Chapter 30

Thirty

Bran and I struggle against the ivy tied tightly around us, entombing us in a coffin of green. I’m mashed against his chest, the hard ridge of muscle like stone. Everything is hot and buzzing, and even though I can barely see beyond the foliage, my head is still spinning.

I don’t feel so well.

“Can’t you break it?” I ask Bran, but the words jumble together — I’m finding it hard to move at all, even to speak.

The ivy tightens like a coiled snake. My bones practically creak from the pressure.

Bran twists his body, then tries to lift his arms.

“It must be magic,” he says. “I can’t get them to budge.”

“What do we do?”

“If this is Summer magic, you can counteract it.”

“In theory,” I answer. But I have to try.

I reach for the Winter magic that Baspin helped me tap into, but find too much resistance, like I’m swimming against a strong current.

“I think whatever magic the Summer Queen is using is blocking me,” I tell Bran. “It feels like I have the flu.”

“Keep trying.” His hand is at the small of my back and he presses against me, encouraging me.

I close my eyes and dig deep.

The buzzing intensifies. My stomach rolls, like I’m going to throw up.

That would be the worst possible scenario, being tied up like this and covered in puke.

“I can’t,” I tell Bran and then clamp my mouth shut as the urge to vomit races up my throat.

“It’s okay, Mouse.” His voice is a whisper at my ear. “We’ll get out one way or?—”

The leaves overhead shrivel up and turn brown.

“What the—” Bran says as more leaves shrink, turn brittle, then flake off. “Is that you?”

“I don’t think so?” I mutter against him.

The ivy loses its purchase on us and Bran is able to lift his elbows, finally breaking through.

As daylight spills in, a dark figure appears overhead, the face shrouded in the shadows of a drawn hood.

“We don’t have much time,” the figure says.

It’s a woman, voice a little hoarse. It sounds vaguely familiar.

“Come on,” she coaxes, waggling her fingers at us.

Bran sits up, bringing me with him, and then we’re on our feet.

“Who are you?” I ask the figure.

She gives me a shove toward the woods. “Questions later. Running, now.”

We take off.

There are more figures in hooded jackets helping the rest of our group, but we’ve clearly lost far too many numbers of an already too small army.

Bran and I, trailing behind the hooded figure, make our way through the sun dappled woods, then burst out the other side where the river splits the forest in two. I slide down the bank and hit the water with a loud, clumsy splash.

Bran is beside me in an instant, barely splashing at all.

“Okay,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “Now, who are you?”

The girl pulls her hood back and a long red braid spills out.

It’s the Autumn Court assassin. The one who tried killing me with an arrow.

“What the fuck?” I say. “What are you doing here?”

Bran steps between us. He wasn’t there when she attempted to kill me, but he doesn’t need to ask questions.

The river quickly fills with our group and several other members of the Autumn Court. They’re all wearing the same jackets with delicate leaves embroidered in gold around the sleeves.

No one has tried to kill us yet. So I guess that’s a good sign?

“What am I doing here?” the girl asks. “Saving your ass.”

“You tried to assassinate me,” I point out.

The line of Bran’s shoulders goes rigid. “You what ?” There is a telling growl in his voice.

The girl’s hand inches toward the dagger strapped to her hip. “Can a girl not change her mind?”

Behind her, Arion approaches us. His hand is already on the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheathe it. “Lethea,” he calls. “Explain yourself.”

“Well, if you must know, I came to the Summer Court upon the princess’s return without the authority of the Autumn Court. My sister and I have differing opinions on the Winter Court.” Lethea turns to me. Her eyes are somehow the color of autumn — a shifting brown and red and orange depending on the lighting. “No offense, but your family and mine have a long history of hating one another and you did try to kill us once.”

“Well, I’m a little offended,” I answer. “You don’t even know me and you’re making assumptions based on people I didn’t even know.”

Bran glances at me over the broad line of his shoulder. The look he gives me says he’s pleased with my sass. Just as long as it’s not aimed at him.

His look emboldens me, and I step around him, squaring off with Lethea.

“If I acted as recklessly as you did, I’d be killing you right now for the same reasons. And would I be justified in that?”

The line of her mouth goes thin as she grits her teeth. “No,” she finally answers. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Then can we agree not to try to kill one another in the future based solely off of what we know of our family?” I extend my hand.

Some of the buzzing and the churning of my gut has lessened.

Lethea glances at my hand, considering.

She says, “We can agree on that.”

We shake.

Her hand is calloused and cracked. She’s apparently not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Arion comes up alongside us, his grip on his sword easing off. “Now tell us why you’re here.”

“The queen of the Autumn Court would like to ally with the Winter Court.”

My mouth drops open. I can’t help it. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Lethea crosses her arms over her chest. “The Autumn Queen would like you to know that she recognizes the need for the balance of power. And the Summer Queen clearly does not want balance. She wants it all for herself. We’re here to help stop her.”

“And to put the past behind us?” I add.

Lethea nods. “A fresh start for all four courts. And hopefully the healing of the realm.”

“So what did you have in mind?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” She smiles at me, then turns to the woods on the opposite side of the river and lets out a shrill whistle.

The ground trembles. Once. Twice. Three times. I recognize the pattern as footsteps, but whatever is behind it must be massive.

The trees rattle, then part, finally revealing a V formation of six creatures I’ve never seen before.

“Holy shit,” I breathe out.

“Autumn beasts?” Arion says unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

Each beast is the size of an adult elephant, but they look more like a lion with a ruff of amber hair around a face that reminds me of a fox.

On the backs of each beast is another member of the Autumn Court holding the leather reins attached to a headpiece that fits snuggly against the animals’ forehead.

One of them, the beast at the forefront, runs its tongue over its lips, revealing sharp incisors.

Lethea glances back at me. “You have all of us, and six Autumn beasts at your disposal. All we ask is that once you’re reinstated on the Winter Throne, you sign a treaty, one that will be signed by all four courts declaring our dedication to the balance of power and season.”

Over Lethea’s shoulder, I meet my brother’s eyes. He should be part of this just as much as I am. After all, if the plan goes accordingly, he’ll be signing that treaty too.

Arion nods at me.

To Lethea, I say, “I agree to this condition.”

“Starting fresh then,” she repeats. “Shall we get started?”

“I’d love nothing better. I hope your beasts are starving.”

She grins at me. “They could always go for a bite.”