Prologue #2
“I will only slow you down, and you’ll need all the speed you can get.”
“But I don’t know how to hold a baby. What if I drop him?”
“Mercy, I’ve seen you ride with a basket of eggs.
I’ll make sure he’s strapped tight to you, but you need to go soon if you have any hope of escaping.
” Glancing at the smoke-streaked sky, Joanna calculated the meager time she had left and turned back to Mercy.
“I’ve never had a sibling, but of all the people in this world, you are the closest I have ever had.
I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice, but you are the only one who can escape the wood’s notice.
It will be hunting me after what I’ve done, but it hasn’t sunk its teeth into the baby yet. You both can be free.”
When Mercy’s features tightened with fear, Joanna pressed her hand to her cheek and whispered, “If you love me, you will leave this place and live well. That is my greatest hope: for my boys to live well.”
“Are you sure there’s no other way?” Mercy croaked. When Joanna nodded, Mercy sighed and hung her head. “I’ll get my things.”
“Please be quick.”
Grabbing her saddle bags from the barn, Mercy disappeared into the house.
As the door shut behind her, a wave of exhaustion passed over Joanna.
She leaned against the side of the house in the shadow of the porch, letting the baby’s full weight rest against her chest. The fear that had propelled her from the mob had finally been spent.
Her arms shook with fatigue and blood dripped down her leg and clung to her petticoats while cupboards opened and shut inside the house.
With every second she waited for Mercy, the baby seemed heavier and the rippling pain in her core grew stronger.
Joanna screwed her eyes tight and released a steadying breath.
She only needed to hang on a little longer.
Soon, it would be over, and it would all be worth it.
The wind blew down the bank and through the trees, bringing with it the acrid tang of smoke and the sound of Stephen’s sister yelling her name.
Tightening her grip on her son, Joanna peered around the corner of the barn, but thankfully, no one was there.
Daphne’s only allegiance was to her family, and no bond of motherhood or feigned friendship would stop her from dragging her back.
The door to the cottage whined as Mercy stepped outside.
Before she could call for her, Joanna emerged from the shadows.
In her brother’s clothes with the too long trouser legs rolled beneath her boots and a derby squashed over her hair, Mercy could easily pass for a boy in the evening light.
Giving Joanna a stalwart nod, she strapped her bags to the saddle and prepared Rasmus for their ride.
The horse looked nervously toward the Dysterwood, but Mercy whispered to him and stroked his neck until he quieted.
Stepping back from him, Mercy held Joanna’s gaze but neither moved nor spoke.
Joanna twisted her fingers into the quilt and swallowed against the knot in her throat.
She knew the time would come to let him go, but it still felt too soon.
Everything she and Stephen had done had been for this moment when they could send him somewhere far away, where he would never know of Aldorhaven or the fate that would have awaited him if he had stayed.
He had the chance for a life his father never did, and she needed to let him go.
Pulling back the quilt, Joanna tried to memorize his face as she had Mercy’s.
He was so new. He had no name or features she could pin down as coming from her or Stephen, but he had his life.
And it would always be his own. Joanna kissed his forehead and readjusted the blanket around him until he was swaddled tight.
Beckoning Mercy closer, she pulled the shawl from her shoulders and threaded it around Mercy’s middle under her coat.
She carefully tied the bundled blanket into it and stepped away before she could change her mind.
Embers blew on the wind as Mercy gingerly swung into the saddle and turned Rasmus toward the road. “You can still come, Joanna.”
“You know I can’t.” At the hesitance in her eyes, Joanna called, “Mercy, after you get settled, promise me you won’t look for me. Forget I or this place ever existed.”
“I promise I won’t look, but I’ll never forget.”
Joanna stood rooted at the gate as Mercy gave her one final, long look before spurring her horse to a trot.
She tried to keep her gaze trained on Mercy’s back as Rasmus picked up speed down the road, but her eyes kept sliding off as if they weren’t there.
When she could no longer find them beyond the distant clack of hooves, the pain in her heart lessened a fraction.
If she couldn’t see them, then hopefully, the wood couldn’t either.
Godspeed, Mercy. Tears burned the backs of Joanna’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and headed back to the road.
At the top of Cemetery Hill, a lone figure appeared between the tombs.
Joanna’s heart lurched in her throat as Stephen’s father stepped from the shadows.
Before he could see her and call out to the others, Joanna took a deep breath and plunged into the Dysterwood.
The hairs rose on her arms as she passed from the normal forest into the other realm.
When Joanna looked back, the path to the Allen’s was gone, and in its place stood a thick carpet of ancient trees and moss.
Here, there was no smoldering house or in-laws to hunt her, and she didn’t know if that comforted or terrified her.
The Lady of the Dysterwood did not like humans to intrude upon her domain, and those who did so uninvited rarely lived long enough to regret it.
Joanna’s heart beat loudly in her ears as she tried to remember the direction she had come from, but everything seemed wrong.
The trees felt different from the ones growing in the Pine Barrens.
The pitch pines and black oaks around her rose to monstrous heights, leaving only smudges of sunless, red sky.
They seemed older, as if their roots ran far deeper than humankind, and they had tasted the marrow of the earth.
The Dysterwood felt untouchable. No human would dare take an ax or fire to it, lest they be destroyed.
All around her the woods teemed with life.
Moss, flowers, and scrubby brush grew so thickly on the forest floor that she didn’t dare move or disturb them.
It should have been a peaceful place, but beneath its boughs, Joanna felt a litany of unseen eyes watching her.
Every tree and leaf housed the Lady’s retinue.
Birds she had never heard before squawked high in the canopy while the insects and creatures on the ground clicked and hummed as if oblivious to her presence.
Hesitantly stepping deeper into the forest, Joanna froze at the gentle patter of blood from beneath her petticoat.
More! the Dysterwood howled as the ground closed around her boot and yanked her to her knees. Intruder!
Joanna bit back a cry as she landed hard, her palms stinging with scratches.
Blood wept from the cuts, and in an instant, all eyes were upon her.
The creatures buzzed to the surface, and the trees hissed in anticipation of the Lady’s verdict.
Before it could come, Joanna drew in a deep breath and ripped her foot from the muck.
Lifting her chin, she stared into the waiting forest and held up her hand to show the gold and carnelian ring her husband’s family had passed down for generations before he slipped it to her. “Take me to the Lady. I would like to make a bargain.”
For a moment, the entire Dysterwood went still until, with a dull rumble, the forest floor roiled and parted.
Wet, petrified boards and bleached, half-rotted bones rose through the moss, cutting a path between the trees like the spine of some ancient slumbering beast. Squaring her shoulders, Joanna stepped onto the first tread.
The Lady would see her.
***
TIME FLOWED ODDLY IN the Dysterwood. Joanna walked for what felt like minutes, and darkness descended thickly over the forest. Owls hooted and screeched in the pine trees, diving down on unseen prey.
A flash of red or a flicker of motion would catch Joanna’s eye, but she didn’t dare step off the path or let her attention linger for too long.
Keep to the path and no harm will come to you, Stephen had said to her, but she wasn’t one of them, at least not by blood.
She had the Lady’s attention, but she didn’t doubt she would feed her to some creature for her entertainment if given the chance.
As she passed through a thick copse, the sky brightened to the bruised red of sunset.
The trees thinned, giving way to pockets of mountain laurel, bushes studded with white bearberries and fragrant, pink swamp azalea.
Bees droned nearby, though Joanna couldn’t see them through the thickets of flowers.