The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

“If you’ve made it to heaven, please, give me a sign.”

Still damp in my black funeral dress, I bow in front of my cot, hands clasped in prayer. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten real food. I’ve collected rainwater to, at the very least, keep myself hydrated. But I’m weak after sleeping endlessly in this tree house, watching the sun rise and fall in the gloomy sky, listening to the birds whistle and flock from tree to tree, all while I lie lifeless so close to the clouds.

“They’ve taken everything from us.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for an answer from the paranormal, spiritual occurrence I’m waiting for. I just need to know he’s happy. He’s safe and cared for. I need to know what happened to the other alters. Did they become their own spirits? How does it work? Maybe if I know he’s at peace, I can find a way to crawl my way out of this dark, hopeless hole.

“Please, Kane, find a way to tell me you’re okay,” I whisper. My own voice sounding hoarse and weak, like sandpaper and the creaking wood of an old ship.

But nothing happens. The birds don’t even make a sound. It’s as if my surroundings hold their breath, waiting for him to answer me.

My shoulders sag, and I let my hands fall to my sides. I need to leave, find fresh clothes, and figure out how to navigate through my lost memories. I’m closest to the Evergreen Dark Wood, to the Nightamous Horde. Maybe I can trouble them for comfortable clothes and be on my way.

I think back to the places I could visit that might trigger a lost memory. Kane’s house. The Red Oaks. My father’s house. Those would be the best places to start.

It takes me half a day to hike barefoot through the humid forest. By the time I reach the shadowed dry lands of the Evergreen Dark Wood, I feel a tremor in the air. A ripple of awareness running down my back like warm bathwater. And without so much as a sound of breath, I can feel the rhythmic beating of two heartbeats.

Normally, I’d take one look around and decide I’m alone here. The woods are uninhabited, dark, and filled with an eerie quiet. But I can’t calm the hairs rising on the back of my neck and that thrumming of alertness filling my veins.

I start walking again, careful not to step on any sticks or pine cones. My feet are already raw and covered in dried blood and small gashes. I have to remind myself to ask for shoes and find a creek to clean my wounds.

As I descend deeper into the darkness, echoes of a breathy conversation find my ears. I stop in my tracks. Looking around, I strain my eyes to see where the sounds are coming from. To my right, I see the dimming glow of a torch that’s about to extinguish. A blue sputtering flame that I follow through the trees. The sounds of hushed words get louder, defining highly registered feminine tones.

Closing in on the torch, I finally catch a glimpse of the source of the noise before I quickly avert my eyes. A woman standing in front of a tree with long white hair, pallid skin, slightly pointed ears, cheekbones, and a sharp jaw.

Runa. Like moonlight in the dark forest. She whispers to a woman leaning against a tree. They laugh quietly as if they’re sharing gossip they shouldn’t know.

“Runa,” I say, turning around to give them privacy. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Runa turns to face me with a raised eyebrow.

“Skylenna?”

I give a noncommittal nod.

“This is Prim.” Runa nods at the woman adjusting her hair behind me.

She smiles and gives me a quick nod. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Skylenna.” The woman is tall and muscular, like a warrior goddess. One white braid with black streaks hangs over her right shoulder, dipping down her cleavage.

“Look at you,” Runa says with a sharp laugh. “You’re as pale as one of us.”

I haven’t eaten.

Runa is narrowing her cold, black eyes on me, studying my gaunt cheeks, lifeless hair, and red-rimmed eyes.

“Where is he?” Her daunting stare doesn’t leave mine.

I swallow. It’s the he that does it. Makes my veins run in the opposite direction. My insides clench together in a death grip. The look of someone who doesn’t know what happened to him. And I can’t say it. The words turn to ash on my tongue, and all I can do is shake my head.

Runa lifts her chin in sudden understanding. She tries not to let the icy look of pity cross her face. But she fails.

“I need—clothes if you can spare any.” For reasons I’m not sure of, I want to hurt her. I want to hurt someone. Anyone. My fingers twitch at the idea, curling and flexing. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone in my life, even as they were hurting me. Something about this grief, this loss, this tragedy has opened a forbidden door in my soul, releasing my demons to wreak havoc on the world.

Prim glances down at my torn-up feet and gasps. “How long have you been walking around without boots?”

I sigh.

“Come on.” Runa nods her head to the left, swiping a loose strand of white hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I’m too weak to fight them as they do more than give me clothing to wear. Prim holds my feet over a bucket of warm soapy water, cleaning my feet of splinters, thorns, and dirt wedged into the crevices of my wounds. We’re in Runa’s private cave, where she brought Dessin and me to change. It has a wooden cot, a dresser, a table, and a cauldron that hangs over a fire.

“Eat,” Runa commands, nodding her head at a plate with slices of bread, cheeses, shreds of meat, and blackberries.

I reluctantly pick up a piece of warm bread, shoving it into my mouth mechanically. I’m aware that I will probably faint at any given moment without food in my system. And before the tree house, I wouldn’t care, but now… I have to know how to trigger my memories again.

“Were you dancing on knives?” Prim raises her eyebrows as she wraps my feet in white cloth.

I answer her with slow, unenthusiastic chewing. Runa lifts my arms to remove my black dress, replacing it with a sleeveless leather archer’s dress. I stare at the dark cave walls as she laces up the front like a corset. She pauses and glances up at me curiously.

“Actually, I’ll get a nightgown for you to sleep in,” she says, flicking her gaze back to the dresser.

I shake my head. “I’m not staying.”

“Sure you are,” Prim replies, tying the laces of my knee-high boots. “You look exhausted and malnourished. Just stay the night and get some sleep.”

“No.”

“You’re not leaving like this,” Runa grits, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

I stand from the cot, tying the rest of the laces up my archer’s dress myself.

“Actually, I am.” My voice isn’t soft or soothing the way it usually is. It’s heavy in the bed of my throat, achingly raw and angry.

“Sit your ass down. You look like the dead, Skylenna. He wouldn’t want you to run yourself into the ground.” Runa’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink like she’s just realized the gravity of that statement.

He wouldn’t want…. I almost laugh. He can’t want anything anymore, can he? He isn’t alive. I just watched them bury his body.

After the last lace, I push past Runa, walking with needles stabbing my sore feet as I make my way to the cave entrance.

“Fine. Go! I’ve never seen that ungrateful face on you before, anyhow. The girl I met was at the very least polite!” Runa shouts behind me.

I stop walking. And without turning around, I let a drop of emotion darken my voice.

“You’re right, Runa. This isn’t the face of the girl you first met. This is the face of a woman who has just lost… everything.”