I COULDN’T MOVE, or think. Shock enveloped me like layers of snow. I felt buried, trapped. Lusha said something, but I couldn’t hear it. It was several moments before my senses returned.
“—explains the contradictory portents,” Lusha was saying. “A witch’s plans can’t be read in the stars—they’re shaped by wild magic, chaos itself. The stars can’t make sense of witches; that’s what Yonden once told me.”
“River is not a witch,” I said. Why was she even entertaining this? “It’s not possible.”
“It’s the truth,” Mara said. “I don’t know how he did it, or what his true name might be.”
This is madness. The spell had destroyed Mara’s reasoning. “How can you—”
“Be quiet, Kamzin,” Lusha said. I fell into a mutinous silence, my mind whirling. Lusha touched Mara’s shoulder. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
Mara scrubbed his hand over his face. His face was dark, furrowed with pain. “Where is the beginning? I feel I can’t trust my own mind—it’s as if my thoughts have been woven with falsehoods.”
“Tell us about the expedition to the Nightwood,” Lusha said. “The witches’ forest. What did River want you to forget?”
Mara nodded slightly. “Yes—the Nightwood. It’s becoming clearer every minute. This was two years ago, not long after River was named Royal Explorer. The emperor had sent him to investigate some disturbing rumors—that the witches were gathering on the other side of the Amarin Valley, possibly preparing for an attack on the southern villages.”
“Were the rumors true?” Lusha said.
“No.” Mara’s expression darkened. “The truth was far worse.”
“Go on.”
Mara knitted his fingers together, seeming to arrange his thoughts. “Norbu and I were nervous from the beginning,” he said. “We were the first explorers to enter the Nightwood in decades, and we had little idea what we would find. River, to my surprise, seemed to have as little enthusiasm as we did. Usually it seemed that the more dangerous the mission, the more he relished it.
“To cross the Amarin Valley from the south, you must use a series of rotting suspension bridges built over a century ago. Each crossing felt like a lifetime. Not merely because the bridges were old, but because we knew that every step brought us closer to the Nightwood. I fell behind the others, pausing to take notes. I took a single careless step, and a board gave way. The bridge sagged to the side, and then I was falling into darkness.”
Mara stopped, a troubled look on his face. In spite of myself, I was rapt. Even shadowed by pain, Mara’s voice had the cadence and resonance of a born storyteller.
“What is it?” Lusha said.
“This is where River made me forget,” Mara said. “My memory isn’t quite right in places—it’s like looking into a muddy pool. I must have hit branches as I fell, or I would not have survived. All I know is that they surrounded me as I lay bruised and bleeding on the forest floor.
“They were six in number, but they may as well have been sixty. They were both like and unlike their descriptions in the stories. They moved with a grace that was as far from human as a leopard’s prowl, and seemed to melt in and out of the shadows, as if they were shaped from them. Their hair was tangled with leaves and needles, and they stood barefoot in the snow. Their leader—for he was clearly the leader—had a feral look, his hair patchy and his eyes rimmed red. His mouth was twisted, cruel, and despite his broad shoulders he was half a skeleton. He was the most terrifying creature I have ever beheld. The others circled like hungry specters. One said I looked like a noble and might be worth ransoming. Another wanted to torture me until I revealed my purpose. They argued until the leader silenced them with a gesture. They would take me to the empress, he declared, and she would decide my fate.”
“The shadow empress?” Lusha said, her eyes widening. “Father said he’d heard rumors of her death.”
“Every few years there are rumors of her death,” Mara said. “Little is known about what goes on in the Nightwood.”
“Did you see her?” Lusha murmured. I found myself leaning forward. The witch empress was a monster commonly invoked to terrify children in the mountain villages, often described as an animate shadow, lacking flesh and bone. Don’t stray too far after dark, or the shadow empress will get you.
“Thankfully, no,” Mara said, “for it became clear that the leader of the group was her son, and I would not care to see the creature who bore him.”
“How did you escape?”
Mara swallowed. His hand went to the scar across his forehead. “I nearly didn’t. Once they made their decision, one of the witches lifted me and tossed me over his shoulder as if I weighed as much as a doll. Then they were running, leaping through the tree-choked ravine with a nimbleness and speed no human could match.
“We must have traveled for hours. You cannot imagine what it was like. I knew we were moving far too quickly for River and Norbu to follow, if they had even found my trail. I was bounced around carelessly, my face slapped by branches and grazed by boulders. And then we were no longer in the pass—we had left the Empire behind.
“The Nightwood is a strange place, desolate and dark, as if a permanent shadow lingers over the land. The trees are evil, dead-looking things, their limbs twisted together overhead in strange patterns. The farther north we traveled, the more barren the earth became, apart from the trees, which increasingly came to resemble misshapen skeletons rising out of the soil. The air was rimed with a thin, dry smoke, which seemed to rise out of the ground from subterranean fires.
“When finally the leader called for a halt, the witch dropped me to the ground. I lay there, sick and dizzy and in pain, while the witches set about making camp. When I say that, I don’t mean they built a fire or erected shelter. For the cold didn’t seem to trouble them—in their rags and bare feet, they seemed less conscious of it than I, in my layers and heavy chuba. When they slept, they simply chose a place on the ground and lay down in a tangle like a pack of wolves. Before doing so, one of the witches lashed me to a tree.”
He paused, his lips pressed together in a tight line. Though I had little affection for Mara, I couldn’t help feeling a stab of sympathy.
“The night deepened. I was cold and bloody, with no prospect of relief. The witches set no watch upon me—there was no reason to, in that desolate maze. Tears ran down my face as I contemplated the end in store for me. Then, from the darkness, came a low hiss.
“I saw nothing but shadow at first, until River materialized, tapping his finger against his lips. He moved as silently as the witches had. Without a word, he removed a knife from his chuba and began cutting the ropes.
“I was astonished. How had he found our trail? How had he caught up to us so quickly? These questions, though, dissolved in the face of my overwhelming relief.
“River helped me stand. We managed to stagger away from the sleeping witches and plunge back into the forest. Once we were out of earshot, I opened my mouth to speak, but River again pressed his finger to his mouth. I tried, and failed, to make my footsteps as quiet as his.
“At one point, River stopped and seemed to listen for something. He repeated this several times, though I could hear nothing but the wind brushing through the skeletal branches, which chattered together like teeth.
“Then, suddenly, they were upon us. Hands gripped me, clawed hands that scraped at my skin as I wrenched away.” Mara brushed his scar, as if remembering. “One of the witches leaped onto River, rolling him over in the snow, while another seized me, locking my arms behind me so painfully that I sank to my knees. River and the witch were indistinguishable for a moment, and then, to my amazement, he threw the witch off.
“The witches circled. They were only three, and their terrifying leader was not among them. They must have split into two search parties when they noticed I was missing. River met the gaze of a white-haired witch, who stopped suddenly in her tracks.
“‘My lord prince!’ she said. ‘Is it you?’”
Tem let out a stifled gasp.
“Prince?” Lusha repeated. Her face against the shadows was very pale. “You’re certain that’s what she called him?”
Mara gave a grim nod. “I couldn’t move—I could only stare, my gaze drifting from River to the witch. He seemed changed—something in his bearing, or the way he moved, or perhaps I was merely seeing him truly for the first time. There was an aura of sinuous power about him that put me in mind of a cobra. He ordered the witches to release me, and they did so without hesitation. He told them he had been sent by the emperor to spy on them, and they laughed together, the sound echoing through that evil place.
“The white-haired witch embraced him as if they were family. River spoke something low in her ear, and suddenly, the witches were gone, and I was alone with him.
“I staggered back. My voice returned at last, and I shouted at him, calling him a traitor and a monster and worse. He watched me expressionlessly. He seemed to be considering something, though I could not comprehend what. I knew he meant to kill me, now that I had learned his secret. He raised his hand.”
Mara fell silent again. My heart pounded dully. I felt sick. Faint.
“Well?” Lusha said. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Mara swallowed. He swiped his hand across his eyes, as if to clear his vision. “Everything went dark. When I awoke, I was back in the ravine, and River was beside me. He said that I had fallen, that he had sent the others ahead to make camp while he searched for me. There was nothing in his face that belied his words, and I didn’t question him. I recalled nothing beyond the fall from the bridge.”