Red exchanged a quick look with Eammon. The Wolf’s brows were low, his mouth a flat line. Clearly, the other woman’s explanation didn’t convince him.
But Red was inclined to believe her. It didn’t seem odd that a neglected princess from a faraway land might find herself taken with the fairy tale that Valleyda became every time a Second Daughter was born.
Still, it wasn’t ideal. With a sigh, Red pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, a nervous tic she’d picked up from Eammon. “What do you want, Kayu? We don’t have money—”
“Everyone thinks I want money.” Kayu sounded nearly disgusted, rolling dark eyes. She left the tapestry, going instead to the vine laced along the wall, studded in its flickerless, forest-magic-made flames. “I have quite enough of my own, thank you. And I’m planning on parting with a significant portion of it to help you find your sister.”
Trepidation drew up every line of Eammon’s form, but the dip of his head and the flicker of his eyes toward Red said this was her call. He’d go along with whatever she wanted.
Red blew out a deep breath. She didn’t know how money would play into finding Neve, but nothing else they’d done had gotten them any closer. Desperate was a weak word for the emotions snared in her branch-laden chest.
And Kayu knew. Knew Neve was gone, knew Red and Eammon had become the Wilderwood, knew the sacrifice of Second Daughters was a thing of the past. Dangerous knowledge, all of it. Raffe was right, it’d be prudent to keep her close.
She nodded to Eammon. Kayu could stay.
Kayu studiously peered at the flames on the wall through the whole exchange, knowingly giving them time to decide. She must’ve sensed when an agreement was reached—a breath after Eammon’s nod, she gestured to the vine. “This is interesting. Forest magic?” She looked over her shoulder, pointer finger wavering between Red and Eammon. “Raffe told me you two have… something… going on with the Wilderwood.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Eammon muttered.
Raffe sighed. “If you have chairs in this ruin, you’d better find them,” he said as he headed toward the sunken dining room to the right of the door. “I have a lot to tell you. You’ll want to sit down.”
“So Kiri knows what the Heart Tree is?”
Dregs of long-cold tea sat in chipped mugs before them. Red’s arms were crossed on the table, her neck bent over to stare at the letter written in Kiri’s swirling script. Eammon’s hand rested on the back of her neck, a soothing weight. Lyra sat on Red’s other side, and Fife, tense and silent, sat next to her—he’d come in from errands in the Edge before Raffe started talking.
Across from them, as if they’d arranged themselves like opposing armies, Raffe sat next to Kayu, staring into the leaves at the bottom of his cup. Throughout his whole tale—Kiri’s letter, the ends of the branches twisting into keys in the Shrine, Kayu’s offer of help—Kayu herself appeared to be barely listening, her attention captured more by the surrounding Keep, as if she was reading a fairy story for the first time.
“She mentioned it by name, but didn’t give any specifics.” Raffe shook his head, running a hand over his close-shorn hair. “And her letter mentions something about a key. What happened with the branches in the Shrine makes me think she knows more than she put in the letter.”
“So Neve has to find a key, too.” Red’s own lay on the table. When Raffe mentioned the branches in the Shrine, she’d pulled it from her pocket, told him about how it came to her.
Eammon’s eyes had flickered to the key briefly when she first brought it out before he looked away, as if it still unsettled him. But now he was peering at it with a line between his brows, almost studiously.
“How did you find yours?” Raffe asked. “I assume it came to you right when those branches changed shape, and that was four days ago, sometime in the afternoon. Do you remember what you were doing?”
The tips of Eammon’s ears turned scarlet.
Red cleared her throat, shifted in her seat. “I was trying to get to Neve,” she said, leaving out the specifics of both the attempt and what came after. “If Neve’s key is supposed to come to her the same way, I suppose it will happen while she’s trying to get to me.”
That sent all of them into silence, what logically followed hanging over their heads: If Neve didn’t have a key yet—and none of them had reason to think she did—did that mean she wasn’t trying to get back?
Eammon broke the tense quiet. “I think I recognize your key, Red.”
She swung around to look at him, brow furrowed. Eammon still stared at the key on the table, mouth twisted up like it did when he was thinking hard. “It could be nothing,” he cautioned, “but there’s something that looks like a grove of keys carved into the walls of the Edge. Valdrek might know something.”
“It’s worth a try,” Raffe said. “I’ll take any connection we can get at this point.”
“There are lots of carvings on that wall.” Lyra’s voice came out gentle, like she didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up. “It might be a connection, or it might just be a coincidence. And Kiri is mad, we can all agree there. Her talk of keys and trees could just be ravings.”
At that, Kayu’s expression darkened, just for a moment. Red couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or distaste or something in between.
“She’s undoubtedly mad, but the things in her letter correspond with Red’s dream.” Eammon sat forward, giving the back of Red’s neck a squeeze and the key one more pointed look before he ran the hand over his face. “We shouldn’t discount her fully.”
“Mad or not, the best way to find out what Kiri means is to go ask her in person. All of us.” It was the first time Kayu had spoken since Raffe ushered them into the dining room and began his strange account, and it came out with conviction. Her dark eyes went from the greenery-choked window to Red. “I can pay for passage to the Rylt.”
“We can’t.” Eammon shook his head, quick and sharp. “What if Neve comes back while we’re gone?”
“I don’t think Neve coming back can happen without me,” Red said gently.
He knew that. Red knew he did. She also knew his reluctance to leave the Wilderwood wasn’t all about the possibility of missing Neve. Nerves tensed his shoulders—she settled her palm on his knee, squeezed.
Lyra shook her head. “The rest of us can pass as normal, but Red and Eammon can’t.” She gestured to the flourish of Red’s Bargainer’s Mark, the ivy in her hair. “How do you plan to explain all that to a ship’s crew?”
“We’ll wear cloaks.” Now that there was some semblance of a plan coming together, some possibility that they could move forward with saving Neve, Red wasn’t about to let it slip through her fingers. “Stay out of sight as much as possible. We can make it work.”
“And I’ll pay the crew very well,” Kayu said. “Well enough that a story about my friends’ strange illnesses won’t be questioned.”
Beside her, Eammon’s lips twisted, his knee bouncing nervously beneath the table. But he said nothing.