The serpent! Panic gripped her, and she raised herself up onto her elbows. Her mouth gaped in shock. The body of the snake lay at her feet like a discarded ribbon, crumpled and lifeless, the shine gone from its black-gem eyes. I did that?

Lena’s gaze returned to the stranger. He was dressed entirely in gray: trews, tunic, and cloak, pinned at his neck with a sickle-moon brooch in silver. “I had to pull the beast off you,” he said. “Whatever spell you cast, it worked in the nick of time.”

Spell?

Her throat was tightening in shock.

How did I …?

She gulped wildly at the water, half to rid herself of the bitter taste and half as a kind of distraction from her confusion, but coughed it up uncontrollably.

“Steady now. Sip it slowly.” His warm hand on her shoulder. She flinched. She never touched anyone who wasn’t Vigo, or dead—and nobody ever touched her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently, drawing away his hand.

She sipped slowly. When she had recovered, she spoke in a hoarse croak. “Who are you?”

“My name is Emris Lochlade. I’m the Third Huntsman in the temple of Faul—though I don’t suppose that means much to you. You’re from Duke’s Forest, aren’t you?” Not waiting for her to reply, he asked, “What’s your name?”

Emris. Emris. Lena’s mind raced—and she remembered: the man the masked lady said she would encounter. She’d told her to say … but Lena’s thoughts and memories scrambled. Focus. She swigged at the water, scrunching up her face. “I’m Lena. I…” She couldn’t remember … The inside of her mouth was itching. “What is this taste?”

“Venomsbane, we call it—an herbal mixture known to cleanse the blood of most natural poisons.” He grinned, his three silvery scars twisting. “Unfortunately, it tastes like poison itself—but the sensation will pass soon enough. Now, Lena, do you think you can stand up?”

She raised herself a little, her head spinning. She was facing into the forest, the green shadows between the trees darkening into the distance. The fog slunk around the roots farther in like a cat prowling for prey.

Emris offered her a hand. She gazed at it, bewildered, and stood up on her own.

“What’s a mage doing in Duke’s Forest?” he asked. “Or, I suppose, out of it. I thought there were no mages in Duke’s Forest. And besides, isn’t there a quarantine?”

“I’m not a mage,” Lena said instinctively. She was suddenly conscious of the birthmark on her face. She started to pull up her cowl.

“Stop that.” He touched her wrist lightly, a tension in his voice close to anger. She nearly flinched again at his touch but stopped herself. It was nice, in fact, the slight warmth of his fingers against her skin.