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Renewed fury burned my cheeks. I’d been careless and weak.

I’d allowed Rook and my childish feelings to distract me.

Right here, Lottie stood proudly in the yard.

Lottie, whom no one really liked, but I loved .

Behind me, Lysander, who’d always made me laugh when I couldn’t even dream of smiling, lay in bed, nearly dead.

I needed them. Back home amongst my loved ones, my resolve was stronger than ever.

The Hound would not destroy my family.

Marek, perhaps mistaking my anger for worry, said, “We will catch the Hound; there will be justice for your father and your brother.” Marek talked of Lysander as if he were already gone. Grief hit me anew, but I was more worried about Lottie’s deep breath, readying to say something to Marek—

The back door opened.

“I thought I heard voices,” my mother said, and joined us. I was in heaps of trouble, so I avoided her gaze. I noticed Marek anxiously tugging his sleeve.

“Might I…” Marek started. “Might I have a word with your mother?”

Neither Lottie nor I moved, waiting instead to see what our mother wanted. “Both of you go inside,” she instructed. “Lottie was about to start dinner anyway.”

“Ugh!” Lottie tossed her bow. “I hope you fancy gruel for supper,” she muttered, and we headed in. Neither of us went to the kitchen. We crouched beneath the window and listened.

Marek’s muffled voice said, “How are you?” He asked the question so casually, one might assume he was inquiring about the weather, and not the well-being of a mother bearing the weight of nursing her dying child.

“Captain, what do you have to say?” My mother’s voice quickened. “Do you have news of the Hound?”

“Um, well—no.” Marek stumbled on his words. “I can carry this burden no longer.”

“Marek…” Mother spoke with cautious authority, as if she were handing out a warning to one of us, and not addressing her direct superior.

Heeding no warning, Marek blundered forward. “I have a question I must ask you.” Fabric shuffled on the stones.

“Marek! What are you doing?!” Our mother’s horrified voice yanked Lottie and I up to the window.

Marek knelt on one knee. “Evette, please! You are the most beautiful creature! I have loved you from the second I laid eyes on you. You must marry me!”

“This is not the time, nor the place for such nonsense!” My mother hauled Marek to his feet. “Stand up! We’ve got a beast to slay, and you a town to protect!”

Perhaps harbouring a great deal of guilt, Marek snapped, “I’m doing my best, Evette!” He sighed. “It’s like people want to be killed.” Mother’s stare silenced Marek. “I’m—I’m sorry,” Marek apologized. He reached for my mother; she backed away. “Are you… Are you certain you won’t have me?”

Wrapping my father’s night coat tighter, my mother said, “My answer is no. I do not want another husband.” Marek frowned, his face akin to a pouty toddler. “You’re handsome, and a captain. Someone will be overjoyed to be your beloved, but it isn’t me.”

“But—”

“No,” my mother interrupted, appearing so much like a teacher shushing a rambunctious student. “I have my children, Captain. My heart is full.”

After a long pause, Marek nodded. From the set of his jaw, I knew he hadn’t accepted the refusal. Over my mother’s shoulder, Marek caught Lottie and me in the window.

He tilted his head, reminding me so much of the thin wolves that stalked the Hollow.

Beside me, Lottie shivered.

***

As I lay in bed, one of my father’s lessons nagged at me. No matter how I tried to push it away, it wiggled back like an obsession.

One morning, Father had taken Lottie and me into the Hollow.

It was Lottie’s first, and last , gathering trip.

As we passed a familiar old oak, one we often picnicked beneath, Father heard a distressed cry farther on.

He shooed us off the path and instructed me to, “Remain hidden and watch your sister.” I did as I was told, but Lottie, who never listened, wandered off.

I remembered the sickening spike of terror I felt when I reached for her and found empty air.

At that point, I could only obey one of my father’s commands.

I chose the one I believed to be most important.

Cautiously, I’d crept from my hiding spot to find Lottie.

While I searched for my sister, a hand rested on my shoulder.

The familiar weight quelled my mounting panic.

My father pointed back the way we’d come, where Lottie crouched beneath the old oak.

When Lottie was looking away, the oak changed.

A twisted face grew from the knotted bark.

Branches inched closer to Lottie, who poked a bug without a care in the world.

Looking between my father and Lottie, I whispered, “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Patience.”

The gnarled branches closed in on Lottie. I feared I would lose a sister, and that fear pushed me from the cover of the bushes. “Lottie!”

The branches halted.

Startled, Lottie shot me an angry glare and caught sight of the tree.

Though the tree hadn’t gotten her, I thought the terror might kill her.

Father approached from behind me, wielding a torch.

Only then did the tree fade back into its disguise.

Lottie ran to me; she’d clutched my legs and hidden herself beneath my cloak while she wept.

Our unsympathetic father only said, “I told you to stay close.”

I held Lottie as we left the Hollow. We both learned a lesson that day, though Lottie certainly learned it harder.

Just because something has existed one way for a long time, we must never get complacent.

We are a blink in a monster’s life. They are patient, and they will strike when you least expect it.

With this memory dancing lazy circles in my mind, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

“Father!”

Lysander’s voice carried down the hall like an alarm. Lottie met me in the doorway, her hair, messy from sleep, jutted around her face. Her nightgown billowed behind her like a white cloak as we chased Lysander. He shambled to the front door and fought with the doorknob.

“The Hound is coming, Father!” Lysander bellowed. “Get inside!”

Reaching Lysander first, Lottie took his elbows.

“Let’s get you back to bed—oof!” Lysander’s fist connected with Lottie.

She stumbled back, hit the sofa, and her feet flew up over her head.

Righting herself, she rubbed her jaw. “The sickness hasn’t taken all his strength.

” I pulled Lysander from the door; his skin was fire.

Mother ran down the hall, wrenching on Father’s night coat.

“Let me go!” Lysander shoved me away. He yanked open the door and shuffled down the front path. Pointing to an empty field across the road, Lysander shrieked, “There he is!”

“Catch him!” Mother leapt over me.

“Father!” Lysander wrenched open the gate.

“Come back!” Mother caught the back of Lysander’s shirt.

Lottie and I snatched his arms and wrestled him toward the cottage.

He doubled over and coughed. Warm vomit speckled my ankles.

Together, we dragged Lysander back to bed.

Once we were certain he didn’t mean to escape again, Mother sat down and pressed a cool cloth to his forehead.

Standing helplessly in the doorway, Lottie and I watched Lysander crumple against our mother.

Breathing deep, Lysander’s frail body calmed.

Perhaps, like our mother, he was also comforted by the smell of my father’s perfume, still clinging to the night coat.

“Return to your beds,” Mother commanded. “There is nothing more we can do.”

Lottie chirped, “But—”

“Now!”

Lottie and I clambered over each other. Back in our bedroom, we climbed into our respective beds.

I lay on my side, staring at Lottie, who glared at the ceiling.

Did she even see it? Or was she like me, unable to see anything but our mother, clutching our brother so tight he couldn’t possibly leave us?

I sniffled. Across the room, Lottie angrily wiped her cheek.

“Lottie,” I started, “I have a plan, and I’m going to need you to trust me.” Lottie turned her glare on me. “I can kill the Hound,” I whispered.

“How?” she hissed. “How can you do what an entire coven of guards cannot?”

He trusts me, and I can do what an entire army cannot. I can get close, while he sleeps.

I wanted to confess, to tell Lottie everything and relieve that burden on myself.

But, if she knew what I was about to do, she’d never allow it.

Once upon a time, I’d thought bringing her was the best option.

Facing the choice now, I couldn’t risk her life—and I couldn’t risk alerting Rook by bringing her.

Lottie had a big mouth and a bad attitude; she’d try to murder Rook the second she saw him.

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” I said.

Lottie shook her head and rolled away. “Tomorrow morning,” I continued.

“I’m going into the Hollow—alone. When Mother realizes I’m gone, tell her I’ve gone to the next town over for more Queensfoil.

” I paused, trying to find the strength to voice the end of my plan.

“I’ll return the following day with the Hound’s heart.

The queen will send her messengers with the reward, and we’ll beg the physician to help Lysander. ”

Lottie sat up. “There’s nothing any of us can do for Lysander!

” she hissed. “Now is a time to be together! To be here for our mother when she buries her son.” Lottie choked but continued.

“How will you feel when Lysander dies while you’re off playing in the woods?

” Lottie was always so good at voicing my fears.

“And what happens if you don’t come back? ”

“What happens if I succeed, and Lysander lives?” I whisper-shouted. Lottie only huffed and laid back down. “Lottie, I need you to trust me. I can do this.”

Lottie’s only response was a drawn-out sigh.

“I will return with the Hound’s heart.”

Silence.

“Keep Lysander alive, just one more day.”

When I was certain Lottie wouldn’t respond, I rolled away. Tomorrow, I would not falter. My emotions would not control me. I would be strong. I would do it for my father and my mother, for Lysander and Lottie. For each person touched by the beast’s evil.

I would kill the Hound.

But Rook … I shook my head, choking down the guilt. Rook died when that cursed fruit touched his lips. A phantom walked the halls of that ruined castle. I wasn’t killing a man; I was killing a monster.

Across the dark room, Lottie sniffled.

I just hoped she would keep my secret long enough for me to do it.