There was a moment’s hesitation, and then she said, “The Hemlock Land.”

“You’ve suffered considerably,” said Dorian. “Just as we have.”

My next leap was drastic, but again, I felt pretty confident of my instincts. “You’re going to surrender to Varia, aren’t you?” It seemed logical. They weren’t a big enough force to stage a rebellion, but underneath the wear and tear, something about this group said they weren’t commoners. I was certain they were here to negotiate. “So are we.”

Some of them shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the best thing for our people,” the woman said, almost defensively. “That’s what matters.”

“It is,” I agreed, hoping I sounded compassionate. “There’s no need to be ashamed.”

“We never said we were,” she said. Clearly this was a sensitive topic, which I understood perfectly.

The blond man lowered his sword, which I took as an excellent sign. “Are you going to Withywele?”

“Yes,” said Dorian quickly, before anyone could mess up the story. He lowered his sword too. “We assumed that would be the place to find the queen. A guide gave us directions.”

“You’ve never been there?”

“No.”

The spokesman turned and murmured a few words to his group. Most of them nodded, though a couple—like the woman—shook their heads emphatically. At last, the blond man turned his attention back to us. “We know the way. If you wish, you may travel with us. It will certainly help to have more of us to face the peacekeepers.”

I glanced at Dorian and was met with a puzzled shake of the head. “What are the peacekeepers?”

“A jest of a term,” said the Hemlock woman, scowling. “Queen Varia leaves certain enchantments and obstacles in her subservient kingdoms to keep them in line. The residents are given ways to avoid them and be safe ... unless they displease her. The peacekeepers also discourage outsiders.”

Kiyo spoke up. “Would you consider a group of dryads part of this, uh, peacekeeping?”

The woman nodded gravely. “Most certainly. They’re an excellent force to be used against strangers—but can be coaxed to leave natives alone.”

“Give us a second,” I said.

Hoping I wouldn’t be attacked in the back, I turned and walked back to the group with Dorian. “I don’t trust them,” said Rurik promptly.

“Nor should we,” said Dorian. “Not entirely. Though, they may be useful if they know the Yew Land—and about these ‘peacekeepers.’ That certainly would’ve been helpful information earlier when we met those wenches.”

“Volusian couldn’t have known,” I said, barely believing I was defending my minion.

Kiyo sighed. “I don’t like the idea of traveling with strangers, but we certainly need all the intel we can get.”

“They don’t look any happier about traveling with us than we do with them,” said Pagiel. It was a remarkably observant statement. “We could probably pretty much keep to ourselves until we got to Withywele. Even there, they might be able to help us with the city.”

“Are we agreed then?” I asked, looking at each of my friends’ faces. Seeing Rurik’s scowl, I added, “Don’t worry. You can keep your weapons handy. And we’ll double the watches.”

That mollified him slightly, and when we told the Hemlock leader—whose name turned out to be Orj—our decision, I got the impression their group had also been having a similar conference for traveling procedure and defense. So, we all set off together, the air heavy with wariness but also with a sense of solidarity. There was comfort in numbers.

We spoke little to our new companions at first. When we settled down to camp for the night, a bit of the tension lifted. Each group offered up food, and there’s something about a shared meal that encourages friendliness, particularly among the gentry with their strong ideas about hospitality. The soldiers in our group—though always on guard—had the easiest time bonding. When your life involves constantly being shuffled to new situations and fighting with those you don’t know, I think it becomes easier to make friends where you can.

Unsurprisingly, each party contributed its own people to the watches. Mine was later in the night, and as I spread out my blanket near the campfire, Alea—the woman with the falcon—came and sat beside me. The bird sat on her shoulder.

“Spots is surprised you aren’t sleeping with him,” she said.

It took me a few seconds to dissect that statement. First, I realized Spots must be the falcon’s name. Then, I thought she meant the bird wanted to sleep with me—until I saw her gaze on Dorian.

“Ah,” I said in understanding, staring at the opposite side of the fire. Dorian caught my eye and smiled. I quickly looked back at Alea. “No.”

“Isn’t he your man?” she asked curiously. “It seemed like it from what I observed today.”

I didn’t recall Dorian and I doing much more than our usual chatting while traveling, but maybe others saw things I couldn’t. “He used to be,” I admitted. “But not anymore.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why ever not? He’s very attractive.”

“He is,” I said, a bit more wistfully than I intended. “And smart and powerful and resourceful.” I thought about it a moment more. “And kind.”

The bird made a couple of clicking sounds. Alea tilted her head to listen and then nodded. “Spots says he sounds like an ideal mate and can’t understand what your problem is.”

I laughed. “It sounds like Spots has a lot to say about romance.”

She shrugged. “He sees things we sometimes miss. Often, his view of the world is much simpler than ours. That’s why he has trouble understanding your comments.” She murmured something to him that sounded like squawks, and the falcon flew off into the night.

“I guess because it’s not simple,” I said, trying not to look at Dorian again. “We had some disagreements.”

“Everyone has disagreements,” she said dismissively. “Only fools think otherwise. And only fools allow their pride to hinder reconciliation, especially in these times.”

The bitter note in her voice wasn’t lost on me. “Has your kingdom suffered a lot?”

“Yes. It’s the only thing that would drive us to this course of action.” She stared off into the night, face filled with anger and frustration. “I’ve been to war, you know. And nothing I saw there matched the horror of children starving and freezing to death. Or of entire villages being slaughtered by monsters from the frozen reaches.”

I shuddered. “We’ve seen that too.”

She sighed. “I don’t like bending the knee to Varia. But I like seeing my people and king suffer less. So. Here we are. As I said, only fools refuse to put their pride aside.”

I said nothing right away. Even without talking to Orj or the others in the Hemlock party, I’d picked up on this same angry vibe—people pushed into a corner and out of options. Traveling with them was good for us because it ensured we’d get straight to Varia’s capital. Yet, I also wondered if some other good might come out of it. I’d have to tread cautiously, though.

“Have you ever thought of any other options?” I asked. “Like not giving into her?”

Alea glanced back, irritation in her dark eyes. “I already told you. It’s not worth my kingdom’s suffering.”

“No—I don’t mean bravely refusing and letting the blight go on. Have you ever thought about openly opposing her? Rebelling? Attacking?”

She didn’t answer, and I couldn’t read her thoughts. “Have you?” she asked at last. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

I was careful not to directly answer the question. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it would depend on how many people were willing to work together against her.”

Various emotions played across Alea’s face, as though this was a debate she’d had with herself many times. A resigned expression fell over her, and I suspected she’d reached the same conclusion she had countless times before, the one that had led to this path.

“No. The stakes are too great.” She rose abruptly to her feet. “Forgive me. I’ve delayed your sleep too long.”

She stalked off to her own blanket without another word. I curled up in my own, more exhausted than I realized. Just before I fell asleep, I opened my eyes and caught sight of Alea. She sat on her blanket, staring at the fire, pain and indecision all over her.

Chapter 18

When the Hemlock group had first described “peacekeepers,” the dryads had become the model in my mind. I figured we could expect to see more of the same type of obstacle: creatures or monsters that had to be overcome by magic or brute force. In some ways, the various arctic creatures we’d encountered in the blight met this description. They preyed on those who weren’t Varia’s cronies. So, I was on the lookout for living foes, not inanimate ones, which made it that much more of a surprise when the road turned into a lake the next morning.

We had just crossed into a subjugated kingdom, but such crossings were growing fewer and fewer as we approached the heart of the Yew Land. Most of our travels were now strictly in the Yew Land. Our new companions had told us that we could expect to find a road branching off this one soon that would lead toward the capital. Volusian’s rough directions matched this, so I was optimistic about finding it the next time we were back in the Yew kingdom.

Like many things in the Otherworld, the lake appeared out of nowhere. One moment we were trotting down the road, the next there was water as far as the eye could see. My horse shied and came to a halt, and I shared its unease. The water was unnaturally smooth and still, like a sheet of glass spread out before us. I couldn’t see its end.

“That’s an optical illusion, right?” I asked, gesturing vaguely forward. “The water can’t go on forever. It’s like when a kingdom seems to extend ahead, and two steps later, you walk into another one.”