Page 15 of The Arrow and the Alder

Or Seph was being paranoid.

The baron kept speaking. “I know you’re all eager for news from the warfront, as I have been. To know when the war will be over so that our loved ones may return. Weallsuffer the sting of sacrifice”—at this, Seph grunted, earning a jab in the ribs from her sister—“but I assure you there is no greater cause than this. We fight for the future of mankind, for our children and their children, and so without further delay, I present to you, His Imperial Lordship, second only to the queen of the Weald Court: High Lord Massie of Asra Domm.”

The front doors slammed open, and a new figure stepped through.

Seph’s pulse quickened. It was the kith man from the woods. The one with the scar and contrasts, and behind him, standing like a shadow, was the woman with the long hair and black mask. Chatter rumbled throughout the crowd but ceased as this kith high lord crossed the platform with powerful steps, his black cloak rippling behind him from the sheer force of his stride. Lord Massie came to a halt beside—and a little in front of—the baron, like a master before his puppet, one controlled by golden rings, while the woman waited near the doors, watching the crowd. A stiff breeze clawed through the courtyard, cold as ice, and Seph hugged her coat close.

No, she did not trust these kith. Not at all. She felt the stab of that conviction sharper than ever before.

The crowd waited, and snowflakes drifted from the clouds above.

“Thank you for your introduction,” said the kith high lord. He had a soothing voice, silky, rich, like the port her papa used to bring home on special occasions. A voice that promised pleasantries, but ended with bile and a headache come morn.

“I understand you are all eager for news concerning your loved ones,” Lord Massie continued. He did not speak loudly; he didn’t need to, because every person in that courtyard stood transfixed by the kith before them, much as Seph had been in the woods. Most of them had never seen a kith before. “On that account, I fear I shall leave you grossly unsatisfied, for I have not come from the front lines.”

People frowned. Glances were exchanged. Somewhere, a baby cried.

Lord Massie scanned the crowd with those too-blue eyes, much in the same way he’d searched the forest before finding Seph’s arrow. Snow dusted his black hair now, though he did not seem to notice. “Suffice it to say that our efforts, though ruthlessly challenged, continue to hold strong. The depraved have not breached our defenses, which brings me to the reason I have come to you this day.”

The crowd waited despite the snow and cold, necks craned as if they might spy thisreasonupon Lord Massie’s shrewd and angular face.

“I am in search of an artifact,” Lord Massie proceeded, and Seph’s heart stopped. “One that belongs to my people.” Here he paused, and his gaze cut through the crowd like a scythe. “An enchanted coat.”

The words hung in the silence. Clearly, the audience had not expected something so…mundane; however, Seph’s earlier premonition roared like a tempest in her ears.

He knew about the coat.

It had to be one and the same; the timing was no coincidence. How he knew, Seph couldn’t fathom, but he obviously didn’t realize the coat was in her family’s possession—otherwise, he would’ve skipped this political display. Lord Massie didn’t strike her as the sort to play with his food before tearing it apart and devouring it.

Beside her, Mama and Linnea exchanged a long glance.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and the masked woman watched through those narrow eye-slits as the high lord continued, “The coat contains an enchantment that will help us win the war, but regrettably, there is one who would use it to secure his reign over the depraved, and if this coat falls into his hands, he will bring the world to its knees under his rule.” High Lord Massie paused, while the crowd waited in silence. “I speak of Alder Vetiver, prince and heir to the Court of Weald.”

This incited a tide of chatter. Meanwhile, Linnea cast Mama another sideways glance that said every bit ofI told you so.

“So it’s true, then?” someone shouted through the din. “The Weald Prince is working with the depraved?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Lord Massie continued, and there was another soft rippling of chatter. “As the high lord of Weald and long-standing confidant to Her Majesty’s family, there is none more grieved by the prince’s betrayal than I am.”

Seph didn’t believe him, not for a second, but it sounded neat and tidy. She knew the kith couldn’t lie; the nature of their power—language—prohibited it. For them, words were binding, but her grandpa had explained how this restriction had also made kithhighlyadept and creative at twisting truth.

Lord Massie took a step forward as he studied the crowd. “For months, I’ve been in pursuit of the Weald Prince, and I have followed his tracks into your realm, as far south as Harran.”

Alder had been tracking Massie’s silvery soliloquy with nothing short of wonder. How magnificently he twisted truth, how thoroughly he held his audience captive. It was impressive, really, and Alder was—yet again—proud of the queen for being the first to see through Massie’s deception. It was why she’d inevitably dismissed Massie from court, butapparentlyHarran did not know that.

Was the baron aware? Or was he just playing along like the good little puppet he was?

Massie’s mention of an enchanted coat astounded Alder, and while he didn’t doubt its existence—actually, the awareness of it was concerning—he trusted Massie’s motives about as much as he liked the man. Regardless, whydidhe want this coat? What power did it truly hold? How had Massie learned of it?

The answer to that last came with the question: the witch?

Alder’s gaze slid to the veiled woman, who hadn’t moved from the door.

Who was she, really? Where had Massie found her? How did she know about a coat, and why did she think it was here, in a dying mortal village at the farthest corner of Kestwich? The very same village Alder himself had been led to, but on a different errand.

Unless the errands were not so different after all.

“I would ask,” Massie continued, “that if you know anything of the coat, or suspect Prince Alder’s whereabouts, report it at once. Your loyalty will be greatly rewarded, including, perhaps, bringing home a loved one from the front lines.”

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