Faerie Winter by Janni Lee Simner Page A

anger me so soon?”
    Johnny tilted his head at me, as if puzzled. “You worry too much, Liza.”
    “Indeed,” Elin said. “Start walking.”
    I wanted to throw myself at her. I did not want to walk into danger at her command. But I moved forward,my bound gait stiff, my breath tight. If we continued along this path, we’d be heading straight for Clayburn. Rain began to fall in large, cold drops. Elin’s steps made no sound, but I heard Kyle behind me. Johnny, too—for once he wasn’t using magic to hide himself.
    My thoughts remained my own. I held to that, staying alert for any way free of this trap.
    We left ash and mud and the picked-over bones of the dead behind. Elin asked Johnny questions: about his magic, and Kyle’s, and mine; about the other children in our town. Johnny obediently answered them all.
    Raindrops pocked the soft snow and made puddles in the dirt. Matthew’s prints continued on, as did the stranger’s prints beside them. Wherever Elin was taking us, Matthew had gone that way, too. There’d be no help for Ethan from either of us anytime soon.
    The air grew heavy with the scent of dead leaves. Sun poked through the clouds, but it seemed a thin thing beside the damp and the cold. Kyle whined once about being hungry, but at a word from Elin fell silent. I was hungry, too. The dried meat in my pockets might as well have been miles away.
    As the sun neared the horizon, it gave off a yellow glow. Light reflected off a puddle ahead of me. I stumbled, the light turned golden bright, and in that brightness I saw—
    Matthew, whining as he nosed at the bones of the burned children, not seeing the dark shadow that fell across his path. I tried to cry out a warning, but then I saw—
    Karin, reaching into a wall of ivy and hawthorn and briars, the Wall that protected her town. Greenery parted as she cupped her hands around something tangled within—a silver quia leaf on a chain, much like the one Mom had given me. The scene shifted, and green leaves gave way to bare winter branches, but Karin continued holding her leaf. As if in response, my own leaf grew warm against my chest
.
    “Karin!”
I called, knowing better than to expect her to hear, knowing that visions could never wholly be trusted and that it might not be the present I saw.
    Yet Karin tilted her head, as if puzzled. Her brows drew together, and her gaze focused right on me. “Liza? What is wrong? Where are you?”
    “Near Clayburn—”
I wasn’t sure if I mouthed the words or spoke them, but as I did, I fell forward.
    The puddle splashed beneath me. I looked up, into silver eyes—not Karin’s eyes. Elin grabbed my scarf as I struggled to my feet. It tightened around my throat, and dizziness made me stagger. “I’m sorry,” I gasped. Under my too-tight sweater, the quia leaf remained warm against my skin. Caleb had said the leaf would protect Momin dark forests. Could it be protecting me from Elin’s glamour, too? “I will do my best”—I drew a strangled breath—“not to fall again.”
    The scarf loosened as Elin turned away. She laid a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “You may play with the knife again, if you’re careful. You do know how to be careful, don’t you?”
    Kyle nodded and tested the tip of the knife against his bandage. He watched with mild interest as fresh blood soaked through the blood that had clotted there. Johnny watched, too, a dreamy look on his face.
    “I said it wouldn’t happen again.” Anger colored my voice.
    “I am aware of that. This was just a reminder that you’d best keep your word. Enough, Kyle.” Elin laughed, but it sounded forced. “Isn’t Liza silly to fall?”
    “Silly!” Kyle grinned at me as if we shared some secret. Johnny rolled his eyes, almost as he might have done without glamour, but then he laughed, too. How could Caleb have ever used magic like this on Mom?
    Elin shoved me forward. “Keep walking.”
    I walked, but something felt different—my sweater, where my wrists