“The Princeling.” Sounding of a serpent’s hiss, the Nightmare’s breath came fast. “Then we must find him. This is the only chance we have. Emory will not live to see another Solstice.”
“I know that well enough.” Ravyn reached for Jespyr. “Here, let me—”
“No,” he snarled. “I will carry her.”
Crows cawed overhead. Ravyn and the Nightmare continued west. They found a small stream and drank deeply, only for Ravyn to spit most of the water back up on a sprint through a glen.
The Nightmare never let go of Jespyr. Even when he spoke to the trees, asking for the way, he never set her down. Never let her go.
Dawn slipped into day, then dusk. The path wasn’t easy. At times, there was no path at all, just rocks and thorns and dense underbrush.
Ravyn tripped, panting. “Need—to stop.”
The Nightmare kept going, pulling in rasping breaths. “Elspeth says if you do not get up, she’ll never kiss you again.”
“That’s—not—what she—said.”
“Get up, Ravyn.” The Nightmare’s oily voice echoed through the wood. “Get up.”
Ravyn dragged himself off his knees and followed. He’d never pushed this hard, not in a decade of training. Not even when his opponents were fitted with Black Horses and he had only his strength to rely upon. He’d never needed so badly to keep—going—forward.
The underbrush was gone, and suddenly his boots were clogging with mud. Ravyn looked up.
The lake.
Night had fallen, darkness pressing down onto the water’s eerily still surface. The last time they’d crossed, the lake had been a pale silver. Now, it bore the color of the blackest of inks.
Ravyn stood next to the Nightmare on the shore’s muddy lip and put a hand into his pocket. His fingers brushed the velvet of five Providence Cards—Black Horse, Maiden, Mirror, Nightmare, Twin Alders. If he drowned, the Cards would be lost at the bottom of the lake.
“Will there be more monsters in the water?”
“No. That barter was already paid.” The Nightmare tightened his grip on Jespyr. He waded up to his knees into the lake. “Hurry.”
Water filled Ravyn’s boots. But before either of them could dive—
Salt filled his nose, only to retreat a moment later. Ravyn knew that feeling. Someone had tried to use a Providence Card he was immune to against him.
His hand fell to his dagger. A moment later he heard it: the thunderous sound of a cantering horse.
It came from the path behind them, bearing two riders. The horse, white with gray speckles, Ravyn recognized at once. It was Elm’s horse.
The first rider dismounted with a booming curse before the animal could reach a full stop. “Where the bloody hell have you lot been?”
Petyr ran full speed at Ravyn. “I’ve never been so happy to see your ugly face.”
Wind soared from his lungs, his friend’s arms a vise around his chest. “Likewise,” Ravyn managed. He looked over Petyr’s shoulder, eyes widening.
Ione Hawthorn wore a tattered gray dress and stood next to Elm’s horse. Her chest heaved, eyes darting between Ravyn to Jespyr to the Nightmare—lingering upon the latter. “Elspeth?”
“She’s with me.” The Nightmare rolled his eyes. “And she is very loud in her enthusiasm to see you, yellow girl.”
Petyr pulled back. “What the hell happened—is Jes all right?” He tripped over himself, getting to the Nightmare. He reached for Jespyr.
“I’m carrying her—”
“Shove off, you ancient windbag.” In one impressive maneuver, Jespyr was in Petyr’s arms. “You still with us, princess? Want to hold my lucky coin?”
She stirred in his arms. Grimaced. Her brown eyes opened a sliver. “You smell worse than he did.”
Petyr barked a laugh. “I haven’t wanted to go near strange bodies of water for some reason.” He glanced up at Ravyn. “You’ve been gone an age.” His nodded at Ione, lines drawing across his weathered face. “Much has happened.”
Ravyn’s eyes were still on the horse. For every breath he took, dread twisted his stomach. “Where’s Elm?”
Ione’s face crumpled. Ravyn forgot his exhaustion. “Where is he?”
Ione opened her hand. Nestled in the folds of her palm was a Scythe Card. “He’s at Stone.” Her hazel eyes rose to Ravyn’s face, laden with fury. “With Hauth.”
It had happened weeks ago.
Hauth, healed by the Maiden Card.
The King, murdered.
Elm, framed and presumably kept alive so Hauth might trade him for the Twin Alders. But as to the condition he was kept in—
Ravyn could only guess.
Fingers wrapped into fists, his mind went somewhere so dark and terrible he had to look away as Ione explained to them what had happened. All he really heard was Elm. Elm was alone, at Stone.
With Hauth.
Ione’s skin was red all over, tears and rage marking her face. She told them how Elm had compelled her to flee and remained behind to confront his brother. She’d ridden to Castle Yew, pounded upon on the door at midnight—begged to know where Ravyn and Jespyr and the Shepherd King had gone.
Fenir had readied himself to go with her into the wood, but Ione hadn’t waited for him. “I shot into the wood behind Castle Yew like an arrow—and was immediately lost,” she said, looking out over the lake. “All night and into the morning I rode, calling out. No one was there. But then, I found a path. It was as if the trees—” Her brow knit. “As if the trees had moved. I know that sounds strange.”
“It doesn’t,” Ravyn said, urging her on.
“I rode to the lake, then crossed. The horse was frightened and hurried through the water, like he was afraid of it. We reached the other side, but I had no idea where to go. I got lost again. Only this time, it cost me days.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “When the crows found me, I thought they were going to eat me. Or that I might try to eat them, I was so hungry. But not an hour later women wearing masks of bone came out of the trees.” Her eyes went glassy. “My mother and brothers were with them.”
“She found me two days later,” Petyr finished. “I’d gone back to—” His voice clogged. “To bury Wik. I was wandering, waiting for you all to come out of that wood. And now that you have—” He swallowed. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Solstice.” The Nightmare cocked his head to the side, his eyes dropping to the Scythe in Ione’s hand. “I am very pleased you’re here, yellow girl. For now we have all twelve Cards.”
“Not yet,” Ravyn reminded him. “Six await in the chamber. We need to get back before midnight—then we can unite the Deck.” He set his jaw, and did not say the words haunting his tongue. With my blood.
The Nightmare’s knowing gaze swept over his face. They looked at each other, two liars struggling with the truth. “Regarding that, and the Princeling—I have a plan. But time—”
“Is short.” Ravyn looked out over the lake. “We’ll speak on your plan. But first, we swim.”