“The girl, Mother Queen?”

Nieve winces. Presses her hand to her forehead. A drop of red

stains the pristine blue of her pool. She rubs the red stain between

her fingers. Their voices become distant, like we’re on opposite ends

of a dark tunnel.

“Break her.”

“Lord Sea.”

Hands lift my face and smack my cheeks.

“Lord-Tristan, wake up!”

I open my eyes to Dylan looking over me. Tiger Eyes is at his

side. The white sun beats down on us. I sit up and my head throbs

where a bump has formed beneath a gash. Bright red blood comes away on

my fingertips. I smear them on the grass.

“Where are we?”

“You weren’t breathing,” Tiger Eyes says. “The Lion breathed air

back into your body.”

CPR. Dylan gave me CPR.

“Thanks, man.”

“Are you going to tie us up again?” I ask, willing my head to stop

spinning. I stand and dust grass and pebbles off my ass and legs.

“I think we understand each other now.” She slings her bow around

one shoulder and holds my belt of weapons firmly in the other hand.

Dylan and I walk on either side of her. Since neither of us know

where the hell we’re going, we should just let her lead, even though I

have a tendency to walk ahead. She didn’t answer when I asked her

where we are, and I know she’s not going to tell me. My best guess is

we’re in the middle of the Vale of Tears, where the River Clan is.

Here the sun is brighter, at a high noon, and the moon is a crescent

resting on the horizon.

Everything is the new, wet green of spring. The earth is soft,

almost too soft for my quick, heavy New York City footsteps. Countless

thin streams run like snakes across the ground. I can’t see where they

end, but I bet I could walk for miles and still not find it.

“At least you ditched your toy soldiers,” I say, wanting to keep

our conversation light.

But I’ve spoken too soon.

Figures rise out of the stream, liquid molding into the flesh of

men and women. They’re translucent at first, like glass mannequins

with their insides showing. Then they’re solid, skin ranging from

pinks and algae blues to browns and white. All of them, men and women,

braid their long black hair in thick braids that end at their

tailbones.

“That’s different,” I say.

“Come,” Tiger Eyes says.

The warriors walk around Dylan and me. I liked it better when it

was just the three of us. At least Tiger Eyes throws me a smile every

now and then.

“Finally, he’s shocked into silence,” one of the guys says.

But it’s not them that keep me quiet. It’s the thought of Nieve

telling Archer to break her.

And me here, unable to go to her.

My insides are painful, bloody knots ready to burst.

So I focus on our footsteps. The trees are wilder here, tall and

weeping over scattered ponds of water and the snake-like streams. The

rush of the river is close by. And the sun is a white disk in a

cloudless turquoise sky.

“Are we there yet?” I ask three times until I can pinpoint the guy

who wanted to shoot an arrow through my jaw. I make a mental note of

him-the one with the greenish pallor and muddy brown eyes. My hand

itches for my dagger.

“We’re here,” Tiger Eyes says. Here is a stone and wood archway.

A curtain of vines gives way to our troop, and when we walk in, a

small village of people is waiting for us.

They’re wonderful to look at-some in their semi-fluid form and

others in solid colors that match the woods. I suddenly imagine being

a kid and trying to play hide and seek. No one would win.

A woman with skin like beaten leather, eyes as dark as earth and

violet hair braided to her hip bones, breaks from the crowd.

“Land Prince,” she says to me, her voice thick like smoke. The

kind of voice that can soothe a child’s ache but then turn around and

sentence a man to death. “Son of the Western Seas,” she says to Dylan.

“I am Isi, leader of the River Clan.”

“Ih-sea,” I repeat.

She nods gracefully. “Welcome.”

“Welcome?” I ask. “Do you bind and blindfold all your welcome

guests?”

“You cannot blame us for wanting to keep our home secret and

safe.”

A hundred eyes descend on me.

I straighten my posture. “I would have come willingly. I came here

for you.”

Isi nods. “You want our secrets.”

“Yes.”

“There are many steps to this, Tristan Hart.”

“I will take them.”

The old woman and Tiger Eyes smile at each other, like they’re

sharing an inside joke. “So eager. Eagerness is foolish. Though I am

told it’s part of your charm, as far as charm will take you.”

I like making jokes, but I don’t like being the butt of them.

“Good men died to get me here. I won’t leave until you help me.”

“Men?” Isi repeats it like she’s not sure she heard me right. She

stares at me for a long time. They all do. I’ve spent my whole life

trying to be in the spotlight, but this kind of scrutiny makes my

insides shake because I want-no-I need their approval.

“Come,” Isi says finally. “Be judged by our Elder Council.”

I swallow. “Judged?”

“Make yourself at home, Lion,” Tiger Eyes tells Dylan. Then she

throws my weapons on the ground and I pick up the cut harness.

Dylan looks like he doesn’t know whether to stay or take his

chances with the beast back on the outer ring.

When Isi steps into the village, the crowd parts for her. Tiger

Eyes follows and I’m a close third, keeping my eyes on the back of

Tiger Eyes’ head. I feel like schoolyard rules apply to islands

outside of time. Don’t look at anyone the wrong way, and you’ll live

another day. I could be looking at the scenery, but I’m sure I’m not

missing much other than trees, and we have those back home. I don’t

realize how nervous I am until we reach a giant tent.

Isi holds the flap-door aside, and all I can think is that it

leads into a black hole. But like all things, this is a test. A

judgment. I have to see it through.

Plus, they gave me my weapons back, so they’re okay, right?

I step inside and am overcome by the smell of old leather and

herbs. A hunched figure with a black veil sits at the center. My heart

is racing like a jackrabbit in mating season. I’m covered in a cold

sweat.

Isi and Tiger Eyes sit on either side of the veiled woman. Then

they’re joined by a fourth shape that slithers from the ground, first

liquid, then changing into the warrior that wanted to skewer me on the

way here. By the look on his grumbly face, I can tell we’re going to

be fast friends.

“Do the rest of you have names?” I ask.

The veiled woman nods. “As the tree and the sky have names, we are

called many things.”

“I just need one.”

“Sit, Tristan Hart,” Isi says.

So I do.

Tiger Eyes is fighting a smile as she says, “I am Yara.”

Grumble says, “I am Karel.” But I much prefer Grumble or, you

know, Hater.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, but it doesn’t help

much. “Has anyone ever told you that you guys come on a little

strong?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Grumble says.

“Yes,” I answer honestly.

Isi wants to smile. I know she does. Instead, she gets down to

business.

“You are here to attain something from us.”

Maybe my body is getting used to the heat in the tent, or maybe as

my eyes adjust to the darkness, I’m not as nervous. “How’d you guess?”

“No one comes to the Vale of Tears without wanting something.