“I don’t mind, honest,” Nat said.
“I have a few things I wish to discuss with you as well,” Esteban said. “If you stay behind, we can—”
“I said no.” Archer didn’t care if he was being irrational. He wanted nothing more than to sneak away with Briar again—and something in her smile told him she felt the same way. He faced the others, avoiding Jemma’s flat-eyed stare. “The rest of you make camp. The horses could use an early night.”
“Whatever you say, Archer.” Nat dismounted with a gloomy lurch. “Not sure I’ll sleep well if all the people in the next town have dropped dead, though.”
“I told you there weren’t any bodies,” Lew said.
“If it is what I think, it won’t spread here,” Briar said. “We’d better go in on foot, though.”
The others scoured their immediate vicinity for a good clearing in which to stay the night while Briar and Archer readied their various weapons and paint supplies for the expedition. He finished preparing first and paused to watch her transfer brushes and jars to a canvas satchel Nat had found for her somewhere. She glanced up to meet his gaze, her deep-brown eyes holding a mixture of mischief and intensity. Why had he ever thought she wasn’t interested? He felt giddy, like a boy sneaking away for his first kiss behind the stables. He could hardly wait to be out of sight of the rest of the team.
Esteban edged over to the pair, tugging his scrawny mare behind him. “Would you like me to accompany you in case this is a mage’s work?” The offer sounded reluctant but genuine.
“We’ve already passed the point where it’s safe to use your powers,” Archer said. “Anyone watching will know where we’re going if they detect you near New Chester.”
“Very well.” Esteban turned to Briar, his thin shoulders hunching. “Take care of yourself in the village.”
“I will,” Briar said. “And thank you.”
Esteban’s mouth twitched in a crusty attempt at a smile before he wandered off. Remarkable. It seemed old Esteban had finally warmed to Briar. If only Jemma could do the same.
Their preparations complete, Archer and Briar set off into the trees on foot. The slanting green rays of evening light gave the forest an eerie quality, all the stranger with so few birds about. Archer didn’t hear a single chirp or spot so much as a flurry of feathers as they walked through the woods. The air smelled odd, too, almost dead, and it seemed to grow heavier the farther they walked. The forest hadn’t felt that way the last time he was there. He didn’t like it.
The peculiar atmosphere doused Archer’s hopes of a romantic rendezvous like a bucket of ice water. He stayed close to Briar, half to protect her and half for the comfort of her presence. Whatever was wrong in those woods didn’t feel like something he could shoot with an arrow or punch in the nose. Briar seemed equally aware of the change in the air. She had a paintbrush in one hand and a jar of red paint half-open in the other.
So much for stealing away for a kiss.
“What’s your theory about what Lew saw?” Archer asked to break the uncanny silence. “Could it really be a curse?”
“It’s possible to curse an entire village with a powerful enough painting,” Briar said. “It uses the Law of Wholes, if you do it right. Some mages use multiple images to anchor the curse when they’re working on a large space, so we’ll want to check the boundaries too.”
“Why would someone want to hurt the whole village?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Briar said. “What do you know about New Chester?”
“I’ve been there a few times,” Archer said slowly. “There isn’t a whole lot to it. A few farms in a clearing, an inn, a tannery. Most people make their living hunting and trapping in the woods. Their primary export is animal pelts.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much game around.”
“I noticed that too.”
The woods ended abruptly, the trees giving way to a grassy clearing. The village sat in the center, composed of a few rows of lumpy thatched houses and a large inn, also with a thatched roof. The tannery on the opposite side of the village was missing its usual smoky haze and pungent odor. It didn’t smell much like the New Chester Archer remembered.
“That looks like a livestock paddock, doesn’t it?” Briar pointed to a fenced pasture near them. “No animals there either.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I can sense something in the air, or maybe a lack of something.” Briar inhaled deeply. “It’s getting stronger the closer we get to the buildings.”
A queasy feeling swirled through Archer’s stomach. “Maybe we should just forget it,” he said. “There’s no one left to give us the information, and we—”
“Wait!” Briar grabbed his arm to stop him. “Hear that?”
“What—”
“Shh! Someone’s talking.”
Archer held his breath, listening. Briar was concentrating too hard to notice she still held his arm, but a thrill went through him at her touch all the same. She felt warm and strong and—focus, Archer.
Gradually he became aware of a low murmur, as if someone were having an animated conversation at the bottom of a well.
“I think they’re just on the other side,” Briar whispered.
“Other side of what?”
She didn’t answer, still scanning the clearing intently. Then she took a tentative step forward, as if testing the temperature of a swimming hole. She gasped and pulled back.
“What is it?”
“A cloaking curse. Come on. This will feel a little strange.” Her hand slipped down to clasp his.
Archer marveled at the way their hands fit perfectly together. She tugged him forward one more step. He shivered at a sudden coldness. It was like pushing through a cloud or the spray from a waterfall. Then, just as abruptly, they were on the other side of it. The town of New Chester was still there, now bustling with people
