Page 42 of The Light Between Worlds

And then, with a fearsome clash of his twin swords against the Tarsin Emperor’s javelin, Hector reaches the chariot. There’s a moment of uncertainty when I’m not sure who will win the day, but fear is already wild in the Emperor’s fiery eyes.

Hector’s voice rings out across the clearing. “Does the Empire hear us now?”

The Tarsin Emperor raises a hand wreathed in flame but Hector’s swords flash faster. The blades bite clean, blood spurts forth and smokes, and the Ruler of the Known World falls headless onto our Woodlands soil.

“Evelyn!” Tom’s voice drifts across the dales. “Ev, where’ve you gone? You’ve got to come out and tell me what happened.”

The army is in a rout. They scatter and flee southward, panicked and never daring to look back. Still something nags at me, an itching worry that won’t subside. Cervus pulls away and moves to where Hector and his followers have drawn back, letting the Tarsin army flee. But I turn aside and hurry to the hospital tent, with fear as tight around my throat as any tree spirit’s grip.

Through all the chaos of battle, I never caught a glimpse of the Emperor’s son. I never saw Venndarien Tarsin, with his hungry, covetous eyes.

“Come on, Ev.” Tom’s trying not to sound exasperated now, but I’ve heard that tone before. He’s giving up on me. Tom’s starting to wonder if I’m really worth the bother, and it’s about time he realized the truth.

The long hospital tent is a shambles, cots overturned, crockeryshattered, filthy bandages strewn about.

“Philippa?” I call out, my voice fraying at the edges. “Philippa, answer me!”

Nothing.

“Phil!”

A faint noise catches my attention from behind the curtain at the back of the tent where the dying are kept. I run for it, reaching for the dagger at my belt that I’ve never used, but that Hector gave me to carry.

And there behind the curtain is Venndarien Tarsin, with a knife to my sister’s side and one of his dead-white hands pressed to her perfect mouth.

“I will kill her,” he hisses. “I will gut her, little fawn, if you won’t let me pass.”

Mutely, I drop my dagger and step aside.

Venndarien pushes past me and out into the open center aisle of the hospital tent, shoving Philippa along in front of him. Her dark eyes are resigned and lifeless. Philippa might have held on to hope for me, but I don’t think she ever hoped for herself.

“Evelyn...” Tom’s voice fades away as he carries on down the lane. I’m left alone on the winter dales, with only my memories for company.

It’s not as if I mind. I’ve spent years with these particular ghosts.

Before Venndarien can take three steps, I pull another knife from its hidden sheath in my sleeve.

“If you plan to kill a man,” Hector said, long ago in winter, “always carry more than one blade.”

I do what he taught me to do, which is to silence the frail and keening parts of me. In their absence, I am no longer a minister to the deadbut death itself, striding forward on soundless feet. I jerk Venndarien’s head back with one sure hand while the other draws my knife blade hard and clean across the Tarsin heir’s throat.

Blood pours warm across my certain hands even as my uncertain heart shatters. Philippa whirls and blood spatters her, too. Venndarien Tarsin falls to his knees and then collapses, and the baleful fire behind his eyes burns out.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I whisper as Philippa wraps her arms around me and presses my face to her shoulder. “I kept my word, but don’t tell anyone what I’ve done.”

My vicious hands are still warm and slick, and I will never be able to wash the blood from them.

Night’s fallen by the time I slip into the Harpers’ warm and inviting kitchen. They’re all seated around the table and turn to look when I come in. Tom’s face is a confusion of relief and unhappiness.

“I’m going back to school tomorrow,” I tell him.

“There’s no need for that, love,” Mrs. Harper says, though she looks troubled. “You can stay on with us as long as you like.”

“No.” Nothing will change my mind now. “I have to go.”

30

I PUT ON A BRAVE FACE FOR ANNIE AND TOM. WHEN HEcomes to my bedroom door the next morning, I’m calm and collected with my bags packed and my school clothes on. I smile at him with my mouth, if not my eyes, and he smiles back, though worry taints the expression. Down in the kitchen I hug Meg and Mrs. Harper, who offer invitations to come back anytime, please do, don’t be a stranger, though I’m not sure if they’re sincere. Mr. Harper is out in the fields already, and I hug Annie last, holding her to me as if I could freeze her in time with the pressure of my arms. She slips a paper bag of toffees into my pocket and kisses my cheek, her face open and innocent.