The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

I don’t even notice as the ground changes to snow and the air chills in the North Saphrine Forest. Icicles fall from frozen branches. Icy wind whistles against tree bark. And there’s a shift in my surroundings; I sense I’m no longer alone. I stop my strides, boots crunching in the snow as I come to a stop. Hot clouds puff from my mouth, trickling into the cold forest air.

Light crunching sounds echo against the trees. One by one. Careful footsteps.

The same type of beasts that attacked us when I first met Warrose. They prey on me now. I see the thick manes of fur, the glowing silver eyes, the giant snouts. They’re like small, wingless dragons with mounds of multicolored fur.

I stay completely still, knowing I can’t outrun them. I count. There are only… four. Two at my back. Two facing me.

My pulse races in my throat, and my fingers twitch to grab the small dagger Runa attached to the belt around my archer’s dress. I don’t even know how to use it, but my hand flexes around its hilt as if it’s handled weapons regularly in another life.

Without a proper cloak to keep my arms warm, I’m surprisingly feverish, as if tubs of hot lava are being poured into my veins. My will to survive becomes a tangible entity, widening my stance, scanning the way each beast cautiously steps forward, making an effort to detect if they have autonomic weaknesses. The one to my left favors his right hind leg.

That’s a start.

The one with a weak hind leg pounces without warning. My dagger whips from its holster, twirling in my hand as I dive forward, darting through the air to meet the beast’s momentum. But before we can collide, I spin to the right, ducking my body away from its razor-sharp teeth and thrusting my dagger into the questionable hind leg. It cuts directly through a tendon, and the beast screeches like an angry crow, taking a nosedive into the snow.

I don’t stop to admire my work or wonder where the hell I learned to do that. Because the rest seem to decide they have a better chance of attacking together. They swarm me all at once. It’s too fast, a blink of an eye, and I have absolutely no time to examine what I should do to each of them to survive this. I’m a sitting baby bird on a battlefield, waiting to be crushed.

As I hunker down, baring my teeth, preparing for the pain of biting, clawing, and disemboweling—a blade pierces the skull of the beast directly in my line of sight, spearing right between its eyes. And a second before its body even hits the ground, a hooded figure draped in dark animal skins, furs, and a belt of shiny weapons bolts through the pine trees.

I duck as they unsheathe twin swords from their back, spinning around to slice through the beasts like a kitchen knife through slabs of butter. We’re both sprayed with crimson mist and raw innards slushing onto the white snow. The hooded figure is fast, wielding the sword like an artist with a paintbrush, graceful and precise.

I wonder for a brief moment if it’s Warrose. He specializes in dangerous beasts that lurk deep in these forests.

But the figure is smaller than his broad frame and massive arms. They’re dainty yet muscular. An inch or two taller than me. And I catch a sweet whiff of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts.

As the last beast falls to the ground in a gushing heap of dismemberment, I raise my eyes to the shadowed hood.

“Ya have come a long way alone, dashna.” The smooth, deep woman’s voice warms my skin like a bubble bath.

“Asena,” I utter, recognizing that motherly voice and calming nickname immediately.

Her hood is pulled back, revealing her light-brown skin, long brunette braids, and beautiful almond eyes.

It’s hard to believe she moves that fast, being in her forties. She’s a silent storm in the night. A weapon greater than most men. I never thought a woman was capable of all that. I was raised to believe we were meant to look pretty. A lady doll.

“Ya look surprised,” she says, giving me a once-over look.

I nod. “I am. You and Garanthian said you were powerful. But I guess seeing it is different than hearing about it.”

Asena lifts her chin and wets her plush lips. “Ya killed that one.” She points to the first beast that attacked. It bled out.

My gaze falls to my hand, covered in steaming, thick blood. I drop the dagger. How did I do that? I’ve never fought anything in my life. Well, except for the man that taunted me about DaiSzek’s well-being at Demechnef.

“Thought ya told my husband and me that ya don’t fight,” she says calmly.

“I don’t. Not sure where that came from.”

“The memories haven’t shown ya?”

Memories. Does she know about my condition? Realization swings into my gut, washing down me like acid rain.

“This is in the prophecy, isn’t it?” My stare is unblinking. Betrayal slithers back up my spine, curling my fingers into fists, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

Asena nods once.

“You knew he would die.” My voice isn’t recognizable again. It’s dark, cold, and detached. A monster unfurling its wings deep in my soul.

“Every colony is bound by an ancient magic to never speak of the prophecy to those that are in it.” She dips her head. “We had no choice.” Everything inside of me feels like it’s decaying. Shrinking, shriveling, becoming dry and papery. To know that someone could have warned us. Someone could have saved him.

“Memories will reveal why we kept secrets. Ya journey is only just beginnin’.”

She’s saying that the prophecy will make sense to me if I keep sifting through these painful memories? Do I even want to know after what I just saw?

I pick up my dripping dagger and turn to walk away.

“Wait,” she calls, crunching through the snow to face me again. “Let me make ya a fire. Give ya a cloak.”

Her words make me realize my bare arms are covered in goose bumps. This archer’s dress is sleeveless, with long slits around my legs covered in tight black trousers. There, essentially, isn’t anything keeping me from freezing to death.

I jerk my chin, a quick yes to her offer.

Asena removes a second cloak, black with a green tint and sleek fur. It weighs a ton as she drapes it gingerly over my shoulders.

I sit on a log, watching her assemble a fire. Her long fingers are quick to create sparks over the wood and dried moss. A small flame catches over the wood, eating through the moss until it roars to life.

“I can make ya food,” she offers next, dusting her hands on her wool pants.

I shake my head. “You’ve done enough.” And yet you didn’t save him. You chose to watch us leave your home and enter a slaughter.

Asena waits next to me, shifting on her feet with a new thought. “Let me brush and braid ya hair before I go then, dashna.” She kneels next to me without waiting for confirmation.

I’ve lost the energy to argue as she begins working on the knots and tangled strands. The fire thaws my toes, spreading up my legs through my numbness. My hollow being.

After the sharp pain in my scalp eases, once the knots are brushed out, she caresses my hair with her fingers. A shiver spreads over every hair follicle, and for a moment, I close my eyes, pretending Kane is with me. The way he’d hold me close, running a hand through my long hair. And I’d breathe in his scent from the crook of his neck. It was peace. It was heaven. I never needed anything more than that.

I just want to see him smile one more time. Hear his deep, rumbling laugh. Touch the scratchy scruff along his sharp jawline. Did I ever thank him for breaking me out of the cage that was the Chandelier City? Or bringing me into the only life I wanted? One where we sleep under the stars every night. Hike through the tallest trees, and bathe under waterfalls.

I was so angry with him before it all happened. The lies. The secrets. Aurick’s identity revealed. I couldn’t forgive him. He died knowing that.

And I’m ashamed.

“Ya have always let men rule ya life, dashna,” Asena says as she ties off another braid.

I take a deep, controlled breath.

“Either letting ’em hit ya or hidin’ under their protection.” Her fingers stroke the side of my neck. “It’s time ya bury that notion that men are stronger. Ya were born to lead men, not cower under their egos.”

I tilt my head to look at her from the corner of my eye. “Don’t you dare speak poorly of him.” Dessin may have had an ego, but he needed the confidence to do the impossible. To walk where no man has ever stepped.

“I meant no offense.” Her hands still. “But women are dragons kept in chains, convinced that they are helpless little birds. But that’s a lie, dashna. It’s time someone told ya that ya can breathe fire.”

My back and arms erupt in icy chills. Lately, I’ve been feeling that way. Never in my life have I felt so destructive, so hateful, so… beastly.

Asena pats me on the shoulder after she finishes the last braid. My hand instinctively reaches up to my scalp, patting my way down the intricate way she pulled the hair from my face. One big braid is laced together on top of my head, only using the upper half of my hair. And then there are a few small ones that fall along the sides of my head, on top of the smooth unbraided, brushed hair.

My hand falls back to my lap, and Asena moves to kneel in front of me before she leaves, looking over her work with silent pride. She smiles, her almond eyes lighting up.

“Be the dragon that flies over men, dashna.”