Chapter 2
With my father, the word “now” is meant to be taken literally. There’s no delaying until morning. No taking my time to help one last wounded soldier, or even to sleep away the exhaustion nipping at my bones. Now means now.
By the anxious expression on the messenger’s face, I know he’s secretly praying that I’ll leave without a fuss. Part of me wants to give him a show, something that he could tell his friends about back home.
“The heir threw her scalpel at me! She screamed and swore like a wild animal!”
But the truth is, while the stories about my rebellious nature aren’t unfounded, the specifics are mostly untrue. I’d prefer to sneak out of a political meeting to read a book than cause chaos and disorder. Not that my father ever saw the difference.
I groan and look longingly at my bed.
It doesn’t take long to pack my belongings.
I learned to travel light, moving camp every few months, whenever the soldiers gained back lost territory.
Everything fits in a satchel over my shoulder, just a few soiled dresses and my grandmother’s silver knife.
It’s heavier than it looks, with its bronze handle and dainty moth carvings along the blade.
Some might call it a frivolous weapon fit only for courtly fashion, but I take great pains to keep the blade polished and sharp. It’s all I have left of my grandmother.
The last time I saw her she’d pressed it into my hands with a warning: Keep it safe.
The next day, she travelled here, to the borderlands.
She never came back. Even then, as a child, I understood she was trying to tell me something important.
It’s why I spent the next twelve years learning how to use the moth blade.
And it’s why I know, deep in my bones, that Grandmother’s death was no accident.
Everything else in my tent can stay behind. I won’t need any of it in Caerwen, the capital city, and home of the royal seat. They’ll strip me of everything short of my dignity. I’ll be primped, scrubbed, and stuffed into ridiculous gowns—all for the glory of the kingdom.
Truth be told, I won’t miss the camp’s endless mud and inadequate latrines.
It’s been nearly three years since I’ve had a proper bath, with warm water and lavender perfume instead of cold water from a rain barrel with lye soap.
And I certainly won’t miss the constant presence of death that I’ve grown numb to.
Without me, the healers will have to rely on basic apothecary and medical skills.
There aren’t many nobles with healing power in the borderlands.
It won’t be enough. Then again, neither was I. But at least here I was something, even if only a temporary plug in the hull of a sinking ship.
Still, as much as I hate the thought of returning to my father’s palace in Caerwen, I know I’m ready to go home.
When I was a child, no one would tell me what happened to my grandmother, áine.
This time will be different. This time, I will discover the truth.
I’m twenty-four now. Older. Smarter. More determined.
And when I find out what happened to her, I will make the person responsible suffer. Just like I’ve suffered every day since she died.
My horse, Nell, whinnies as I strap bags of food and water to her saddle. She’s a smart one. She knows we’re in for a long ride. Her eyes roll warily from the messenger to the two guards he brought for protection on the road.
I lean in and whisper into her soft ear. “I’m sorry, Nell. We have no choice.” I, like everyone in Llwyn, exist to serve my father.
Nell nuzzles her nose into my hand in understanding.
With one last look toward the darkened tents, I swing up onto the saddle. I won’t waste time with messy goodbyes. When the other healers and the soldiers realize I’m gone, they’ll know why. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.
We ride off into the night, escorted by the copper-clad guards. The messenger gallops ahead with an arm extended, using his power to light the way. A golden orb leads our path.
“We are the light in the darkness,” my family always says. No matter how much we disagree on other fronts, I can’t argue with that after what I’ve witnessed in the borderlands. I’ve seen the pain and death that darkness brings. The Dead Queen must be stopped from taking more territory from Llwyn.
Only light can heal what darkness fades, and we must protect ourselves in any way we can.
My hand reaches toward my thigh where the silver blade hides beneath my skirts.
The guards, messenger, and I ride through the trampled fields at the edge of Llwyn territory and into the dark forest. The road here is empty of troops on their way to and from camp. I’ve ridden it many times, but never at night.
My eyes strain toward the trees, searching for signs of fae.
It’s silly, I know. The fae were killed off over five hundred years ago.
Now they’re nothing more than bedtime stories to be told to mischievous children.
Still, I listen for signs of them—faint music in the night, tiny flickers of light, footprints left along the path. There’s nothing.
The messenger’s light casts an eerie glow on the gnarled trees as we pass.
Small creatures scurry further into the darkness, spooked by our horses’ stomping hooves.
But not all the creatures run away. The prickle on the back of my neck tells me something watches us from the shadows where our light can’t reach.
Far ahead, something quick as lightning dashes across the path. It’s too fast to make out, but the horses notice it and they snort in protest. Nell tries to stop, to turn around, but that’s the worst thing to do with a potential predator in the woods. The quick prey is the prey that survives.
I pat her neck and whisper in her ear, promising treats once we’re out of the woods. She settles somewhat, but I can still feel her heart beating through her sweating skin. The messenger keeps looking behind us, his eyes wide, and the guards’ hands grip their reins tighter.
With a click of his tongue, the messenger urges us to move faster. I can’t help but agree. The sooner we’re out of the forest, the sooner we’ll be safe.
Branches rustle behind us, loud enough to be heard above pounding hooves. I glance back just in time to glimpse a massive, gray animal darting back into the safety of the darkened trees.
My heart ricochets through my chest. It can’t be.
There are no wolves in the forests of Llwyn.
We pushed them beyond the border generations ago, hunted them near to extinction.
I tell myself it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.
No one else seems to have seen it. Their eyes remain fixed on the road ahead and the darkness just beyond our orb of light.
While my eyes scan the shadows and trees whirring past, Nell pulls to a stop so suddenly I nearly topple off her.
I quickly pull myself back up and see she’s not the only frantic horse.
All four buck in alarm, each of the riders scrambling to gain control.
Nell lifts her front hooves and kicks as if at an invisible enemy.
My heart races with fear. I don’t know what to do other than hold on. I use all of my strength to stay seated, but it’s not enough. I tumble to the ground, landing on my shoulder with a sickening pop.
Light flashes behind my eyes. The pain in my shoulder is nauseating, but even if I could heal myself, there’s no time.
Everywhere I look, hooves kick and stomp. I roll just in time to avoid being trampled by a guard’s horse. The animal is wild with fear. The whites of his eyes are showing, his breathing unnaturally fast, and he’s starting to foam at the mouth.
My eyes scan the forest’s edge, trying to find what’s frightened them so badly, but I don’t see anything.
Shadows dance from the messenger’s light as he tries to regain control of his horse.
I hold up my hand, igniting my own golden glow, but there’s nothing.
Just darkened trees and brush along an empty dirt road.
Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I scramble to my feet. I attempt to grab Nell’s reins, to get her under control, but I’m next to useless with an injured arm. She snorts, kicks, and eventually turns to run back toward camp.
“Nell!” I try to call her back, but she won’t listen to me.
She speeds away, back toward the camp. Then, quick as a flash, something large and black pounces from the forest, tackling her into the trees on the other side of the road.
My heartbeat thumps in my ears as panic rises in me like a building storm. Nothing in Llwyn is big or powerful enough to tackle a full-grown horse like that. Nothing natural, that is.
“No,” I whisper. It can’t be. They don’t dare travel into Llwyn territory.
“Run!” I yell to the three men.
Their heads turn toward me in alarm. Their horses are still bucking, fear-crazed and panicked.
“Corpse wolves!” I scream.
I only pause for a moment to pull my grandmother’s knife out from under my skirts.
It won’t do much to protect me from the giant undead creatures hunting us, but it’s better than nothing.
I bolt as fast as I can in the opposite direction from where I hear Nell screaming in pain in the distant trees. There is nothing I can do to save her.
The guards have gained some control of their horses, but the young messenger is still struggling to stay in his saddle. His horse bucks and kicks, snorting in panic.
The corpse wolf emerges from the woods where it just feasted on Nell.
In the dim light, I see its luminescent white eyes and muzzle covered in blood.
I force down a wave of grief and nausea at the sight.
The creature’s teeth poke through rotting holes in its face.
It’s larger than any living wolf should be, as if reanimation stretched its knobby joints beyond their former capacity.
Fur hangs from its emaciated ribs, exposing cracked bones and black muscle.
It has no use for food. When this creature hunts, it’s just to kill.
We lock eyes for one long moment before it leaps forward, running at full speed. I brace myself for death, but I only feel the whoosh of wind as it leaps past me.
In the span of a second, it jumps at the messenger, knocking him from the back of his horse.
The messenger barely has time to scream before the corpse wolf grabs his face with its gnarled teeth and tears it clean off.
Then, the creature goes for his chest. The messenger lies still, blood pooling in the dirt road.
I run.
When I near the two guards on horseback, I reach for them with my good arm.
One stretches a hand toward me. In a single, swift motion, he pulls me up behind his saddle.
I wrap my arms around his waist, desperate to hang on, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.
The guard pushes the horse forward as I turn my head to watch the carnage in the road.
When the corpse wolf is barely visible through the stretch of my light, it looks up. Its white eyes watch me as we round a bend in the road.
I face forward, trying to banish the memory of the messenger’s gruesome death, far worse than anything I’ve ever encountered in the camp hospital. This is what those poor soldiers have been fighting in the borderlands. This is what we’re up against.
And it’s only one of the Dead Queen’s beasts. There are so many more to fear.
The guard I’m holding is mumbling to himself. “This isn’t right. They aren’t supposed to be here!” His voice is high-pitched, hysterical.
It’s not right. Corpse beasts aren’t supposed to pass beyond the Annwyn border, but they obviously have. This fight isn’t about protecting our border from the Kingdom of Death anymore. Now, it’s about getting the Dead Queen’s rabid corpses out of Llwyn.