It’s…right.”
Ivy knew exactly what he meant. She used to come here, once the forest was cut off but before she’d perfected her tea. She used to lie in the earth and bury herself in leaves and breathe the greenery and remember Archer and the way things used to be. Even now, she loved it here. Loved what it reminded her of—the endless forest of her youth, the enduring proof of the connection her parents must have once shared. Her mom may have gone back to her forest roots, but she’d left plenty here for the Potters.
“See?” she replied. “Plants can grow in a cage.”
Archer turned to her, eyes blazing. “Then this was your father’s plan? Kill the forest and keep his own plants safe?”
“No!” she cried. His words were needles, his glares were knives. “He had no plan.” Wasn’t the barrier sickness and the loss of their business proof enough of that? “He was only trying to keep the town safe.”
In the final days before the barrier went up, when the town buzzed with stories of bramble-men walking out of the trees and infants being replaced with babes of mud, Ivy had expected her father to stand up for the forest, to take a stand against the barrier plans. But he did not.
“The forest teems with evil,” he’d said, at a meeting in the center of town, while Ivy sat in her seat in the front row, skin crawling at the accusing eyes around her, head tucked down against her chest as she’d heard the attacks against the forest folk she’d loved. “I’ve explored its depths and I know what I’ve seen. Though my livelihood comes from the forest, though my own daughter is half forest blood” —here he pointed at Ivy, and she heard the rumblings through the audience— “I can no longer ignore its dangers. We must put up the barrier. It’s the only thing that will protect our families. Protect us all.”
It was then that Ivy knew the barrier would be raised. If even her father was an advocate, then the town was joined in agreement. There was no other way.
“It was luck alone that the greenhouse saved these plants,” she said to Archer now. “We didn’t know the forest would be hurt by the bells. We didn’t know we would. We were just trying to protect ourselves from the wave of dark magic coming our way.”
“There was no wave of dark magic,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief and contempt. “If the forest is darker than it used to be—if we are— it’s from desperation. It’s rot.”
“That can’t be.” She shook her head wildly. “Maybe the very presence of the bells stopped it, even for your side. Maybe it drove the darkness back into the depths, and it never came at all. But it was coming. We’d already seen the first wave.” Her father had, at least. “Changelings and demon men… and worse things yet. Things my father wouldn’t even tell me, back then. We had to protect ourselves or we’d have been destroyed. That forest teems with evil.”
“How would you know?” he snapped back at her. “Hiding here—in your iron-choked town. In your silent, safe greenhouse.” He jabbed his finger against his own chest. “ I’m the one who knows every twig of that forest. I’m the one who has lived there, who has watched people run mad or wither away when they have no choice, who has watched children die— not because of any dark forest magic, but because of your curse.”
And now she, too, had seen those dying children. Maybe Archer’s children. That had never been their intent—the council who’d erected the barrier. They’d been trying to protect the town’s children, to protect everyone. That’s what her father said.
“And what of your curses, Archer?” she asked him. “You’ve admitted to me that you’ve been doing dark magic. What horrible acts have you committed to make sure my entire town is now in danger from your precious forest?”
His eyes narrowed. “Every word from your mouth is a lie, Ivy Potter. But I no longer know which
Ivy knew exactly what he meant. She used to come here, once the forest was cut off but before she’d perfected her tea. She used to lie in the earth and bury herself in leaves and breathe the greenery and remember Archer and the way things used to be. Even now, she loved it here. Loved what it reminded her of—the endless forest of her youth, the enduring proof of the connection her parents must have once shared. Her mom may have gone back to her forest roots, but she’d left plenty here for the Potters.
“See?” she replied. “Plants can grow in a cage.”
Archer turned to her, eyes blazing. “Then this was your father’s plan? Kill the forest and keep his own plants safe?”
“No!” she cried. His words were needles, his glares were knives. “He had no plan.” Wasn’t the barrier sickness and the loss of their business proof enough of that? “He was only trying to keep the town safe.”
In the final days before the barrier went up, when the town buzzed with stories of bramble-men walking out of the trees and infants being replaced with babes of mud, Ivy had expected her father to stand up for the forest, to take a stand against the barrier plans. But he did not.
“The forest teems with evil,” he’d said, at a meeting in the center of town, while Ivy sat in her seat in the front row, skin crawling at the accusing eyes around her, head tucked down against her chest as she’d heard the attacks against the forest folk she’d loved. “I’ve explored its depths and I know what I’ve seen. Though my livelihood comes from the forest, though my own daughter is half forest blood” —here he pointed at Ivy, and she heard the rumblings through the audience— “I can no longer ignore its dangers. We must put up the barrier. It’s the only thing that will protect our families. Protect us all.”
It was then that Ivy knew the barrier would be raised. If even her father was an advocate, then the town was joined in agreement. There was no other way.
“It was luck alone that the greenhouse saved these plants,” she said to Archer now. “We didn’t know the forest would be hurt by the bells. We didn’t know we would. We were just trying to protect ourselves from the wave of dark magic coming our way.”
“There was no wave of dark magic,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief and contempt. “If the forest is darker than it used to be—if we are— it’s from desperation. It’s rot.”
“That can’t be.” She shook her head wildly. “Maybe the very presence of the bells stopped it, even for your side. Maybe it drove the darkness back into the depths, and it never came at all. But it was coming. We’d already seen the first wave.” Her father had, at least. “Changelings and demon men… and worse things yet. Things my father wouldn’t even tell me, back then. We had to protect ourselves or we’d have been destroyed. That forest teems with evil.”
“How would you know?” he snapped back at her. “Hiding here—in your iron-choked town. In your silent, safe greenhouse.” He jabbed his finger against his own chest. “ I’m the one who knows every twig of that forest. I’m the one who has lived there, who has watched people run mad or wither away when they have no choice, who has watched children die— not because of any dark forest magic, but because of your curse.”
And now she, too, had seen those dying children. Maybe Archer’s children. That had never been their intent—the council who’d erected the barrier. They’d been trying to protect the town’s children, to protect everyone. That’s what her father said.
“And what of your curses, Archer?” she asked him. “You’ve admitted to me that you’ve been doing dark magic. What horrible acts have you committed to make sure my entire town is now in danger from your precious forest?”
His eyes narrowed. “Every word from your mouth is a lie, Ivy Potter. But I no longer know which
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