Lars had explained that the islanders were like the sirens of old pirate shanties, calling to the villagers late at night in voices too beautiful to resist. But though the song seemed to haunt him, Jaren didn’t think anything could tempt him into that water. Not after Lars had described Maggie’s father’s death in gruesome detail.

Now he watched as the Endlans danced together, their haunting voices their only instrument. They wove through the trees, flashing horns and antlers, feathers and fur, as if they had become creatures of the Forest instead of people.

He straightened as one of the girls detached herself from the group. From here, she was little more than a pale smudge against the trees. She wasn’t wearing horns like some of the other girls, but there was something on her head, whiter even than her hair.

She walked to the edge of the lakeshore, and for a moment Jaren was afraid she might actually walk into the water. But she paused at the edge, bending down to release something she held in her cupped hands.

He rose from the stump and made his own way to the water’s edge. He was directly across the lake from her, and it was easy to pretend that this clear blue water wasn’t full of poison, that the girl on the other shore was just an ordinary girl, like his sisters. She watched the object she’d released float for a few moments before it sank beneath the surface. She stood, smoothing her dress, and looked up.

Too late, Jaren realized he had left the safety of the trees. He was as exposed as the girl; there was no chance she didn’t see him. For a moment, the superstitions of the villagers pricked at his conscience. What if she started to sing? Would he be strong enough to resist?

He shook off the idea almost as fast as it struck him. Even if he wanted to go to Endla—and he truly had no desire to—there was no boat available for him to cross.

Besides, the girl wasn’t singing. She wasn’t doing anything but staring back. He couldn’t make out her features from this distance, and he doubted she could see his. They were just two ageless, faceless people, watching each other over a lake full of poison.

So when the girl raised her hand in a wave, Jaren figured there could be no harm in waving back.

Chapter Seven

Leelo left the festival before Sage. She had hoped after the ceremony she would feel different somehow, altered. That participating in these rites of passage would help her understand why things on Endla had to be this way. But she still felt like the same girl she’d always been. And she still couldn’t accept the fact that Tate was leaving.