A shifting of postures across the room. A sinking of everyone’s gazes to the floor. No one knew the truth of Serrit Linday; Vivia had no plans to tell them.
At least not before she knew who exactly had controlled him—and how.
“So,” she went on, pitching her voice louder, “for each leaf you toss from the water-bridge today, I ask that you remember the people who fought for us. Who died for us. And I ask that you also think ahead to the people who continue this fight, and who may still die.
“This war has only just begun. All too soon, our recent victory will be a memory, but let us never forget those who passed Noden’s final shelf to win it for us. And let us never forget…” She wet her lips. Stood taller. “Let us never forget my brother, the prince of Nubrevna, and the admiral of the navy, Merik Nihar. For though we cannot always see the blessing in the loss…”
“… strength is the gift of our Lady Baile.” The room shook from all voices rising as one. “And she will never abandon us.”
* * *
There were disadvantages to being a dead man.
Merik Nihar, prince of Nubrevna and former admiral to the Nubrevnan navy, wished he’d considered living a long time ago.
Then maybe, right now, he wouldn’t be filled with so much regret. Maybe, right now, he would have more memories of Kullen and Safi—and even Vivia—that were worth hanging on to. As many memories, perhaps, as the leaves that drifted off the water-bridges.
Merik, Cam, and Ryber had ascended the hillside near the dam. The plan was to travel north, following the river into the Sirmayans, but on their way, the funeral had begun.
The girls wanted to watch, and as morbid as it was, Merik had wanted to watch too.
The leaves tumbled at different speeds, orange and vibrant, green and alive. Some rode air currents, popping higher, while others hit slipstreams and coasted down. Some were aflame with smoke tails that chased behind. Others simply shone, unlit yet still brilliant in the sunset.
“It’s beautiful,” Cam said beside Merik, her left hand held across her heart. The healers had told her to stand that way, and for once she was doing what she’d been told.
No, no, not “she,” he reminded himself. Cam lived as a boy, and though Merik wasn’t used to that yet—to thinking of Cam as a “he”—they had weeks of travel ahead. Plenty of time in which Merik could retrain his mind.
“It is beautiful,” Ryber agreed from Cam’s other side. She swatted a braid that dangled before her eyes. Unlike Cam, she had kept her ship-boy braids, and though tied back, one kept popping free.
“I’ve seen enough,” was Merik’s eventual reply, and he turned away. He’d had enough of the macabre for one day.
He adjusted his hood, tucking it as low as it would go. Too many people lingered nearby. Farmers who’d climbed up from the valley and soldiers off-duty from the dam’s watchtowers. With his scars healing, his hair growing back, and his true face now peeking through the dark, lacy shadows, Merik couldn’t risk being seen.
He needed the world to think him dead. Not merely so he could hunt for Kullen in peace, but also because the world didn’t need him in it. Vivia didn’t need him in it either, and Merik knew her life would be easier without him around.
One for the sake of many.
It was, while Ryber and Cam were joining Merik on the shore of the Timetz, where the hoof-carved trail they sought cut into the trees, that Cam began humming a familiar tune.
Instantly, Merik’s hackles rose. He walked faster. Trees soared up around him, birch and maple and pine. “Not that song, please.”
“Why?” Ryber asked. She lengthened her stride to join Merik as well. Her boots rolled in the grooves of the path. “That rhyme has a happy ending.”
Then, before Merik could stop her, she sang.
“Blind brother Daret, with senses so keen,
smelled danger lurking ahead.
So he called to the Queen, I am bigger than he!
Release him and eat me instead!
“Her maw then swept open, and Filip raced out,
to where Daret waited nearby.
Then fin-in-fin the two brothers fled,
leaving Queen Crab far behind.
“Said fool brother Filip to blind brother Daret,
once they were free of the cave,
I was wrong to leave you and hurry ahead.
My brother, my friend, you are brave!
“So forgive me, dear Daret, for now I can see
that I was the one who was blind.
I do not need riches nor gold nor a crown,
as long as I’ve you by my side.”
“See? A happy ending.” She grinned, and two gold-backed cards slipped from her sleeve. She flipped them Merik’s way, revealing the Nine of Hounds and the Fool. They fluttered on the breeze, not entirely natural.
Merik halted. His sack dropped to the ground with a whoomf. Then he doubled over to plant his hands on his knees.
So forgive me, dear Daret, for now I can see
that I was the one who was blind.
Merik was the fool brother. He had been all along—it was so clear now. He’d wanted something that wasn’t real, something he could never have, and he’d wanted it for all the wrong reasons.
Seeing what he’d wanted to see.
His story, though, just like the two brothers’, had a happy ending. He was still here, wasn’t he? And Kullen was still out there too—and maybe, just maybe, both he and Kullen could still be saved.
Ryber had told Merik she knew how to heal him. How to stop this strange, half-cleaving that had taken hold. She’d said the answer waited in the Sirmayans, and since Merik had nothing to lose—and everything to gain—by trusting her, he’d packed up his supplies and set out.
Cam, of course, had refused to be left behind.
At the memory of Cam’s stubborn jaw and pursed lips, Merik’s shoulders unwound. His breath loosened.
He straightened, listening to the dusk around him. Crickets, owls, nightjars—they drifted into his ears. The sounds that he and Kullen had grown up with. The sounds they would listen to again one day soon.
“Sir?” Cam murmured, approaching. Her … no his dark eyes shone with worry—so familiar and yet so unknown. He’d forgiven Cam for hiding the truth of Garren and the Nines.
But this is the secret of Queen Crab’s long reign:
she knows what all fishes want.
The lure of the shiny, the power of more,
the hunger we all feel for love.
Merik had forgiven Ryber too, for leaving him in the Nihar Cove. For keeping her secrets, and even for claiming Kullen’s heart, Kullen’s time, Kullen’s love.
After all, both Cam and Ryber had come back for Merik when no one else had.
Well, no one but Vivia.
He smiled at them then. He couldn’t help it.
“Come,” he said, slinging his bag onto his back. For the first time in weeks, he felt alive. “We’ve a long way to go, and the sun will be gone soon.”
Then Merik Nihar set off, content with no riches, no gold, and no crown, as long as he had friends by his side.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
They say it takes a village, and never was it more true than with this book. I simply could not have written it without the support of so many incredible people.
First and foremost, I must thank my editor, Whitney Ross. This book is as much hers as it is mine, and she went above and beyond. Thank you, Whitney. Fighting!
Dear, dear Sébastien, thank you for your patience, for your love, and for your unflappable good nature. Je t’aime.
Joanna Volpe and the rest of the New Leaf gang: I could not function without you. Thank you for all you do, day in and day out.
For my incredible team at Tor: you’re the hidden stagehands working tirelessly behind the scen
es to turn my drivel into something real. Thank you, thank you. There would be no Windwitch without you.
To my wifey, Rachel Hansen: I never could have reached The End without your help. Thank you. (P.S. The hand flex is for you. P.P.S. Make haste!)
I must also thank, from the bottom of my heart, some amazing writer/reader friends. When I called, you immediately answered: Amity Thompson, Erica O’Rourke, Mindee Arnett, Melissa Lee, Leo Hildebrand, Akshaya Ramanujam (Aks Murderer!), Madeleine Colis, Savannah Foley, Kat Brauer, Elise Kova, Biljana Likic, Meredith McCardle, Leigh Bardugo, Meagan Spooner, Amie Kaufman, Elena Yip, and Jennifer Kelly. (Like I said, this book took a village.)
Oh yeah, and to Erin Bowman and Alexandra Bracken—I have only one word for you: #cattleprod.
For my friends at Fabiano’s, especially Sensei Jon Ruiter and Sensei Brant Graham, thank you for letting me beat you up in the name of a good fight scene.
For my dear, dear #Witchlanders, you are my patronus. Real talk here: you are my guardians against the darkness. You’re the reason I keep writing every day, the reason I didn’t give up even when this book almost killed me, the reason I want to tell this story at all. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
For Mom and Dad, you’re my heroes and always have been. I aspire every day to be more like you.
And finally, to David and Jenn: Sorry I wasn’t always the best big sis. Like Vivia, it took getting comfortable with myself before I could get comfortable with you. I hope you know though, that I will do anything for you—yes, even plummet to my death in a valley filled with seafire. Though let’s avoid that if we can.
ALSO BY SUSAN DENNARD
Truthwitch
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SUSAN DENNARD has come a long way from small-town Georgia. As a marine biologist, she got to travel the world—six out of seven continents, to be exact (she’ll get to Asia one of these days!)—before she settled down as a full-time novelist and writing instructor. She is the author of the Something Strange and Deadly series and the Witchlands series, beginning with the New York Times bestselling Truthwitch. When not writing, she can be found hiking with her dogs, slaying darkspawn, or earning bruises at the dojo.
Visit her on the Web at www.susandennard.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Map
Before
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Acknowledgments
Also by Susan Dennard
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
WINDWITCH
Copyright © 2016 by Susan Dennard
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Scott Grimando
Map by Maxime Plasse
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-7930-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7653-9579-5 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-4668-6733-8 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466867338
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First U.S. Edition: January 2017
First International Edition: January 2017