Drake spun to face Lydia and grinned wide. “You’re awake!”

She grimaced as she tried, and failed, to sit up in the bed. “I’m so sorry I—”

“Shut it.” He gripped her hand and eased her back on the bed.

She stared up at him in surprise.

“Mom would never blame you for what happened, and I don’t either. She was dead the moment that spider tackled her, from demon poison. Nothing we could do would save her.”

“But lord, I—”

“You did everything you could to save her. Zuri gave me the details on that poison, and no one could heal through it. It was a demon spider like those summoned by—”

“Lord Kest,” Lydia interrupted. “I remember, but I should have—”

“No,” Drake said forcefully. “Nothing that happened in that study is your fault, and you saved me by taking on that spider. I’d never have beaten it if you hadn’t wounded it first. If my mother’s death is anyone’s fault, it’s Kest’s, but at the moment, I’m blaming your stupid horse gods. They’re the ones who pass out rarities that get people murdered all the time.”

“But lord—”

“Is it my fault my mother died?”

She gasped. “Of course not!”

“Then it can’t be yours either,” he reminded her firmly. “And you...” He swallowed. “You gave us the chance to talk before she left. Zuri told me how Steward Joshua died the moment the spiders bit him. But because you helped Mom hang on, we were able to say goodbye.”

Lydia stared up at him in obvious despair. “I only wish I could have stopped it.”

“All of us wish that,” Drake said hoarsely. He squeezed her hands once more and leaned close. “I don’t blame you for anything. I’m so grateful you were there for her in the end. So if you have to blame someone, blame Kest or the Eidolons. Never yourself.”

Lydia took a deep, shuddering breath. “I will try, lord.”

“Consider that an order. I don’t ever want to come so close to losing you again.”

He only realized he’d been staring into Lydia’s eyes for longer than he meant to when he sensed other eyes upon him. He glanced at Emily to find her watching them with a huge grin on her face. She looked impossibly entertained.

Drake released both Lydia’s hands and straightened. “Read your book, murdermaid.”

“Oh, but this is far more interesting!”

“What’s happening beyond the manor?” Lydia asked plaintively.

Drake debated not telling her for a moment, mainly because she couldn’t do anything to help and he didn’t want to worry her, but his steward deserved better than that. He filled her in on the battle plan, including his part in it.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Emily said longingly. “I hate not walking.”

“And you insist on leading the vanguard yourself,” Lydia said evenly.

“I’ll be fine,” Drake assured her. “They don’t have rarities, and I’ll have feathersteel, vero, my battle maids, and a whole pack of ferals backing me up.”

“We assume they don’t have rarities,” Lydia said. “We don’t know for certain.”

Drake took a moment. “You’re right. We’ll be careful.”

“Then I have one suggestion.”

“What is it?”

“You should speak to the sapling before you attack the kromians.”

Drake frowned in surprise. “I can talk to the baby silverwood?”

“Under these circumstances, it might speak to you. The sapling is in constant contact with the elder tree. Given the threat to its elder, the silverwood may wish to confer with you. I have never lived through an assault on the manor, but Esme did. From her tales of times past, I know Lord Gloomwood... your mother... spoke to the silverwood to coordinate our defense.”

“So where is this sapling?”

“Valentia knows where to find it. She can lead you to its clearing.”

“Then we’ll chat with a tree on the way to the kromians,” Drake agreed. “Now, you get some rest. I need to get some armor on and grab a bite before battle.”

“You have to tell him, Lids,” Emily insisted calmly. “What if he doesn’t come back from this one? How are you going to live with yourself?”

As Drake stood, he looked between them. Lydia looked both nervous and visibly annoyed, while Emily looked insistent. Neither looked like they intended to listen to the other.

“Tell me what?” he asked finally.

Lydia looked up at him. “I have a dagger.”

Emily sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

Drake ignored Emily. “What’s this about a dagger?”

“My father gave it to me when I turned six. He had it made and engraved with my name. He said he never wanted me to be without a way to defend myself.”

Drake considered. “That’s... really interesting, but—”

“I want you to take it into the battle,” Lydia said.

Drake blinked. “But it’s your dagger!”

“It is. It is the most precious possession I own.”

“Then I can’t take it! What if I lose it?”

“You will not lose it,” Lydia said. “Lord... I cannot join you in this battle, and that grieves me. I’m not sure I can bear the thought of you out there, alone, so if you take my dagger...”

He watched her for a long moment. “You’ll... feel better?”

“Yes,” Lydia said fervently. “But you must promise to bring it back to me.”

“All right,” Drake said. Taking this dagger obviously meant a lot to her. “I’ll take the dagger. But I can’t promise I won’t stab anyone with it.”

“It’s on the nightstand. In the drawer.”

Drake opened the door to which she pointed with her eyes. Inside, as she’d said, was a very nice dagger. It had a nice sheathe, but no belt.

“It’s a boot dagger,” Emily reminded him snarkily. “You stick it on your boot.”

Drake knelt and attached the sheathe to his boot. It fit perfectly. He stood and lifted his boot, testing the weight, and found he barely felt it. Boot daggers were cool.

“You promise you will bring it back to me?” Lydia asked plaintively.

“I promise.” He smiled down at her in hopes it would set her mind at ease. “I’m not dying, not tonight, but I can’t say the same for whoever’s leading that vanguard. Now relax. We’ll grab a drink when I get back and some good laughs over all the kromians I killed.”

Emily shifted in her bed. “After you summon Chopper, lord, look at the color of the souls before you swing. If it is red, it sees you and intends to kill you. If it is blue, it knows you and wants to protect you. And while it is yellow, it is not aware of you.”

“That’s... actually really useful,” Drake said. “Thanks, Emily.”

“Also, you cannot soul chop yourself. So swing freely, lord!”

“I’ll chop plenty of kromians for all of us.” Drake headed for the infirmary doors. “Now rest up, you two. I won’t let the manor fall while you’re asleep.”

“He fucking believes that,” Emily said happily from behind him.

 

***

 

The air was cold and the sun was low by the time Valentia led Drake and the others into the small clearing holding a single silver sapling that looked no different than so many others. It stood perhaps as tall as Drake, and save for its size and the clearing around it, there was no indication it was important. He hoped the kromians couldn’t find it.

Drake glanced at the others as they entered the clearing. With everyone in feathersteel, and with their faces hidden under raised hoods, he could only identify them by shapes. Robin was the tallest, and Valentia was unmistakable. Nicole and Olivia were about the same size, so he couldn’t easily tell them apart. He’d just have to wait and see who went invisible.

Yet he knew he’d have no trouble keeping track of his small team, because every last one of them glowed blue. It was an outline rather than a solid shape, and while the glowy line traced their bodies, it was just an outline. No fine detail. Whether what he was seeing was their souls or just their life force, he could see them straight through trees.

This was how Emily saw the world. For her, everyone glowed. That must have been weird for her, but after years of living this way, she likely couldn’t imagine the world any other way. Drake was now increasingly confident rend soul was the right rarity to win the day.

In their tests since they set out, he’d verified he could see the souls of his people up to fifty paces away, which was an eternity in these woods. He’d also manifested Chopper, though in his case, he’d decided to call it Chopzilla. His version of Emily’s spectral axe was taller than Cresh and weighed nothing at all, and gave him a reach of almost fifteen paces.

Now that he could see souls through trees for fifty paces in all directions, wielded a spectral battle axe with a fifteen-pace range, and had Nicole and Robin to murder any incoming while Olivia and Valentia wrecked face from afar, he couldn’t wait to engage the kromians.

But first, he needed to chat with a tree.

“So I just talk to it?” Drake asked.

“I have never witnessed contact with the silverwood,” Valentia said. “It was Lydia’s task to tend the sapling, and only she, I, and the current Lord Gloomwood ever knew its location. Had we approached with the blessing of the vero, we never would have reached this clearing.”

“So why can’t the vero direct the kromian army around the elder silverwood?”

Valentia frowned. “I remember you have not seen it. The elder silverwood stretches to the clouds. It is at least ten times taller than the manor. It is almost as wide, and the clearing in which it stands is larger than the grounds of Gloomwood Manor.”

“That sounds incredible,” Robin said reverently.

“Big tree,” Drake agreed. That was pretty much a skyscraper. “Well, it’s almost dark and we have fish people to kill, so we’ll give this a minute before we move on.” He marched forward. “Hello, sapling. I’m Lord Gloomwood. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Shocking no one, the tree didn’t answer.

“What if you touch it, lord?” Olivia called hopefully. “Like... if you pet it?”

He glanced at her. “You want me to pet a tree?”

“Firm petting certainly does wonders for me,” Nicole agreed loudly.

Drake sighed. “It’s worth a shot.” He reached out, then hesitated. He tugged on his armored glove until it came free, then offered it to Valentia. “You mind holding this?”

She took his glove with a nod.

“Here goes nothing,” Drake muttered.

He pressed his bare palm to the silver bark of the small tree. It was dry and warm, but otherwise unremarkable. So much for—

His gaze rocketed through silver trees. It veered and spun and blew like wind in a storm until it came to a massive clearing, in which stood a massive tree. The elder silverwood was as jaw-droppingly enormous as Valentia had said it would be, and in this vision, it glowed blue.

Before Drake could do much more than gawk at the display, his gaze tumbled downward and away. The tree was barely visible in the distance when his gaze stopped, and then slid forward to focus on a hole... no, a cave. Did a bear live here? No. It was too deep for that.

Drake’s gaze rocketed forward again, into the cave and through the rocky tunnel inside. It stopped in a large underground chamber filled with gleaming silver roots as massive as elevator shafts, hundreds upon hundreds wound in tightly-wound tendrils that flooded the center of the space. His vision held there, floating, before rocketing forward once more.

At the base of the roots, at the base of the tree, he saw a small hollow in which a round stone disc rested. In that disc were thirteen small gems, each a different color. The vision spun around, and the figure now advancing on Drake from the dark was without doubt a kromian.

And not just any kromian. While the figure’s lanky features were genderless and indistinct, the golden tiara it wore was unmistakable. Prince Ossidan had worn that tiara when Drake shot him dead in the cabal. Prince Lorel had worn that crown when he fled for his life.

And Prince Varnath wore that crown. This was Prince Varnath... Drake was certain it was Varnath despite the lack of detail... and the prince wanted the stone disc and those crystals.

Prince Varnath wasn’t after the silverwood. He was after something hidden beneath it. The silverwood instinctively knew this, and it needed Drake to know as well.

The moment Drake came to that understanding, his vision rocketed back out of the cave. He emerged into the silverwood again to find faint orange on the horizon. Sunrise. All around him fog was rising, thick fog, and as it rose, tall lanky figures fell. Kromians. Were they sleeping?

No. They were dead.

Drake’s vision rocketed into the sky to show the entirety of the silverwood blanketed in the thick and suffocating fog. The only areas left unfilled were Gloomwood Manor and its grounds, which he easily recognized from the diorama, and the round clearing in which the elder silverwood towered. The fog utterly enveloped the rest of the forest.

The meaning was clear. When the sun rose tomorrow, the silverwood would fill with killing fog. Anyone who wasn’t in the elder tree clearing or the manor, and alive, wouldn’t be alive for long. The silverwood had no intention of going quietly into the night.

But it could only save itself if he first stopped Prince Varnath in that cave.

Drake stumbled back. He almost fell before strong arms caught him. Valentia and Robin supported him until he regained his feet. His vision was still swimming from what he’d seen, felt, and thought, but the impression the tree had left on him was unmistakable.

He knew where to find that cave, which was Varnath’s true target. He knew the silverwood would raise a killing fog at dawn that would kill everything in the forest. And he knew that if he left Varnath seize that stone, all was lost. He had to stop the prince.

And make sure all of his people were in the clearing or manor at sunrise.