Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf 1)

“Aren,” I said aloud, squeezing my eyes shut. “Please, Aren, please. Merciful Empyrea, anyone. Please make this stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.” When I received no answer, I reached for the magic set free when I drew my blood and struck out with it, wielding it like a weapon. “Stop.” It was not an exhortation this time but a command.

Suddenly the whispering in my ears fell silent. The table grew still. The temperature of the air, already frigid, sank lower. When I opened my eyes, the shadows had disappeared and Zan, Nathaniel, and Kate were all staring at me open-mouthed. The candles were smoking; their flames had gone out.

Behind them stood the Harbinger.

She didn’t look like she had before; she seemed more wan, more faded. The hollows in her eyes and beneath the bones of her cheeks were more pronounced, her hair more limp and snarled.

“She’s here,” I said softly. They stared at me; they couldn’t see her.

“Ask her,” Zan said. “Ask her our question. Who will become the first sacrifice of Forest Gate?”

Aren dragged herself closer and closer to me, reaching out those ice-cold fingers, creeping them into my hair, onto my cheek.

“Aren,” I whispered. “Please. Show me the next sacrifice. Show me the maid.”

She bent over and grabbed my face in both of her hands, wrenching it down until it was level with her own. The visions began in a chaotic tumult, rushing past in an incoherent, disorienting succession of flashes. I was a ship unmoored in a savage whirlpool, no place to go but into the depths.

“Tell us,” Zan said earnestly. “What is she showing you? What do you see?”

“A . . . a party, I think. There are lights. Movement . . . dancing. The girl is waiting for someone outside. I see her dress . . . it’s silver. No, white. A man is coming. It’s dark. He’s tall. It’s dark . . . I can’t see his face.” The images were coming faster and faster. “I . . . I don’t know. There’s a hand. Teeth. A knife. The chime of a clock. Fifteen minutes to midnight.” I gasped violently. “Blood on hands. Blood in hair. A crack in an eye. Red. Red. Red.”

“What does she look like? What is her name? Can you give us anything?”

I was wading through a nauseating avalanche of images and sounds. Music, screaming, blazing streaks of light, thousands of voices talking at the same time. I focused on the girl, separating her from the rest of the din. She’s waiting. She hears a sound. She’s turning.

Oh no.

I let out a wrenching cry, and the Harbinger released me, gone in the same instant. It was over.

Kate rose from her seat and began tearing open the curtains, drowning us in light, while Nathaniel furiously rubbed out the chalk triquetra. Zan knelt at my knee, trying to calm me with soft sh sh sh’s. It took several hiccupping breaths before I found my voice again.

“I saw her,” I said weakly. “I know who she is.”

“Who?” Zan asked, searching my face.

“It’s me. I’m the maid.”

22

They were trying not to disturb me, to let me rest, but I could see them silhouetted in the doorway. I could hear their whispers.

“Nothing has changed,” Nathaniel was saying. “In fact, we’re in a stronger position now than we could have possibly hoped for—?Emilie knows what’s going on, she wants to help us, and we don’t have to convince some other poor, scared girl to risk her life. She’s capable, brave. Think of all of the things she’s already had to do—?”

“Everything has changed,” Zan hissed. “Without her, we’ve got nothing.”

Kate asked, “Have you told the king about all this? Surely, if he understood the danger, he’d take action. Postpone the wedding and all these silly parties and traditions, maybe even start evacuations.”

“I tried to tell him,” Zan said, “and he laughed at me.” He ran his hand through his hair. “He made jokes about my intelligence and my ‘girlish inclination toward hysterics.’”

Nathaniel said, “We can’t dismiss the idea that he could be behind it himself . . .”

“He has no reason to bring down the wall; indeed, the King’s Gate seal requires his death. And despite his overfondness for poppy and port, he does not seem in any rush to die. Even if he found a way around that detail, the landholding lords outside the city are growing more influential and powerful each day. If it wasn’t for the protection of the wall, any number of them could simply decide they were tired of his leadership and launch an attempt for the throne. No, it is someone else. Likely someone with a grudge against the king.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Kate said dryly.

“There is one way,” Nathaniel said again. “Emilie could—?”

“No.” Zan’s voice had gone flinty. “Out of the question.”