QUICK MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: 

Thanks so much for coming to check this book out. A few of you may have been waiting for this for quite some time and I would just like to say "sorry" for the endless wait and thank you for giving this a chance--I hope it doesn't disappoint. This is the second book in the Ederiss Chronicles and should be read after "Shadow Weaver." New chapters will be posted on Fridays. Hope you enjoy it. xxx Claire

Oh, one last thing. Please don't hesitate to leave comments, corrections or questions if things are confusing. Thanks!! 

CHAPTER ONE

I lie on the forest bed, gnarly tree roots digging into my back, gazing between the trees at the sky. The wind pulls at heart-shaped leaves, tugging like a child who won't give up pestering you to play with them. Through the spindly branches, I watch a flock of birds pass overhead. They fly in unison, arcing into the sky and curving around. I raise my hand to cover my eyes but can't follow their path against the dazzling sun. My eyes burn and water in its brightness.

I close them and breathe in, appreciating the stillness, the quiet. Beneath the rustle of the wind, I hear the gentle whinny of my mare, Dancer, tied up nearby, grazing.

"Mirra!" Kel shouts. I sit up at once, sucking in a breath. Images slice across my inner vision, violent and disturbing. I sniff, wipe my nose on my sleeve and shuffle down from the rock, forcing down the strange medley of memories and recent nightmares so Kel cannot see them. Hearing Kel shout sends a twinge of fear down my spine. He is only six years old, but he has adjusted to our life with my parents in ways I have not.

I slide down the rock, my left leg still weakened from six weeks on crutches. The skin below my shorts glows a healthy tanned color from the summer sun. My foot still aches sometimes, and it will never be pretty to look at, but it has healed.

Kel runs towards me, blonde hair tussling in the breeze. Just the sight of him so healthy and happy makes my heart squeeze. It makes the nightmares that haunt me bearable.

"You've got to come," he says, panting as he reaches me. "Mum wants you. Sara's having the baby."

My insides churn. This has been hanging over us for weeks. Sara's baby. Tug's baby. Ever since Tug stopped here on our way to the northern outlands to find our parents, and we discovered my father was at Sara's, I learned Tug was soon to be a father.

Tug becoming a father seems impossible, yet the last five weeks with Sara and Sara's children tell me otherwise.

I gather my notebook, where I've been practicing the Carucan writing, tuck away my knife, and put my bow over my shoulder.

"Come on!" Kel says. He's already hoping and skipping away, unwilling to keep pace with my slow gait.

Ma is nervous about the delivery. She wants me on hand, though a midwife has been staying in Tug and Sara's overcrowded home for the last week. It's not like I'll have to do anything. But for some reason, my mother is adamant I am present.

I languish, something more than the pain in my foot slowing me down. The baby will change everything. Once it is born, it will be time for Ma, Pa, Kel, and I to move on. Sara and Tug will need their space, according to Pa. A young family starting out is already complicated enough without us adding to the chaos.

Pa suspects I'm not ready to let Tug go. Tug is my link to all that has happened. An anchor, making it real. The only one who truly understands. The only one who knows what I've been through and everything we left behind.

Only when Tug and I are alone together can I be myself, without fear of revealing how I was tortured at Lord Strik's hand. The terror of Strik's strange, dark mind still wakes me in the middle of the night, sweating and panting, my heart hammering in my chest. Sometimes, I catch the rancid smell of the cage he kept me in in the dungeons of the Ruby Palace, and dread floods my body and mind.

I emerge from the woods and stride towards the dip in land where the longhouse hides. Pa is outside with Kel and Sara's children. He waves, and I wave back, looking across the meadow at the chopping block, then along the snare line. Where is Tug?

An agonized bellow carries across the field. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. It's Sara, I tell myself. Ma wailed and whimpered the same way when Kel was born. The baby must be close. But in my not-so-logical brain, my heart kicks up a beat, and my throat dries out.

Pa calls the children, and they all walk to meet me.

"We are just going to look at the traps in the woods," he says. David, Sara's eight-year-old son, glances nervously at the cottage. "It'll be all right," Pa assures him. "Come on. By the time we get back, your new brother or sister will have arrived."

Pa's perkiness isn't fooling anyone, but the children seem willing enough to distance themselves from the intermittent sound of their mother's wailing.

"Where's Tug ?' I mouth. He shakes his head. Our eyes catch, and his gaze flares with disapproval. He probably thought Tug was in the woods with me. He doesn't like it when we go off together.

I cross the ruts in the ground, pick up a bucket of water, and enter the low wooden door to the longhouse. Sara and Tug's room lies to the left side of the living area. I put the water on the dining table and edge toward the closed door. I stand outside it for a moment, listening to Sarah's panting. Ma murmurs encouragement. I take a breath and push the door ajar.

Through the narrow gap, I spy the bed. Sara sits on the wooden floor, leaning back against a pile of cushions. The midwife kneels in front. Ma is at her side, holding her hand.

"And it's time to go again," the midwife says. The midwife and Ma help Sara up to a squatting position. Her rosy skin is covered in red spots. "Breathe in. Hold it. Hold it." Sara yells in pain. Her face is bright red, contorted in agony. For a moment, I just stare at her. Then I duck away from the doorway and stand by the wall, trying to get a grip on myself.

My hands tremble. My breathing is heavy. When I close my eyes, the scent of a wet dog hits my nostrils. I look up and see Trix, Tug's wolf-dog padding across the room, tail wagging. Behind her, in the front door alcove, silhouetted by the sun, is Tug. His enormous muscular frame blots out the light. His face is in shadow, but I feel the heat of his eyes on me.

Absent-mindedly, I stroke Trix and pull her back from the bedroom door. Her shaggy grey and white fur is damp.

"Not in there, Trix," I say. "Go sit." She moves to her favorite place by the fire and awkwardly collapses onto her stomach. She will never fully recover from where I shot her.

I look across as Tug slinks into the room, his stealthy movements reminiscent of his beast-face tattoos. He becomes visible in the dim light, no longer bleached out by the sun, and our eyes lock together.

We both know what this baby means. Ma and Pa's plans for our family to leave and settle in some quiet town after the birth are a regular conversation at the dinner table. And as much as I need Tug to keep the panic at bay, for some reason, he needs me too.

He takes another step forward. The tips of my ears start to burn.

A wild howl breaks the moment. I flinch, then twitch at the sound of clanging and clattering.

"Mirra!" mother says. "There you are! We need more water." Wisps of golden hair stick to Ma's forehead. Her hands are greasy with sweat, and dark stains dirty her blouse.

I reach for the water bucket on the table. Tug gets there first and passes it to Ma.

"Sara doesn't want you to see her like this," Ma says, taking it from him.

He nods.

"It's all going fine," Ma says. I scrutinize Tug's face and wonder if that flex to his eyebrows is anxiety. My mother has read it as such.

"Mirra." My mother pauses by the door, holding the bucket, waiting for me to follow. I move inside the room, and before we are separated by the closing door, I raise my eyes to Tug's. Emotion stirs somewhere far within—pain and hope and something like hunger.

"That's it! That's it!" the midwife says.

The room is hot and sultry. The smell of sweat, sunflowers, and salt cleaves the air. I turn slowly. I have not been looking forward to my birthing duties. I have seen other people's memories of childbirth, and I know it is a savage and bloody affair. Birth is as agonizing and messy as death.

Sara squats. The midwife, a large redhead, has her hands cupped beneath Sara's groin.

"Come, Mirra," Ma says. I edge across the room, staring at the midwife's hands, where I think I see the matted black hair and crown of a protruding head.

Ma gives me Sara's hand and moves behind Sara to hold her up.

"Wait, wait, wait," the mid-wife instructs. "Don't stop breathing. Gently, gently."

Sara lets out a low cry and pushes. Her hand clenches so hard around mine bones crack. A fleeting image of Lord Strik breaking the fingers of my left-hand skims my inner eye. He broke a dozen bones in my finger and foot while questioning me about my relationship with Prince Jakut. I could not concentrate on his interrogation because his mind was like a hole pulling me into his memories. But he was quick to learn that, with enough pain, he could hold my attention and receive answers to his questions.

"Oh, it's here!" The midwife says. "It's coming! Almost there!"

The room pulses with anticipation. Sara is sobbing and wailing as the baby's head pops out. Mucus covers a scrunched-up red face. My legs wobble, and I think I will faint.

"Breathe", the midwife says. I do as she orders, though she is not talking to me. "And then we must push again." Sara grips my hand, and I cling back.

I catch Ma looking at me, an expression of awe on her face. I wonder if I look similarly awed or just shocked.

Sara blocks her breath and gives an almighty push. Simultaneously, the midwife wriggles the baby's shoulders, and then the baby is out. The suddenness of this tiny presence is alarming: purple arms, a swollen belly, purple legs. All scrawny and slimy.

"Is he OK?" Sara asks.

The midwife wipes the mucus and wraps the newborn in a soft, cotton sheet. "She's perfect." The baby lets out a high-pitched cry. Sara sobs in relief.

There is a light in Ma's eyes I have not seen since she reunited with Kel. After we found Pa at Sara's longhouse, he fetched my mother from Polek, the small town where she stayed while he had searched for us.

I meet Ma's gaze and realize why she wanted me here. She wanted me to know that savage, bloody, and agonizing don't always equal despair. There is also mystery. There are also tiny, startling miracles.

Sara laughs and kisses her daughter. Ma holds the baby as the midwife finds a sharp instrument to cut the cord. I grimace and look away, then peak as the umbilical cord is pinched with a miniature peg. My stomach turns at the sight of all the blood and muck the midwife is now moping up.

"Take her to Tug," Ma says, putting the newborn into my arms. I want to protest, but my arms reach out, and before I know what's happening, I'm holding the baby. She is so small and fragile that I'm afraid I'll drop her.

Minuscule fists twist and punch at the cotton sheet. Her face is round; her cheeks scrunched against the bottom of her milky grey eyes. She stops crying and looks at me. I gaze back, my eyes hot and prickly.

Ma signals for me to leave the room. I cross to the door, cradling the fragile life that has suddenly appeared in the world like the spark of a fire that must be carefully attended to so it will grow and burn brightly.

As I exit the bedroom, Tug straightens from where he leans against the wall.

"It's a girl," I say.

He stares at me a moment, then looks down at the bundle. The tight, withdrawn expression on his face shifts. I laugh at the strange look in his eyes.

"Oh, the Gods!" I say. "Are you smiling?" I hold his daughter towards him.

"I don't think I should take her."

I push the bundle into his arms. For a moment, he is utterly absorbed by the tiny creature. Then something sweeps over his gaze, and an image flutters in the mind-world.

He stands on top of the hill, looking down at the meadow. Sara stands halfway up the field. A small bump where her pregnancy is showing. She is crying as he turns and walks away.

Before he found Kel and me in Blackfoot forest, instead of the wild deer and fowl he'd set out to hunt, he had not intended on ever returning. He knew Sara was expecting his child, but he had not planned to raise it. I shake my head. "You came back."

"It was a mistake."

"No."

"Trouble pursues me. I'll only cause her pain."

"No." My voice catches in my throat. I move away, not wanting him to see the strange mix of feelings his words have punctured to the surface.

Tug snatched Kel from my parents, traded him in the Hybourg, and sold me to the Prince. But when we were attacked by the bird-men he also risked his life to help me. He tried to protect me when Lady Calmi administered her poison, and he returned to the Ruby Palace to save me, knowing they would hang us both if they caught him.

"Here." He holds out the baby, trying to give her back.

"No," I say. "She needs you more than you think." Ducking past him, I head quickly for the door.