Heart of the Forest: The Nymph Keepers, #2

By Elise Volkman

War has come to Ireece and the king of Fethens is dying.

 

Forest (Nym) has heard of a cure in the southern province of Ether that might save him. She'll do whatever it takes to prove herself and work toward her goal of healing without nymph blood. Silic, the Etherian-born captain of the guard, is haunted by his past in his homeland. He'll do anything to keep Forest safe, even if it means putting himself in harm's way again.

 

To the west, at the border of Ireece and Galia, Jay is caught up in the battle while fleeing the consequences of his role in the Butcher's death. As long as his sister Aleah is trapped in Galia, he'll fight to save her. But Aleah is fully prepared to save herself, no matter the cost.

 

As secrets unravel and blood is spilled, nymphs and humans are picking sides. Fethens stands in the middle of it all. Can the crown prince unite his people before the whole kingdom falls apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elise Volkman
• Release date: Oct 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777714413

Book preview

Elise Volkman

Heart of the Forest

Book II of the Nymph Keepers

First published by MME Publishing 2021

Copyright © 2021 by Elise Volkman

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce, or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.

First edition

ISBN: 978-1-7777144-1-3

Cover art by Maja Hampson

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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Publisher Logo

«il vaut mieux prévenir que guérir»

la guérison prend beaucoup plus de temps, mais c’est possible

je t’aime, papa

Contents

I. WHERE LOYALTIES LIE

1. The Captain

2. The Herbalist

3. The Soldier

4. The Spy

5. The Herbalist

6. The Soldier

7. The Herbalist

8. The Soldier

9. The Herbalist

10. The Spy

11. The Captain

12. The Soldier

13. The Herbalist

14. The Soldier

II. WHEN KINGDOMS FALL

15. The Spy

16. The Soldier

17. The Spy

18. The Soldier

19. The Spy

20. The Herbalist

21. The Spy

22. The Herbalist

23. The Captain

24. The Spy

25. The Herbalist

26. The Captain

27. The Soldier

28. The Herbalist

29. The Spy

III. STAKE IN THE GROUND

30. The Herbalist

31. The Spy

32. The Soldier

33. The Herbalist

34. The Soldier

35. The Captain

36. The Herbalist

37. The Spy

38. The Captain

39. The Soldier

40. The Herbalist

41. The Captain

42. The Spy

43. The Herbalist

44. The Soldier

45. The Spy

46. The Captain

47. The Soldier

IV. HILLS TO DIE ON

48. The Spy

49. The Herbalist

50. The Captain

51. The Soldier

52. The Herbalist

53. The Captain

54. The Spy

55. The Herbalist

56. The Captain

57. The Herbalist

58. The Soldier

59. The Captain

60. The Soldier

61. The Herbalist

62. The Soldier

63. The Captain

V. CASUALTIES OF WAR

64. The Herbalist

65. The Soldier

66. The Herbalist

67. The Spy

68. The Herbalist

69. The King Killer

70. The Herbalist

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Elise Volkman

I

Where Loyalties Lie

1

The Captain

Silic stood alone in front of the king’s chambers. The stone hallway gaped before him like an open maw. A cool wash of air made the torches on either side of the doors flicker and splutter, and cast tricks of light and shadows. Any other night, the shadows would have played with his drowsy mind, but tonight he was wide awake.

One of the massive wooden doors to the king’s chambers creaked open. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, but held his ground as a pair of piercing blue eyes peered out at him from the crack in the door. Silic stepped close. Protis, the king’s chief herbalist and physician, blinked at him from between long strands of stringy, grey hair. His face had more lines than usual, as though he was especially weary tonight.

Silic kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. Is it done?

The old nymph took a wheezy breath. It’s into his lungs now. We can’t pretend not to know anymore.

Silic glanced over his shoulder and listened for any sound of life in the hallway. The other guard could be back at any moment. What do we do?

Protis didn’t hesitate. Protocol, Captain. This makes things harder, but not impossible. Send for the crown prince.

Right away? Silic asked.

We can’t leave room for Terryn to doubt us. We have to be more careful than ever. Protis shut the door with a dull, ominous thud and Silic spun back into position just as footsteps rounded the corner. His fellow guard, Dern, saluted. Silic waved him forward and he stopped at attention in front of him.

Captain? Stubble shadowed Dern’s chin and cheeks and his black curls were perpetually unruly. His skin was several shades darker than the brown fighting leathers he wore.

The chief herbalist has asked for the prince, Silic said, his tone neutral.

Dern’s hazel eyes darkened. At this hour?

Go.

Dern saluted again and sprinted down the hall. His speed was loyal, admirable, and entirely pointless. No amount of urgency would save the king now. One more season, maybe two — it was only a matter of time — and then they’d all be free.

2

The Herbalist

Forest stumbled against the wall to her right and checked over her shoulder one more time. She tried to convince herself that she was fine. No one was following her. She was safe.

The cold stones of the palace walls scraped against her numb skin. She sank to her knees on the floor covered in vines. They whispered against her skin as she crushed the three-pointed leaves beneath her. She knew she was safe, but her body didn’t want to believe it.

This is nothing. I’m fine, she thought. The mantra didn’t work for her nearly as well as she had hoped. She gritted her teeth and spat the words through them; I’m fine!

Her breaths came in short gasps. Her toes tingled against the cold stones beneath the vines and leaves. She tucked her stub wrist close to her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body wouldn’t respond to her reassurances. Every part of her was shaking. The stub of her wrist throbbed. She was alone in the hallway, but she couldn’t banish the feeling that she was being chased. Hunted. The Butcher’s face kept forming in the darkness on the backs of her eyelids.

Don’t be ridiculous. He’s dead, she told herself, her tone firm despite her gasps for air. She knew it was true. She had touched his corpse after Jay had killed him and fled. She had clawed the evidence of Hellfire from his skin so that she wouldn’t be accused of what she had tried to do — of murder.

She opened her eyes and slumped against the wall, leaning her head back as she sucked in a desperate breath. The darkness wasn’t so bad, really. It was the cold that got to her and made her body panic. It reminded her of dungeon floors, rusted bars, and clanking chains. The chill seeped through the palace walls and ate at her skin; it nibbled on her bones and sent shivers down the length of her body.

To Darkwater with this. She pulled a glass vial and a small pouch out from the folds of her skirt. She dumped the pouch into her palm and used her teeth to uncork the vial. With her fingertips curled into her palm, she smeared the ingredients into a fiery-red paste. She tipped it all back into her mouth, wiped her lips on the back of her hand, and took a shuddering breath. Warmth from the heat potion blossomed in her throat and all the way down into her chest, fending off the feeling of sickness that came from spending too long in dark, cold places. Forest nymphs weren’t meant to live surrounded by stone. She’d learned that the hard way.

As warmth spread back into her fingers and toes, her shaking lessened. Her chest still felt tight, but she was used to that. Whenever she wandered the halls of the palace for too long, her mind tried to convince her she wasn’t alone. But she knew that as long as she could make it to the garden, she’d be fine.

She pushed herself off the vines and the cool stone of the floor. Leaves tickled the bare soles of her feet. She could feel the gentle green fronds again, instead of numbing cold.

See? I’m fine. She steadied herself against the wall as she walked down the long hallway. At the end, she stepped through the creaky door into the herbalist alcove, and then beyond it into the garden on the other side.

She stepped into morning sunlight and warmth. The light filled her skin and her chest loosened. She could breathe properly again. The shaking in her limbs disappeared altogether. She sucked in several deep breaths and finally fought back the tears that had surfaced when she stepped out of her chambers that morning.

She was fine. This was nothing. Next time, she would make it to the garden without the heat potion. Protis had taught her how to make them when the winter grew long and she couldn’t banish the bone-deep cold from her limbs. He had told her not to rely on the potions too much, but they were the only thing that helped.

She sank her toes into the rich soil of the garden and watched the treeline for any sign of Clover. The girl was usually up long before anyone else. Forest was sure she slept in the garden, though she had yet to find evidence of it. Protis was also usually in the storeroom by this time, but she wasn’t about to waste time searching for him. She had work to do.

Maybe her next herbalist experiment could focus on a cure for fear.

Forest took a small trowel from a wooden bench next to the glass greenhouse walls and slipped between the trees. She stepped carefully over the sprouts beginning to push their way through the thawing ground. It was still too cold for most herbs to grow, but some hardy northern plants had begun to appear. She couldn’t wait for spring. Clover swore that nothing compared the herbalist garden in full bloom.

At the centre of the garden, in a small clearing among the trees, Forest stopped. She knelt down next to a patch of soil, empty except for a thin green stalk that pushed up from the earth. It grew stronger and taller than any of the sprouts that ringed the clearing.

She set down the trowel and ran her fingers along the stem and the long, smooth leaves. The bud at the end of the stem still drooped, a sleeping pod of bright green, but soon it would bloom into a round, vibrant blue flower. The flower, the mountain pearl, was known to only grow in cold climates at high altitude, but Protis had discovered its uses in bringing down fevers and numbing pain. It would be invaluable as a resource for the infirmary. Forest was overseeing the latest growth experiment.

She patted the earth around the stem and checked the soil for excess moisture. The conditions were perfect. The mountain pearl just wasn’t ready for her yet. So, she retrieved her trowel and headed back to the greenhouse. There was little else for her to do outside until spring came.

She left her trowel with the shears and other tools on the bench outside and stepped through the glass doors of the greenhouse. Small oil lamps rested between rows of raised soil beds. The flames glittered off the glass walls. The beds of soil lining the perimeter of the room were full to bursting with green foliage and plants of all colours. More plants grew from rows of tables in the middle of the room.

Clover must have already come through to do the watering. The soil looked damp in places. Forest ducked down to look for the girl’s feet among the table legs; sometimes she liked to hide and surprise whoever happened to walk by. But instead of the small feet and toes of a girl, she spotted a pair of brown leather boots near the door leading back into the palace.

Her heart leapt into her throat. The panic from earlier found her, though it came on more slowly. She was only just starting to shake again when Silic crouched down and met her gaze under the tables. His long blond braid cascaded over his shoulder and trailed along the ground.

He grinned at her. His blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. Are we playing a game? he asked, his voice soft with restrained laughter.

Forest almost fell over in relief. It was only Silic. Who else would it have been? She closed her eyes and smiled, though she knew he would notice her strained expression. Her heart kept racing and her fingers were shaking, but she could breathe.

When she opened her eyes, he was smiling, but his forehead had creased with concern.

I was looking for Clover, Forest said quickly. She likes to jump out at people.

Silic snorted. Little menace.

Forest grinned. She straightened and brushed off her dark green dress before she could watch his expression fade back to concern. Silic weaved between the soil beds and stopped in front of her. He leaned his hip against one of the tables and crossed his arms so that his fighting leathers tightened around his biceps. He still wore his sword, and his face was tight and weary.

Were you up all night again? she asked.

Watching over the king, he said.

Do you need a sleep draft? You should be in bed!

His smile grew at that, and a blush coloured his tanned cheeks. I wanted to see you before I turned in. Are you feeling all right?

I’m fine, I just… She paused. She didn’t know what she wanted to say next. She had been repeating the mantra I’m fine so often that the words came to her before she could think. It’s nothing. It happened again this morning and I panicked and—

Silic stepped toward her until there was barely a foot of space between them. Forest had to tilt her head slightly back to look at his face. Her heart picked up a nervous rhythm just before he placed his hands on her arms. His skin was perfectly warm.

You know you don’t have to hide anything from me, he said, his voice low and gentle. He coaxed her toward him until she pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his voice to a whisper. You’re safe now, but you went through something bloody awful. It will take time to feel like yourself again.

He rested his chin on top of her head. Forest leaned her cheek against his chest and let his words hum through her. She had lost count of how many times he had found her on the ground in the hallway, shaking with terror over the memory of a dead man. And that didn’t take into consideration how many times she’d pulled herself out of her fear without his help.

She leaned into him more heavily and closed her eyes, relishing the way his warmth seeped through her skin like sunlight.

It was stupid. The words spilled out of her quicker than she could control them. "A servant was going the same direction and I thought he was following me until I got to the vines, and I could hardly stand, I was shaking so badly, but we were only going the same direction, and I knew that, but no matter how many times I told myself…"

She trailed off. They had been through this conversation before. No matter how many times she told herself that no one was hunting her — that the Butcher was dead — the terror wouldn’t go away.

Did we … make a mistake? she asked.

What do you mean? Silic rubbed her back in smooth circles. Forest? he added when she didn’t answer.

If I hadn’t killed—

You didn’t. His interruption was gentle, but firm. "You didn’t kill anyone."

I meant to.

As if Silic needed the reminder. They had planned the whole thing together. Jay had only stepped in when she failed to poison the Butcher with Hellfire. Now Jay was on the run because of her, the Butcher was dead, they had started a war, and she was getting away with it.

The master who raised her had tried and tried to make her slaughter animals for their supper. Eventually, he had to give up trying to force her. In that one thing, she had always stood her ground against him. She would not kill just to meet her needs. That had all changed with the Butcher. She hadn’t dealt the killing blow, but she’d tried. If she had been the one to succeed, she wondered how much more it would have changed her. And would that change have been for the better?

He said he wanted to save Galia, she muttered.

He would have said anything to make you do what he wanted, Silic reminded her. "He needed to die, Forest. You were protecting yourself. You did nothing wrong."

But he let me go—

Forest. Silic held her away from his chest, forcing her to look him in the face. They were talking in circles. Again. He was playing with you. He would have hunted you down in the end, no matter how far you ran. There was no other way. He was a nymph killer and you were protecting our people. He cupped her face in his hands and held her in place with a gentle pressure on her jaw. His eyes were the deep blue of the sky before a storm. I’ll remind you as many times as it takes: you did the right thing. You shouldn’t have needed to do it, but you did. And one day, you’ll be repaid with peace in kind. It’s what you’re owed.

He had said as much before. She nodded now as she’d nodded then, trying to believe him. But understanding his reasoning still wasn’t enough to convince her. If she was owed peace for what she had done, why was she suffering this turmoil?

She didn’t want to pester Silic with her doubts any longer. At least for today. She lowered her voice back to a whisper and asked him something else. Have they found Jay yet?

Silic’s jaw tensed and he looked away.

Silic? She had learned over the past few months to notice when he didn’t want to tell her something. But if she asked him outright, he wouldn’t keep anything from her.

Silic shrugged one shoulder and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Supposedly, Terryn knew where Jay was all along.

Forest knew Silic didn’t like Jay, but after what Jay had done to the Butcher, she didn’t expect him to still harbour such harsh feelings.

Is he in Galia? she asked.

Not quite. He got caught up in the fighting at the mountain pass. At the panicked look Forest gave him, Silic added, He’s fine. And right where Terryn wants him. He sighed and softened, just a little. I guess he’s getting what he’s owed, too. In his own way.

The thought made Forest’s gut twist with painful knots. They were just as guilty as Jay was in all of this. Whatever he was going through now, she was sure they deserved the same.

3

The Soldier

Jay kicked a Galian soldier off the top of the wall. The body careened into the lines of men below and he hoped it landed on something sharp.

Screams ricocheted across the frozen plain stretched out below the Ireecian wall. He scratched his jaw under his thick beard full of snow and spat a mouthful of blood to the side. He was so tired. But there was no time to stand still. He ducked, barely avoiding an arrow flying at him from the ground.

He was back on his feet just as quickly. The Galians had brought siege ladders with them this time from their own gate on the other side of the mountain pass. Two more men had scaled the ladder resting against the ramparts next to Jay. He struck one of them down, splitting him from throat to navel with his sword. The other man leapt onto the ramparts and engaged Jay in a dance of blades. Galian soldiers poured over the edge of the wall behind him.

Jay sidestepped a blow and delivered a gash to his opponent’s knee. He dispatched the soldier with another thrust through his side. His body slumped to the stones. Jay sucked in a frantic breath and let it out in a scream — a battle cry for courage. He rushed the swell of Galians swarming the wall. He had no intentions of dying on this wall.

A pair of Ireecian archers further along the ramparts laid down their bows and joined him, swords drawn, as the Galians propped up another ladder. All around them, screams echoed through the darkness and flurries of snow.

Jay! To me!

The bark of a familiar voice drew Jay’s eyes. He drove his sword through an opponent’s chest before finding the source. Ash stood on the edge of the wall beside one of the siege ladders. They fought under the same commander. Ash swept his sword at any Galians brave enough to continue climbing. Another man in Ireecian leathers defended him from the enemies already on the walls. Ash drew his bow and began picking men off the ladder with arrows.

Now, Jay! Ash beckoned him. Jay shoved another Galian into a fight further down the battlements and rushed to Ash’s side. Their section of the wall was clear for the moment.

He made it to Ash in time to see him shoot his last arrow, discard his bow, and grab onto the wooden beam of the ladder that jutted up over the edge of the wall. Jay grabbed onto the other side and they rocked against the ladder together. Its feet were planted deep in the snow below, but the ground was quickly turning to slush under the soldiers’ feet.

Jay almost slipped over the edge when the ladder finally fell. He freed his hands and stumbled back, fingers outstretched to catch it if it came back toward them. But Ash was still clinging to the other side of the ladder with one arm. He wielded a dagger in his free hand and screamed a battle cry into the night.

Then he fell with the weight of the ladder, down onto a crowd of soldiers on the snowy ground.

Jay cried out, but didn’t get the chance to call Ash’s name — to shout at him not to waste his life on a reckless, suicidal risk. Ash was cut down in seconds by the thinning ranks of the Galians on the ground. Jay couldn’t afford to close his eyes to block it out, so he watched as they killed another one of his friends. His wounds throbbed, like he could feel the blows.

Footsteps pounded the battlements and Jay whirled as another Galian soldier charged at him. He blocked the oncoming weapon and cut the man down with a blow to the side of his neck.

All at once, it was over. Jay could barely see the remaining Galian soldiers on the ground through the swirling snow, but they were retreating. The backs of men dressed in brown furs and fighting leathers rushed away toward the Galian gate on the other side of the pass, as they’d done after every attack for the past two months.

Another skirmish, over, and they were left with nothing but more wounds and death. It was getting harder to tell which side held the advantage.

Under the cover of darkness, the Galians left the carnage of their dead at the foot of the walls. Ireecians cut down the stragglers on the battlements, abandoned by their army to die. The wind absorbed the sounds of fighting until they faded. What replaced the clamour and clash of weapons was almost worse. Moans and screams of pain joined the howling wind over the walls and below, on either side of Ireece’s gates. Men of Galia died from their wounds, abandoned on the frozen plain. Men of Ireece succumbed to their injuries inside the gates, but they were no less cold in the end.

Jay slumped to the stones beside Ash’s other defender. The soldier was coughing blood and vomit onto the ground. A deep cut seeped under his left collarbone, but he ignored it, leaned his head back against the lip of the wall, and closed his eyes. He had pale, white skin and an unruly mop of brown hair. Still just a boy with barely enough muscle to lift a sword. Jay watched him, searching his face for a name.

Errol. The boy was called Errol.

Errol coughed up another lungful of blood as Jay watched. He had been cut too deep for a healer’s touch. Out here in the mountains with no nymph blood, he was as good as dead.

Jay took the boy’s hand and squeezed their filthy, blood-covered fingers together. That was some fighting, Errol, he whispered between panting breaths, taking care to use the boy’s name. To tell him that he was seen — he was known. He would not die nameless and alone.

Errol offered something resembling a smile. Ash said he’d garrotte me if I died protecting him. His lips trembled and Jay squeezed his hand tighter. The boy knew he wasn’t going to survive.

You fought well, Jay rasped. He had never faced anything in his own miserable life as bravely as Errol did now.

Errol’s face crumpled and twisted into a grimace of deep pain. He coughed again. Blood dripped down his chin, but he made no move to wipe it away. Jay used the corner of his own sleeve to do it for him.

I’ll do better tomorrow. The boy’s voice was choked with fluid.

Jay didn’t tell him he wouldn’t live to see the sunrise — he didn’t have to. Errol took a great, shuddering breath and released it in a rattle that shook his whole body. His hand went limp in Jay’s grasp, and he didn’t breathe again.

4

The Spy

"I hope you’ll be comfortable here."

Aleah pulled her face out of the pine-scented comforter on her four-poster bed. She rolled onto her back. She’d known since that first day in Rivermouth Keep, over two months ago now, that she was a better liar than Lord Heleron. He didn’t give a damn if she was comfortable or not. All he cared about was whether his negotiations in Ireece went the way he wanted.

Aleah pushed herself off the bed and grabbed a bouquet of dried flowers from beside her. She hurled them at the solid oak doors of her chambers and resumed pacing the room. The sound of the bouquet hitting the ground was dull, and utterly dissatisfying.

Aleah’s arrangements with the Nymph Keeper, Lord Faell, weren’t going at all as she wanted. Since Heleron had her under guard and locked in Rivermouth Keep until further notice, she knew things in Ireece must have gone very wrong — for both the Aleah and Lord Heleron’s plans. She didn’t know where that left her, but she knew she couldn’t stay much longer. Lord Faell had assured her safety, but the longer he took to return to Galia, the less likely it was that he could keep his word. Maybe Jay had ruined everything again. Maybe Forest had foiled the Nymph Keeper’s plans. Faell had promised that wouldn’t happen and his word was supposed to be enough.

Lord Heleron’s current rage proved otherwise.

Aleah stalked to the door of her chambers. She glared at the heeled shoes she’d left lying in the entrance last time she’d bothered to go out. Hostage or not, she wasn’t going to waste away like some common criminal in a cell. She had to have some worth as the ward of King Eldar. Heleron wouldn’t have taken her in exchange for his Nymph Keeper if she wasn’t of any value.

Aleah slipped her feet into the pinching, heeled shoes and stepped in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall next to a changing screen. She smoothed down the front of her yellow dress, pleased with the way it highlighted her figure, and pulled the strands of her long, black hair into semi-tamed tresses.

With a single sharp nod, she pulled one of the chamber doors open. The guards barely glanced back. She stopped in the doorway, tossed her hair over one shoulder, and leaned into the opening between the doors.

What does it take to get some decent company around here? she asked, with what she knew was her most simpering smirk.

The man to her left rolled his eyes. He didn’t even try to hide it. The man on the right cleared his throat and stared straight ahead.

They were going to ignore her? Fine. She could play their game. She pushed the door open a little further and stepped out into the hall. Both men turned to her, looking bored and resigned. She plastered on her most innocent, imploring expression.

"I’ve hardly been outside in weeks, she said. Surely one of you could take me for a little walk in the garden — you do have a garden, don’t you?"

You take her this time, Fry, the one on the left said. He had dull, brown eyes and thick, curly brown hair. Fry’s hair by comparison was almost red, and his skin was pale — pasty — and dotted everywhere with freckles.

Fry clenched his teeth and snarled like a mangy fox. She’s not supposed to leave the suite. He said that every time.

The other guard’s response was still the same. If it’ll get her whining and muttering out of my head for a few minutes, it’s worth it. Take her and I’ll get an update from the captain ‘bout how long it is till we’re rid of her.

Aleah smiled at both of them, though they still hadn’t looked at her. Great! Is it this way? She turned left. Fry snatched her arm and dragged her back the other direction.

He pulled her too quickly for her feet to keep up, and then shoved her a few paces ahead of him. Where I can see ya! he snapped.

Aleah clasped her hands in front of her, making sure her good fingers hid the deformed ones of her left hand from sight. Hiding them was little more than habit now. No one in Galia had commented on her twisted fingers since she’d arrived, but the desire to hide them never left her. She could only guess what they whispered behind her back every time she walked away.

Once this job was done, no one would ever whisper about her like that again. She’d make sure everyone who had would regret it.

Fry barked commands at her as they walked, not bothering with more than a Left! or Right! whenever they reached a turn. The walls were a darker stone than the palace of Fethens, but just as cold. Fry led her to a large room with a domed ceiling, and windows lining one wall. Outside, withering trees and a streak of muddy water lined the horizon. There wasn’t a mountain in sight.

How she longed to return to Ireece.

She hadn’t been in this room before. The other guard had only let her wander through the hallways. The room was filled with a shallow wooden box infested with dry plants and stooped trees. There were worn benches placed around it and the faint sound of birdsong echoed in the rafters. This might once have been a beautiful, welcoming space for the nobles of the Galian court.

Aleah scoffed. "This is what you call a garden? It’s a den of weeds!"

Her voice echoed up into the high ceiling. Fry sulked behind her and didn’t rise to her bait, but another voice drifted from the other side of the overgrown wooden box. We haven’t had much of a garden here since the land started dying and the forests turned to swamps.

Aleah narrowed her eyes and swept around the box to the other side of the room. She found Lord Heleron sitting on one of the benches overlooking the muddy river through the windows. He had a square jaw, thick nose, and brown eyes that snapped to her with an air of arrogant indifference. His greying hair was cropped short. He looked more like a hardened battle commander than any kind of noble or lord.

Pig, she thought. She flashed him her most pleasant smile.

Lord Heleron smiled back as though he knew what she was thinking under her mask of cordiality. Only an Ireecian would know nothing of the state of our land.

He was lecturing her for her ignorance when he was the one who locked her in the keep? She drew her feet together with a click of her heels, stood at her full height, and levelled the man with her most pleasantly murderous glare. "I suppose you’ve just been waiting for me here so you could mock me. After all, no real gentleman