Every so often, some thief or drunk farmhand gets it into their head to brave the woods. But the trees have a will of their own, and no one survives them without the protection of the Dead Wood’s ruler, Ronin the Spider King. Rarely, someone foolish enough to enter the woods comes clawing their way back out, broken, hollow, and barely human, only to seize anyone close enough to offer help and drag them into the darkness with them. Soldiers who’ve witnessed what the trees do to their victims are never the same again. At least, that’s the rumor.

I’ve seen my share of dangers since becoming Kendara’s pupil, but she’s never sent me near the Dead Wood. I can only assume the rumors are true.

“What are you thinking about? You’ve a look on your face,” Saengo says, nibbling primly at her rice ball. I make a quick gesture, like I’m about to shove her food into her face, and she dodges, snickering.

“What look?” I say as she shifts her food to the hand farthest from me.

“Like you’re imagining something unpleasant.”

“I was thinking about how Officit Boldis would probably assign me to the eastern border.”

She groans. “If I were a vengeful person, I’d ask my father to have him removed.”

“Well, I am a vengeful person, so you could do it for me?”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “If you’re assigned to the east, maybe you’ll get to meet Ronin.”

She sounds intrigued. As the enforcer of the peace between the three kingdoms of Thiy, Ronin’s power is immense. That would intimidate most people, but not Saengo, heir to an ancient Evewynian House. I, on the other hand, have no desire to meet the Spider King. If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s more people to lower my head and play subservient to.

Anyway, I prefer to believe that the real reason I haven’t received my posting yet is because my place is to remain in Vos Talwyn with Kendara as her official apprentice.

I hold Yandor’s reigns with one hand and stuff the other into my pocket. My fingers touch the money I’d lifted from Jonyah. I pull it out.

“What is that?” Saengo asks.

“Jonyah’s. I was being petty.” I don’t care for his money—I just wanted to retaliate somehow.

But when I glance down at my hand, I’m surprised to see crumpled parchment instead. I frown. My gaze finds the back of Jonyah’s head at the front of our party as I smooth out the crinkled note.

My feet stutter at the neat, precise handwriting. Only Yandor’s forward momentum keeps my legs moving because my mind has gone blank with confusion. Why in the names of the Sisters would Jonyah have a letter from Kendara?