“Kaitlin.” She spat the word like it was a poisonous fruit. “She came from a good family. We were friends once, back then, before she married the Sheerile. Her father was a hard man. Once her mother passed away, he never remarried. Kaitlin was his only child, his legacy. He had an iron grip on her, and nothing, not even his death, could break it.”
She flicked her hand in disgust. “Kaitlin’s done the same to her children. She drives them, steers them at every turn, like they are horses pulling her carriage.” The old woman snorted. “Lagar … He had promise, that one, but she killed it, smothered his will with hers. Kaitlin doesn’t understand—a swordsman must be free to carve his own path in the world, however long it takes him. Her husband understood.”
Her voice turned bitter. “Such good blood. They’ve stood against us for four generations and survived. And she spoiled it all, the old half-wit. Not even her magic will save her now.”
A vicious blaze flashed in the old woman’s eyes. Her fingers curled into claws. Her lips wrinkled, baring her teeth, and a specter of magic, dark and frightening, flared behind her. Alarm shot through William.
Grandmother Az stared through him, raised her chin high, her eyes afire. Her voice rolled, deep, frightening. “Gone will be Kaitlin, gone will be her children and her house. We’ll purge the memory of the Sheeriles from the world. Ten years from now nobody will recall their name, but we will still be here, watching trees grow from the ground watered with the Sheerile blood we spilled.”
William struggled to draw a breath. All around him the air hung thick with the odorous stillness peculiar to the swamp, fecund, violent, and primal. Rotting mud, the pungent scents of night flowers, the stench of wet dogs from the kennel …
A door bumped to the left, and a woman’s laughter, incongruously normal, sounded through the house.
The savage fury died in Grandmother Az’s eyes, and she patted his hand gently, her face wrinkled by a smile. “Well, look at me, rambling on and on, showing my age. Time to go to bed, I think.”
She rose. “I have a favor to ask of you. I need to borrow Urow’s youngest from you for tomorrow.”
“You can have him, if you don’t put him in harm’s way.”
Grandmother Az’s face split in a smile. “Silly child. He’s my own grandson. I wouldn’t harm my family.” She turned and went inside.
William slumped in the chair.
Insane woman.
Insane family.
And he was mad to think he could lure Cerise away from them. They would never let her go.
Lark climbed over the balcony rail and sat in one of the chairs. Her hair was filthy again.
“Are you going to chase me off to bed?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I can’t sleep.” Lark gathered her knees to her. “I’m scared about tomorrow. Do you think Cerise will die?”
William crossed his arms. “Anything is possible, but no, I think she will live. I’ll be there and I’ll do my best to keep her safe.”
They looked at each other.
“What do you know about Tobias?” he asked. Maybe she would answer his questions. Nobody else would.
“It was a long time ago,” Lark said. “Like three years or more. I don’t know very much. Him and Cerise were engaged. He was very nice. And pretty.”
Figured. “Why did he leave?”
“I don’t remember it very well.” She frowned. “I think Mom was doing my hair. And Grandma was there. Then Cerise came. She was really upset about some sort of money missing. I think she thought Tobias took it. And then Mom told her to keep calm and not do something she would regret for the rest of her life and that sometimes you had to let things go and give the person another chance. And Grandma said that in the Legion times death was not an improper punishment for stealing from the family. Cerise got this really crazy look on her face. And then Mom said that the Legion times were long over. And Grandma said that that was exactly what was wrong with the Mire, and if it wasn’t for the exiles, it would still be a proper place and that Cerise knew what had to be done. And then Cerise took off, and Mom sent me out because her and Grandma needed to have an adult conversation. I didn’t see Tobias after that.”
A hell of a story. “Do you think she killed him?” William asked.
Lark bit her lip. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Cerise gets really calm before she kills somebody. Icy. I think she was too mad that time.”
They sat together and looked at the moon for a while.
Lark turned to him. “I’m coming to fight tomorrow. For my mom.”
William wanted to tell her that she was too small, but he’d seen his first fight by her age. “Watch yourself and don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t,” she told him.
TWENTY-ONE
CERISE raised her head and squinted at the morning sky. It was a beautiful, intense shade of turquoise that promised a gorgeous day. Except today, the family rode out to kill and die, and she was at the head of the column.
Behind her two dozen Mars rode on horseback. She had already sent the kids out to scout the road ahead. She’d glanced over her shoulder. Everyone was here. Richard, Kaldar, Erian, Aunt Murid, Uncle Ben … Her gaze snagged on William riding at the edge of the column on the left, next to Adriana. He scowled at her.
If something happened to her today, Richard would assume command of the family and Aunt Pete would take care of Lark. Cerise’s heart lurched. Lark wouldn’t do well with Aunt Pete, but she didn’t know where else to turn.
Grandma Az would help, but Grandmother and Gaston had their own fight to fight. The Sheerile family was a hydra: the two brothers would be at Sene, but the clan wouldn’t die until Kaitlin, their mother, breathed her last. Grandmother had decided today was the day for it, and none of them were stupid enough to stand in her way.
They rounded the bend in the road. It would’ve been so much easier if Grandpa’s house sat somewhere off a main road. They’d ram it with a truck, throw a stinker into it, and sit back and shoot whatever came out. But no, the manor perched deep in the swamp. No truck would make it through the narrow, half-flooded trails. That meant they would have to lay siege to the house. Even with the Sheeriles alone, the odds wouldn’t be good. But with the Sheeriles and the Hand together … Who knew what sort of insane monsters the Hand would stuff into it?
Whichever way you looked at it, they’d have to get the stinker into the house somehow. They had to get the Sheeriles out of the house with the least damage, or they risked destroying whatever clues the manor held.
It had been sixteen days since her parents were taken. Cerise stared straight ahead. Tearing up in front of the whole family wouldn’t do. Sixteen days since the Hand took her mom and dad, and just about eighty years to the day since the feud between the family and the Sheeriles had started. A hell of a day.
A bolt sliced past her shoulder and thudded into the bark of a tree ahead. A squirrel writhed, pierced by the shaft.
William rode up to the tree and sliced with his knife, cutting the small furry body in two. A swirling mass of tentacles spilled out and fell into the dirt with a wet plop. She’d seen these tentacles before, inside the bat guided by the Hand’s necromancer.
“A deader?” Cerise asked.
William nodded. “You don’t have to worry about the Hand today.”
“Why not?” Erian asked from the back.
William glanced at him. “If Spider had his people helping the Sheeriles, he wouldn’t need a scout to keep an eye on things. He must have cut the Sheeriles off, but he still wants a report from the fight.”
That meant Lagar and Arig were on their own. Just the two brothers and whatever hired muscle they brought
