The moment is more than enough. I see the sigil of the Baellilean Kingdom blow in the wind. A camp of men in green, sheathing their swords and awaiting orders.

“It can’t be,” I whisper. “Braizen wouldn’t…”

“He would, and he has.” My mother’s voice echoes across the water. Her hands reach towards me.

“I am glad you have realized your power in full so that I could appear to you and help you see his betrayal. You must end the Brader line and, in doing so, end this war between us. Do not fall victim to their fraud as I did. Be vigilant. Destroy them before they destroy you!”

I pant. My heart races. I realize I may very well have fallen prey to Brader lies. But I also know The Wood. I know it can play tricks on me.

“Mother. Will you answer one more question?”

Her stare is a stern one. “Yes. But be quick about it. I have only a short time left with you! My power is diminishing.”

“What did you used to do every night before I went to sleep?” I am confident that only my mother would know the answer.

She blinks and sends me a warm smile.

“Why, I used to sing to you, my child. Every night before bed. For that is the Hyland way.”

I let out a relieved breath. It is my mother.

“Yes,” I grin weakly. “That’s exactly right.”

The waves start to slap over each other, and her face grows worried.

“Idalia, you must go! Flee The Wood and never return or end the Brader line now.” She is quickly fading, but I hear her final words: “For that is your fate, Idalia.”

There is a large ripple, and she is gone. Again.

I trudge up the rise back to our camp. His men aren’t far away; I must quickly decide whether to flee or kill. My hands answer with a swarm of scalding heat. I won’t be another Hyland victim. I won’t let another Brader win.

To kill, then.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Braizen

A tickle at the base of my throat wakes me. I feel as though I just closed my eyes. Annoyed, I grunt, hoping to scare away whatever insect has landed on me. The tickle morphs into a sharp prick at my jugular, an all too familiar sensation in my line of work. Tensing my muscles, I fling open my eyes.

“Don’t move,” she snarls.

Her heavy, disheveled curls almost cloak her face, but I see enough. Her feet are planted firmly near my head, and she holds one of my arrows stiffly, pressing its tip ever so slightly further into my neck.

“What are you doing, Sparrow?” I ask quietly.

“Moving your traitorous mouth counts too, Baellilean. I won’t warn you a third time.”

My breath hitches as I watch her stare grow malevolent.