girls—and the other, never separated from her wombmate, began to wail. When the twins were discovered, their mother took her own life and left a note absolving her husband from all responsibility. Their father was allowed to live.
Ashyn was quite certain Cecil had no such tragic story behind his exile. As much as Ashyn tried to hold on to what she believed, that image wouldn’t go away. Of the man who’d been there. And then was not.
It was nearly dark now. As Faiban held the lantern, Ashyn knelt beside the corpse of a man past his sixtieth summer. Too old to be exiled.
The body was better preserved than most of the others. He must have lived into the winter, frozen until spring, just beginning to rot now. He still looked human. White hair. Lined and weather-beaten face. His dark eyes stared up in shock.
This man had seen death coming, as Ashyn knew from the vision he’d sent. She knew how he’d felt teeth rip into his throat. How he’d tried to fight. How his spirit had hovered there, watching his killer tear into his flesh, devouring it. His spirit had still been watching when his killer had died, choking on a finger bone.
Ashyn looked over at the second body. It lay only steps from the first. A woman. The fever had taken her. Ashyn had seen that in her vision. Wild-haired and crazed, she’d ripped the man apart, mumbling about venison, sweet venison, thanking the spirits for their mercy, and Ashyn realized she hadn’t seen a man at all—she’d thought she’d killed a deer.
“My lady?” Faiban whispered.
She looked up at him. How am I supposed to handle this? she wanted to ask.
Ellyn had warned her that death in the forest was not pleasant. Healer Mabill had said the same. Ashyn had paid little mind. Of course it wouldn’t be pleasant. Death never was.
Moria had understood. That’s why she’d insisted on coming along. I don’t need protection, Ashyn had said. I have my dagger. But that wasn’t the kind of protection Moria had meant. She’d understood what Ashyn might find, and she’d known her sister wasn’t prepared to deal with it. Not alone.
“My lady?”
Ashyn took a deep breath and rose. “Can you take both?” she asked the two volunteers.
“We’ll try,” one said as he pulled on his thick gloves.
“Good. Stay at the camp afterward. We’ll look about a little more before joining you.”
The villagers began to wrap the first body. Ashyn motioned to Faiban, and they headed into the growing darkness.
So far, Ashyn had located eleven bodies. There had been sixteen exiled since last spring’s Seeking, plus two that hadn’t been found then. So she had seven left to find. There was also the possibility of locating the remains of long-dead exiles whose spirits haunted these woods. But if she found the seven, she would be done. She’d have one more day to do it. Then they headed home. It was too dangerous to be in the forest longer, and they had brought only enough supplies for two days.
She was calculating this as she moved away from the bodies.
“It’s growing late, my lady,” Faiban said.
“Just one more try,” she said. “There’s still light.”
He squinted into the near-darkness. “The governor expects—”
A shriek cut him short. He wheeled, sword raised.
“Night birds,” he said, but he kept the sword up, his gaze sliding from side to side.
There are no birds here .
Another shriek, this one clearly human, sounding as if it came from the direction they’d left.
Ashyn started running back. Faiban swung into the lead. When they neared the clearing where they’d left the bodies, Faiban lifted his hand for her to stay back. She waited a moment and then crept close enough to see him standing in the clearing, looking around with his sword lowered and his lantern raised.
The bodies were still there. The old man lay on the blanket the villagers used for transporting them. The woman’s corpse seemed to have been lifted and dropped, crumpled now, one