2. Niko

2

NIKO

T he world swam in and out of focus like a fish darting beneath the surface of a murky lake. A flash of yellowed grass beside a brown swath of dirt. Of blue sky with white puffs and a bright glare. I reached for my magic only for the darkness to take everything away again, and through it all, words reached me in a blur, barely making sense.

”—you long enough. Why the hell did you?—”

“—made the best time we could. The others fought back and?—”

My confusion grew. Others?

Jumbled memories rose. Roan returning with Gwyneira after the monster he’d hidden inside himself kidnapped her. Ozias revealing he was a monster too. Both of them had been lying to us this entire time, and even after they admitted the truth, nature still whispered to me that something more was off about Roan, something he hadn’t revealed.

Rage bubbled up in me, the feeling weird and echo-y amid the heavy cobwebs gripping my mind. I’d been furious at them for their lies. Furious that Roan was still hiding something too. I’d been so furious, in fact, that I stormed off into the forest like an idiot, only to realize too late that it’d been myself I was mad at as much as anything.

All this time, I’d known Ozias and Roan were hiding something, even if I hadn’t known what. But I never said anything because I trusted they wouldn’t endanger us or our treluria, Gwyneira. Moreover, I’d lashed out at her in my anger.

And that was the worst part of all.

A groan tried to escape my lips, but I couldn’t make a sound. I’d tried to return to her. I’d wanted to tell her how sorry I was for my behavior. But my foolishness had left me vulnerable.

And then the Aneirans had attacked.

“—following you then?”

Someone made a disgusted, negating noise. “We took care of that. They don’t stand a chance of catching up now.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, especially since something about the needling, contemptuous voice who spoke the words seemed familiar, and not in a good way.

More memories swirled past. The Aneirans… they hadn’t been like any others I’d ever encountered. Somehow, they’d been able to hide themselves from my magic. Suppress my powers too, all without ever laying a hand on me.

My heart raced. With effort, I tried to force my eyes fully open.

Brown wood lay directly in front of me, smashed against my cheek and side. When I tried to move, something restrained my arms and legs, biting like little teeth on my flesh and holding me in place. My eyes were the only thing I could move without pain, and even that took effort.

Slats of wood were beside me. The upper curve of a wheel too.

A cart. I was tied up and lying in the back of a cart. I could smell the horses now, even if I couldn’t feel them with my powers. My magic was still gone like it had been after the Aneirans attacked, my affinity to nature as dead to me as a limb gone entirely numb. But maybe if I?—

Beyond the slats, figures swam into view. Humans, judging by their size. Light glinted in sharp flecks that speared my eyes—metal, maybe. Armor?

Soldiers.

Oh no.

Other people were with themtoo. Ones that might’ve been wearing leather and… Wait, was that an axe over the shoulder of the blurry figure nearest to me?

Hope flared. Ozias. Yes, I was furious at him for hiding whatever the hell he was. And sure, I had no idea where that left him in terms of being trustworthy. But right now, I’d take that over being the prisoner of Aneirans.

My vision cleared a bit more as the figure turned, revealing a dark-haired man with a cruel twist to his lips and nothing but ice in his brown eyes. The emblem clasped to his chest shone in the sunlight.

Dread sank over me. Not Ozias. A Huntsman of the queen.

Gods, this wasn’t good.

“—get those winged bitches and fly him, then.” The Huntsman’s words pushed past the thick feeling in my ears. “The queen ordered us to deliver him quickly, not waste time slogging along this?—”

An irritated sound came from near me, cutting the man off. “Dammit, the stoneskin’s awake.”

Gods help me, I knew that needling voice. Something strange had happened when last I heard it, before all of this. Something…

The memory of eyes flashing brilliant orange raced through my mind, and adrenaline followed. That wasn’t really a man at all, but a Voidborn, at least on the inside.

On the wood floor of the cart, I attempted to wriggle away, but I couldn’t move fast enough.

Something jabbed my neck.

“Stubborn bastard,” the Huntsman chuckled. A screeching cry like an enormous bird came in the distance. “He’ll wish he stayed unconscious soon.”

I tried to open my mouth to swear at him every bit as vehemently as Clay might have done, but it was too late.

The world swirled and disappeared again.