The walls of our clan might circle us, but they can’t keep me out.
Heart pounding, I tuck my knife into my belt and slip out of my family’s hut. The air is damp and cold, and if I didn’t know better, haunted by danger. Swiping my fingers over the Lillian Tree engraved on our door for good fortune, I duck into the shadows, hugging the stone wall that borders our clan until I find the secret hole, tucked beneath a scrabble of bushes.
My tunic swipes against the jagged stones as I crawl beneath the clan’s wall. Once through, I stand and drink in the sight of moonlight dancing over the ocean, waves crashing on the pearl-white beach. A thrill shoots through me just like it does every time I sneak out.
Sentries stroll along the top of the wall, but they don’t glance my way. I’m nothing but a ghost seeking shadows.
I take off running along the dunes, sea grass tickling my knees and sand squeezing into my slippers. Sea salt clings to my lips. Night breeze snaps at my long hair.
After I skirt around the bend, my body tenses. I halt. The jungle spreads before me, waving palms as if enticing me into their fold. A glance in either direction, then I dart into the forest until it drapes around me. Here, the air smells of rich earth, sharp pine, and sweet Lillian blossoms.
A smile tugs at my lips as I press deeper into the forest. Once again, I escaped.
But soon the howls and squawks of the jungle rattle my nerves. I pull out my knife for reassurance. Storyteller’s tales of demons, creeping through the forests and kidnapping innocent clansfolk echo through my mind. Swallowing hard, I push my fears down and slink deeper into the jungle.
Soon I’ll be in Tor’s arms. I focus on the memory of his kiss, brushing across my lips and whispering promises against my skin. Those strong arms around me and his vow we will be together forever.
Tonight I need to hear those words more than ever.
I step into the small grove. Moonlight trickles through the tree boughs and onto the blades of grass. This is Tor’s and my place where we meet in secret. I perch onto the smooth slab of rock, tucking away my knife and wrapping my arms around me. I pray to the Magic Tor doesn’t have any trouble sneaking away from his clan tonight.
The bushes rustle. The back of my neck prickles. I straighten, listening. The forest feels as if it’s moving. A tall, dark form steps into the grove.
Tor.
My heart lurches, and I leap to my feet. His thick brown hair falls to his shoulders and hangs over his eyes. His breathing is labored, as if he were running to get here.
“Tara,” he says, and I fly into his arms. He could say my name a thousand times, and the sound of it would never lose its beauty. “I didn’t know if you’d get away. The security has gotten so much heavier.”
“I have my ways.”
“I hate this sneaking about.” He threads his fingers through the brown strands of my hair, lingering on the chunk of white that I usually hide in my braid. But when it comes to Tor, my white strands aren’t a curse or something to be wary of. They’re beautiful. “There has to be a better way to live. I’m tired of sneaking about, hiding behind walls, doing what the Paladins tell us to do.”
“It’s not so bad.” I run my palms down his chest, smiling up at him. “We make it work. And we’re safer this way until they announce us as matched.”
“What if they don’t think we’re compatible? How would you feel then?”
I kiss him. “The Magic won’t let that happen,” I say fiercely. “It knows we’re meant for each other.”
“The Magic?” He snorts. “If it even exists.”
I stiffen. “You don’t actually believe that do you?”
“I’ve heard the rules weren’t always like this.”
He didn’t answer my question. I frown, pulling away. “Who told you that?”
“I’ve been doing some investigating.” He kisses my forehead. Excitement radiates from him. “What if I said I found a way for us to be together? No more sneaking about. No more worrying about who we’ll be matched to.”
“I’d say it’s too good to be true.”
“I can’t let them take you away from me. I’ll do anything to stop that from happening.”
I trail my fingers along the back of his neck, his life force pulsing through, strong and healthy. I still haven’t told him about my ability. Not yet. No one knows except my parents. Being different is never good in Eden.
A shout and the clang of what sounds like steel against steel echoes across the forest.
“Did you hear that?” I whisper.
“Yes.” He squints into the forest, gripping my arms. “Stay quiet and don’t move.”
He releases me and reaches for the axe hanging from his belt. He steps to the edge of the grove, holding the weapon before him like he’s about to use it. Blood drums against my ears. I can’t resist. I tread closer to the sounds until I spot whispers of light, shuddering through the trees.
Another step carries me to the edge. I peer into the valley below. Dark figures swarm through the fields, torches bobbing like restless fireflies among the Lillian plants. Yells vibrate within the forest.
And with it, the clang of battle.
“The Lillian plants,” I whisper, horror icing my veins. “They’re going to burn them.”
These plants protect us from the Hollowing. Without them, we can’t survive. Once, endless fields of Lillian bloomed across the isle. Now, only this narrow stretch at the base of Sacred Mountain remains. According to Ruban, our clanmaster, the Lillian plants are the last barrier between us and extinction.
Tor turns to me, eyes wild. “Get back behind your clan’s walls. It’s not safe here.”
I reach for him, but he takes off, blazing through the forest, axe raised. His words buzz through me, the command in them tugging to be obeyed.
Go back. Go back. Go back.
But I want to help. I could find water… stop the fires. There must be something I can do. Except he told me to go back…
Clenching my fists, I push against the order and take off, following him. Palms slash against my face. Branches slice my legs. I stumble over roots, slamming face-first to the ground. Dirt fills my mouth. I grit my teeth and scramble to my feet, running again.
My body crashes hard into something. No somebody. I stumble backward, only to find myself face-to-face with a man with yellow strands of hair sticking out of his mostly bald head. Tattered clothes hang on his skeletal, thin body, a mix of browns and forest greens. Even in the moonlight, his skin colors yellow and sickly. My eyes fall on the satchel hanging at his side. It’s stuffed full of roots and white flowers.
My heart plummets. Lillian plants.
He grins, revealing sharp, pointed teeth and glittering green eyes. Terror slams into me. I whip out my knife, holding it before me. There’s no doubt. This man is from the Wilds. I’ve never encountered one before, but I know the stories.
They say the Wilders aren’t human, but creatures half-turned. Not quite hollowed out into monsters, but also not quite human. They steal our Lillian plants to hold off the final stages of the sickness, or maybe it’s vengeance on us for keeping the plants to ourselves, hoping that someday we’ll become just like them.
“Pretty girl, pretty blade,” the man titters like I’m a silly fool. Perhaps he’s right. The blade shakes in my hand, revealing I’m no killer. “Run. Run away, pretty girl, while you still can.”
“Those plants are ours,” I grind out. “Give them back.”
He cackles. His eyes roll in the back of his head like one possessed. I use the opportunity to snatch the satchel from him, but he lifts it into the air.
“The island gives.” He snarls. “The island takes away.”
I lunge again for the satchel, but he swings it out of my reach and takes off. We need those plants. Clansfolk will die without them. I’m faster and far healthier than he is. It doesn’t take long to catch up with him and tackle him to the ground. We tumble. The plants fly out of his bag, strewn across the jungle floor.
“No!” He scrambles and claws about, trying to collect them.
Thankfully, he’s slower than a sea urchin. I snatch the rest up before he gets a chance.
“Mine!” the Wilder screeches. “I must have them or my family will die.”
I falter. He has a family? What does that even mean or look like?
Using my brief surprise, he slaps me across the face so hard that the blow sends me flying to the ground. My head hits the hard earth, and the plants fling from my hand. Stars swirl in my vision. He pounces on top of me and snatches my knife, raising it over my chest.
I scream and push against him.
A blur of movement, and the man is thrown off me. I look up to see Rune standing above, a torch in his hand. He’s wearing the Sentry black band across his forehead and his tight black tunic looks like it stole the night. His long dark hair hangs loose, whipping across his face. And those deep blue eyes burn like hot embers in the firelight.
“How dare you touch her, you sniveling rat,” Rune growls.
“Mine,” the Wilder spats. “My plants.”
Rune punches him, knocking him flat to the dirt. “Not the answer I was looking for.”
While the Wilder moans and rolls on the ground, Rune holds a hand to me. I eye him, hesitating. Strange marks run up his bare arms, moving as lightning cuts the sky. I know him from when I was in the Academy, but it’s been years since we graduated, and he was recruited for the Sentries while I was assigned to work the Lillian fields.
“I don’t bite.” He shoots me an amused grin and then nods to the Wilder. “Unlike some I know.”
I take his hand. It’s firm and warm. He hauls me to my feet as if I weigh nothing, pulling me straight into him. I barely stop short of his chest. My breath catches as a flutter erupts in my stomach, wild and sudden, like something within me has been set loose. His eyebrows rise, and his mouth twitches. I jerk my hand away and step back.
“Miss Damsel in Distress.” Rune bows and backs away. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
“That won’t be necessary.” All the butterflies dissipate. He may be gorgeous, but he’s a Sentry. And I’m in love with Tor. “Thank you and goodnight.”
“Never took you for one to break the rules.”
I glare at him. But worry snakes into my stomach. “Will you turn me in?”
“Should I?” A wicked grin tips at his lips.
“You’d rescue me from a Wilder only to send me to the Reformatory?”
Tor bursts through the bushes. “Tara! Why are you still here? I told you to leave.”
“This man was stealing our Lillian plants.” I point to where the Wilder grovels on the ground.
Tor yanks the thief to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
“You know we need those,” the strange man says, grinning manically. “Our supplies… gone, gone.”
Tor punches the Wilder in the nose, sending the man tumbling backward.
“Stealing is a crime.” Rune points the tip of his sword at the Wilder’s neck. “You’ll be brought to the Reformatory for questioning.”
“Let the man go,” Tor says, causing both Rune and me to gape at him.
“Are you mad?” Rune asks Tor.
“His only offence is stealing something that can save him from the Hollowing.”
“Let this scoundrel go?” Rune chuckles under his breath. “Not over my dead body. He’s not innocent. He was about to kill Tara.”
“Is this true?” Tor demands of the captive, picking him up off the ground again like he’s a sack of rice.
The Wilders’ eyes roll in their sockets again. He snickers as if the whole situation is hilarious.
“I don’t know what he finds so funny,” I say. “Tor, let Rune take him to be questioned. Maybe we can get answers about the Wilders and how they got over the wall.”
Two shadows leap out of the forest, screaming with a cry that stops my heart. Their swords aim at Rune. Tor drops the Wilder and pushes me behind him while Rune meets the oncoming blades.
With practiced precision, Rune’s sword slices the night, quick as the tattoo marks racing along his arms. Their clubs are powerless against Rune’s steel. Fear fills the attackers’ eyes, and they fall back. The Lillian plant thief sneaks up behind Rune, my knife clutched in his hand.
“Behind you!” I warn.
Rune spins around and plunges his sword into the thief’s leg. The Wilder falls, howling in pain, while the other attackers take off.
“Watch the thief,” Rune orders Tor. “I’ll hunt down those other two.”
He races into the jungle in pursuit, leaving us in the small clearing with the Wilder wailing on the ground before us.
The smell of death fills the air, chasing at my senses, clamoring at my mind. The urge is nearly impossible to resist. This desperation has always been my curse.
I inch closer to the Wilder. It’s not that I want to, it’s that I can’t resist the pull to touch the wound. My hands tingle. Sweat beads on my brow.
“Be careful,” Tor warns. “Don’t get so close. He’s dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten he nearly killed me.”
Except, the need to get closer is nearly unbearable. I plant my feet in the ground, grinding my teeth to keep myself in check. The Wilder stands, swaying slightly. He snatches the satchel, still holding some plants, and disappears into the foliage.
“Stop him,” I tell Tor, not trusting myself to chase after the thief.
“He’s no longer our concern.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I spin on him. “That Wilder is clearly dangerous, and he’s taken a satchel of Lillian plants.”
He doesn’t answer or even look at me, but watches the forest, knuckles whitening as he grips his axe.
“You let him go, didn’t you?” I demand, shock rippling through me.
“He wasn’t worth fighting over.”
My eyes narrow. “He sounded like he knew you.”
“Knew me? He’s not right in the head.” With a cloth, he cleans the blood off his fist.
Rune crashes out of the forest, joining us in the clearing. Sweat beads along the collar of his tunic, and his arm muscles ripple from using his sword.
“Did you kill the other two?” Tor asks.
“No.” Rune pants. “They disappeared. Like magic. They must have some hidden cave or tunnel around here.” Then he strides across the clearing, scanning the area where he’d stabbed the Wilder. “Where did yours go?”
“Escaped.” Tor glances at me, eyes urging me to keep his secret. “Sneaky, that one was.”
I look away but keep my mouth shut. Tor must have his reasons.
Because the alternative is treason.