Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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The night sky was a handful of white gems tossed upon black silk. A reedy wind slunk through the undergrowth and all around me the spine-chilling sounds of the forest at night set my senses on edge—the creaking of trees, a distant howl, a rustle of small critters scurrying through the leafy floor.
I trudged up the incline, careful to keep the path looking natural and untouched. The narrow glow from my small flashlight bobbed in front of me, flattening everything to a dull yellow that contrasted sharply with the deep shadows. Small leaves crunched underfoot while I dug in deep, pushing my way upward. Leaves and scrawny branches scratched at the side of my face and fingers as I grabbed hold of bushes to help haul me upward. At the top of the slope, I reached a rock face smothered with lichen and moss. Its stony peak had been cultivated into a wild-looking garden, overgrown with grasses, ferns, and abundant ivy that draped down the sheer rock face like a curtain. Ivy that I'd grown there on purpose. The thick tangle of vines and leaves dangled in front of a cave opening and kept it hidden from sight.
My nerves were pinched and sore from the straps of my heavy rucksack digging into my shoulders. Stones and twigs pitted my kneecaps as I knelt down upon the uneven ground. Clamping the flashlight between my teeth I shrugged the canvas bag off my back and rolled my shoulders to ease the burning sensation in my muscles. The clips made a clacking sound as I undid them, and I flipped over the rucksack's flap before digging out the inner bag where I kept my kills.
An hour ago, I'd hurried to my bedroom and changed from my ruined dress into a dark tracksuit and hoodie, still fuming about Varen Crowther. I'd clicked my tongue and mentally shook my head at him. He had no idea at all who he was dealing with. Varen Crowther was going to rue the day he decided to blackmail me.
I'd grabbed my canvas rucksack and slipped my dagger into the side pocket before snatching a flashlight from a drawer and making my way out of the Servants' Quarters. I'd quickly made the decision to do what I normally did before the sun rose, while things were still chaotic and my absence wouldn't be noticed. I couldn't be confident that later on, I'd have the same opportunity.
As I'd dashed out of the mansion through one of the servants' entrances on the western wing, I'd felt the earth shift beneath me from immense strumming power. I'd watched in astonishment as a witch stepped out of the Hemmlok Forest with Master Sirro, and a moment later she'd transformed into an otherworldly white mist that rolled across the lawn, spreading outward and into the mansion. It swallowed everyone, including me within its powdery white world.
Mrysst.
A Horned God.
One of the Witches.
I knew the names of all Jurgana's sisters, and I'd innocently teased out from the Purveyor of Rarities as much information as I could—what they looked like, where they slumbered, and what kind of powers were peculiar to themselves. What the Purveyor of Rarities didn't know, was that I had to find one of the sisters and bargain with them in the hopes they'd perform the spell to break my aunt's dark curse.
