Of course, it had been Hussar the Darkness took.

Where else could it find hate to twist? Who else would be arrogant enough to defy their prince—to lift a sword against him?

Who else hungered—in a way no man should hunger—for blood and glory, and to rise above his station?

Pausing at the top of the hill revealed the bloodied battle below me in the snow. The firebird's pyre roared into the sky, casting an eerie orange glow across the scene. Four men guarded the fallen prince, and Cas was tending to him desperately, trying to staunch the blood flow.

Hussar had gained his feet, his skin cracked and charred from Galina’s defiant last stand—though red light gleamed through the cracks, as if something healed him from within. He wielded his sword, cutting through two of the guards. Despite the flames, his face seemed a mask of shadows, and he moved with the strength of twenty men. One of the guards scored a lucky strike, the tip of his sword slashing across Hussar's cheek.

Black blood dripped down the hollow beneath his cheekbone, but as fast as it fell, the wound sealed. Hussar bellowed in rage, and kicked the soldier in the chest, sending him staggering back into the arms of his comrades. They crashed in a steely rasp, and he turned and slashed the throat of Gemel, the stable hand.

I sprinted through the woods, the trees flashing past me. Faster than I'd ever run before, the wind whistling past my ears until it felt like I was flying. I'd never felt so alive, so attuned to the woods. It was as if another's spirit moved within me.

And maybe one did.

There was Old Blood in my veins. Vashta's blood.

Her spear in my hand.

The firebird's spark in my chest.

Gravenwold needed a guardian, and I no longer felt fear. It was extraordinary.

A pile of tumbled saddlebags loomed in front of me, and I leapt over them, landing in the clearing on the other side of the pyre to the prince and his men.

"Hussar!" I called, crouching low. When I was ten I'd climbed through the trees and followed as my father and Densby's menfolk went hunting for wild boar in the trees. The heavy spears they used were nothing like Vashta's.

I knew little of spear work, and yet my fingers gripped the ash haft expertly, and it moved as though that other spirit within me wielded it.

"You are not alone," Galina whispered.

"Let me fight this battle for you," whispered another voice in my mind, one I instinctively knew was Vashta.

And so I let her spirit take control.

The same cool feeling that had enveloped me in the Well of Tears slid over my skin.

Hussar drove his blade toward me, the flash of silver gleaming in the firelight. I swung and met it, and the ash blade resisted the steel. Sound vibrated off it, and somehow I sensed the trees around us wake.

Hussar was forced back, and his eyes darted around us as the trees seemed to loom closer. The trees! The Darkness feared both them and my fire.

It was no longer Hussar I faced. Rage filled his eyes, obliterating the iris and leaving nothing but pupil. It felt like he was growing. Those light filled cracks in his skin began to glow like molten lava through its crust.

Whatever was left of Hussar had been consumed by the entity within him. "Cast down your spear, child," it said in a deep growl that sounded nothing like its former owner. "And I might permit you to live."

"It lies," Galina whispered. "It allows nothing to live, and you are the only thing it fears. Don’t believe it."

"I wasn’t planning to," I snarled, and spun the spear around me as I feinted forward.

Our weapons clashed again and again. The spear whined as I twirled it around my ears, seeking openings in Hussar's defense. A thundering blow reverberated through the spear and up my arms. I ground my teeth, ducking beneath the swing of his sword.

No matter how fast I moved, he met every attack.

And despite my newfound strength and skill, he was slowly beating me back step by step.

Galina couldn’t kill it.

Doubt cleaved through my focus. The hiss of steel slashed into my shoulder, spattering blood across the snow. I stumbled aside as he swung madly, leaping on top of a boulder and flipping back over the next wild swing.

It gained me a few steps but as he turned, smiling a little, I knew I couldn’t last forever.

Just as he knew it.

And the Darkness inside him.

"You are Fire," Galina whispered. "You are pure of heart. It cannot touch you, Neva. Not unless you allow it."

How could I defeat it? Me? Village born and bred? Especially when she could not?

"My flames were burning low," she whispered. "I was old and tired. You are a fresh flame. Believe in yourself. Let the firebird burn free."

Believe in yourself.

Words my father had raised me with.

This time, when Hussar attacked, I did not dance away.

I stepped inside his swing, and plunged the spear inside Hussar’s chest, feeling the fire ignite through my veins as the firebird awoke. The ash spear burst into white flames, and Hussar screamed as his heart smoldered within him. Smoke poured from his open mouth as he went to his knees, but his mortal body seemed to be withstanding the heat. Something held it together. I could not kill this entity. Not even with the firebird’s flames.

"Your blood will bind it to its prison again," Galina whispered.

I tore my knife free and cut the palm of my hand, holding it over Hussar's body. Spatters of bright red hit his face, and hissed as they sizzled. Only one more sign I was no longer entirely human.

A drop of blood pattered into the dirt beside him. I felt the forest wake, my world suddenly so much more than the feel of the body that held me. Thick, twisted roots tracked through loamy soil, locking together in a cage to hold this Darkness at bay beneath my feet. I could feel every tree root, every branch, and every tree that had been planted to guard against this evil. They felt like an extension of my arm.

Clenching my fist, I raised it to the sky, and thick roots burst from the earth, wrapping around Hussar's chest like steel bands. He screamed, those smoldering flames still eating the heart in his chest. Black eyes met mine, "No!"

And it was not Hussar that yelled the denial, but something else. Something that tainted the very air with the sound of its hollow voice coming from his mortal throat.

I drew my fist in sharply to my chest, and the roots withdrew into the ground, taking their vile prize with them. The second I released my fist, the earth closed back over him, leaving nothing but the scar of raw dirt in the forest floor.

The strength drained out of me, and all of my flames died down, leaving the faint crackle of smoldering heat in the dry leaves beneath my feet.

It was then I realized I had witnesses.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the silence, as I turned to survey the four men who remained alive. Casimir, Evaron, and two others whom I'd marked with the trident when we first entered the woods. Hussar must have killed the others before I returned, for their bodies lay broken and bloodied around us.

"What was that?" Evaron rasped, and I could see the wildness in all their eyes.

Even Casimir's.

The strength that had flooded through me at the well suddenly faded, as if I'd been running on borrowed energy throughout the fight. My knees hit the ground, and I gasped. "The Old Ways. Useful for more than just hunting." I said, trying to summon a smile. "I asked for the firebird’s protection and she granted it. You should try it."

Evaron tried to sit up, and Cas caught him as the prince fell back.

"Your highness? Ev?" Cas shook him as Evaron's eyes rolled back in his head. Then he looked at me. "Help me. Please."

* * *

Only the pure of heart could survive the Well of Tears.

We were about to find out just how pure our prince truly was.

"Put him down here," I said, gesturing to the cobbles beside the circular well.

Cas carried Evaron in his arms, barely struggling beneath the weight. No, the strain showed in his tight expression, and at the thought of losing his friend.

We'd left the other two guards at the clearing, to scrape through the flames and see if they could find the firebird's 'heart.' Evaron was unconscious, his pulse a thready flicker in his throat. Only Casimir stood as witness.

He knelt beside me, cradling his prince against his chest and looking at me as though he knew I could save his friend.

I just hoped I lived up to the promise I saw in his eyes.

"What do we do?"

"Hold his mouth open," I said, cupping water in my hands and filling them with water.

It dripped from Evaron's slack lips, and as soon as I thought he had enough in his mouth, I clamped his jaw shut, pinching his nostrils closed.

"We're either going to drown him, or save his life," I warned grimly.

"What is this place? Is the water magic?"

A laugh tore free. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Evaron started to choke, his chest racking as I held his airways closed. Somehow he swallowed. Light raced through his veins, lighting up like silver lines upon a map.

Cas sucked in a sharp breath. "Is that supposed to be happening?"

I didn't know. I'd been somewhat out of it when I drank my own share of the well's water.

"An immortal prince," Galina whispered, "is a dangerous man."

"I know his heart."

And a king who was a religious fanatic was only slightly less dangerous than the Darkness. That poison would spread as quickly as the Darkness's might.

Evaron convulsed, and we both knelt by his side helplessly. His spine arched obscenely, his mouth and eyes wide in shock—or perhaps horror, I couldn't tell.

All of those racing silver lines gleamed beneath his skin, surging along his arms and face and disappearing beneath his shirt.

I tore his shirt open, just as the silver light centered on his heart. It pulsed in the middle of his chest, like some fist of pure moonlight.

And then he collapsed on the cobbles, the breath deflating out of him like a pricked bladder of water.

"Ev?" Cas demanded, shaking his prince's shoulder. "Ev?"

The prince groaned, and both our shoulders relaxed.

He was alive.

"Vashta's tits," Evaron rasped, trying to sit up. His arms quivered, reminding me of a newborn foal trying to pitch itself onto all four legs. He pressed a hand against his smooth chest, feeling the skin there as if he could sense some momentous change within him. "What in the Darkness did you just do to me?"

I released the breath I'd been holding, smiling in relief at Cas. Heat filled my eyes. He'd survived. Our prince was pure enough, after all.

The ladies in Caskill might have something to say about that, but when it came to intentions... he would probably make a very good king.

"Welcome back, your highness. You can now say you have the blood of a unicorn running through your veins—as well as a firebird's tears," I said.

Evaron looked at me dubiously. "Is that some sort of backwater jest?"

Only Cas looked at me as though he knew I told the truth. He probably did. I could see his nostrils flaring, and flushed at the thought of what my scent was telling him right now. The other two soldiers had believed my story about the firebird granting me her protection.

Cas was no fool.

"What happened?" Evaron demanded, struggling to his feet. Cas caught him as he staggered. "Where’s Hussar?"

"Dead," Cas said. "Neva killed him."

"So did the firebird," Evaron said grimly, "and then the bastard got to his feet again."

"I don’t think he’s getting up this time," Cas said. He grimaced. "The ground swallowed him whole."

Ash marked Evaron’s face as he glanced at me, and I could see him thinking. "You ruled the earth itself?" He held up a hand. "No. Let me guess… The Old Ways?"

I kept silent.

Evaron rubbed at his chest. "I can still feel it." He shuddered, and then turned toward the Well of Tears. "It looks like we no longer need the firebird’s heart. This could heal the king."

I shook my head. "No. I don't think so. There is a price to pay for drinking from the waters here. Only the pure of heart survive."

"Pure of heart?" Evaron snorted. "It healed me."

I shrugged. "I don’t make the judgment. Perhaps the Well sensed something within you no one else has."

"You’re starting to sound like Cas."

Cas crossed his arms over his chest. "Sensible?"

"Distinctly lacking in respect." Evaron slumped onto the ledge of the Well, trailing his fingers through the waters. "Well, my father's definitely not pure. Vashta's ti—" He caught my eye and stifled what he'd been about to say. "What am I going to tell him? What happened to Hussar? Why did he attack us? Or me, to be precise?"

Shadows darkened his eyes, and I remembered what Galina had said about the king sending his eldest son to hunt the firebird.

"What happened to the firebird?" he continued. "It all happened so quickly, and Hussar cut me down before I had a chance to get close to the flames, but I know there was nothing within them. None of her remains left behind."

I crossed my arms over my chest, unease filling me. What if the king sent more men? What if Evaron started questioning everything he'd seen?

"There was nothing left," Cas said, scrubbing at his mouth slowly. "The firebird's dead. I saw it happen with my own eyes."

"I don't understand." Evaron looked between us, as though seeking answers. "The firebird is meant to be immortal, isn't she? Every time she gets old and dies, the flames renew her."

"You thought she was a bird," Cas pointed out, when I didn't dare say anything at all. "All myths start somewhere, and grow in the telling. Who knows what the truth is?"

He very pointedly did not look at me.

My bones felt like lead. I couldn't move. Barely dared breathe.

"What do we do now?" Evaron asked.

"I think it best if we bury the dead," Cas said, "and head home. The king will be displeased, but we have over a week to consider how to play this."

Evaron laughed, a little slowly. "You know him. Do you think he'll truly be just 'displeased'? My father meant to rule forever." A dark look filled his eyes, as if some memory swam to the surface. "He meant for me to die."

"Then all we have to do is return the favor, and survive until he dies," Cas said coldly.