Though the night was biting cold, my body was toasty-warm from the long hike through the forest. Fireflies flitted in the darkness along with a swarming cloud of Pix. I swatted at the tiny otherworldly creatures, driving them away with my free hand. A few were stuck in the tangles of my ponytail and I tugged them loose before tossing them into the undergrowth. They let out a shrill squeak as they bounced off fern fronds, only to take to their wings and rejoin their swarm. Apart from their misshapen humanoid faces and the vicious stinger that glowed with a purplish light in the darkness, Pix were much like the Sawyer Beetle with textured black wings and long antennae. They liked the taste of animal blood and the luxury of squirrel hide to fluff their nests, tucked inside the hollowed trunks of decaying trees.

Behind me, my aunt cried out in startlement.

Fear clawed at my chest. I spun around. Unable to react in time and reach her, I could only watch as her arms flailed and feet kicked out beneath her from slipping on a patch of slick damp leaves. She fell with an oomph onto the forest floor.

I quickly hurried over. The crunching sound of skeletal leaves, small twigs, and shed bark underfoot was too loud in the sinister forest. "Are you okay?"

She winced and gingerly rolled a wrist. "I'm fine. Just clumsy," she said, giving me a self-deprecating smile.

I helped her to her feet and she swiped away the dirt and leaves sticking to her tracksuit pants. Straightening, she suddenly clutched my arm tightly. Glancing furtively around the Hemmlok Forest, she seemed to shrink into herself as bewilderment stained her features. "What are we doing out here?"

A horrid sinking feeling fell through me.

My aunt lapsed into confusion and became disoriented when the gloaming descended into the night. I adjusted the canvas strap of my heavy rucksack, painfully digging into my shoulders. This time it carried all the usual things I needed to ease my watch during the night, as well as a telescope and camera. I'd already taken a few pictures as the sun began its descent before we'd slunk into the forest, and I'd take a few more later on when the moon climbed to its apex. Amongst other excuses I used to explain our nighttime adventures, our colleagues believed my aunt and I were amateur astronomers and we liked to detail the moon every month

"There's a place I want to show you," I told Aunt Ellena. Not quite a lie, but it still didn't feel good saying it.

My aunt relaxed, trusting me implicitly. "Oh, well, lead the way."

My torchlight wove ahead of us and guided the way. Mist rose from the damp ground and was buffeted by our movement as we strode quietly through the forest, wading through the undergrowth and around crooked trees. A restless wind scattered dead leaves and dried pine needles, and my breath wisped from my mouth in a cloudy stream.

Everything within the pitch-black canvas of the forest sounded impossibly loud and too close by. And the way the forest eerily murmured to itself and hummed with life, it felt and sounded like a living entity, breathing and watching us with dark intent.

After my peculiar encounter with Master Sirro, I'd lain in bed and hadn't slept. I'd kept a close eye on my aunt who spent a few hours contentedly knitting. She'd made great progress on my scarf, the clack-clack of knitting needles soothing me, the ball of pink wool bobbing on the floor as she tugged it for more length and wove the yarn around her needles, poking through a loop and stitching row after row.

While I lay in bed watching her, I swore I felt something watching me, yet it was just her gazing out behind those dark green eyes.

Had I seen what I had a few hours earlier?

Had that thing been briefly present within my aunt during daylight?

Time marched on and with every reassuring smile from my aunt, I could no longer be sure. I'd curled up beneath the blankets wondering, thinking, trying to pick through everything over the past 24 hours. I reflected on those strange moments surrounding my aunt last night. In the bathroom, I'd seen something ripple down her spine as if boned spikes were poking against the material of her dress. Later, lingering outside the Banquet Hall it had pushed itself to the forefront, its head snapping to the side with pin-prick pupils, staring down the hallway that led to the entrance and the Great Room where the Deniauds received guests. Could the timing of it all be when Master Sirro first arrived at the mansion? When he'd spent time in the Great Room greeting the Deniauds?

Later, it had been drawn to Jurgana.

And finally to Master Sirro too.

A shudder worked its way down my spine when I thought back on my aunt's knobbled fingers morphing into a curved talon. The swift movement as the talon slashed out and she swallowed a scrap of Sirro's dark power.

But there had been a moment before it stole from Master Sirro, that something keenly-edged flashed within its pin-prick eyes, stunned understanding, I was sure of it. What it meant, I had no idea.

As the sun rose higher and morning sunlight bathed our bedroom, we arose and Aunt Ellena went back to looking after the children while I assisted with the cleanup out on the back lawns. My aunt glowed with health and buzzed with renewed energy, and there was a bounce in her step. I should have been thrilled, but instead, it left me with a greasy, uneasy feeling.

Mrysst had gifted her with revitalization. But what had it stolen from Sirro? Dark magic. A sliver of Horned God power. Did it benefit my Aunt or that thing that lurked beneath the surface?

So many questions spun around in my mind, questions that I didn't have an answer to, as I led my aunt deeper and deeper through the tangled forest.

Glimmering silver eyes watched us from the undergrowth and up amongst the boughs of crooked trees. The Bloodhound was alert, its senses were spiraled out all around us keeping watch. Its snarls vibrated against my skin when it growled low to keep something with a menacing nature at bay.

My own ears were cocked, listening. A rustle. A creaking. Tiny feet scraping on fissured bark. A chitter and a broken yawning noise like rope rigging. All of it was distorted and hard to pinpoint. An abrupt distant noise had the hair on the back of my neck rising and pinched the air tight in my throat. Perhaps it was a howl, or perhaps my senses were playing tricks on me.

Silence.

I pushed onward, ducking beneath a latticework of spindly branches that draped low. Turning sideways I held the branches aloft so my aunt could easily walk through the narrow gap between trees, then took her hand in my own and gave her a confident squeeze.

It was strange the way Master Sirro had stared at me this morning when he'd first spied me trying to retreat and hide amongst the flaxes in the garden. The swift emotion of shock and astonishment had chased one another across his features. The way his complexion had lost its lustrous sheen.

It was almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

His fingers had clamped around my throat, and that low rumbling growl sounded as if I'd threatened him in some way. A warning, or perhaps an attempt to draw out the Bloodhound that lurked inside me.

While he stared at me, deep in quiet thought, I stared back, watching the way his irises shifted between hues of gold and mahogany.

He'd mapped my features with his sharp, golden eyes and his smooth, cold fingers. Traced the shape of my face, drank in the color of my eyes, and seemed as if he counted the freckles scattered over my nose and cheeks.

Either I'd reminded him of someone else or he'd picked up my otherness.

Had I managed to fool him?

I wasn't sure.

I returned to the here and now, my gaze flicking over my shoulder to my aunt who held my hand and trusted me enough to follow me blindly into the inky darkness. I couldn't tell if the full moon was beginning to appear over the horizon. The upper story of the forest with its dense layer of leaves and branches allowed very little light to filter through even during the day. However, we didn't have much time to reach the cave. I could feel time eating away at my aunt by the way her fingers tightened painfully around my own, the snakish hiss beneath her breath, and the odd crack of bones.

My aunt stopped dead in her tracks and my arm snapped back. A dull sting jarred through the bones of my fingers and hand and up to my arm socket as my aunt frantically yanked, trying to tug me back. Her voice rose into a shrill panic. "The forest is dangerous, Tabitha. I don't think we should be here."

I half-twisted around. "We're almost—"

"We should turn back!"

I reached for her with my free hand, the one holding the flashlight, and curled the tips of my forefinger and thumb on her upper arm, hoping to calm her. Beneath my touch, her body trembled. In a quiet, soothing voice I said, "There's a place nearby. A little higher where we can see the night sky better."

No matter how long we'd been doing this, the awfulness of my betrayal and lies crawled up my throat and burned with guilt.

Her fierce grip on my hand and the tautness of her body readying for flight relaxed slightly. Confusion washed across her features as she leaned closer. "The sky?"

"We like to take photographs of the full moon, remember?" I said softly.

There was a bewildered glassiness to her eyes as her gaze briefly darted up to the canopy before returning to mine. She stared back at me with eyes that were so round, the whites were mostly showing around the deep green irises, and her pupils were abnormally dilated.

A sudden sound—a clattering, as if stones struck one another and rattled down a short slope.

My aunt jolted, barely stifling a shriek.

My heart thudded loudly in my ears. I pulled my hand free from hers and whirled around.

The Bloodhound growled low.

I panned my flashlight wide, hunched over, as I peered through the dense layers of the forest, my breath expelled in quick puffs. Behind me, I was only half aware my aunt murmured something, her voice barely a whisper. "Things lurk in here... Things that want to hurt you... Things that use you to do their bidding..." But my mind and senses were trained ahead of me trying to rationalize what I'd heard and pinpoint where the noise had come from. Finally, parts of what she'd said registered. I slowly straightened and turned around, frowning. "What did you just say?"

Aunt Ellena stared blankly back. Her dark golden brows nudged together as she tilted her head. "Pardon?"

I took a step closer. "You said something just now. What was it?" I urged, not quite remembering all of it.

She shook her head, perplexed. "I don't think I said anything..."

I scrutinized her face in the contrast of light and shadows the faded edge of the lowered flashlight created on her face. It deepened grooves and exaggerated her features. The glassiness to her eyes was gone, and she seemed more herself, albeit a little frightened. Weariness frayed her voice and the tone was resigned when she asked, "We're going to the cave, aren't we?"

My throat thickened. "Yes."

She glanced down at her bony arm, hidden behind the loose dark fabric of her hoodie, and spread her fingers wide. She rotated her wrist and slowly turned her hand from back to front. She spoke so quietly that I had to strain to hear her. "I can feel it moving beneath my skin, hissing in my head, shifting within my very bones..."

Despair stirred in my heart like sediment stirred by a rotting leaf.

I needed to distract my aunt by getting her to talk about something else rather than focus on what was to come. I looped my cold fingers around hers and urged her onward. Our footfall rustled upon the forest floor and thick tussock grasses brushed up against our legs. The yellow light bounced off spiderwebs strung like necklaces between skeletal branches and clouded the mist like smokey light projecting through the dusty air in an old-fashioned cinema.

I glanced at my aunt walking beside me. "Tell me about my father." I knew only little bits about my father, Jasper, from Aunt Ellena. I didn't have any photographs of him either as wildfyre had razed through the home of Lower House Malan in a failed attempt to usurp them. Everything had been destroyed. All I knew was that my father was tall and lean with blond hair and bright blue eyes. Good-looking—my aunt had said.

Surprise rippled across Aunt Ellena's features and she once more came to a standstill. "Your father?"

"Jasper," I said. "Maybe start with how my parents met." A tale I did know, and one that would help recenter her.

Her features softened, yet she nervously licked her lips, glancing momentarily away into the black night that surrounded us. When her gaze returned to mine, the green of her eyes shimmered with emotion. "Your mother loved him... She loved him so much..."

"Did he love my mother?" I knew the answer, but I needed to keep her talking so she forgot about where we were heading.

"He did. He loved her right back. I hadn't seen a happier couple." She smiled gently and her gaze grew faraway as if she were staring into the past and reliving it herself. "Your parents were childhood sweethearts. They fell in love the first time they saw one another when your mother was sixteen."

Internally I swooned.

"At a Servants' Dance, right?" This bit I knew. It was one part of my parents' life my aunt had shared with me. "When she'd accidentally knocked into him and he'd upset the table holding the wine and fruit punch." Asta had apologized profusely and helped him to his feet. "They'd danced every dance together until the night wore on and ended in the early hours of the morning." Both of them with sore feet and were utterly besotted with one another.

Aunt Ellena's gaze flitted to mine. Her eyes widened slightly before she nodded slowly. "And her, our Grannie," she corrected, clearing her throat, "agreed to their courtship, as long as she or I were present of course. I spent a lot of time in Ascendria chaperoning their day dates. I was a typical, annoying little sister too," she added with a wink.

Years ago there had been a House War that had wiped out a lot of families—soldiers and servants alike—including my mother's. She and Aunt Ellena only had their great-grandmother for a bit, before old age claimed her. My father had been an orphan too, and he'd grown up to become a footsoldier for Lower House Malan. The thought of whose House my father had been loyal to brought another wave of curiosity. He'd have worked alongside Varen's family, keeping the crime syndicates in line.

I forced my thoughts away from arrogant Varen, who thought to claim me—You're mine, get used to it—and refocused on my parents. "A few years later they married," I said, adding to my parent's love story, the broad brushstrokes I knew about their lives together. I pushed on, my shoes scuffing through a deep patch of damp leaves. Behind me, I heard Aunt Ellena sigh wistfully. "The wedding was small and a little rushed, but it was beautiful nevertheless. They married one another by the edge of a pond with wild rushes and dragonflies hovering over lily pads. It was just myself and your father's Master-At-Arms present, but neither of your parents cared."

There was something I had always been a little curious about. I slowed down to let my aunt catch up and walk beside me as we picked our way across a small clearing carpeted with toadstools. "Was it a quick marriage because my mother was pregnant?"

Aunt Ellena's gaze shot to mine. Surprise and shock swept through her eyes before they became guarded and she frowned, shaking her head. "No. There was going to be a large, proper wedding later, but your parents didn't want to wait, especially with your father heading down to Colombia to deal with the cartels."

I narrowed my eyes, thinking about it further. It wasn't uncommon for quick marriages in our world, especially if the couple had premarital sex. I couldn't help but think about Dolcie. What she was going to do if Tomas didn't own up to the responsibility? Would she find someone else willing to marry her quickly and raise the child as his own? My first thought was Oswin.

My aunt spoke, splitting apart my thoughts. "You were conceived on their wedding night. You were, admittedly, born early..." Aunt Ellena drifted to a halt. I turned toward her. The flashlight illuminated the trees crowded around us and cast her face half in gloom. My heart ached as I watched her mouth suddenly pinched inward, and her eyebrows slant upward as her eyes glistened with tears. She chewed on her bottom lip trying to hold herself together, but her thin voice broke on the words. "...because your mother was in such distress."

My fingers tightened around the flashlight and I bowed my head, staring down at my damp and dirty shoes, wanting to kick myself.

My father had intended to rejoin my mother at the Szarvases' on his return from South America. By then Asta was pregnant with me, and I was born on the very day he died. He'd never gotten to see me or hold me in his arms.

There'd been a lot of upheaval with the cartels in Colombia. The might of the Lower Houses that served Upper House Novak had gone to war against them, and during the siege, my father had been killed in combat.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, raising my gaze.

My aunt wiped away her tears and stepped before me. Twigs cracked beneath the soles of her shoes. She took both my hands in her own. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Your mother had me to help her with you, to help her get through the loss of her husband." She dropped her gaze to stare at her work-worn fingers wrapped around my hands. "I was there with Asta during the birth," her gaze lifted to meet mine again, and this time she was beaming, if somewhat tremulously. "and I was the first person to hold you. You were such a small baby with big blue eyes that later deepened to green. Solemn too. A little fretful and fussy. And you certainly let me know if you were hungry or just wanted someone to cuddle you," she finished with a light laugh.

She tilted her head, still smiling, and silently urged us to continue onward. She let go of my hand holding the flashlight and I strode beside her, the artificial light skimming the forest floor. We walked in silence for a while. My mind turned inward, thinking about my mother and how hard it must have been for her to lose her husband and gain a daughter on the same night. To raise me on her own as a young widow.

The ground began to gently slope upward as we neared the cave hidden behind the wall of ivy. "Did he like being a footsoldier?" I asked my aunt.

"He was a landscape designer."

Startled, I stopped walking and jerked my head around. "A landscape designer?"

My aunt came to an ungainly halt. She stared back at me with slack features and her voice was slurry. "Tabitha?"

My blood chilled to see that her pupils were tiny pin-pricks within milky-white eyes.