The Poison Season(25)

The corner of her mouth raised in a grin. “It’s all right. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been staring at you, too.” She glanced at Jaren and barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Don’t tell me the girls didn’t like you back in... Where did you say you were from?”

He was grateful for the change in subject, though the truth was, he had never paid much attention to girls back home. He had been too busy helping his family to go to school, let alone to court anyone. “I’m from Tindervale.”

“Ah, a city boy. No wonder you’re so out of your element here. Us mountain folk are known for our strange ways.”

Jaren studied Lupin from the corner of his eye. She had long, glossy hair the same color as the honey she sold, and her green eyes twinkled with what appeared to be good humor. But there was something about her sharp nose and high laugh that made her seem more than a little impish, like a woodland elf bent on mischief.

Not that he believed in elves.

They had come to the fork in the forest trail that led to other towns and eventually cities in one direction and deeper into the wood toward Lake Luma in the other. Lupin paused, as if she was waiting for Jaren to decide their direction.

He meant to choose the fork leading away from Endla. He already knew where the other fork led, and he had no desire to go back there. But somehow his feet decided otherwise. Lupin didn’t argue, just continued to watch him from beneath her lashes.

“So, what did you want to know about Endla?” she asked after a few minutes. “Or were you just hoping to spend time alone with a pretty girl?”

At that, Jaren dropped Lupin’s arm and took a sidestep away from her. “No, I’m sorry. I hope that’s not the impression I gave. I would never presume...”

She had a high, tinkling laugh that he imagined some people would find charming, but the sound made him uneasy. “I enjoy making you blush,” Lupin said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite.” She reached for his arm again and he gave it reluctantly, wondering why he wasn’t enjoying spending time with an attractive girl as much as he suspected he should.

“Go on, then,” she said. “Ask me your questions about Endla.”

Jaren resumed walking. “I suppose I was just wondering why you were sent away,” he said, hoping he wasn’t being rude. “Lars made it sound like you were forced to leave your family.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear, city boy? I’m incantu. Without magic. Endlans send us all away before we reach our teen years.”

“So it’s true? There really is magic?” Jaren was grateful there was no one around to hear him. If he’d said something that asinine in Tindervale, he’d have been laughed out of town.

“You city folk and your skepticism. Of course there’s magic.”

Jaren didn’t doubt that Lupin believed what she was saying, but he had direct proof that Endlan “magic” hadn’t worked the way everyone said it did. “I heard the singing myself.”

Lupin stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “What?”

He nodded. “Twice now.” He thought of the night he’d camped by the lake and the strange music that had been stuck in his head after. “Three times, maybe.”

She glanced around at the trees, as if she was listening for something. “And you didn’t feel the urge to cross the lake?”

“No,” he said. “Far from it.”

“Interesting.” She started walking again, but Jaren could feel the tension in her body. “I suppose it’s possible that you didn’t hear the right songs. Or you were too far away for the magic to work. Or perhaps your skepticism protected you somehow. Either way, you were lucky, Jaren Kask.”

He knew the lake was poisonous. After seeing what happened to the bird and the rose, that couldn’t be denied. But he didn’t feel as though it were luck or skepticism keeping him safe. Certainly the songs had gotten in his head. They had affected him. Just not the way he’d imagined.

“How does an Endlan know if they have magic or not?”

“If their voices hold no power by their twelfth birthday, then they are incantu. And anyone without magic on Endla is vulnerable.”

“To what?”

“To the Forest, of course.”

Now Jaren was the one to stop. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you heard of the Wandering Forest?” She clucked her tongue, but she was smiling again. “You silly, pretty thing. So much to learn.”

He wasn’t sure he liked being called silly or pretty, but he was curious despite himself. “What exactly is a Wandering Forest?”

“It’s what it sounds like. A wooded area that appears where it wants, when it wants. In the old days, a traveler who happened upon one would likely never find it again, no matter how many times they returned to the spot.”

“And what would they find there?”

“An ordinary forest. One that doesn’t interfere in the natural order of things. A normal forest is a neutral party in the affairs of its inhabitants. It stands impassively by while life and death play out the way they always have. But not a Wandering Forest. Or at least, not this one. It is a bloodthirsty thing, killing so many of its own creatures that it needs the Endlans’ songs to draw in more and their sacrifices to sate it.”