The next half hour was presented to Ember in a series of snapshots: Naz pulling her through the dancers, Jisu close behind; riding on the back of a thoroughbred horse, with the masquerade at their backs; the first wooden buildings marking the outer edge of the city; and finally, the wall of massive trees surrounding the northern boundary of Mendel. It was that inimitable sight that erased the last traces of fog from Ember’s head.

“Come on,” Naz said, suddenly serious. The three swung down from their mounts, stepping off the trail and into the brush. The pisces grasped a rope ladder, beginning to haul herself into the trees.

Ember focused only on her hands and feet as they ascended, letting instinct guide her. As she fought to regain her mental clarity, she felt a pang of regret that she had let herself be swept so completely into the wildness of the festival.

When they had climbed sufficiently high, Naz led them horizontally through the trees with the help of the rope bridges. She stopped at the crux of a large branch, resting with her back against the trunk. They were only a few yards away from the wall, which Ember saw closely for the first time: rather than solid wood, as she had assumed, the branches had been shaped so that they wove through each other like the fibers of a basket.

Jisu and Ember found crevices with which to anchor themselves where it was possible to view the road outside the wall through gaps in the branches. It was well-lit by torchlight, and from her perch, Ember could make out the almost perfectly concealed hinges of the great gates. They were not alone in their spying; many other Linnaeans had gathered in the trees or on the ground, though all but a few remained out of sight.

Flanked by a small number of horned guards, a figure stood in the center of the trail outside of the walls: Corax, who appeared alert and composed despite his role in the opening of the festival. Other than the season, the scene eerily mirrored that of her own arrival to Mendel.

I suppose it’s fitting to watch a delivery on the night that celebrates the city, Ember thought, but her uneasiness remained, and she was glad to be inside the walls rather than outside.

On the path ahead, an armored horse-drawn carriage emerged from the shadow of the leviathan trees. “Woah!” the driver called, his voice grating against the anticipatory silence. A howl sounded in the distance, and the horse neighed, rearing up in terror. The driver cracked his whip, fighting to control the animal, and Ember grimaced at its cries. Neither the spectators, the Linnaeans guards, nor Corax moved as the two struggled against each other. In the background, the festival music could be heard faintly.

Finally, the driver forced the horse into submission. “You may go no further,” Corax said, his voice calm yet characteristically coarse. “Show yourselves!”

The door to the carriage swung open. Ember felt her heartbeat in her throat, thumping inexplicably urgently, and Jisu stiffened in her crouched position. In an attempt to calm herself, Ember recalled that in her own delivery, Corax had not opened the gates until the humans turned back for the mainland.

A pair of heavy boots were the first to touch the ground, followed by the dainty slippers of a little girl. On the far side of the carriage, the guard pulled the child close to him by means of a large hand at her nape. He wore a uniform that Ember did not recognize, one that she presumed belonged to one of the states north of Draycott and Ciradyl.

Ember rose on her haunches for a better view. The guard was holding the girl too tightly, and she had to rise onto her tiptoes to avoid being choked. She quivered beneath his touch, as terrified as a baby mouse trapped beneath a predator’s claw.

A surge of white-hot rage surged through Ember’s body, forcing her to shift her position from discomfort. Upon seeing the man, the pain of being ripped from her home and treated like scum, which had dulled somewhat over time, returned forcibly. The capped fangs extended, digging into her lip and drawing pinpricks of blood.

“Give her to me,” Corax coaxed, still at least one-hundred-fifty feet away as he stretched out a feathered hand. “Give her to me, and you can return to whence you came.”

For a moment, it seemed as if the guard was indeed going to release the girl. Instead, however, a hand went to his hip, whipping a knife from its sheath and holding it to her throat. She whimpered, her eyes closing as she fought to keep her neck above the blade.

Ember shifted, irate, while Jisu released a low growl. “Oh, no,” Naz said, horrified. There was rustling from both sides of the wall as the other Linnaeans reacted alike, and the human’s head snapped up in response. Corax held up a hand, silently signaling for no one to move. He stepped forward, maintaining a neutral expression, though Ember could sense his fury.

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The guard’s pupils darted back and forth, showing the whites of his eyes. “Stay back!” he shouted, “if you or any of your freaks come any closer, I’ll kill her!”

Corax held up his hands. “I am just a bird, such that you might roast on a spit. I can do you no harm. What is the meaning of this?”

The front door of the carriage swung open. Gently, as though on an afternoon stroll, another man stepped to the ground below. He was clothed in white down to his boots, and an all too familiar pendant dangled from his neck: a set of silver wings, the symbol of Ciradyl’s church.

Ember reacted viscerally. Why is one of Ciradyl’s priests accompanying a carriage from the north?

“Do you know who I am, Crow?” the priest asked smoothly, his voice as sickly sweet as overripe fruit.

Corax looked unimpressed. “I cannot say I know you personally, but I assume you’re a representative of Ciradyl’s Holy Order.”

“That’s correct,” the priest replied. “It is my sacred duty to uphold the will of the Divine Goddess, hence my being here. The time has come for a re-negotiation of the treaty.”

A low murmur came from the hidden spectators, and Corax lowered his chin. “A re-negotiation? On what grounds?”

“The Cursed Forest is spreading to the north, encroaching on our territory. Already, valuable land has been lost. Thus, we require reparations in the form of gold and animals. Most importantly, it is imperative that a party of representatives be let inside your city, to verify that you are obeying the will of the Goddess.”

Ember stared at him, speechless. Our territory? Since when have the city-states joined in negotiation?

Jisu snorted under her breath, reacting to the last demand. It, undoubtedly, was the most ridiculous—the sanctity of Mendel was the Linnaeans’ greatest asset.

“We can talk as civil beings,” Corax said. “Release the child, and I will discuss your demands with you and the other states’ leaders.”

“Shut your mouth, beast!” the guard exclaimed, tightening his grip on the blade. Corax stepped forward, his face darkening.

“Calm, now,” the priest said, his fingers brushing the guard on the arm. As he turned, his robes shifted, revealing the barrel of a long metal weapon tucked against his side.

Ember recoiled, questioning her eyes. “Is that a shotgun?” she breathed, recognizing it only from the stories she had heard from her father—stories that had, invariably, ended in death. The weapon, which required scarce resources and great skill to make, was wielded only by officials of the highest rank.

“Let’s not become overexcited,” the priest said. “Come here, crow, and we will talk.”

“So be it,” Corax said, stepping forward.

No! Ember wanted to scream. Despite his collected demeanor, the way the priest’s hand hovered inside his robes foretold only disaster.

Almost imperceptibly, Corax’s left hand moved behind his back. Quickly, but without any other indication, it clenched into a fist.

A shadow dropped from the top of the wall, landing in front of the headmaster. It was pale in the darkness, and Ember only registered its blob-like structure before it shot a series of projectiles in quick succession.

The darts, which were shaped like short arrows, thunked into the flesh of the priest and the guard with pinpoint accuracy. Two impaled themselves in the priests’ eyes, spurting blood. He screamed horribly, clawing at his face and fumbling uselessly for the gun.

As if warding off a demon, the guard slashed wildly with his knife. A second set of projectiles caught him squarely in the hand and the throat, jerking his body upward like a puppet on strings.

Linnaeans flooded from the branches, converging upon the carriage. The priest, the guard, and the driver were violently pinned against the forest floor, their feeble attempts at fighting back easily deflected. The girl was tucked beneath the arm of an avian and swept into the safety of the treeline.

With a fearsome expression, Corax approached the bleeding men. Ignoring the driver and the priest, he crouched beside the guard, speaking to him below earshot. The man attempted a curse, but the words were garbled by his torn-open throat, from which dark blood bubbled into the dirt below.

“Pathetic creature,” the headmaster growled, driving his talons through the man’s chest. The guard sputtered, convulsing violently. Corax turned his back, wiping his hands on his cape. He raised his arm, and the gates swung open with a whoosh. “Bring the others and bind their wounds,” he directed, “they will be useful to us.”

Ember’s stomach turned as she watched the procession, and she covered her mouth to keep from being sick. Although Ciradyl’s Holy Order ruled in conjunction with its monarchy, its church was a minority in the other city-states; in fact, even Ember’s hometown had worshipped the elemental gods. Something had to be amiss for one of Ciradyl’s priests to join another state’s delivery.

A wave of primal fear seized Ember. If Ciradyl’s church was moving against the Linnaeans, her father would be at risk. She clenched her hands, oblivious to the rough bark gauging her palms. I can wait no longer to challenge the harpy eagle. I must contact him, no matter what.