Page 32 of When the Woods Go Silent

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TORRENCE

I stare down at the text message that asks me to go on adate, of all things.

I’ve never been on something so human as a date in all my Goddess-damned life. Gobbelins take and fae tease, but neither do anything as polite as date. And how the hell did she get this number? Then I actually read the rest of the message, and rage builds hot and fast in my chest.

I’m going to fucking kill Arlo.

Apparently, I’ve done too good a job letting him think we’re friends. Even though I rely on his candor surrounding the restaurant, maybe it would be better to send him underground to the blood mines. I can’t afford to upset the balance we have here with the local humans, and I certainly don’t need a whole evening trying to resist Ruby’s scent.

And I sure as hell don’t need a pair of curious humans poking aroundGoblin Market.

Unfortunately, I can’t deal with any of it right now. It’s almost time for my scheduled meeting with Julianna.

I take a few minutes to cloak myself in layers of ice magic, cooling the anger bubbling inside me before heading deeper into the woods. She would be on me like a bloodhound if she scented it, always so fucking eager to gain a scrap of useful information.Anything I’ve ever cared about has been taken and twisted by her, used against me to get something she wanted.

This town, this restaurant. Even these silly humans. It’s a piece of the world that’s mine now, and she hates it. She’ll destroy it soon enough, just to keep me under her thumb.

Aside from any other danger, this is the best reason to keep the hell away from Ruby. If I showed any true interest, my mother would join the hunt. She would drain away everything that makes up Ruby, creating another of her zombie blood slaves, and the pleasure I could gain from this little human isn’t worth the pain of losing to my mother’s jealousy yet again.

When I reach the rocky outcropping at the heart of the woods, Julianna hasn’t arrived yet, and I’m relieved to have any time to myself.

I settle onto a moss-covered boulder, my palms soaking in the hum of nature magic that lives here. Unchanneled and weak, compared to what flows in my veins. Atrophied, compared to anything that might be found in Haret. And barely more than a whisper, against the power Julianna hoards.

As a sister world to mine, Earth still holds plenty of magic, even though humans wrote the truth out of their memories centuries ago. They’re good at fooling themselves, forgetting the things that might have saved them from what’s coming. But every year, they chop down more of these old forests and pollute more of their air and water, dulling the elemental magic even further.

It’s pathetic, really, to watch them become both villain and victim in the same story. I don’t waste pity on them, though. Wolves think little of sheep.

This is why I’m not surprised that the residents of Clearwater haven’t felt the change that began a few weeks ago. The woods are waking up in a way that has nothing to do with the passing seasons. There’s new magic here, and I’ve pinpointed it to thewoods around the bookshop, barely more than an echo still. I told Julianna the truth, though - the sisters aren’t the source. They’re both human, and even if one of their ancestors carried magic in their blood, it’s too diluted now to matter.

I debate how long I can continue to hide my theories and plans.

Julianna likes to think I’m completely obedient to her. Docile and subservient. I’ll do about anything to make sure she keeps believing it, but she’s always a few steps ahead of me. She hasn’t spent as much time in this town as I have, though, and she knows nothing about its people.

I suspect the changeling is long dead, and the change is because Ruby and Rose have disturbed the books William always kept locked away.

Books created with pulp and wood chopped from the same forest that surrounds me now, the trees’ secrets hidden and silent on dusty shelves for decades. William knew which books to keep hidden and which ones to sell. Now, all those silent books are being found, opened, read, sold. If someone with magic of their own touches the wrong pages - even diluted magic - the effects could ripple all the way to Haret.

When magic stays trapped for so long, it turns volatile. Unpredictable. It could turn out to be the weapon we’ve searched for to win this war, or it could be the fuel that burns everything to ash around us. Boost us to victory, or ruin us completely.

If I find the right books in that store, Ronan’s changeling will be no more worry than the gobbelin I killed earlier.

The moon is high overhead when I finally sense Julianna crawling up through the dirt, and I’m glad to know she hasn’t been snooping here all this time. Her magic swirls into the forest, sharp and cold, like ice crystals against the skin. She emerges from the rotting leaves and clumps of dark soil,perfectly clean and leached of color except for her black hair and glittering eyes, nearly all gobbelin black now, except for a slim ring of gold that still hints at her fae side. Humans might even think she was a ghost, until they got close enough to feel the grip of her hands around their throat.

“You stink of humans,” she says without greeting me. I keep silent. “And the forest stinks of fae.”

My eyes narrow, and I play dumb. “Where? How do you know?” She’s more powerful than I am, but she shouldn’t be able to scent Ronan any longer. He was careful.

She describes the place, not far fromGoblin Market. She ignores my second question. “They’re checking up on you. The princes.”

“They have no reason to interfere. We’re careful.”

“They don’t need a reason, idiot. We need this supply chain. And we can’t afford much more time. The princes have been without mates for too long. The fae magic is unstable. I can feel its tremors, even so far from Aralia.”

“You truly think they would mate without love?” I ask, an uneasy feeling in my gut. Ronan admitted as much, at least where Brigance is concerned, but I’ve hoped they would hold out hope, continue to resist. Our plan is contingent on their weakened state. If even one of them chose a queen, Julianna’s fight would be infinitely harder, and many more lives would be lost. Magriel would remain a distant dream.

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