Page 120 of The Arrow and the Alder

An enchantment whispered over her skin, and Seph’s world went black.

Seph blinked her eyes open to a dimly lit space. She was in a canvas tent, lying upon a woolen blanket. A lantern hung from one of the tent’s supports, casting golden light over two chairs, a desk, and a shelf full of fat old books.

Seph didn’t think this tent was temporary, but where in the world was she?

Her skull wrenched with pain, and she sat up just as voices sounded outside the tent, and a figure ducked inside.

Lord Massie.

Seph’s heart stopped as her last conscious moments drew into sharp focus.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Massie set whatever was in his hands down upon the desk.

On instinct, Seph shoved herself to her feet and lunged at him, but large hands clamped around her arms and jerked her back. Seph struggled against her captor—a bone-masked kith—but to no avail.

“If you’d given me the real coat the first time, we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we?” Massie turned around. The lantern made his contrasts more pronounced, those black shadows against his pale skin and that silvery scar. “I won’t be made the fool, Josephine Alistair.”

Her captor shoved her to the ground with a force that knocked the air from her lungs. She coughed and wheezed, and she was pushing herself up when Massie was there, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling so firmly Seph cried out.

“You are so like your grandfather,” Massie snarled in her ear as she squirmed. “Meddlesome fool. Did you really think you could get away from me, daughter of Light? Did you honestly believe that I would let you?—”

“Careful with my pet, Lord Massie,” said a woman’s voice. “We have need of her yet.”

Ice filled Seph’s veins. She knew that voice.

Massie released her hair with a shove, but Seph hardly had a moment to gather herself before a set of bare, white feet appeared in her line of sight. And then the witch kicked Seph in the stomach.

Seph fell onto her back with a gasp, wheezing while the witch crouched and leaned over her, studying her with soulless black eyes. “Daughter of Light,” she said with a wicked curl to her lips. “It is so good of you to join us.”

“Go to hell—” Seph started, but an invisible force crushed her throat. She clawed her neck to dispel the pressure, but there was nothing there, and just as the edges of her vision began to dim, the pressure relented.

Seph gasped and heaved forward, clutching her throat while she filled her lungs with precious air.

“I do not wish to cause you harm, Josephine,” the witch said. “And as long as you do exactly as I ask, I believe you and I might get on rather well.”

“You…killed…her,” Seph ground out between her bared teeth.

“Oh, I see,” the witch said after a moment. “You speak of the little star.”

Little star? “I speak of Abecka, whom you murdered!”

She regarded Seph without expression. “You would grieve over a creature you’ve known for…a few weeks? A month?”

“You know nothing—” Again, that force clamped around Seph’s throat, and she couldn’t breathe.

The witch leaned in close. “I am quite losing my patience with you.” Her eyes were like two shards of onyx, shining and cold, completely devoid of anything human or living. “The coat, Lord Massie.”

Massie approached with a satchel. He opened the flap, and the enchanted coat glittered within like an opalescent pool, throwing its light and its power all over the tent.

“Now,” the witch continued, looking to Seph, who still fought for breath. “Repeat after me: This coat I freely give…”

Seph writhed and choked.

The witch loosened her grip just a little.

“I willneverhelp—” Seph began, and the witch squeezed her neck again, cutting off her breath.

“How charming you are.” Her eyes glinted with something that Seph didn’t like, especially when punctuated by the witch’s accompanying smile. “Oh,Prince Alder…bring me the child.”

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