Some of those long trunks had been stacked to form a set of makeshift walls around two central groups of tents. Others had been chopped up to build campfires that sent trails of hot smoke high into the sky. Each fire sat between another cluster of the smaller cloth tents that lined the enlarged clearing, with tall wolf or bear flags planted by each one.

Even more trees had been slaughtered beyond the tents, then left carelessly abandoned with broken nests and shattered eggs lying on the ground nearby.

If she’d had Mother’s powers, Cordelia would have attacked. But swifts couldn’t rain down magical vengeance upon anyone. The only thing Cordelia could ever control with magic was her own shape—and even now, her tiny, flying body was driven by an irresistible need to explore and understand everything.

So she bottled up her outrage and dived, silent and graceful, over the rippling moat, where snakes bobbed watchfully and the water was flecked to swift-sight with dots of hours-old blood. It beckoned to her—come, sip on the wing!—but she fought the instinct and only nabbed an insect in midair.

Stashing it in the back of her throat, she landed on the ground beyond the moat and hopped awkwardly forward on her three-clawed feet toward the closest fire and the big men who surrounded it. They sat with their massive backs to her, rumbling to each other in words she wasn’t close enough to understand.

Slowly, quietly …

Cordelia forced herself to stop and peck pointlessly at the ground every few moments, just in case anyone was watching, while all of the other birds hid in the trees, out of sight.

The whole forest felt as if it were holding its breath.

Closer … closer … almost there …

That was when everything went wrong.

Today’s attack really had made Connall impossible.

He slammed open the front door and portcullis of their smoke-enveloped castle. Black and purple shadows swirled wrathfully around his lanky figure, which stood utterly alone in defiance of all of Mother’s orders.

“Cordy! Get back here, now!” he bellowed as soldiers leaped to their feet all along the banks of the moat.

He made a quick, twisting gesture with one hand. A tunnel of tightly funneled air formed before him, visible to birds but not to humans. It offered a safe passage across the water, perfectly shaped for one small brown swift to fly through, protected from arrows or any other attacks … just as Cordelia had been forced back to safety at least a hundred times before by his long arms and overprotective spells.

Why did he always have to interfere with her adventures? Snarling inwardly, Cordelia hopped away as his searching gaze swept the clearing. The men by the fires were all shouting loudly. She would hide behind their big bodies until he gave up, and then—