Prologue

PROLOGUE

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

The village of Thirbridge might well have been at the end of the earth.

It lay deep in the Forest of Cellandre, in the furthest corner of the kingdom, the loneliest and most isolated place in the world. Elodie had run as far as she could go. Any further and she would be in enemy territory in more ways than one. But no one would look for her here.

She dismounted and tied her horse to the solitary hitching post outside the inn. The child was still bundled against her side under her cloak. Asleep now, thank the light.

Every bone in Elodie's body ached. She just wanted to fall to the ground and sleep herself, right then and there. But she couldn't.

She had to keep going. To find somewhere safe.

She had been following the lines in the earth, those places of old magic, and they had brought her here. They only skirted the edge of the village and then swirled back into the depths of the forest. In the morning, she knew, she would follow them again.

But for tonight, just tonight, she would have a meal, and food, and maybe a bath. Oh, how she longed for a bath, steaming hot, with the luxurious handmade soaps and precious oils she had left far away in Asteroth. The thought strayed to what else she had left behind and she recoiled from memories.

The child stirred. A child already, not the tiny baby she had been when they left. She had his eyes, his hair… She was the image of him…

Elodie winced and hushed the girl, stroking her long black tresses until she settled again.

‘Storm's coming,' said the innkeeper. ‘I warrant you'll be staying longer than a night.'

Elodie nodded, staring at the darkening sky to the south through the open door. ‘Maybe.'

‘What's your business?'

‘I'm… I'm a healer.' She needed to learn not to hesitate, she chided herself inwardly.

‘You're young for a healer,' he commented, unaware, or uncaring, of how rude that sounded. ‘And the babe's father?'

So he'd seen her there, snuggled in against Elodie's side, huge dark eyes blinking at this strange world. Well, how could he miss her? She was a beautiful child.

‘He's dead.' That lie came far too easily. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. There was no father to come after them now and anyone who did… well, she would just have to take care of that if and when it happened. ‘I need somewhere to stay, somewhere to look after her.'

‘In Thirbridge?' He sounded startled. She wasn't sure she blamed him. Clearly, no one came here willingly.

‘Not… not right in the village. Nearby, maybe. But somewhere quiet, private. I can help your people—healing, midwifery and… and other things—but I need solitude and access to the forest for supplies.'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh aye, that kind of healer, are you?'

Witchkind . The word was left unspoken between them. Elodie met his gaze levelly, unwavering. Let him think what he wanted. Better that they were a little afraid of her than anything else.

‘Do you know of a suitable place?' she asked.

The innkeeper nodded slowly. ‘I know somewhere. Not far, but far enough. In the forest itself. But there's a darkwood.'

Elodie sighed. Of course there was. In a place as thoroughly riddled with veins of old magic as Cellandre, there was always a darkwood. She would take care of that.

This, then, was where she was meant to be.

The child stirred again, her bottom lip wobbling. Inwardly, Elodie cursed to herself. She was not a natural mother.

‘She's hungry,' she told the innkeeper. ‘I'll need warm milk for her.'

‘Go to the parlour. I'll have something sent in for you too. Does your horse want stabling?'

Elodie almost laughed. Her horse. ‘He wants selling,' she replied. ‘I've no more use for him.'

The tower in the forest was desolate and lonely. From a distance it looked like it might topple over in a strong breeze, but it was solidly built and once cleaned it would serve.

After she had seen to a broken limb, checked up on a very pregnant baker's wife and two children with fevers, she had already won the trust of these people. Some of them even tried to play with the child while Elodie worked, although never for long. She was too strange, with her endless dark eyes and the way her hair seemed to move of its own volition sometimes, like smoke.

That very first night, once she had shooed them all safely away, the storm came. Just as she had known it would. She locked the doors, shuttered the windows and prepared herself.

And then she noticed the child was missing.

Cursing, she tore outside into the darkness. Wind lashed the rain against her face, soaking her in seconds, plastering her golden hair against her head. Overhead, the canopy of the forest raged like the ocean but she paid it no heed. All that mattered was the child, protecting her, keeping her away from the shadows.

Elodie conjured a ball of witchfire in her hand and ran through the trees. She could feel the darkness rising around her, trying to smother the light. She pushed on, pouring more and more of her energy into keeping the flames alive, pushing back the shadows.

‘Wren?' she screamed. Panic tightened her chest, crushing her lungs. ‘Wren!'

And then she saw her. Standing on the edge of a gully that seemed awash with shadow kin. A powerful place, which should have been shining with old magic but instead was a feeding ground for darkness. It had called them here, the magic, and the shadow kin had turned it into a darkwood. A place where they could thrive and live on magic stolen from the land.

By the Aurum, it was so close, like it had been waiting for them.

Wren stood on her thin little legs, too pale in the darkness, her arms stretched wide as if inviting the darkwood in. Her hair had grown long and wild, winding around her as if it was ink in water, moving with a will of its own.

‘Wren!' Elodie shouted. ‘No!'

Wren looked back at her, face pale, dark eyes wide. She looked afraid. So afraid. She didn't understand what was happening. How could she? Elodie hadn't explained because it had never occurred to her that Wren would understand. But she did. That much was clear.

The shadow kin were singing to her, their sibilant whispers brushing against Elodie's skin and making it shiver. How much more powerful must they be to Wren, weaving their dark magic around her, entangling her.

She was just a child.

Elodie drew the knife from her belt, Aurum-blessed steel, the finest in the kingdom.

She was just a child, a little girl. But one with magic inside her, so much magic. And if she ever succumbed to the call of the darkness, if the Nox ever claimed her…

The Nox was broken and shattered, but that didn't mean its remnants didn't still have power. And if it ever realised what Wren could offer…

There was only one way. Elodie knew that now. She should have done it straight away in the sight of the Aurum, back in the Sacrum right then and there when she broke the Nox's power and scattered it, before she ever had a chance to grow attached.

It was a kindness.

Gritting her teeth, Elodie advanced. The wind tried to drive her back, the rain tried to blind her. Thunder rolled overhead and moments later lightning lit up the sky.

Wren was watching her, terrified but not moving one way or the other. The creatures ensnared her, knotting themselves in her hair, teeth and claws and voices so sweet. She wasn't even trying to fight them.

‘What did I say?' Elodie snarled at her, rage and betrayal and everything in between coursing through her. The little girl covered her face with her hands and sobbed, but Elodie couldn't let that sway her. ‘What did I clearly say?'

She hurled the witchfire at the shadow kin, scattering them. At the same instant, she seized Wren's hair, wrapping it around her fist and dragging the girl to her knees. Wren screamed in terror and Elodie hated herself. But she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The knife flashed with the burst of lightning overhead, severing the dark strands close to the scalp.

It was like dropping a sluice gate in a dam. The flow of power stopped. Wren sobbed loudly, audible now as the raging wind died away and the storm subsided to nothing.

In Elodie's hand, the lengths of black hair turned to smoke and drifted away.

And with that, the shadow kin were gone.

Carefully, Elodie gathered Wren in her arms, gently now, soothing her. The little girl shook as if she might fall to pieces, tears covering her face.

‘Reach for the light,' Wren whimpered over and over again. She was answering, Elodie realised, the first words she had ever spoken.

Elodie cradled her close, rocking her to silence, sitting there in the moonlight, in the now silent but watchful forest. She stroked Wren's shorn head, the ragged bits of hair and bare scalp. By the light, she'd have to be more careful, keep her hair short, keep her power in check. It was the only way. Elodie could feel the darkwood, still there all around them, coiled, wary and hungry, full of resentment.

Waiting. Just waiting for Wren.

Let it try , she thought fiercely. Let it try to take her child away.