating Scarhamm’s walls. “Remember who is ally and who is enemy. Some of you seem to be forgetting.”
A reference to Cassia’s Dracu? She couldn’t believe she was standing up for him, but she wouldn’t let that go unchallenged. “Zeru saved Enora’s life when we were last on patrol.”
He made a dismissive motion with one hand. “If you believe his motivations are pure, you are unfit to lead other Huntsmen.”
She wanted to say more, so much more. To call his own leadership into question. But she wasn’t ready to burn it all down. She had to ask her most important question before she said something she’d well and truly regret.
“What happened to my mother?” The question rolled out and sat there in a beat of breath-held silence. She put all her hope into her eyes.
Answer the question, Father. Care enough about me to tell me what I need to know.
A clap of thunder sounded overhead. Thea felt the hair on the back of her neck lift. Was he going to strike her with lightning? Would he go that far to silence her?
She stared into his eyes, refusing to look away. “Please.”
“I forbid you to pursue this,” he said, his voice harsher than ever. “You will find no satisfaction in the answer.”
“What if I need that answer?” she cried, raising her voice to her father for the first time in her life. “What if it’s about my own survival?” Her throat convulsed at the attempt to say more.
“Your survival?” The sky darkened as the king took a step toward her. “What have you done?”
Thea coughed, waiting for the magic to allow her to speak again. Her eyes held a clear plea. Tell me.
Thunderclouds curled overhead, lightning strobing in their depths. “You will not go on patrol again until you have proven yourself trustworthy,” the Sylvan king proclaimed. “Go to your bedchamber and stay there until I tell you otherwise.”
In her fury, Thea found her voice. “You’re putting me under house arrest for asking a question?”
“For your own protection.” He lifted a hand to signal someone, and Thea turned to see Burke striding back toward them, Enora on his heels.
Enora came to a halt, looking between her father and her sister.
The king said coldly, “Thea is to stay in her bedchamber until further notice.”
Enora’s eyes rounded. “Why?”
Burke recovered more quickly. He nodded and put a hand on Thea’s shoulder. “Come on, Huntsman.”
Thea slapped his arm away. “I know the way to my own bedchamber! Touch me again and I’ll break your fingers off.”
Burke put his palms up and took a step back.
“Thea,” Enora said, her voice confused and upset. But Thea was too angry to explain.
She stalked toward the fortress, knowing now that it had been pointless to ask her father anything. He cared more about hiding the truth than he did about his own daughter.
Thea paced her bedchamber, her bare feet slapping the floorboards. She couldn’t believe she was trapped in here.
She was still furious with Damon, and didn’t even know if she could trust what he’d told her. What if he was lying and all she had to do was stay away from his world to be free? Somehow, she doubted that, but it was a possibility.
Exhaustion finally caught up to her, and she fell into a fitful sleep. She dreamed her mother was screaming at her, her mouth forming the words, “Run! Go!”
A knock made her sit up. She ran to her door and grabbed the handle, swearing when it didn’t open. Someone must have locked it from the outside. Or maybe Veleda had been ordered to put a spell on it. Thea cursed them both, then called out, “Who is it?”
The knock came again, but it was coming from behind her. She spun around and ran to her window. A white-haired pixie was flying outside, rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he shivered.
“Winter,” she said, shocked. Unlatching the window, she threw it open to a blast of cold air. The pixie flew inside, going straight to hover near her fireplace.
“Cold as a giant’s fart out there,” the pixie said, shuddering.
“For someone named Winter, you seem rather sensitive to the cold,” she pointed out, grabbing a handkerchief from her wardrobe and holding it out to him. “Put it around you like a shawl,” she suggested.
Winter wrinkled his nose. “Ew. No, thank you. I’d rather freeze.”
“What are you doing here?” Thea asked, dropping the handkerchief on a table and sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Autumn had another vision, and she made me come here to tell you.” He scowled into the flames in the hearth.
“I hate that I owe her so many favors. Just because she told me which dice to bet on at the harvest festival so I could win a few petals. I didn’t know I’d become her personal messenger.
” Suddenly, he looked at Thea, his eyes wide.
“Don’t tell anyone about the wagering. Sunflower will cut my rations in half if she finds out. ”
Thea rolled her eyes. “I don’t care that you cheated at dice. I’m on house arrest, and I can’t leave my bedchamber. I hope you have some news that can help me.”
Apparently warm enough now, Winter fluttered to Thea’s chair and sat on the back, crossing one leg over the other, tossing his long hair over one shoulder.
“I doubt it’ll help you, but I’ll tell you anyway.
Autumn had a vision of shadows, like the ones in our forest. They were all around you, only you weren’t afraid.
She said it’s like they were listening to you. ”
Thea’s eyes widened. “And she thinks it was a vision of the future?”
“Possible future,” Winter said, holding up his index finger. “Autumn says her visions are possible futures because they don’t always come true.” He grimaced. “I think that’s her face-saving way of saying she’s wrong sometimes. That’s how I lost at dice in the end.”
Thea waved a hand to indicate she was done with the dice talk. “Fine, so how do I do that? Control the shadows?”
Winter widened his eyes, a little sarcastically, in Thea’s opinion. “That’s for you to figure out, isn’t it?” He made a motion with his hand to indicate Thea. “All I know is, Autumn sees the silver trees in her visions all the time, and she thinks you’re the only one who can help.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. Thea bowed her head to him. “Thank you, Winter. I’ll try to use the information you gave me.”
With a brief nod, he flew into the air, heading for the window. “I’m sufficiently warmed to fly home.”
“One problem, though,” Thea said quickly, before he slipped away. “I can’t leave this room. I’m locked in. Could you get word to my sister Cassia to come here? She’s on patrol.”
Winter’s eyes shifted back and forth, a worried expression on his small face. “Would the Sylvan king be mad at me if he found out?”
“Yes,” Thea said honestly. “You could be punished.”
The pixie’s sour expression gave her the answer before he spoke. “Sorry, Giantess, but I don’t owe you any favors.”
“I’m trying to save you and everyone else from becoming part of the Forgotten—!” Her mouth closed up violently, almost choking her.
“If you manage to save us from the silver trees, I’ll owe you at least five favors,” Winter promised unhelpfully. “Quick, Giantess. I have to go before anyone sees me.”
Thea let out a frustrated breath, but she opened the window, sighing as Winter flew off into the distance. She’d never wished for wings more in her life.
The hours passed slowly, but they gave Thea time to make plans.
She considered the message Autumn had sent and put that together with what she’d learned about the shadows so far.
She knew there was a type of magic with an appetite for joy, sorrow, and suffering.
Cassia’s ring, the Solis Gemma, was powered by emotions pulled from the wearer.
She remembered how Damon’s shadows seemed to move faster or slower based on his mood.
Sifting through it all, she came up with a theory that she thought was worth testing.
Finally, the sun set, and darkness fell outside her window.
From one breath to the next, a pile of clothing appeared on her hearth.
Thea rushed to grab it, barely glancing at the details before putting it on.
Regarding herself in the mirror, she saw a long-sleeved tunic embroidered with an elaborate design of leaves, something clearly intended as a nod to her Sylvan heritage.
It swept down over silky trousers, the legs so generous it was almost like a skirt.
Beautiful and practical, but she had little time to appreciate that.
The shoes were soft leather half-boots that laced up the front. The most comfortable boots she’d ever worn. As soon as they were laced, they took her to the door. But something stopped them. She hovered, her feet tapping, but the door still wouldn’t open.
The boots turned Thea toward her hearth. Her feet danced back and forth, and at first she thought the magic wasn’t working. But soon a dot of light appeared among the flames. It grew and grew, and roots appeared, opening the edges of the portal wider until it was big enough to step through.