She leans back in her seat, her hand lifting to touch the base of her throat. Beneath her collar, the lines have spread nearly to her jaw. She doesn’t need to voice her worry—I’ll have my magic so long as I have a familiar.

“You’re not dying, remember? As soon as I break Ronin’s familiar bond, the magic holding the spirits trapped here will be broken, and you should be able to heal.” I hope.

Maybe it’s a fool’s hope, but it’s all I have.

TWENTY-ONE

I would have tried slipping out in the middle of the night, but the guards in sight of my balcony remained diligent. Instead, I slept fitfully, trying to dispel the sensation of claws scratching at my mental walls, insisting on my attention.

Our maid has our things packed before we’re even finished with our breakfast. She’s tucked several spidersilk gowns into our bags in case the clothing up north doesn’t suit our tastes. I hug her goodbye.

As we set out, I worry about how Saengo will fare in the Dead Wood, but at least Ronin is leading us. Although she’s slower than usual and her jaw tenses with pain, she never falters.

We travel in taut awareness of the trees. I walk slightly behind Saengo so I can catch her in case she falls. After a while, the silence becomes oppressive. I glance at Phaut.

“Will you know anyone once we reach the north?” I ask quietly. “Anyone you might want to see again?”

“My friends are not so high up,” she says with a crooked smile. “Rumor has it an emissary of the Nuvali Crown will be there.”

“And the Kazan. Theyen will be there as representative for the Fireborn Queens.”

“Someone from all the major clans will be there, I expect. And the Merchants Guild as well.”

With most land routes between the kingdoms obstructed by the Dead Wood, nearly all imports and exports are conducted by ship. The sea merchants have made an empire off the needs of the countries. They would probably not look kindly on me coming along and ruining their business by clearing out the Dead Wood.

“Isn’t it dangerous to have so many rivalries in one place?” One wrong word, one unforgivable slight, and the Kazan and Nuvali could go to war right there on the grasslands. Or the Evewynians and the Nuvali. Or all three.

“Any time Lord Ronin has need to discuss matters with the kingdoms, they meet in the north. This will not be the first time they’ll be forced to share company, nor will it be the last. Besides, the camps will be well separated, and Lord Ronin will have soldiers patrolling the grasslands.”

“Well,” I say. “I suppose if they all kill one another, we’ll have an excellent seat from which to watch.”

She snorts. “That we will.”