They passed Fae working the field and a few travelers on the road with laden-down carts. Cillian held tight to the leash, and Bran didn’t fight him on it. The sun overhead heated the air to a summer warmth that had Bran sweating by the time they reached the forest, the tree line like the other they’d run through after leaving the wyrding behind—filled with massive trees, the flowers and plants shaped differently from the ones back home. The shade beneath the branches was a little cooler, sunlight dappling the ground where they walked.
Niamh hopped onto a large root, pressing a hand to the massive tree trunk to steady herself. She peered deeper into the forest before gesturing at one of her crew. She gave an order that had the other Fae bounding forward, disappearing between the trees.
“Where are they going?” Cillian asked.
“To scout ahead. The forest is getting colder when it shouldn’t be,” Niamh said.
“It’shot,” Bran muttered.
She cast him a withering glance. “The wyrding is always cold. Tev knows the signs better than even I do. He was a border guard before he joined my crew.”
“You said we had to follow the lights,” Cillian said.
“Yes, but the lights will not harm us.”
“No, they just harm mortals,” Bran said sharply, thinking of how the horror of them had attacked the Shoppe.
“You witches raised the wyrding first.” Her gaze swept up and down him, lip curling slightly. “We are here by the grace of my prince for your sister. So you will find her.”
He hooked a thumb around the chain of his leash, the end still clutched in Cillian’s hand. “I want this off.”
“No.” Niamh turned on her heel and strode away, the handful of her crew with them following after her. Bran ground his teeth but was startled out of his anger by Cillian stepping close, tucking the end of the leash into Bran’s pocket like he had the right to be so close. Bran’sbreath strangled itself in his throat, gaze snapping up to meet Cillian’s.
“Let’s find Aisling,” Cillian murmured.
They pushed on, the forest cooler than the road had been, but not by much. Sweat dried on his skin, his shirt unsticking itself from his back. Bran stayed close to Cillian as they followed Niamh. What might have been an hour later, Tev returned, darting between trees on sure feet. He flung himself over a root and landed lightly beside Niamh, speaking in a low voice that Bran could barely make out, not that he understood a word the Fae said. Niamh nodded before looking over her shoulder at them. “The forest is dead up ahead. Stay close.”
Bran tensed at her words. He knew what to expect now, but it was still a shock when the trees started to lose their color the deeper they went, brown leaves carpeting the dirt where nothing else grew. Niamh’s crew didn’t spread out as much, staying close with weapons near at hand. Bran’s shoulders knotted with tension as he walked beside Cillian, Jupiter flying from tree branch to tree branch ahead of them, a silent, shadowy companion.
Fog crept through the air, blocking out the sunlight. The temperature plummeted, and Bran didn’t know he could miss the summer heat so much, but he did. He stepped closer to Cillian, fingers flexing, the power of Nature a witchmark away. The buzz of living things in the forest faded until their breathing and the crunch of footsteps on brittle leaves was the only sound around them.
Niamh seemed to know where she was going, leading them through spindly, dead trees that offered nowhere to hide. The smell of rot lingered in the air, and the lifeless trees they passed sometimes dripped with that sticky black sap. He didn’t know how long they’d been walking before Niamh pulled up short, gesturing in a way that had her crew scattering for what limited cover the trees could provide. Bran and Cillian belatedly followed suit, ducking together behind a dead tree.
Bran found himself pressed up against decaying bark by Cillian, that black sap seeping into the back of his shirt. Cillian was warm in front of him, bracketing him in, and Bran tried not to curl into that warmth. To distract himself from the way Cillian’s close proximity made his heart beat faster, he closed his eyes and reached for his bond with Jupiter so hecould stare through his familiar’s eyes. She was perched high above them, motionless in the cold wind. Her vision wasn’t like his, but it was impossible to miss the monster stalking through the woods, its path taking it right to them.
Niamh hadn’t bothered to hide, standing alone in the dirt, arms loose at her sides and hands empty. But he’d seen her magic on the ship when the Wild Hunt had carried them to her. Bran knew what devastation she could cause and knew the monster that approached wouldn’t survive if Niamh didn’t want it to.
Through Jupiter’s eyes, Bran watched the monster halt between two trees, wishing he could forget what it looked like—all exposed bone jutting through rotten flesh along its spine, its legs ending in cloven hooves while its arms ended in three-fingered hands. Its head had eyes, but its mouth was located in its chest, the vertical slit there prying apart and revealing a fanged maw that screeched a terrible sound that made the hair on the back of Bran’s neck stand on end.
Niamh spoke, and the monster screeched again before it turned around and staggered off. Niamh stayed put, not moving, her eyes on its departure. Jupiter stared at it until she could no longer see through the fog, and Bran slipped free of his familiar’s eyes.
Niamh appeared around their tree, eyeing them. Cillian didn’t pull away from where he had Bran pressed against the tree, and Bran was acutely aware of the lack of space between their bodies. “The shadow path is ahead. We must follow the light to it. Keep your witch leashed.”
“Those things tried to kill me before,” Bran hissed.
“If you are leashed by a Fae, the lights will not attack you here.”
Bran highly doubted that, but it didn’t stop Cillian from stepping back to give Bran room to turn around. Cillian dug the end of the leash out from Bran’s pocket, fingers warm through the cloth against his thigh. He sucked in a breath, gaze snapping up to Cillian’s face. The other man stared back, mouth pressed into a grim line, his hair straggling free of the ponytail around his pointed ears, cavalier hat still firmly on his head. “Sorry about this.”
“Let’s go,” Bran muttered. It was humiliating, being led around on a leash, but there was a part of him that didn’t mind when Cillian did it, and Bran refused to think about why.
The last thing he wanted to do was follow a light into the dark of the wyrding, but that was what Bran and the others did. Niamh led the way, tracking the monster’s direction with a skill he’d appreciate if it wasn’t a nightmare they were following.
He never saw it after that first appearance. Still, it led them to a shadow path that Bran would’ve walked right on by if Niamh hadn’t stopped. No mound this time, only a cracked-open tree that must have been hit with lightning once upon a time. It still stood but was hollowed out from some long-ago fire. It reminded him of the tree at the foot of the mound in the forest back home.
“Whatever you do, don’t stop walking,” Niamh said, ducking into the crack in the tree. The shadows swallowed her whole, and her crew didn’t hesitate to follow her, even when Bran wanted to.
He raised his arm, and Jupiter flew to him, alighting on his forearm. He let her hop to his shoulders, feathers brushing against his ear and cheek as she found her balance. Then he followed Cillian into that dark space, unsurprised to find it led somewhere else.
