Page 25

DULCE

As Reed spoke, Dulce couldn’t make out what he was telling her, her focus trained on the dead animal on the floor before her.

She studied its broken feathered body, the crimson blood pooled around it.

The raven hadn’t been a living taxidermy thing like the rest. Under some magic spell, it had survived years inside a cabinet in the castle cellar.

Had La Bisou Morte returned home and slaughtered the bird for helping her and Reed?

Dulce knew that wasn’t the case as soon as lightning cracked outside, thunder booming. She hurled herself across the room and thrust open the balcony doors, a heavy gust of wind nearly knocking her backward. Emerald sparks flashed within a light purple mist cloaking the gardens and forest.

Reed circled his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. The roots mimicked the movements of the last dying tree, which lifted like tentacles from the ground. Only this time, the Tree of Life slammed them along the earth, rattling the castle.

The bristlecone pine screamed in agony, piercing Dulce’s ears as she gritted her teeth against the harsh sound.

“We can’t stay here,” Reed rasped, tugging her back into the bedchamber.

“We can’t leave yet,” Dulce breathed. “At the Duke’s party, he stopped the tree’s wild magic with this stone.” She held up the necklace. “Perhaps I can do the same now without putting it on. The Trees of Life are linked to my mother’s, and the sooner they turn to stone, the sooner the world ends.”

Reed’s jaw tightened as though he wanted to argue, yet he relented with a nod. “As long as you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Have I made such an impact that you would miss me?” she cooed.

“I think you know the answer to that, Highness.”

Dulce tore her gaze from his and plucked up a silk blanket, then wrapped it around the bird’s frail body, cradling the fragile creature close.

She finally passed the raven to Reed. “Once I finish with the tree, we can bury the raven. It’s the least we can do after the creature helped us.”

“If I have to dig a hole with my bare hands for you, I will,” Reed promised .

As they rushed down the stairs, the castle continued to shake. Nearly reaching the bottom of the steps, Dulce’s breath caught, and her chest tightened.

No longer did taxidermy animals stand across the sitting room—instead, they rested on the floor in awkward heaps, their black sockets empty of the glass orbs that now lay in front of them.

“But do please hurry so we can get out of this nightmare,” Reed groaned.

Dulce took out the book from her satchel and flipped between a couple of spells she had in mind to try.

She would combine them—she was almost certain what to do.

A spell to help flowers bloom and another to rid someone of a fever.

While the tree was a plant, there was a possibility that mixing it with what would be considered giving life might slow its death.

Together, they stepped out the now-unlocked castle door, and another heavy breeze rustled her hair.

“Wait here,” she told Reed.

He looked as if the very thought of leaving her alone was utter madness, but he didn’t stop her. “Remember. Don’t die.”

“If something doesn’t go as planned, save yourself.” She then walked through the light mist toward the Tree of Life, thankful it wasn’t the poisoned fog spoken of in her mother’s letter.

If Toffee hadn’t already disappeared, she certainly would’ve after this. No carcass lay on the ground, which was a good sign that the horse was on her way back to Moonglade.

Dulce clutched the orb encasing the stone, the way the Duke had, as she approached the bristlecone pine .

The tree’s shrill cries became louder, its roots snapping the earth harder. Just as a root lifted above her, moments away from crushing her, she hurriedly spoke the incantation.

The tree stilled, the root frozen, listening to her long and lyrical words. She approached the wide trunk and pressed her other hand to its unnatural stone bark.

Taking a deep breath, Dulce chanted louder, letting the magic weave within her and pour into the Tree of Life. She watched as the roots slowly lowered and sank back into the ground. The tree’s stone didn’t improve—however, the wild magic had ceased, and the world was quiet once more.

When she peered up, Dulce noticed along one of its branches, pearlescent flowers bloomed, and she took that as a sure sign she’d given the tree a little more time.

The fog hadn’t dissipated, and she couldn’t see Reed through its thick layer, so, clutching her skirts, she rushed through it until she found him waiting in the spot she’d left him.

“You survived.” He grinned, his tense shoulders relaxing.

“You doubted my talents?” She beamed.

“Never.”

Before burying the raven, Dulce took two of its feathers and placed them into her satchel for a future incantation.

They then buried the raven near a sunflower bed in the castle’s courtyard, Dulce saying a few words of gratitude.

A wave of melancholy washed over her at the thought of the poor creature’s life, wondering if it had ever known a moment of freedom.

Once Reed dropped the last handful of dirt on the grave, he rubbed his chin. “Travel is going to be hard without Toffee. Do you think you can revive one of the taxidermy stallions?”

Necromancy wasn’t something Dulce had any wish to dabble in, not when her mother had warned her, we don’t know what the dead want . But she did know how the spell was performed. “I would first need the heart of another stallion.”

He pursed his lips. “No horse for now then. Let’s gather our things and leave this wretched place by foot, shall we?”

While their travels would be temporarily slowed, at least they had plenty of food and water to keep their hunger at bay for a few days.

After collecting their traveling bags in the upstairs bedroom, they pushed open the heavy castle doors and returned out into the fog before stilling.

Four men stood before them in the morning light.

Clearly leading the other three was perhaps the largest and most repulsive man Dulce had ever seen, his width nearly measuring his height, and as he grinned rotting teeth, she noticed open sores covered his bald head.

“The Leper, I presume?” Dulce whispered to Reed, having heard rumors of what the offensive man looked like.

“In the corpulent flesh,” Reed answered, stepping in front of her.

“Nothing personal,” the Leper hollered gruffly. “But there’s quite the bounty on that pretty white head of yours. I knew you’d want a friend to be the one to tell you.”

“Very considerate,” Reed said as the three men in black moved steadily closer. “But if it’s all the same, I have somewhere I need to be, so if you’ll excuse us.”

“There’s been a mistake.” Dulce’s voice remained steady as she peeked out from behind Reed.

The men must’ve sensed something in her beyond courage because they halted.

“I’m clearly not dead, am I, gentlemen?” She held up her hand and flashed them her family ring.

“I gave Reed the jewels myself as a reward. He never stole anything. It’s vitally important that you let him go since he never should’ve been arrested in the first place. ”

“Vitally important, she says,” the man with greasy long hair and a wide scar across one cheek sang.

“Oh, well, if it’s vitally important,” a second man, his nose twisted, answered, and they all laughed.

The trio turned to the Leper then, waiting for his order.

“Elevated company for a swamp rat.” The Leper’s grin widened, exposing his rotting gums as he slowly raked his overt stare down her form. “The fleshmonger needs fresh workers in the Glen. How’s about it, moppet?”

Her ? Disgusting bastards. She spat on the ground. “That’s my answer. Now leave.”

“Or is it witch ? Rumor has it my boy Reed is traveling with one. A witch can perform quite the pleasure, I hear.” the Leper’s gaze turned slitted.

The three men’s eyes lit with a darkness and hunger that sent a chill through Dulce, and they edged closer toward her.

The fog lifted beneath sulphury sunlight, revealing four horses tied to a tree.

“Thank you in advance for the horses,” Reed purred with a mock bow, producing one of the kitchen’s many spit rods she hadn’t realized he’d taken. Before Dulce could blink, he lunged forward and swung it with vicious force into the nearest man’s head, who went down like a collapsing bridge.

“You’ve really saved us a lot of trouble,” Reed continued, spinning to catch the second man with the end of the iron rod in the stomach. He made a terrible choking noise as he doubled over, and Reed kicked him in the head, leaving him sprawled along the grass, still.

Dulce would step in with magic if she needed, but at the moment, it was much more entertaining watching Reed fight with incredible skill.

The third man looked wary, but he rolled his shoulders, inching closer to Reed, daggers in each hand. “This is the day you die, Reed. Once a mangy Glen dog, always a mangy Glen dog.”

“That was always your problem, Fowles,” Reed said calmly, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Thinking you’re better than a dog.”

The man lunged at Reed with a wild cry, swiping blindly at Reed’s face, but in a blur of steel his knives flew from his hands, and he screamed in pain, falling to his knees, cradling badly broken wrists.

Reed didn’t hesitate to swing his weapon across the man’s throat, and despite the viciousness the vile man’s eyes had promised, she winced.

The Leper stood still, studying Reed with apparent indifference. Dulce knew the man could never outrun or outfight Reed. He would be foolish to attempt even a sliver of violence.

“You won’t get far, swamp rat.” The Leper clenched his jaw. “I have eyes everywhere. I will find you, and I will collect my reward in exchange for your head. Consider that a warning from a friend.”

Reed took Dulce’s hand and led her toward the waiting horses.

“Much obliged,” he called over his shoulder. “But sorry to be the one to tell you, you have no friends. Only those who fear you.”

He untied two of the horses and slapped their withers, sending them cantering off across the field toward Silver Birch Straits and home. The next horse, he helped Dulce to mount, untying its reins and placing them in her hands. And finally, he unbound the fourth horse and mounted it himself.

“We should have dinner sometime,” he shouted to the Leper. “You know, after Ms. Bankroft and I save the world and everyone knows you tried to stop me from helping her. For profit.”

“You’ll regret this!” the Leper screeched, the sores across his forehead oozing as he turned beet red. “I could’ve helped you out of the mess you’ve made for yourself. You could’ve lived. Now”—he shrugged his massive shoulders, struggling to collect himself—“it’s out of my hands.”

Reed smirked, kicking his horse into action. “Out of your hands is just the way I like it!”