Monster. The word screamed in her head, and with it the distinct sound of a girl’s voice, a voice she was sure she knew.
Ducking low, Ingrid began to prowl, finding a sturdy tree to climb up, deathly silent, until she saw another clearing in the distance filled with golden light and the biggest tree she’d ever seen. The tree’s branches spilled out over the woodland, crowning the forest in dappled light. But it wasn’t the tree that had Ingrid so thrilled. She’d thought the wood hated her, but now it gave her a gift.
Nestled under the oak tree was the princess herself.
Ingrid’s mouth twitched at the lack of scratches on the princess. She was entirely untouched by the Rose Wood, with not even a speck of dirt on her. Her hair was longer than she remembered, curling locks of wheat cascading down her back. Ingrid felt her fingers curl in anticipation around the knife in her hand, heartbeat racing.
Ingrid harnessed all her self-control. She needed this to be perfect.
The sun-warmed patch deep in the heart of the Rose Wood was radiant, the air ignited by the buttery light that poured through the leaves. The only sounds were the gentle wind through the leaves, distant streams, and sweet birdsong.
The oak was somehow bigger than Lottie recalled, a wrinkled mass of aging wood that towered over the clearing. It hummed and creaked, the roots beneath her feet pumping life through the woodland.
“Hello, old friend!” she called out.
Everything around the oak was still and untouched, a welcoming cocoon of silence: a secret place that called to you when you needed to be alone with your thoughts.
Lottie had found herself here on the anniversary of her mother’s death, and now she was here again, to try to understand the mystery of Leviathan.
She began to dig, finding the perfect spot to lay Sayuri’s hair just under the huge oak tree. It was oddly therapeutic, and let her clear her head.
Why would Leviathan want those letters?
Dig.
Who is the Master of Leviathan?
Dig.
What do they want with the princess and her Partizan?
As she dug, Lottie could discern a ringing in her head, a distant bell getting louder and clearer the more earth she dug up. After a while she’d almost entirely forgotten why she was even digging, her mind distracted, so it was alarming when her trowel struck something hard.
Blinking down, Lottie saw the corner of a wooden chest buried deep.
She moved the earth aside, revealing its full extent. It was almost the same as the one they found in Takeshin, but instead of moons the chest was engraved with wavy-edged orbs. It was a sun box.
And, although she did not dare dream it, Lottie was sure she knew what it would contain.
The lid eased open with a creak, and what was inside took her breath away.
It was a sword of legend to match Kou’s, a curved blade in the radiant grip, like the sliver of the moon coming to meet the sun, so sharp it whistled.
As she reached for it, something else caught her eye, a small roll of fabric.
Beneath the swaths of cotton lay a glossy black snake made entirely of silk. It slipped between her fingers, smooth and malleable, a glossy rope of ebony. Holding it up to the light, Lottie pulled out Sayuri’s hair and placed it beside to find that they were almost identical.
It was Kou’s hair.
Lottie snapped out of the spell and dropped both locks of hair into the chest. She could hardly believe what she’d stumbled upon, and how it had been right in front of her eyes this whole time.
It was so painfully obvious now—how the bamboo tree mirrored Rosewood’s oak, and all the glowing trunks in Lili’s diary. How on earth could she have been so blind? The clues had been there, telling her there was a gift for her as well: a gift from her ancestor, Liliana. And not just any gift: a sword.
Stroking the handle, Lottie felt the careful engravings. It had been waiting for her for hundreds of years, sleeping in the ground, ready to be awoken.
A thought formed in her head like a chant. Right in front of you.
The words repeated in her mind, a dawning sense like the sun rising over her. Everything slipped out of vision. The woodland, the sword, even her own body, melted away, her thoughts vanishing into a maze with one clear answer at the center.
Why would Leviathan want a letter Ellie’s father had written?
But the question she hadn’t asked herself was far more important. How did they know the letter was there at all?
These past few weeks they’d been trying to find who the Master of Leviathan was with abstract facts—his height, his accent, the drawing she’d put together—all the while trying to convince herself that Ellie wasn’t at the center of it all, but the puzzle pieces were right in front of her, real objects and clues that she couldn’t deny.
The Master of Leviathan.
The idea made her dizzy, hot panic and crystal clarity colliding inside her while she fumbled frantically with her backpack to retrieve the envelope, pouring the fragments out into her palm.
The Goat Man.
Hand trembling beneath the muted gray shards of silver, the single gem rolled into the center of her palm, staring up at her again, just as it had the first time she’d looked at it.
Pale skin.
With her other hand she shakily reached for her pendant.
Long dark brown hair.
The pendant was distinct, instantly recognizable on another member of the pack. It was a firm reminder that you were part of something bigger, that you belonged to the Maravish royal family.
Green eyes.
They glittered with truth, the eyes of the wolf confronting her with a terrible, inescapable reality.
Familiar.
Lottie’s heartbeat slowed down so much she thought it might stop completely, everything becoming languid, the air thick. Because the fragments in her hand were piecing themselves together, the single precious stone staring down its sister
