“So do you.” The priestess shrugged like they were discussing something as benign as the weather. “Your sister is tangled in the forest. Like Gaya was, like all the others. She went to the Wolf, and he bound her to it, just as he is bound.”
Neve knew the story. The Wolf bringing Gaya’s forest-riddled corpse to the edge of the wood, a macabre token of the tithe he then demanded. It made sense, that the other Second Daughters would be bound similarly. That the Wolf somehow wove the Wilderwood into their bones, knit them into its foundations, ensuring they couldn’t escape.
“But she’s alive.” A bare rasp of sound in the quiet, and Neve didn’t inhale as she waited for the answer.
The priestess nodded, turning toward the door. “But she’s alive.”
On legs that felt numb, Neve followed the red-haired priestess back through the Shrine out into the dark gardens. She took a few steps forward, passing the other woman to inhale cold, bracing air.
Midnight was close. Soon all the priestesses who’d come to see Red sacrificed would gather here, to pray throughout the night that she would be deemed acceptable by the Wolf, that he would finally free the Five Kings from their unjust imprisonment.
When Neve closed her eyes, she could still see that scarlet cloak disappearing into the gloom between the trees.
She’s alive.
“You’ll keep this quiet.” Neve meant it as an order, but it came out more like a question.
“Of course.” A pause, heavy. “You have the right idea, First Daughter.”
It was enough to make her eyes open, to make her gaze snap over her shoulder. The priestess stood still and placid behind her, face revealing nothing.
“The Wilderwood won’t let her go.” Her red hair fell over her shoulder as she tipped her head, as if in deference to Neve’s grief. “It has weakened, this past century, but not enough. She couldn’t escape even if she tried.” Moonlight caught her eyes, made them glitter. “At least, not right now.”
Something toothed and hopeful leapt in Neve’s chest. “What do you mean?”
The priestess lightly touched her odd wood-shard necklace. “The forest is only as strong as we let it be.”
Neve’s brow knit. The night air chilled them into a frozen tableau.
“Your secrets are safe with me, Neverah.” The priestess gave a small bow then glided away, her pale robe disappearing into the dark garden.
Cool breeze on her arms, the scent of early-summer flowers heady in her nose. Neve concentrated on these things, grounded herself with them. In her head, a scarlet cloak flickered in and out of a dark, dark forest.
Chapter Seven
T he water in the tub was cold enough to make her teeth chatter when she dipped in her hand, but Red was too filthy to care. She pulled off her tattered white dress and black sash, kicking them into a pile on the floor— those, someone could burn. Shivering, she sank quickly into the tub before the cold could change her mind, and scrubbed at her hair until her nailbeds turned blue, extracting twigs one by one and letting them clatter to the floor.
Leaves matted her hair, too. As she pulled them out, Red noticed they were each blushed with green along the veins.
She frowned at one of them, tracing the lines with a fingertip. Addled by fear and confusion, her memories of the Wilderwood were probably less than reliable. But she’d swear that every leaf she saw outside the protection of the Wolf’s gate was gray and withered, the colors of autumn leaching rapidly into winter.
Red flicked the leaf from her wet fingers with more force than necessary.
When her nails were free of dirt and her hair free of forest, Red stepped from the tub, teeth clenched against the cold. Naked, she skulked across the room, feeling strangely exposed to the vines on the window, and grabbed the dark-green gown off the bed. She pulled it on without bothering to dry off, fabric sticking to her wet skin.
As she stood in front of the age-spotted mirror and attempted to untangle her hair, her stomach rumbled.
There’d been breakfast, before the procession left the Valleydan capital, but Red hadn’t managed to eat much, and couldn’t even remember what it was. Since then: a bloodthirsty forest, a surly Wolf, miles run on adrenaline alone.
Red set her teeth. This room was clean and safe and isolated; the last thing she wanted was to go wandering through the ruined Keep on the off chance she might find some toast. But her stomach twisted again, its growl more insistent.
During her earlier exploration, there’d been that small door with rusty hinges at the back of the dining room. The one behind which she’d heard the curse and the laugh. Red still didn’t feel quite brave enough to face who-or whatever made those noises, but she was pretty sure that room was a kitchen. And maybe the things she’d heard in it were elsewhere by now.