Page 48 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
She jabs a finger toward the forest, and Mal’s color rises.
“What did she say?” he says, looking around at me.
“She said you can deny your heritage all you want, but it’s the forest you have to answer to, not her,” I translate. Mal scowls.
I don’t know what to make of it. On the one hand, Etusca raised me to have a deep respect for the dryad way of life. On the other hand, I won’t accept that Mal is an abomination just because he lives differently to most Agathyrians. In the end, Leon steps in to resolve matters.
“We’re not leaving Mal behind,” he says in a tone that won’t be argued with. “Now, can you lead us safely to Starfall, or will we need to find a different guide?”
Etusca bites her lip and looks between Leon and me. “I’ll try my best,” she says. “For Morgana’s sake.”
She knows my magic is gone. I put it in the message because I thought it might convince her to help us. Now I wish she didn’t know, feeling vulnerable under her pitying gaze. I push the anxiety away, burying it down in the place I’ve been putting all my inconvenient emotions these days.
“Very well,” Leon says. “Let’s get going.”
We remount our horses, following Etusca between the first few sets of towering trunks. By the time we’ve reached her horse, tethered to a low branch a few yards into the woods, all unfiltered sunlight is gone. The light all around is a deep, strange green, coloring everything, including our skin so we all look a bit like dryads.
Something above us groans, a deep, mournful sound. The fae jump and draw their swords, searching for the source.
“Put those away,” Etusca hisses, climbing onto her horse. “Go slowly, and don’t touch anything.” She glances up at the trees. “We’re in their domain now.”
Then she leads us deeper into the forest.
Chapter 16
Leon
The trees creak and moan above us as we travel through the Miravow, leaves rustling in an invisible wind. Try as I might, I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched. Judged, even.
“Is this normal?” I ask the nursemaid, keeping one eye on her and another on Ana. If danger is on its way, I need to make sure she’s safe. It helps that I’ve been able to sense her state of mind better than ever in recent days. I should be worried, I suppose. It means the sawlamoor’s taking root, but if it allows me to know every time she’s anxious or afraid, I can’t help but be grateful for it.
“I was away from Agathyre for many years,” Etusca replies. “But this is the most agitated I’ve seen them.” She looks nervously at the trees looming above us.
“They don’t like us being here,” I say. “Is it just because we aren’t dryads?”
“More or less. It’s not that the Miravow dislikes humans or fae, but rather that it’s wary of you—it knows you’re not our kind. We dryads grew up on the same star-touched earth that these trees did; the same magic that gives the Miravow its power flows through our veins. The absence of that magic in your blood has put the forest on its guard—it sees you as intruders. The mixed-blood person you brought with you is probably only disturbing it further. The forest is confused.”
“Thatpersonhas a name,” Mal snaps.
“Ignore her, Mal,” Tira tuts. “She’s talking about these plants as if they can think and feel like people.”
“You think this is coincidence?” Etusca asks incredulously, gesturing to the angry noises echoing down from the canopy.
“I think that the star fall thousands of years ago made this place magical and powerful,” Tira says. “But that doesn’t mean aforestgets to decide who’s good or bad.”
“I didn’t say anything about good or bad, Tira,” Etusca says sharply. “And I wouldn’t presume to. I have no place passing moral judgment on anyone. I’m simply stating a fact.”
As she speaks, the dryad looks toward Ana, and I know she’s thinking of the rift between them. Ana doesn’t look at her, but I sense a wave of sadness rolling off her and through me.
“Whatever the reason, we’ve clearly disturbed the peace of this place,” I say to the others. “We should stay alert.”
“He’ll help,” Etusca says, nodding to Dots trotting up ahead. We removed the glamour on him once we properly passed into the Miravow, and now the animal’s flicking his four tails happily as he darts around trees and doubles back for us.
“How did he even find you?” Etusca asks. She directs the question at me, probably figuring I’m the one most likely to answer. It’s a little strange being considered the approachable one—it’s not a problem I’ve ever had before.
“He’d been captured and taken to Filusia by unscrupulous fae,” I say, thinking darkly of my grandfather. “Ana healed him and bargained to get him set free. Since then, he’s stuck by her side.”
Etusca’s eyes widen, and she looks to Ana. “Healed him? But how?”
