She took her foot out of the stirrup and bent forward as he mounted. His arm came around her waist, and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, breathing deep. She smelled the salty tang of sweat on his skin.
“You shouldn’t have come for me.” He leaned heavily against her, letting her bear the weight of him. “But I’m glad you did.”
Emeline glanced to Sable, who met her gaze. The shiftling nodded, wordlessly telling her to take Hawthorne home. Lifting the reins, Emeline nudged Lament back towards the city, and together they moved through the cursed and dying woods.
EXCEPT FOR LAMENT’S LABOREDbreathing and clopping hooves, the ride back was utterly silent, leaving Emeline prey to her thoughts.
The Vile’s words haunted her, circling inside her head.
Whenever the venom in his voice dried up, I remembered.
She remembered her life beyond the woods, Emeline realized. Remembered the things she’d been stolen away from. Remembered the man she truly loved: Tomás Pérez.
Not the Song Mage.
It’s why he locked me in that cellar.
He loved me so much, you see.
It made Emeline want to cry.
The Song Mage had enchanted Rose Lark. He’d used the magic in his voice to coerce her, to make her believe she loved him. And when that magic reached its limit, when he couldn’tkeep her enchanted anymore, he physically restrained her in his cellar—to stop her from leaving.
So she murdered him.
And then she must have cursed the woods.
Had she been a monster when she killed him? Or had the killing turned her into one and the curse did the rest?
If my mother is a monster,Emeline thought,the Song Mage is something worse.A monster masquerading as a gentleman. An accomplished singer, highly esteemed in the Wood King’s court, hiding a disturbing secret beneath his house.
Curse-bringer,Claw had called him. Because he knew. He’dseen.
A terrifying thought occurred to her.
Is this what I’m capable of?
Bile rose in her throat. Because hadn’t she used the power in her voice to coerce? First Claw, then Hawthorne, and tonight: the trees caging him in. She had made them all bend to her will.
What if next time she did something worse?
When they dismounted in the stable behind Hawthorne’s house, Emeline kept her distance. This new knowledge made her feel like a plague. Repulsive and dangerous. She didn’t want Hawthorne around her. Didn’t want him to know what her father had done. What she herself was capable of.
“Let me do this,” she said, starting to unbuckle Lament’s saddle from within her stall. “You’re exhausted. Go inside.”
If he went inside, she could leave the woods without him knowing. If she left tonight, she could keep him safe from the dangers in her voice. He would never have to know about her twisted inheritance.
Leaving had always been the plan, anyway. Once she ensured Pa’s freedom, she’d always intended to escape and return to her real life. It was her search for Rose that interrupted her plan, but that search was complete.
It was the only thing to do.
Leave.
Besides, it was only a matter of time before the curse overtook the King’s City.
“I think I’ll stay,” Hawthorne said, watching her fingers fumble the buckle. The only light came from an oil lamp out in the wider stable, making it difficult to see. “Let me—”
“I’ve got it.”
