Red put a warning hand on Eammon’s tense arm. The shape of his anxiety was easy to map. Another thing they’d murmured of at night, when there was no space between them and words came easily—what might happen if those who’d lived for so long in fear of the Wolf in the Wilderwood realized he was vulnerable. Pitchforks and pyres, centuries of terror and anger breaking against the boundaries of a forest that would no longer keep them out.
“I know what’s happening.” Kayu dropped her hand, turned to face them. “I know Queen Neverah has gone to the Shadowlands. And I know you’re looking for a way to bring her back.”
Red turned incredulous eyes to Raffe. “What part of we should keep this quiet meant bring Niohni royalty to the Keep to you?”
Circles stood out under his dark eyes, like sleep had been a hard thing to come by. “She figured it out, Red. It seemed more prudent to keep her close. Where we can keep an eye on her.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I am cursed to be surrounded by the bookish and prying.”
“To his credit, Raffe was doing an excellent job keeping things under wraps,” Kayu said, gesturing gracefully to the man in question. “But I came to Valleyda to study, so study I did. It wasn’t hard to see that something was off, once I started paying attention.” She dropped her hand, shrugged. “And I had taken more than a passing interest in the whole Valleydan Second Daughter mess before I came. It’s a fascinating custom, if you can get over how awful it is.”
Red exchanged a quick look with Eammon. The Wolf’s brows were low, his mouth a flat line. Clearly, the other woman’s explanation didn’t convince him.
But Red was inclined to believe her. It didn’t seem odd that a neglected princess from a faraway land might find herself taken with the fairy tale that Valleyda became every time a Second Daughter was born.
Still, it wasn’t ideal. With a sigh, Red pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, a nervous tic she’d picked up from Eammon. “What do you want, Kayu? We don’t have money—”
“Everyone thinks I want money.” Kayu sounded nearly disgusted, rolling dark eyes. She left the tapestry, going instead to the vine laced along the wall, studded in its flickerless, forest-magic-made flames. “I have quite enough of my own, thank you. And I’m planning on parting with a significant portion of it to help you find your sister.”
Trepidation drew up every line of Eammon’s form, but the dip of his head and the flicker of his eyes toward Red said this was her call. He’d go along with whatever she wanted.
Red blew out a deep breath. She didn’t know how money would play into finding Neve, but nothing else they’d done had gotten them any closer. Desperate was a weak word for the emotions snared in her branch-laden chest.
And Kayu knew. Knew Neve was gone, knew Red and Eammon had become the Wilderwood, knew the sacrifice of Second Daughters was a thing of the past. Dangerous knowledge, all of it. Raffe was right, it’d be prudent to keep her close.
She nodded to Eammon. Kayu could stay.
Kayu studiously peered at the flames on the wall through the whole exchange, knowingly giving them time to decide. She must’ve sensed when an agreement was reached—a breath after Eammon’s nod, she gestured to the vine. “This is interesting. Forest magic?” She looked over her shoulder, pointer finger wavering between Red and Eammon. “Raffe told me you two have… something… going on with the Wilderwood.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Eammon muttered.
Raffe sighed. “If you have chairs in this ruin, you’d better find them,” he said as he headed toward the sunken dining room to the right of the door. “I have a lot to tell you. You’ll want to sit down.”
“So Kiri knows what the Heart Tree is?”
Dregs of long-cold tea sat in chipped mugs before them. Red’s arms were crossed on the table, her neck bent over to stare at the letter written in Kiri’s swirling script. Eammon’s hand rested on the back of her neck, a soothing weight. Lyra sat on Red’s other side, and Fife, tense and silent, sat next to her—he’d come in from errands in the Edge before Raffe started talking.
Across from them, as if they’d arranged themselves like opposing armies, Raffe sat next to Kayu, staring into the leaves at the bottom of his cup. Throughout his whole tale—Kiri’s letter, the ends of the branches twisting into keys in the Shrine, Kayu’s offer of help—Kayu herself appeared to be barely listening, her attention captured more by the surrounding Keep, as if she was reading a fairy story for the first time.