Page 62

Chapter 62

Kat

“They took the tailor?” I demand. I whirl on my heel, looking back toward the Nothril palace I just escaped from. When someone shouted that they’d caught the Ivy Mask, I did not know what they could have meant. But now, as I check my pockets a third time for my mask, it hits me. Tailor slipped my mask from me when he gave me the glamour. Did he intend to get caught? All the slaves are here, waiting to flee. I want to go back, to try to save the tailor, but to do so would be to risk these people.

“If they put him in the dungeon, there is no getting him out,” says one of the men. “We’ve got to leave, or we’ll all be killed.”

With a growl on my lips, I launch onto the Path. “Follow me very closely so you don’t step off the Path!”

We start off at a fast pace. I wish we could sprint, but I cannot ask that of the entire group. The woman who was serving at Mirror Tide follows close at my heels. She speaks for the first time: “The Path is the glowing yellow thing we are on?”

My head whips to her. “You can see it?”

She nods hesitantly. In all my time, I’ve never had anyone who could see the Paths. I cannot see them well myself.

My mind starts working, turning over this development as we move fast. What if . . .?

This is my last raid. Rahk will pursue the moment he finds me gone from his chamber. There is only one thing I need to do left in my life, and that is get these eleven people out of Faerie.

I have the prickling sense that if I don’t peel off from the group, we’ll all be cornered.

I stop abruptly and point to the woman whose name I never learned. “Follow her on the Path until you reach the edge of Faerie. Nothing can hurt you so long as you stay on the Path. You will end up in a valley. If you cut across it and keep going, you will reach a city. In the city, there is a large cathedral. You cannot miss it. Someone is there with provisions for your journey. Now hurry!”

The woman grabs my elbow. “Why aren’t you coming with us?”

“We don’t have time. Go!”

The woman holds my gaze. Others have made to continue, but she delays.

“Go! The only thing you can do to help me is to go! ”

At last, she goes. I watch as they leave, vanishing deeper into the Wood until, at last, it swallows them whole. I’ve got to lead Rahk away from them. I have no other option.

I’ve got to leave this Path and plunge into the Wood.

I lost one slipper at some point. I rip off the other one, kiss it with a quick, “Love you, Mama,” and then place it off the Path—close enough that he’ll see it, but far enough for him to know it’s not a red herring. I’m truly diving into the wild fae Wood like a madwoman.

Then I take off running.

Immediately, the voices assault me.

“I know. I know it all.”

“You poor dear—come to my warm embrace and sleep tenderly.”

And then the one that has haunted me for years curls around my head, “I know what you did, Katherine Vandermore. It catches up to you this day. You know it will.”

These voices never could truly touch me on the Path, but now they are like ice cold fingers clutching my heart. They pull at me like ropes tied to my limbs, and when my focus breaks, my feet actually turn toward them. I gasp and rip myself away.

They are going to catch me. They are all going to catch me.

I don’t even know who they are, but I run faster. Sometimes the ground is a soft bed of pine needles beneath my bare feet, and other times it turns rocky and sends pains flaring up my legs.

I do not stop.

The half-light of the Wood swirls around me, the towering trees in every direction like prison bars. Slowly, I become aware of my shadow running alongside me. When I look at it, casting long across the ground, it waves back at me.

You know the Wood makes people go mad, I instruct myself sternly. Don’t fall for its tricks. You just have to—

I come to a sudden stop. I look around.

What am I doing here? Where even am I?

The words spill out of my lips as alarm burns through my entire body. “Why am I here? I was doing something. Why—why am I here? Why am I here?”

I clutch my hair, my fingernails digging into my scalp. I came here for a reason. I know I did. But every time I reach out for that place in my mind, the place that knows, my fingers touch emptiness.

Something warm touches my ankle. I look down to find a vine twisted around my bare skin. My scream is locked too far behind my fright to be accessed. I try to yank my foot free, but instead the vine pulls hard. My back hits the ground with a force to knock the wind from me. It drags me toward a tree that suddenly moves. It cranes toward me, its massive trunk bending down as though to observe me as I wriggle and kick at the grip it has on me.

Branches come down. They touch my hair, run down my arm, fiddle with the collar of my shirt. The trunk of the tree morphs, until its bark arranges into a wide smile.

I finally scream.

The tree reels back as though I’ve struck it. It releases my leg. I leap to my feet, nearly falling in my haste, and sprint away. My shadow runs beside me. It points in one direction. I plunge the opposite way.

A living creature appears before me.

I come to a halt. It is a deer—an actual deer. Like those we have in the human lands. It grazes on a single patch of grass. I cover my mouth. I never thought the sight of a deer could bring so much relief. I step toward it, though I know not if I intend to touch it or just be closer to this piece of home. To my surprise, a bird appears in the air. A bluejay.

It is frozen midflight.

I glance back to the deer. Coldness washes over me. The deer isn’t moving either.

I become aware of my own slowing heartbeat.

It’s a trap.

I stumble backward, away from the frozen animals. I pick a random direction and burst into another run.

Then, abruptly, an oak appears in my vision.

I do not know why I am here or what I am doing, but I remember one certain truth: oaks are friendly to humans.

I collapse beneath it beside a clear stream I dare not drink from.

I pant hard, pressing my palm to my heaving chest.

There are two things that can happen now. I will wander for the rest of my life in this Wood, until I am driven mad, devoured by evil forces, or caught and enslaved by a fae. Or Rahk will find me and kill me.

The latter sounds far better, but I cannot give up too quickly. I have to give those people time to escape the forest.

I’ve got to give Rahk a good chase.

I remembered.

It hits me with the force of a thunderclap. I remembered. I know why I am here. I came here. To lead Rahk away from the people I am trying to rescue.

I notice the mud next to the stream. My mind returns to the story at the beginning of my Fool’s Circle strategy book. I set to work grabbing handfuls of mud. Small grabby hands stick out of the pool, reaching for me. I move quickly to keep them from latching on. Then I smear the mud over my body and bare feet.

I get up, ready to pick a random direction and plunge deeper into the insanity.

But just then, a voice booms from behind me: “Stop where you are!”

I freeze. My hood is pulled low. How did he track me? Did I leave footprints behind?

Slowly, I peer over my shoulder beneath the shadow of my hood. Rahk stands a stone’s throw away, an arrow notched in the bow he holds, pulled taut and ready to pierce my heart.

“Don’t move,” Rahk orders, as he begins approaching me.

He must know it’s me. Running away after he explicitly told me to stay had to be condemning enough. So if he knows it’s me, he won’t shoot.

I burst into a sprint.

“Stop!” roars Rahk.

Absolutely not.

I slam my arm on some obstacle I didn’t see. The pressure builds, yet I keep running.

I don’t know if it is the mud, or the twining madness of the Wood, but eventually I look back. There is no sign of Rahk. I have no breath to spare for a sigh. I press my hand against a tree trunk. The second I do, I remember not to trust trees here. I yank my hand away. A piece of bark falls off.

The tree screams.

I cover my ears and burst into another run. Finally, when I am certain I am going to collapse, I find another oak tree.

Or is it the same one?

A clear pool lies just beside it with a muddy bank. There is no sign of me scraping mud away from it. I stare at the place suspiciously. Then, exhausted, I give up. I drop between the safe roots of the enormous tree.

I look down. The blood drains from my entire body.

A sharp stick has pierced straight into my left arm. At first, I think it is one of Rahk’s arrows, but when I inspect it, there is no way it was an arrow. It is rough, crooked, and it has not cut all the way through my flesh. It must have just been a sharp branch I ran into while sprinting.

Blood drips down my muddy arm.

I stare at it, too shocked to fully comprehend what I am seeing.

I lean back against oak and let my eyes glaze as the pain roars to life.

I regard the throbbing injury again. At the thought of trying to pull the branch through my arm, I shudder. There’s no way I’m getting it out—and that’s probably for the best. I don’t have anything to staunch the blood flow, and if the branch remains in place, I won’t lose too much blood.

The pain seems to double, even triple, by the moment. It radiates down into my fingertips and up into my shoulder. I can barely move my arm without shooting pain.

“Curse you, stupid tree,” I grit out between my clenched teeth.

My mouth is dry as sand. My limbs quake from hunger and the hours of endless exertion. I stare at the pool. It seems to call me, pulling—pulling—pulling—

I drag myself back just before I plunge face first into the water.

I turn my head into the oak tree, squeezing my eyes shut. I cannot be trusted to even look at that water. Who knows what dangers the water holds? Creatures could be lying in its depths, ready to drag me to my death. Or the water could be poisoned, or bring on endless sleep.

I don’t know what to do. How much time has passed? Minutes, hours? Or years?

Maybe I’ve lost Rahk. Maybe he won’t find me after all. I’ll just die in this cursed Wood, slowly bleeding out from my wound. I get up, determined to leave behind this pool that calls to me even when I refuse to look at it. I stumble, and when I catch myself against the oak, agony nearly rips a scream from my throat. I stop where I am, breathing hard, my hood fallen low, my vision blurring in and out of focus.

Got to keep going. Got to keep going. Got to—

“Ivy Mask!”

My stomach pitches. He’s found me.

I will my legs to run. I will every muscle in my body to propel me forward. But I don’t move. Sinking dread fills me as the world swims around me. There’s nothing left inside of me. Nothing left to give.

So this is the end.

No.

I can keep running. The longer I run, the higher the likelihood that those people will be free. I must keep running. I must—

I stop myself.

Rahk got that Star City woman out of Faerie. Rahk loves me. He would never hurt me, even if his life depended on it.

I need to stop hiding from him. I need to stop lying to him.

I need to, for once, truly trust him. With everything. With my life. With the lives of the people I have tried to save. I need to trust the Prince of Nothril.

It is time to stop running. From Rahk, from Agatha, from the fae, from what happened all those years ago. I’m tired of running.

I step out from behind the tree.

Sunlight cuts through the fog in the forest, illuminating the blanket of pine needles. And Rahk.

He stands with his legs braced wide, his arrow nocked in his bow, pointing it at my chest as he demands: “Take off your hood. Now!”

I’m already doing it. I almost smile. He still does not want to believe it’s me. My wounded arm hangs limply at my side, my other shaking as I peel back the hood. I whisper, “It’s me, Rahk.”

Then there is nothing. No hoods, or masks, or cloaks, or lies. It is just me. It is just him.

His eyes meet mine and his whole body goes slack. I watch the hope vanish from his face. His voice comes out in a dreadful groan as he drops his bow and sinks to his knees. “Kat.”