Formygrandmother,Camilla,whocrossedmountainsandseas,

andwhoseownremarkablestoryismyfavoriteepicofall

BOOKSBYSARAHJ.MAAS

TheThroneofGlassseries

Assassin’sBladeThroneofGlassCrownofMidnight

HeirofFireQueenofShadowsEmpireofStormsTowerofDawn

•TheThroneofGlassColouringBook

ACourtofThornsandRosesseries

ACourtofThornsandRosesACourtofMistandFuryACourtofWingsandRuin

•ACourtofThornsandRosesColouringBook

CONTENTS

Map

PartOne:TheGod-City

ChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeventeenChapterEighteenChapterNineteen

ChapterTwentyChapterTwenty-OneChapterTwenty-TwoChapterTwenty-ThreeChapterTwenty-FourChapterTwenty-FiveChapterTwenty-SixChapterTwenty-SevenChapterTwenty-Eight

PartTwo:MountainsandSeas

ChapterTwenty-NineChapterThirtyChapterThirty-OneChapterThirty-TwoChapterThirty-ThreeChapterThirty-FourChapterThirty-FiveChapterThirty-SixChapterThirty-SevenChapterThirty-EightChapterThirty-NineChapterFortyChapterForty-OneChapterForty-TwoChapterForty-ThreeChapterForty-FourChapterForty-FiveChapterForty-Six

ChapterForty-SevenChapterForty-EightChapterForty-NineChapterFiftyChapterFifty-OneChapterFifty-TwoChapterFifty-ThreeChapterFifty-FourChapterFifty-FiveChapterFifty-SixChapterFifty-SevenChapterFifty-EightChapterFifty-NineChapterSixtyChapterSixty-OneChapterSixty-TwoChapterSixty-ThreeChapterSixty-FourChapterSixty-FiveChapterSixty-SixChapterSixty-SevenChapterSixty-Eight

FireheartAcknowledgments

PARTONETHEGOD-CITY

1

ChaolWestfall,formerCaptainoftheRoyalGuardandnowHandtothenewlycrowned King of Adarlan, had discovered that he hated one sound above allothers.

Wheels.Specifically,theirclatteringalongtheplanksoftheshiponwhichhe’dspent

thepast threeweeks sailing through storm-tossedwaters.Andnow their rattleandthunkovertheshininggreenmarblefloorsandintricatemosaicsthroughouttheKhaganoftheSouthernContinent’sshiningpalaceinAntica.

With nothing to do beyond sit in the wheeled chair that he’d deemed hadbecomebothhisprisonandhisonlypathtoseeingtheworld,Chaoltookinthedetailsof the sprawlingpalaceperchedatoponeof thecapital city’s countlesshills. Every bit of material had been taken from and built in honor of someportionofthekhagan’smightyempire:

Those polished green floors his chair now clattered over were hewn fromquarriesinthesouthwestofthecontinent.Theredpillarsfashionedlikemightytrees,theiruppermostbranchesstretchingacrossthedomedceilingshighabove—all part of one endless receiving hall—had been hauled in from thenortheastern,sand-blasteddeserts.

The mosaics that interrupted the green marble had been assembled bycraftsmenfromTigana,anotherofthekhagan’sprizedcitiesatthemountainoussouthernendofthecontinent.Eachportrayedascenefromthekhaganate’srich,

brutal,gloriouspast:thecenturiesspentasanomadichorse-peopleinthegrassysteppes of the continent’s eastern lands; the emergence of the first khagan, awarlordwho unified the scattered tribes into a conquering force that took thecontinent piece by piece, wielding cunning and strategic brilliance to forge asweepingempire;and thendepictionsof the threecenturiessince—thevariouskhaganswhohadexpandedtheempire,distributing thewealthfromahundredterritoriesacrossthelands,buildingcountlessbridgesandroadstoconnectthemall,rulingoverthevastcontinentwithprecisionandclarity.

Perhaps the mosaics provided a vision of what Adarlan might have been,Chaolmusedasthemurmuringsofthegatheredcourtflittedbetweenthecarvedpillarsandgildeddomesahead.Thatis,ifAdarlanhadn’tbeenruledbyamancontrolledbyademonkinghell-benton turning thisworld intoa feast forhishordes.

Chaol twistedhisheadtopeerupatNesryn,stone-facedbehindhimasshepushed his chair. Only her dark eyes, darting over every passing face andwindow and column, revealed any sort of interest in the khagan’s sprawlinghome.

They’d saved their finest set of clothes for today, and the newly appointedCaptainoftheGuardwasindeedresplendentinhercrimson-and-golduniform.WhereDorianhadduguponeoftheuniformsChaolhadoncewornwithsuchpride,hehadnoidea.

He’dinitiallywantedtowearblack,simplybecausecolor…He’dneverfeltcomfortablewith colors, save the red andgoldof his kingdom.But blackhadbecomethecolorofErawan’sValg-infestedguards.Theyhadwornthoseblack-on-blackuniformsasthey’dterrorizedRifthold.Asthey’droundedup,tortured,andthenbutcheredhismen.

Thenstrungthemalongthepalacegatestoswinginthewind.He’dbarelybeenable to lookat theAnticanguards they’dpassedon their

wayhere,bothinthestreetsandinthisverypalace—standingproudandalert,

swordsattheirbacksandknivesattheirsides.Evennow,heresistedtheurgetoglancetowhereheknewthey’dbestationedinthehall,exactlywherehewouldhavepositionedhisownmen.Wherehehimselfwouldundoubtedlyhavebeenstanding,monitoringall,whileemissariesfromaforeignkingdomarrived.

Nesrynmet his stare, those ebony eyes cool and unblinking, her shoulder-lengthblackhairswayingwitheachstep.Notatraceofnervesflickeredacrossherlovely,solemnface.Noinklingthattheywereabouttomeetoneofthemostpowerful men in the world—a man who could alter the fate of their owncontinentinthewarsurelynowbreakingoutacrossAdarlanandTerrasen.

Chaolfacedforwardwithoutsayingaword.Thewallsandpillarsandarcheddoorwayshadearsandeyesandmouths,she’dwarnedhim.

ItwasthatthoughtalonethatkeptChaolfromfiddlingwiththeclotheshe’dfinally decided upon: light brown pants, knee-high chestnut-colored boots, awhiteshirtoffinestsilk,mostlyconcealedbyadarktealjacket.Thejacketwassimpleenough, thecostof itonlyrevealedby thefinebrassbucklesdownthefront and the glimmer of delicate golden thread skimming the high collar andedges. No sword hung from his leather belt—the absence of that comfortingweightlikesomephantomlimb.

Orlegs.Two tasks.Hehad two taskswhilehere,andhestillwasnotcertainwhich

onewouldprovethemoreimpossible:Convincingthekhaganandhissixwould-beheirstolendtheirconsiderable

armiestothewaragainstErawan…OrfindingahealerintheTorreCesmewhocoulddiscoversomewaytoget

himwalkingagain.To—hethoughtwithnosmallrippleofdisgust—fixhim.Hehatedthatword.Almostasmuchastheclatteringofthewheels.Fix.Even

if that’swhathewasbeseechingthe legendaryhealers todoforhim, thewordstillgrated,madehisgutchurn.

Heshovedthewordand the thoughtfromhismindasNesrynfollowedthenear-silent flock of servants who had led them from the docks, through thewinding and dusty cobblestoned streets of Antica, all the way up the slopedavenuetothedomesandthirty-sixminaretsofthepalaceitself.

Strips of white cloth—from silk to felt to linen—had been hanging fromcountlesswindowsandlanternsanddoorways.Likelybecauseofsomeofficialor distant royal relation dying recently, Nesryn had murmured. Death ritualswerevariedandoftenablendfromthecountlesskingdomsandterritoriesnowgovernedbythekhaganate,butthewhiteclothwasanancientholdoverfromthecenturieswhenthekhagan’speoplehadroamedthesteppesandlaidtheirdeadtorestunderthewatchful,opensky.

Thecityhadbeenhardlygloomy,though,astheytraveledthroughit.Peoplestill hurried about in clothes of various makes, vendors still called out theirwares,acolytesintemplesofwoodorstone—everygodhadahomeinAntica,Nesrynsupplied—stillbeckonedtothoseonthestreet.Allofit,eventhepalace,watchedoverbytheshining,pale-stonedtoweratoponeofitssouthernhills.

The Torre. The tower that housed the finest mortal healers in the world.Chaolhadtriednottolooktoolongatitthroughthecarriagewindows,evenifthemassive towercouldbeseen fromnearlyeverystreetandangleofAntica.Noneoftheservantshadmentionedit,orpointedoutthedominantpresencethatseemedtorivaleventhekhagan’spalace.

No,theservantshadn’tsaidmuchatallonthetrekhere,evenregardingthemourning-bannersflappinginthedrywind.Eachofthemremainedsilent,menandwomenalike,theirdarkhairshiningandstraight,andeachworeloosepantsandflowingjacketsofcobaltandbloodrededgedwithpalegold.Paidservants—but descendants of the slaves who had once been owned by the khagan’sbloodline.Until the previous khagan, a visionary and firebrand, had outlawedslavery a generation ago as one of her countless improvements to the empire.Thekhaganhadfreedherslavesbutkeptthemonaspaidservants—alongwith

theirchildren.Andnowtheirchildren’schildren.Notasingleoneofthemappearedunderfedorundercompensated,andnone

hadshownevenaflickeroffearasthey’descortedChaolandNesrynfromtheship to the palace. The current khagan, it seemed, treated his servants well.Hopefullyhisyet-undecidedHeirwouldaswell.

Unlike Adarlan or Terrasen, inheritance of the empire was decided by thekhagan—notbybirthorderorgender.Havingasmanychildrenaspossible toprovide him or her with a wide pool to choose from made that choice onlysomewhateasier.Andrivalryamongsttheroyalchildren…Itwaspracticallyablood sport. All designed to prove to their parent who was the strongest, thewisest,themostsuitedtorule.

Thekhaganwasrequiredbylawtohaveasealeddocumentlockedawayinanunmarked,hiddentrove—adocumentthatlistedhisorherHeir,shoulddeathsweepuponthembefore itcouldbeformallyannounced.Itcouldbealteredatanytime,butitwasdesignedtoavoidtheonethingthekhaganatehadlivedinfearofsincethatfirstkhaganhadpatchedtogetherthekingdomsandterritoriesofthiscontinent:collapse.Notfromoutsideforces,butfromwarwithin.

Thatlong-agofirstkhaganhadbeenwise.Notonceduringthethreehundredyearsofthekhaganatehadacivilwaroccurred.

And as Nesryn pushed him past the graceful bowing of the servants nowpaused between two enormous pillars, as the lush, ornate throne room spreadbeforethemwithitsdozensofpeoplegatheredaroundthegoldendaisglitteringinthemiddaysun,Chaolwonderedwhichofthefivefiguresstandingbeforetheenthronedmanwouldonedaybechosentorulethisempire.

Theonlysoundscamefromtherustlingclothingofthefourdozenpeople—hecountedinthespanofafewcasualblinks—gatheredalongeithersideofthatglinting dais, forming a wall of silk and flesh and jewels, a veritable avenuethroughwhichNesrynwheeledhim.

Rustling clothing—and the clatter and squeak of the wheels. She’d oiled

them thismorning,butweeksat seahadwornon themetal.Every scrapeandshriekwaslikenailsonstone.

Buthekepthisheadhigh.Shouldersback.Nesrynpausedahealthydistancefromthedais—fromthewalloffiveroyal

children, all in theirprime,male and female, standingbetween themand theirfather.

Defenseoftheiremperor:aprinceorprincess’sfirstduty.Theeasiestwaytoprovetheirloyalty,toangleforbeingtappedHeir.Andthefivebeforethem…

Chaol schooledhis face intoneutralityashecountedagain.Only five.NotthesixNesrynhaddescribed.

Buthedidn’tscan thehall for themissingroyalsiblingashebowedat thewaist.He’dpracticedthemovementoverandoverthisfinalweekatsea,astheweatherhad turnedhotter, theairbecomingdryandsunbaked.Doing it in thechair still felt unnatural, but Chaol bowed low—until he was staring at hisunresponsive legs, at his spotless brown boots and the feet he could not feel,couldnotmove.

Fromthewhisperofclothingtohisleft,heknewNesrynhadcometohissideandwasbowingdeeplyaswell.

TheyhelditforthethreebreathsNesrynclaimedwererequired.Chaol used those three breaths to settle himself, to shut out the weight of

whatwasuponthemboth.He had once been skilled at maintaining an unfaltering composure. He’d

servedDorian’sfatherforyears,hadtakenorderswithoutsomuchasblinking.Andbeforethat,he’denduredhisownfather,whosewordshadbeenascuttingashisfists.ThetrueandcurrentLordofAnielle.

TheLordnowinfrontofChaol’snamewasamockery.AmockeryandaliethatDorianhadrefusedtoabandondespiteChaol’sprotests.

LordChaolWestfall,HandoftheKing.He hated it.More than the sound of wheels.More than the body he now

couldnotfeelbeneathhiships,thebodywhosestillnessstillsurprisedhim,evenalltheseweekslater.

HewasLordofNothing.LordofOath-Breakers.LordofLiars.AndasChaol liftedhis torsoandmet theupswepteyesof thewhite-haired

manon that throne,as thekhagan’sweatheredbrownskincrinkled inasmall,cunningsmile…Chaolwonderedifthekhaganknewitaswell.

2

Thereweretwopartsofher,Nesrynsupposed.Thepart thatwasnowCaptainofAdarlan’sRoyalGuard,whohadmadea

vowtoherkingtoseethatthemaninthewheeledchairbesideherwashealed—andtomusteranarmyfromthemanenthronedbeforeher.ThatpartofNesrynkept her head high, her shoulders back, her hands within a nonthreateningdistanceoftheornateswordatherhip.

Thentherewastheotherpart.Thepartthathadglimpsedthespiresandminaretsanddomesofthegod-city

breaking over the horizon as they’d sailed in, the shining pillar of the Torrestanding proud over it all, and had to swallow back tears. The part that hadscentedthesmokypaprikaandcrisptangofgingerandbeckoningsweetnessofcuminassoonasshehadclearedthedocksandknew,deepinherbones,thatshewashome.That, yes, she lived and served andwould die forAdarlan, for thefamilystillthere,butthisplace,whereherfatherhadoncelivedandwhereevenherAdarlan-bornmotherhadfeltmoreatease…Thesewereherpeople.

Theskininvaryingshadesofbrownandtan.Theabundanceofthatshiningblackhair—her hair.The eyes that ranged fromuptilted towide and round toslender, inhuesof ebonyandchestnut andeven the rarehazel andgreen.Herpeople.Ablendofkingdomsandterritories,yes,but…Heretherewerenoslurshissedinthestreets.Heretherewouldbenorocksthrownbychildren.Herehersister’schildrenwouldnotfeeldifferent.Unwanted.

And thatpartofher…Despiteher thrown-backshouldersand raisedchin,herkneesindeedquakedatwho—atwhat—stoodbeforeher.

Nesrynhadnotdaredtellherfatherwhereandwhatshewasleavingtodo.OnlythatshewasoffonanerrandoftheKingofAdarlanandwouldnotbebackforsometime.

Herfatherwouldn’thavebelievedit.Nesryndidn’tquitebelieveitherself.Thekhaganhadbeenastorywhisperedbeforetheirhearthonwinternights,

his offspring legends told while kneading endless loaves of bread for theirbakery.Theirancestors’bedsidetalestoeitherlullherintosweetsleeporkeepherupallnightinbone-deepterror.

Thekhaganwasalivingmyth.Asmuchofadeityasthethirty-sixgodswhoruledoverthiscityandempire.

TherewereasmanytemplestothosegodsinAnticaasthereweretributestothevariouskhagans.More.

They called it the god-city for them—and for the living god seated on theivorythroneatopthatgoldendais.

Itwasindeedpuregold,justasherfather’swhisperedlegendsclaimed.And the khagan’s six children … Nesryn could name them all without

introduction.AfterthemeticulousresearchChaolhaddonewhileontheirship,shehadno

doubthecouldaswell.Butthatwasnothowthismeetingwastogo.Forasmuchasshehadtaughttheformercaptainaboutherhomelandthese

weeks, he’d instructed her on court protocol. He had rarely been so directlyinvolved,yes,buthehadwitnessedenoughofitwhileservingtheking.

Anobserverofthegamewhowasnowtobeaprimeplayer.Withthestakesunbearablyhigh.

Theywaitedinsilenceforthekhagantospeak.She’dtriednottogawkwhilewalkingthroughthepalace.Shehadneverset

foot inside it during her few visits to Antica over the years. Neither had herfather,orhisfather,oranyofherancestors.Inacityofgods,thiswastheholiestoftemples.Anddeadliestoflabyrinths.

Thekhagandidnotmovefromhisivorythrone.Anewer,widerthrone,datingfromahundredyearsago—whentheseventh

khaganhadchuckedouttheoldonebecausehislargeframedidn’tfitinit.He’deatenanddrunkhimselftodeath,historyclaimed,butatleasthadthegoodsensetonamehisHeirbeforeheclutchedhischestonedayandslumpeddead…rightinthatthrone.

Urus, thecurrentkhagan,wasnomore than sixty, and seemed in farbettercondition. Though his dark hair had long since gone as white as his carvedthrone,thoughscarspepperedhiswrinkledskinasaremindertoallthathehadfought for this throne in the final days of hismother’s life…His onyx eyes,slenderanduptilted,werebrightasstars.Awareandall-seeing.

Atop his snowy head sat no crown. For gods amongmortals did not needmarkersoftheirdivinerule.

Behindhim,stripsofwhitesilktiedtotheopenwindowsflutteredinthehotbreeze.Sendingthethoughtsofthekhaganandhisfamilytowherethesoulofthedeceased—whoevertheymightbe,someoneimportant,nodoubt—hadnowrejoinedtheEternalBlueSkyandSlumberingEarththatthekhaganandallhisancestors still honored in lieu of the pantheon of thirty-six gods their citizensremainedfreetoworship.

Oranyothergodsoutsideofit,shouldtheirterritoriesbenewenoughtonotyet have had their gods incorporated into the fold.There had to be several ofthose, since during his three decades of rule, theman seated before themhadaddedahandfulofoverseaskingdomstotheirborders.

Akingdomforeveryringadorninghisscar-fleckedfingers,preciousstonesglintingamongthem.

Awarrior bedecked in finery.Those hands slid from the arms of his ivory

throne—assembled from the hewn tusks of themighty beasts that roamed thecentral grasslands—and settled in his lap, hidden beneath swaths of gold-trimmed blue silk. Indigo dye from the steamy, lush lands in the west. FromBalruhn,whereNesryn’sownpeoplehadoriginallyhailed,beforecuriosityandambition drove her great-grandfather to drag his family over mountains andgrasslandsanddesertstothegod-cityinthearidnorth.

TheFaliqs had long been tradesmen, and not of anything particularly fine.Justsimple,goodclothandhouseholdspices.Herunclestilltradedsuchthingsand, through various lucrative investments, had become amoderatelywealthyman, his family now dwelling in a beautiful home within this very city. Adefinitive step up from a baker—the path her father had chosen upon leavingtheseshores.

“It is not every day that a new king sends someone so important to ourshores,” the khagan said at last, using their own tongue and not Halha, thelanguageofthesoutherncontinent.“Isupposeweshoulddeemitanhonor.”

His accent was so like her father’s—but the tone lacked the warmth, thehumor.Amanwhohadbeenobeyedhisentirelife,andfoughttoearnhiscrown.Andexecuted twoof the siblingswhoproved tobe sore losers.The survivingthree…one had gone into exile, and the other two had sworn fealty to theirbrother.ByhavingthehealersoftheTorrerendertheminfertile.

Chaolinclinedhishead.“Thehonorismine,GreatKhagan.”NotMajesty—thatwasforkingsorqueens.Therewasnotermhighorgrand

enoughforthismanbeforethem.Onlythetitlethatthefirstofhisancestorshadborne:GreatKhagan.

“Yours,” the khaganmused, those dark eyes now sliding to Nesryn. “Andwhatofyourcompanion?”

Nesrynfoughttheurgetobowagain.DorianHavilliardwastheoppositeofthisman,she realized.AelinGalathynius,however…Nesrynwondered if theyoungqueenmighthavemoreincommonwiththekhaganthanshedidwiththe

Havilliard king. Or would, if Aelin survived long enough. If she reached herthrone.

Nesryn shoved those thoughts down as Chaol peered at her, his shoulderstightening.Notatthewords,notatthecompany,butsimplybecausesheknewthat themere actofhaving to lookup, facing thismightywarrior-king in thatchair…Todaywouldbeahardoneforhim.

Nesryninclinedherheadslightly.“IamNesrynFaliq,CaptainoftheRoyalGuardofAdarlan.AsLordWestfalloncewasbeforeKingDorianappointedhimas his Hand earlier this summer.” She was grateful that years spent living inRiftholdhad taughthernot to smile, not to cringeor show fear—grateful thatshe’dlearnedtokeephervoicecoolandsteadyevenwhileherkneesquaked.

Nesryn continued, “My family hails from here, Great Khagan. Antica stillownsapieceofmysoul.”Sheplacedahandoverherheart,thefinethreadsofhergold-and-crimsonuniform,thecolorsoftheempirethathadmadeherfamilyoften feel hunted and unwanted, scraping against her calluses. “The honor ofbeinginyourpalaceisthegreatestofmylife.”

Itwas,perhaps,true.Ifshefoundtimetovisitherfamilyinthequiet,garden-filledRunniQuarter

—home mostly to merchants and tradesmen like her uncle—they wouldcertainlyconsideritso.

Thekhaganonlysmiledabit.“Thenallowmetowelcomeyoutoyourtruehome,Captain.”

Nesrynfelt,morethansaw,Chaol’sflickerofannoyance.Shewasn’tentirelycertainwhathadtriggeredit:theclaimonherhomeland,ortheofficialtitlethathadnowpassedtoher.

ButNesrynbowedherheadagaininthanks.ThekhagansaidtoChaol,“Iwillassumeyouareheretowoomeintojoining

thiswarofyours.”Chaol countered a shade tersely, “We’re here at the behest ofmyking.”A

note of pride at that word. “To begin what we hope will be a new era ofprosperoustradeandpeace.”

Oneofthekhagan’soffspring—ayoungwomanwithhairlikeflowingnightandeyeslikedarkfire—exchangedawrylookwiththesiblingtoherleft,amanperhapsthreeyearsherelder.

Hasar and Sartaq, then. Third and secondborn, respectively. Each woresimilarloosepantsandembroideredtunics,withfineleatherbootsrisingtotheirknees.Hasarwasnobeauty,butthoseeyes…Theflamedancinginthemassheglancedtoherelderbrothermadeupforit.

AndSartaq—commanderofhisfather’srukriders.Therukhin.Thenorthern aerial cavalryofhispeoplehad longdwelled in the towering

Tavan Mountains with their ruks: enormous birds, eagle-like in shape, largeenough to carry off cattle and horses.Without the sheer bulk and destructiveweight of the Ironteeth witches’ wyverns, but swift and nimble and clever asfoxes.Theperfectmountsforthelegendaryarcherswhoflewthemintobattle.

Sartaq’sfacewassolemn,hisbroadshouldersthrownback.Amanperhapsasill at ease in his fine clothes asChaol. Shewondered if his ruk,Kadara,wasperchedononeofthepalace’sthirty-sixminarets,eyeingthecoweringservantsandguards,waitingimpatientlyforhermaster’sreturn.

That Sartaqwas here…They had to have known, then.Well in advance.ThatsheandChaolwerecoming.

The knowing glance that passed between Sartaq and Hasar told Nesrynenough:they,atleast,haddiscussedthepossibilitiesofthisvisit.

Sartaq’sgazeslidfromhissistertoNesryn.She yielded a blink. His brown skinwas darker than the others’—perhaps

fromall that time in the skiesandsunlight—hiseyesa solidebony.Depthlessand unreadable. His black hair remained unbound save for a small braid thatcurvedoverthearchofhisear.Therestofhishairfelltojustpasthismuscledchest, and swayed slightly as he gave what Nesryn could have sworn was a

mockinginclineofhishead.Aragtag,humbledpair,Adarlanhadsent.Theinjuredformercaptain,andthe

common-bredcurrentone.Perhaps thekhagan’s initialwordsabouthonor hadbeenaveiledmentionofwhatheperceivedasaninsult.

Nesryndraggedherattentionawayfromtheprince,evenasshefeltSartaq’skeenstarelingeringlikesomephantomtouch.

“WearrivebearinggiftsfromHisMajesty,theKingofAdarlan,”Chaolwassaying, and twisted in his chair to motion the servants behind them to comeforward.

QueenGeorginaandhercourthadpracticallyraidedtheroyalcoffersbeforethey’d fled to their mountain estates this spring. And the former king hadsmuggledoutmuchofwhatwasleftduringthosefinalfewmonths.Butbeforethey’dsailedhere,Dorianhadventuredintothemanyvaultsbeneaththecastle.Nesryn still could hear his echoed curse, filthier than she’d ever heard himspeak,ashefoundlittlemorethangoldmarkswithin.

Aelin,asusual,hadaplan.NesrynhadbeenstandingbesidehernewkingwhenAelinhadflippedopen

twotrunksinherchambers.Jewelryfitforaqueen—foraQueenofAssassins—hadsparkledwithin.I’veenoughfundsfornow,AelinhadonlysaidtoDorianwhenhebeganto

object.GivethekhagansomeofAdarlan’sfinest.Intheweekssince,NesrynhadwonderedifAelinhadbeengladtoberidof

whatshe’dpurchasedwithherbloodmoney.ThejewelsofAdarlan,itseemed,wouldnottraveltoTerrasen.

Andnow,astheservantslaidoutthefoursmallertrunks—dividedfromtheoriginal two tomake it seem likemore,Aelin had suggested—as they flippedopenthelids,thestill-silentcourtpressedintosee.

Amurmurwentthroughthemattheglisteninggemsandgoldandsilver.“A gift,” Chaol declared as even the khagan himself leaned forward to

examine the trove. “From King Dorian Havilliard of Adarlan, and AelinGalathynius,QueenofTerrasen.”

PrincessHasar’seyessnappedtoChaolatthesecondname.Prince Sartaq only glanced back at his father. The eldest son, Arghun,

frownedatthejewels.Arghun—thepoliticianamongst them,belovedbythemerchantsandpower

brokers of the continent. Slender and tall, hewas a scholarwho traded not incoinandfinerybutinknowledge.PrinceofSpies,theycalledArghun.Whilehistwobrothershadbecomethe

finest ofwarriors,Arghun had honed hismind, and now oversaw his father’sthirty-sixviziers.Sothatfrownatthetreasure…

Necklacesofdiamondand ruby.Braceletsofgoldandemerald.Earrings—veritable small chandeliers—of sapphire and amethyst. Exquisitely wroughtrings, somecrownedwith jewelsas largeasaswallow’segg.Combsandpinsandbrooches.Blood-gained,blood-bought.

Theyoungestoftheassembledroyalchildren,afine-boned,comelywoman,leanedtheclosest.Duva.Athicksilverringwithasapphireofnear-obscenesizeadorned her slender hand, pressed delicately against the considerable swell ofherbelly.

Perhaps sixmonths along, though the flowing clothes—she favored purpleand rose—and her slight build could distort that. Certainly her first child, theresultofherarrangedmarriagetoaprincehailingfromanoverseasterritorytothefareast,asouthernneighborofDoranellethathadnotedtherumblingsofitsFaeQueenandwantedtosecuretheprotectionofthesouthernempireacrosstheocean. Perhaps the first attempt, Nesryn and others had wondered, of thekhaganategreatlyexpandingitsownconsiderablecontinent.

Nesryn didn’t let herself look too long at the life growing beneath thatbejeweledhand.

ForifoneofDuva’ssiblingswerecrownedkhagan,thefirsttaskofthenew

ruler—afterhisorhersufficientoffspringwereproduced—wouldbetoeliminateany other challenges to the throne. Starting with the offspring of his or hersiblings,iftheychallengedtheirrighttorule.

ShewonderedhowDuvawasabletoendureit.Ifshehadcometolovethebabe growing in her womb, or if she was wise enough to not allow such afeeling.Ifthefatherofthatbabewoulddoeverythinghecouldtogetthatchildtosafetyshoulditcometothat.

Thekhaganat last leanedback inhis throne.His childrenhad straightenedagain,Duva’shandfallingbackatherside.

“Jewels,”Chaolexplained,“setbythefinestofAdarlaniancraftsmen.”Thekhagan toyedwith a citrine ringonhisownhand. “If theycame from

AelinGalathynius’strove,Ihavenodoubtthattheyare.”AbeatofsilencebetweenNesrynandChaol.Theyhadknown—anticipated

—thatthekhaganhadspiesineveryland,oneverysea.ThatAelin’spastmightbejustataddifficulttoworkaround.

“For you are not onlyAdarlan’sHand,” the khaganwent on, “but also theAmbassadorofTerrasen,areyounot?”

“IndeedIam,”Chaolsaidsimply.The khagan rosewith only the slightest stiffness, his children immediately

steppingasidetoclearapathforhimtostepoffthegoldendais.The tallest of them—strapping and perhaps more unchecked than Sartaq’s

quiet intensity—eyed up the crowd as if assessing any threatswithin.Kashin.Fourthborn.

IfSartaqcommandedtheruksinthenorthernandcentralskies,thenKashincontrolledthearmiesonland.Footsoldiersandthehorse-lords,mostly.Arghunheldswayovertheviziers,andHasar,rumorclaimed,hadthearmadasbowingtoher.Yet there remainedsomething lesspolishedaboutKashin,hisdarkhairbraidedbackfromhisbroad-planedface.Handsome,yes—but itwasas if lifeamongsthistroopshadrubbedoffonhim,andnotnecessarilyinabadway.

Thekhagandescendedthedais,hiscobaltrobeswhisperingalongthefloor.Andwithevery stepover thegreenmarble,Nesryn realized that thismanhadindeedoncecommandednotjusttheruksintheskies,butalsothehorse-lords,and swayed thearmadas to joinhim.And thenUrusandhiselderbrotherhadgonehand-to-handincombatat thebehestof theirmotherwhileshelaydyingfromawastingsicknessthateventheTorrecouldnotheal.Thesonwhowalkedoffthesandwouldbekhagan.

The former khagan had a penchant for spectacle. And for this final fightbetween her two selected offspring, she had placed them in the greatamphitheater in the heart of the city, the doors open to any who could clawinsidetofindaseat.Peoplehadsatuponthearchwaysandsteps,withthousandscramming the streets that flowed to thewhite-stoned building.Ruks and theirriders had perched on the pillars crowning the uppermost level, more rukhincirclingintheskiesabove.

Thetwowould-beHeirshadfoughtforsixhours.Not just against each other, but also against the horrors their mother

unleashed to test them:greatcats sprangfromhiddencagesbeneath thesandyfloor; iron-spikedchariotswith spear-throwershad charged from thegloomofthetunnelentrancestorunthemdown.

Nesryn’sfatherhadbeenamongstthefrenziedmobinthestreets,listeningtotheshoutedreportsfromthosedanglingoffthecolumns.

Thefinalblowhadn’tbeenanactofbrutalityorhate.Thenow-khagan’selderbrother,Orda,hadtakenaspeartothesidethanksto

oneofthosecharioteers.Aftersixhoursofbloodybattleandsurvival,theblowhadkepthimdown.

AndUrushadsetasidehissword.Absolutesilencehadfallen in thearena.SilenceasUrushadextendedabloodiedhandtohisfallenbrother—tohelphim.

OrdahadsentahiddendaggershootingforUrus’sheart.Ithadmissedbytwoinches.

AndUrushadrippedthatdaggerfree,screaming,andplungedit rightbackintohisbrother.

Urusdidnotmissashisbrotherhad.Nesrynwondered ifascarstillmarred thekhagan’schestashenowstrode

toward her andChaol and the jewels displayed. If that long-dead khagan hadweptforherfallensoninprivate,slainbytheonewhowouldtakehercrownina matter of days. Or if she had never allowed herself to love her children,knowingwhatmustbefallthem.

Urus,Khaganof theSouthernContinent,stoppedbeforeNesrynandChaol.HetoweredoverNesrynbyagoodhalffoot,hisshouldersstillbroad,spinestillstraight.

He bentwith only a touch of age-granted strain to pluck up a necklace ofdiamondandsapphirefromthechest.Itglitteredlikealivingriverinhisscar-flecked,bejeweledhands.

“My eldest,Arghun,” said the khagan, jerking his chin toward the narrow-faced prince monitoring all, “recently informed me of some fascinatinginformationregardingQueenAelinAshryverGalathynius.”

Nesrynwaitedfortheblow.ChaoljustheldUrus’sgaze.But thekhagan’sdarkeyes—Sartaq’seyes,sherealized—dancedashesaid

toChaol,“Aqueenatnineteenwouldmakemanyuneasy.DorianHavilliard,atleast, hasbeen trained sincebirth to takeuphis crown, to control a court andkingdom.ButAelinGalathynius…”

Thekhaganchuckedthenecklaceintothechest.Itsthunkwasasloudassteelonstone.

“Isupposesomewouldcalltenyearsasatrainedassassintobeexperience.”Murmurs again rippled through the throne room. Hasar’s fire-bright eyes

practicallyglowed.Sartaq’sfacedidnotshiftatall.Perhapsaskilllearnedfromhis eldest brother—whose spies had to be skilled indeed if they’d learned ofAelin’s past. Even though Arghun himself seemed to be struggling to keep a

smugsmilefromhislips.“WemaybeseparatedbytheNarrowSea,”thekhagansaidtoChaol,whose

features did not so much as alter, “but even we have heard of CelaenaSardothien.Youbringmejewels,nodoubtfromherowncollection.Yettheyarejewelsforme,whenmydaughterDuva”—aglancetowardhispregnant,prettydaughterstandingcloselybesideHasar—“hasyettoreceiveanysortofweddinggift fromeitheryournewkingor returnedqueen,while everyother ruler senttheirsnearlyhalfayearago.”

Nesryn hid her wince. An oversight that could be explained by so manytruths—butnotones that theydaredvoice,nothere.Chaoldidn’toffer anyofthemasheremainedsilent.

“But,”thekhaganwenton,“regardlessofthejewelsyou’venowdumpedatmyfeet likesacksofgrain, Iwouldstill ratherhave the truth.EspeciallyafterAelinGalathyniusshatteredyourownglasscastle,murderedyourformerking,andseizedyourcapitalcity.”

“If PrinceArghun has the information,”Chaol said at lastwith unfalteringcoolness,“perhapsyoudonotneeditfromme.”

Nesrynstifledhercringeatthedefiance,thetone—“Perhaps not,” the khagan said, even as Arghun’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“ButIthinkyoushouldlikesometruthfromme.”Chaoldidn’taskforit.Didn’tlookremotelyinterestedbeyondhis,“Oh?”Kashinstiffened.Hisfather’sfiercestdefender,then.Arghunonlyexchanged

glanceswithavizierandsmiledtowardChaollikeanadderreadytostrike.“HereiswhyIthinkyouhavecome,LordWestfall,HandtotheKing.”Onlythegullswheelinghighabovethedomeofthethroneroomdaredmake

anynoise.Thekhaganshutlidafterlidonthetrunks.“Ithinkyouhavecometoconvincemetojoinyourwar.Adarlaniscleaved,

Terrasenisdestitute,andwillnodoubthavesomeissueconvincinghersurviving

lords to fight for an untried queen who spent ten years indulging herself inRifthold,purchasing these jewelswithbloodmoney.Your listofallies isshortandbrittle.DukePerrington’s forces are anythingbut.Theother kingdomsonyour continent are shattered and separated from your northern territories byPerrington’sarmies.Soyouhavearrivedhere,fastastheeightwindscancarryyou, tobegme tosendmyarmies toyourshores.Toconvinceme tospillourbloodonalostcause.”

“Somemightconsideritanoblecause,”Chaolcountered.“Iamnotdoneyet,”thekhagansaid,liftingahand.Chaolbristledbutdidnotspeakoutofturnagain.Nesryn’sheartthundered.“Manywouldargue,” thekhagan said,waving thatupraisedhand towarda

fewviziers,towardArghunandHasar,“thatweremainoutofit.Orbetteryet,allywiththeforcesuretowin,whosetradehasbeenprofitableforusthesetenyears.”

Awaveofthathandtowardsomeothermenandwomeninthegoldrobesofviziers. Toward Sartaq and Kashin and Duva. “Some would say that we riskallyingwith Perrington only to potentially face his armies in our harbors oneday.ThattheshatteredkingdomsofEyllweandFenharrowmightagainbecomewealthyundernewrule,andfillourcofferswithgoodtrade.Ihavenodoubtyouwill promiseme that it shall be so.Youwill offerme exclusive tradingdeals,likelytoyourowndisadvantage.Butyouaredesperate,andthereisnothingyoupossessthatIdonotalreadyown.ThatIcannottakeifIwish.”

Chaolkepthismouthshut, thankfully.Evenashisbrowneyessimmeredatthequietthreat.

The khagan peered into the fourth and final trunk. Jeweled combs andbrushes, ornate perfume bottles made by Adarlan’s finest glassblowers. Thesame who had built the castle Aelin had shattered. “So, you have come toconvinceme to join your cause. And I shall consider it while you stay here.Sinceyouhaveundoubtedlycomeforanotherpurpose,too.”

Aflickofthatscarred,jeweledhandtowardthechair.ColorstainedChaol’stancheeks,buthedidnotflinch,didnotcower.Nesrynforcedherselftodothesame.

“Arghun informedmeyour injuries arenew—that theyhappenedwhen theglasscastleexploded. It seems theQueenofTerrasenwasnotquite socarefulaboutshieldingherallies.”

A muscle feathered in Chaol’s jaw as everyone, from prince to servant,lookedtohislegs.

“BecauseyourrelationswithDoranellearenowstrained,alsothankstoAelinGalathynius,Iassumetheonlypathtowardhealingthatremainsopentoyouishere.AttheTorreCesme.”

The khagan shrugged, the only reveal of the irreverent warrior-youth he’doncebeen.“MybelovedwifewillbedeeplyupsetifIweretodenyaninjuredmana chance at healing”—the empresswasnowhere tobe seen in this room,Nesrynrealizedwithastart—“soI,ofcourse,shallgrantyoupermissiontoentertheTorre.Whetheritshealerswillagreetoworkuponyoushallbeuptothem.EvenIdonotcontrolthewilloftheTorre.”

TheTorre—theTower.ItdominatedthesouthernedgeofAntica,nestledatopits highest hill to overlook the city that sloped down toward the green sea.Domain of its famed healers, and tribute to Silba, the healer-goddess whoblessedthem.Ofthethirty-sixgodsthisempirehadwelcomedintothefoldoverthecenturies, fromreligionsnearand far, in thiscityofgods…Silba reignedunchallenged.

Chaollookedlikehewasswallowinghotcoals,buthemercifullymanagedtobowhishead.“Ithankyouforyourgenerosity,GreatKhagan.”

“Resttonight—Iwillinformthemthatyoushallbereadytomorrowmorning.Sinceyoucannotgotothem,onewillbesenttoyou.Iftheyagree.”

Chaol’s fingers shifted in his lap, but he did not clench them.Nesryn stillheldherbreath.

“Iamattheirdisposal,”Chaolsaidtightly.The khagan shut the final trunk of jewels. “You may keep your presents,

HandoftheKing,AmbassadortoAelinGalathynius.Ihavenouseforthem—andnointerest.”

Chaol’s head snapped up, as if something in the khagan’s tone had snaredhim.“Why.”

Nesryn barely hid her cringe. More of a demand than anyone ever daredmake of theman, judging by the surprised anger in the khagan’s eyes, in theglancesexchangedbetweenhischildren.

ButNesryncaughttheflickerofsomethingelsewithinthekhagan’seyes.Aweariness.

Something oily slid into her gut as she noted thewhite banners streamingfromthewindows,alloverthecity.Asshelookedtothesixheirsandcountedagain.

Notsix.Five.Onlyfivewerehere.Death-bannersattheroyalhousehold.Alloverthecity.Theywerenotamourningpeople—notinthewaytheycouldbeinAdarlan,

dressingall inblackandmopingformonths.Evenamongstthekhagan’sroyalfamily,lifepickedupandwenton,theirdeadnotstuffedinstonecatacombsorcoffins,butshroudedinwhiteandlaidbeneaththeopenskiesoftheirsealed-off,sacredreserveonthedistantsteppes.

Nesrynglanceddown the line of five heirs, counting.The eldest fivewerepresent.AndjustassherealizedthatTumelun,theyoungest—barelyseventeen—wasnotthere,thekhagansaidtoChaol,“Yourspiesareindeeduselessifyouhavenotheard.”

Withthat,hestrodeforhisthrone,leavingSartaqtostepforward,thesecond-eldest prince’s depthless eyes veiledwith sorrow. Sartaq gaveNesryn a silentnod.Yes.Yes,hersuspicionswereright—

Sartaq’s solid, pleasant voice filled the chamber. “Our beloved sister,Tumelun,diedunexpectedlythreeweeksago.”

Oh,gods.Somanywordsandritualshadbeenpassedover;merelycomingheretodemandtheiraidinwarwasuncouth,untoward—

Chaol said into the fraught silence, meeting the stares of each taut-facedprinceandprincess,thenfinallytheweary-eyedkhaganhimself,“Youhavemydeepestcondolences.”

Nesrynbreathed,“Maythenorthernwindcarryhertofairerplains.”OnlySartaqbotheredtonodhisthanks,whiletheothersnowturnedcoldand

stiff.NesrynshotChaolasilent,warninglooknottoaskaboutthedeath.Heread

theexpressiononherfaceandnodded.Thekhaganscratchedatafleckonhisivorythrone,thesilenceasheavyas

oneofthecoatsthehorse-lordsstillworeagainstthatbitternorthernwindonthesteppesandtheirunforgivingwoodensaddles.

“We’ve been at sea for threeweeks,”Chaol tried to offer, his voice softernow.

Thekhagandidnotbothertoappearunderstanding.“Thatwouldalsoexplainwhy you are so unaware of the other bit of news, andwhy these cold jewelsmight beofmoreuse foryou.” The khagan’s lips curled in amirthless smile.“Arghun’s contacts also brought word from a ship this morning. Your royalcoffers in Rifthold are no longer accessible. Duke Perrington and his host offlyingterrorshavesackedRifthold.”

Silence,pulsingandhollow,sweptthroughNesryn.Shewasn’tsureifChaolwasbreathing.

“WedonothavewordonKingDorian’slocation,butheyieldedRiftholdtothem. Fled into the night, if rumor is to be believed. The city has fallen.EverythingtothesouthofRiftholdbelongstoPerringtonandhiswitchesnow.”

Nesrynsawthefacesofherniecesandnephewsfirst.

Thenthefaceofhersister.Thenherfather.Sawtheirkitchen,thebakery.Thepeartartscoolingonthelong,woodentable.

Dorianhad left them.Left themall to… todowhat?Findhelp?Survive?RuntoAelin?

Had the royal guard remained to fight? Had anyone fought to save theinnocentsinthecity?

Herhandswereshaking.Shedidn’tcare.Didn’tcareifthesepeoplecladinrichessneered.

Hersister’schildren,thegreatjoyinherlife…Chaolwasstaringupather.Nothingonhisface.Nodevastation,noshock.Thatcrimson-and-golduniformbecamestifling.Strangling.Witchesandwyverns.Inhercity.Withthoseironteethandnails.Shredding

andbleedingandtormenting.Herfamily—herfamily—“Father.”Sartaqhadsteppedforwardoncemore.ThoseonyxeyesslidbetweenNesryn

and thekhagan. “It hasbeen a long journey forourguests.Politics aside,”hesaid,givingadisapprovingglanceatArghun,whoseemedamused—amusedatthisnewshe’dbrought,thathadsetthegreenmarblefloorsroilingbeneathherboots—“wearestillanationofhospitality.Let themrestforafewhours.Andthenjoinusfordinner.”

HasarcametoSartaq’sside,frowningatArghunwhileshedid.Perhapsnotfrom reprimand like her brother, but simply forArghunnot tellingher of thisnewsfirst.“Letnoguestpassthroughourhomeandfinditscomfortslacking.”Eventhoughthewordswerewelcoming,Hasar’stonewasanythingbut.

Their father gave them a bemused glance. “Indeed.” Urus waved a handtowardtheservantsbythefarpillars.“Escortthemtotheirrooms.Anddispatchamessage to theTorre to send their finest—Hafiza, if she’ll comedown fromthattower.”

Nesrynscarcelyheardtherest.Ifthewitchesheldthecity,thentheValgwho

hadinfesteditearlierthissummer…Therewouldbenoonetofightthem.Noonetoshieldherfamily.

Iftheyhadsurvived.Shecouldn’tbreathe.Couldn’tthink.Sheshouldnothaveleft.Shouldnothavetakenthisposition.Theycouldbedead,orsuffering.Dead.Dead.ShedidnotnoticethefemaleservantwhocametopushChaol’schair.Barely

noticedthehandChaolreachedouttotwinethroughherown.Nesryndidn’tsomuchasbowtothekhaganastheyleft.Shecouldnotstopseeingtheirfaces.Thechildren.Hersister’ssmiling,round-belliedchildren.Sheshouldnothavecome.

3

Nesrynhadgoneintoshock.AndChaolcouldnotgotoher,couldnotscoopherintohisarmsandholdher

close.Not when she had walked, silent and drifting like a wraith, right into a

bedroomofthelavishsuitethey’dbeenappointedonthefirstfloorofthepalace,andshut thedoorbehindher.As ifshehadforgottenanyoneelse in theworldexisted.

Hedidn’tblameher.Chaollettheservant,afine-bonedyoungwomanwithchestnuthairthatfell

in heavy curls to her narrowwaist, wheel him into the second bedroom. Thesuiteoverlookedagardenoffruittreesandburblingfountains,cascadesofpinkand purple blossoms hanging from potted plants anchored into the balconyabove.Theyprovided livingcurtainsbeforehis toweringbedroomwindows—doors,herealized.

The servant mumbled something about drawing a bath, her use of hislanguageunwieldycomparedtotheskillofthekhaganandhischildren.Notthathe was in any position to judge: he was barely fluent in any of the otherlanguageswithinhisowncontinent.

Sheslippedbehindacarvedwoodenscreenthatnodoubtledintohisbathingchamber,andChaolpeeredthroughhisstill-openbedroomdoor,acrossthepalemarblefoyer,totheshutdoorsofNesryn’sbedroom.

Theyshouldnothaveleft.He couldn’t have done anything, but … He knew what the not-knowing

woulddotoNesryn.Whatitwasalreadydoingtohim.Dorianwasnotdead,hetoldhimself.Hehadgottenout.Fled.Ifhewerein

Perrington’s grip—Erawan’s grip—they would have known. Prince Arghunwouldhaveknown.

His city, sackedby thewitches.Hewondered ifManonBlackbeakhad ledtheattack.

Chaoltriedandfailedtorecountwherethedebtswerestackedbetweenthem.Aelin had sparedManon’s life at Temis’s temple, butManon had given themvitalinformationaboutDorianundertheValgthrall.Diditmakethemeven?Ortentativeallies?

ItwasawastetohopethatManonwouldturnagainstMorath.ButhesentupasilentprayertowhatevergodmightbelisteningtoprotectDorian,toguidehiskingtofriendlierharbors.

Dorianwouldmake it.Hewas too clever, toogifted, not to.Therewasnootheralternative—none—thatChaolwouldaccept.Dorianwasalive, andsafe.Oronhiswaytosafety.AndwhenChaolgotamoment,hewasgoingtosqueezethe information out of the eldest prince.Mourning or no. Everything Arghunknew, he would know. And then he’d ask that servant girl to comb everymerchantshipforinformationabouttheattack.

Noword—therehadbeennowordaboutAelin.Where shewasnow,whatshe’d been doing.Aelin,whomight verywell be the thing that cost him thisalliance.

Hegroundhis teeth, andwas still grinding themas the suite doors openedandatall,broad-shoulderedmanstrodeinasifheownedtheplace.

Chaol supposed he did. Prince Kashin was alone and unarmed, though hemovedwiththeeaseofapersonconfidentinhisbody’sunfailingstrength.

How, Chaol supposed, he himself had once walked about the palace in

Rifthold.Chaol lowered his head in greeting as the prince shut the hall door and

surveyed him. It was a warrior’s assessment, frank and thorough. When hisbrowneyesatlastmetChaol’s,theprincesaidinAdarlan’stongue,“Injurieslikeyoursarenotuncommonhere,andIhaveseenmanyofthem—especiallyamongthehorse-tribes.Myfamily’speople.”

Chaoldidn’tparticularlyfeellikediscussinghisinjurieswiththeprince,withanyone,soheonlynodded.“I’msureyouhave.”

Kashincockedhishead,scanningChaolagain,hisdarkbraidslippingoverhismuscled shoulder. Reading, perhaps, Chaol’s desire not to start down thisparticular road. “My father indeed wishes you both to join us at dinner. Andmorethanthat,tojoinuseverynightafterwardwhileyouarehere.Andsitatthehightable.”

It wasn’t a strange request of a visiting dignitary, and it was certainly anhonor to sit at the khagan’s own table, but to send his son to do it…Chaolconsidered his nextwords carefully, then simply chose themost obvious one.“Why?”

Surely the family wished to keep close to one another after losing theiryoungestmember.Invitingstrangerstojointhem—

Theprince’s jaw tightened.Not amanused to veilinghis emotions, as histhreeeldersiblingswere.“ArghunreportsourpalaceissafeofspiesfromDukePerrington’s forces, that his agentshavenotyet come. I amnotof that belief.And Sartaq—” The prince caught himself, as if not wanting to bring in hisbrother—orpotentialally.Kashingrimaced.“TherewasareasonIchosetoliveamongstsoldiers.Thedouble-talkofthiscourt…”

Chaolwas tempted tosayheunderstood.Had felt thatway formostofhislife.Butheasked,“YouthinkPerrington’sforceshaveinfiltratedthiscourt?”

HowmuchdidKashin, orArghun,knowofPerrington’s forces—know thetruth of the Valg king who wore Perrington’s skin? Or the armies he

commanded, worse than any their imaginations might conjure? But thatinformation…He’dkeep that tohimself.See if it could somehowbeused, ifArghunandthekhagandidnotknowofit.

Kashin rubbed at his neck. “I do not know if it is Perrington, or someonefromTerrasen,orMelisande,orWendlyn.All Iknow is thatmy sister isnowdead.”

Chaol’sheartstumbledabeat.Buthedaredask,“Howdiditcomeabout?”Grief flickered inKashin’seyes.“Tumelunwasalwaysabitwild, reckless.

Prone to moods. One day, happy and laughing; the next, withdrawn andhopeless.They…”His throatbobbed.“Theysayshe leapedfromherbalconybecauseofit.Duvaandherhusbandfoundherlaterthatnight.”

Anydeath ina familywasdevastating,butasuicide…“I’msorry,”Chaolofferedquietly.

Kashinshookhishead,sunlightfromthegardendancingonhisblackhair.“Idonotbelieveit.MyTumelunwouldnothavejumped.”My Tumelun. The words told enough about the prince’s closeness to his

youngersister.“Yoususpectfoulplay?”“AllIknowisthatnomatterTumelun’smoods…Iknewher.AsIknowmy

ownheart.”Heputahandoverit.“Shewouldnothavejumped.”Chaolconsideredhiswordscarefullyonceagain.“AssorryasIamforyour

loss, do you have any reason to suspect why a foreign kingdom might haveengineeredit?”

Kashin paced a few steps. “No one within our lands would be stupidenough.”

“Well,noonewithinTerrasenorAdarlanwouldeverdosuchathing—eventomanipulateyouintothiswar.”

Kashinstudiedhimforaheartbeat.“Evenaqueenwhowasonceanassassinherself?”

Chaoldidn’tletoneflickerofemotionshow.“Assassinshemighthavebeen,butAelinhadhardlinesthatshedidnotcross.Killingorharmingchildrenwasoneofthem.”

Kashinpausedbeforethedresseragainstthegardenwall,adjustingagildedboxonitspolisheddarksurface.“Iknow.Ireadthatinmybrother’sreports,too.Details of her kills.” Chaol could have sworn the prince shuddered before headded,“Ibelieveyou.”

Nodoubtwhytheprincewasevenhavingthisconversationwithhim.Kashinwenton,“Whichleavesnotmanyotherforeignpowerswhomightdo

it—andPerringtonatthetopofthatshortlist.”“Butwhytargetyoursister?”“Idonotknow.”Kashinpacedanotherfewsteps.“Shewasyoung,guileless

—sherodewithmeamongsttheDarghan,ourmother-clans.Hadnosuldeofherownyet.”

AtChaol’s narrowed brows, the prince clarified, “It is a spear allDarghanwarriorscarry.Webindstrandsofourfavoredhorse’shairtotheshaft,beneaththeblade.Ourancestorsbelievedthatwherethosehairswavedinthewind,thereourdestinieswaited.Someofusstillbelieveinsuchthings,buteventhosewhothinkitmeretradition…webringthemeverywhere.Thereisacourtyardinthispalacewheremy sulde and those ofmy siblings are planted to feel thewindwhilewe remainatour father’spalace, rightbesidehisown.But indeath…”Again, that shadowof grief. “In death, they are the only object thatwe keep.TheybearthesoulofaDarghanwarriorforeternity,andareleftplantedatopasteppeinoursacredrealm.”Theprinceclosedhiseyes.“Nowhersoulwillroamwiththewind.”

Nesrynhadsaidasmuchearlier.Chaolonlyrepeated,“I’msorry.”Kashin opened his eyes. “Some of my siblings do not believe me about

Tumelun.Somedo.Our father…he remains undecided.Ourmotherwill notevenleaveherroomthankstohergrief,andmentioningmysuspicionsmight—I

cannotbringmyself tomention them toher.”He rubbedhis strong jaw. “So Ihaveconvincedmyfathertohaveyoujoinusatdinnereverynight,asagestureofdiplomacy.ButIshouldlikeyoutowatchwithanoutsider’seyes.Toreportonanythingamiss.Perhapsyouwillseesomethingwedon’t.”

Helpthem…andperhapsreceivehelpinreturn.Chaolsaidbaldly,“Ifyoutrustmeenoughtohavemedothat,totellmeallthis,thenwhynotagreetojoinwithusinthiswar?”

“Itisnotmyplacetosayorguess.”Atrainedsoldier.Kashinexaminedthesuiteasifassessinganypotentialenemieslyinginwait.“Imarchonlywhenmyfathergivestheorder.”

If Perrington’s forces were already here, ifMorath was indeed behind theprincess’smurder…It’dbetooeasy.TooeasytoswaythekhaganintosidingwithDorianandAelin.Perrington—Erawanwasfarsmarterthanthat.

But if Chaol himself were to win over the commander of the khagan’sterrestrialarmiestotheircause—

“I do not play those games,LordWestfall,” saidKashin, readingwhateversparked in Chaol’s eyes. “My other siblings are the ones you will wish toconvince.”

Chaoltappedafingeronthearmofhischair.“Anyadviceonthatfront?”Kashin snorted, smiling faintly. “Others have come before you—from

kingdomsfarricherthanyourown.Somesucceeded,somedidn’t.”AglanceatChaol’slegs,aflickerofpityenteringtheprince’seyes.Chaolclenchedthearmsofthechairat thatpity,fromamanwhorecognizedafellowwarrior.“WishesforgoodluckareallIcanofferyou.”

Then the prince was striding for the doors, his long legs eating up thedistance.

“If Perrington has an agent here,” Chaol said as Kashin reached the suitedoors,“thenyou’vealreadyseenthateveryoneinthispalaceisingravedanger.Youmusttakeaction.”

Kashin paused with his hand on the carved doorknob, glancing over hisshoulder.“WhydoyouthinkI’veaskedaforeignlordforassistance?”

Then theprincewasgone,hiswordshanging in the sweet-scentedair.Thetonewasn’tcruel,wasn’tinsulting,butthewarrior’sfranknessofit…

Chaolstruggled tomasterhisbreathing,evenas the thoughtsswirled.He’dseennoblackringsorcollars,butthenhehadn’tbeenlookingforthem.HadnotevenconsideredthattheshadowofMorathmighthavealreadystretchedthisfar.

Chaolrubbedathischest.Careful.He’dhavetobecarefulinthiscourt.Withwhathesaidpublicly—withwhathesaidinthisroom,too.

Chaolwasstillstaringattheshutdoor,mullingoverallKashinhadimplied,when the servant emerged, her tunic and pants replaced by a tied robe ofthinnest,sheerestsilk.Itleftnothingtotheimagination.

He clamped down on the urge to shout for Nesryn to assist him instead.“Onlywashme,”hesaid,asclearlyandfirmlyashecould.

Sheshowednonerves,no tremorofhesitation.Andheknewshehaddonethisbefore,countlesstimes,assheonlyasked,“AmInottoyourliking?”

Itwasa stark,honestquestion.Shewaspaidwell forher services—all theservantswere.Shechosetobehere,andanothercouldeasilybefoundatnorisktoherstatus.

“Youare,”Chaolsaid,onlyhalflying,refusingtolethisgazedropbelowhereyes.“Verypleasing,”heclarified.“ButIonlywantabath.”Headded,justtobesure,“Nothingelsefromyou.”

He’d expected her gratitude, but the servant only nodded, unruffled. Evenwithher,he’dhavetobecarefulwithwhathesaid.WhatheandNesrynmightdiscussintheserooms.

There hadn’t been a sound or flicker ofmovement behindNesryn’s closedbedroomdoors.Andtherecertainlywasn’tnow.

So hemotioned to let the servant push his chair into the bathing chamber,veilsofsteamripplingthroughthewhite-and-blue-tiledroom.

Thechairglidedovercarpetandtile,curvingaroundthefurniturewithlittleeffort.Nesrynherselfhadfoundthechairinthenow-vacanthealers’catacombsof Rifthold’s castle, right before they’d sailed here.One of the few items thefleeinghealershadleftbehind,itseemed.

Lighter and sleeker thanwhat he’d expected, the largewheels flanking theseatrotatedeasily,evenwhenheusedtheslendermetalhandrimtoguidethemhimself.Unlikethestiffbulkofothershe’dseen,thischaircameequippedwithtwosmallfrontwheels,justoneithersideofthewoodenfootrests,eachcapableofswivelinginanydirectionhechose.Andnowtheysmoothlyturnedintothewaftingsteamofthebathingchamber.

Alargesunkenpoolfilledmostofit,oilsgleamingonthesurface,interruptedonlyby scattered, driftingpetals.A smallwindowhigh in the farwall peekedintothegreeneryofthegarden,andcandlesgildedthebillowingsteam.

Luxury.Utterluxurywhilehiscitysuffered.Whiletheypleadedforhelpthathad not come. Dorian would have wanted to stay. Only absolute defeat, nochanceof survival,wouldhavepromptedhim to leave.Chaolwondered ifhismagichadplayedanypart.Helpedanyofthem.

Dorianwouldfindhiswaytosafety,toallies.Heknewitinhisbones,thoughhis stomachcontinued to roil.Therewasnothinghecoulddo tohelphiskingfromhere—saveforforgingthisalliance.EvenifeveryinstinctscreamedathimtoreturntoAdarlan,tofindDorian,he’dstaythecourse.

Chaol barely noticed the servant removing his boots in efficient tugs.Andthoughhecouldhavedoneithimself,hebarelyremarkedonherremovinghisteal jacket, thentheshirtbeneath.Buthedraggedhimselffromhis thoughtsatlastwhenshebegantoremovehispants—whenheleanedintohelp,grittinghisteethastheyworkedtogetherinstiltedsilence.Itwasonlywhenshereachedtoremovehisundershortsthathegrippedherwrist.

HeandNesryn still hadn’t touchedeachother.Beyondan ill-fatedboutontheshipthreedaysago,hehadn’tconveyedanysortofdesiretotakethatstep

once again. He’d wanted to, though. Woke up most mornings aching to,especiallywhen they’d shared that bed in their stateroom. But the thought ofbeingsoprone,ofnotbeingabletotakeherthewayhe’doncedone…Ithadcurdled any brimming lust. Evenwhile grateful that certain parts of him stillundoubtedlyworked.

“Icangetinonmyown,”Chaolsaid,andbeforetheservantcouldmove,hegathered thestrength inhisarms,hisback,andbeganeasinghimself fromthechair. It was an unceremonious process, one he’d figured out during the longdaysatsea.

Firstheflicked the lockingmechanismonthewheels, theclickechoingoffthestoneandwater.Withafewmotions,hemaneuveredhimselftotheedgeofthe chair, then removed his feet from the wooden plates and onto the floor,anglinghislegstohisleftashedidso.Withhisrighthand,hegrippedtheedgeof the seatbyhisknees,whilehe curled the left into a fist ashebentover tobraceitonthecool,steam-slicktiles.Slippery—

Theservantonlypaddedover,laidathickwhiteclothbeforehim,andbackedaway.Hegaveheragrateful,close-lippedsmileashebracedhisleftfistagainon the floor, atop the plush cloth, distributing hisweight throughout the arm.With an inhaled breath, his right hand still gripping the edge of his chair, hecarefullyloweredhimselftotheground,swinginghisrearawayfromthechairashiskneesbentunbidden.

Helandedwithathud,buthewasonthefloor,atleast—hadn’ttoppledover,ashehadthefirsthalf-dozentimeshe’dtrieditontheship.

Carefully,hescootedtotheedgeofthepoolstairs,untilhecouldsethisfeetintothewarmwater,rightatopthesecondstep.Theservantstrodeintothewateraheartbeatlater,gracefulasanegret,hergossamerrobeturningasinsubstantialasdewwhilewatercreptupitslength.Herhandsweregentlebutsteadywhileshegrippedhimunderthearmandhelpedhimhoisthimselfthelastbitintothepool,settinghimselfdownonthetopstep.Thensheguidedhimdownanother

and another, until he was sitting up to his shoulders. Eye-level with her full,peakedbreasts.

Shedidn’tseemtonotice.Andhe immediatelyavertedhisgaze toward thewindowasshereachedforthesmalltrayofsuppliesshe’dleftnearthelipofthepool. Oils and brushes and soft-looking cloths. Chaol slid his undershorts offwhilesheturned,settingthemwithaloud,wetsmackupontheedgeofthepool.

Nesrynstilldidn’temergefromherroom.SoChaol closedhis eyes, submittinghimself to the servant’sministrations,

andwonderedwhatthehellhewasgoingtodo.

4

OfalltheroomsintheTorreCesme,YreneTowerslovedthisonebest.Perhaps itwas because the room, located at the very pinnacle of the pale-

stoned tower and its sprawling complex below, had unparalleled views of thesunsetoverAntica.

Perhapsitwasbecausethiswastheplacewhereshe’dfeltthefirstshredofsafety in nearly ten years. The place she had first looked upon the ancientwomannowsittingacrossthepaper-andbook-strewndesk,andheardthewordsthatchangedeverything:Youarewelcomehere,YreneTowers.

Ithadbeenovertwoyearssincethen.Twoyearsofworkinghere, livinghere, in this towerand in this cityof so

manypeoples,somanyfoodsandcachesofknowledge.It had been all she’d dreamed it would be—and she had seized every

opportunity, every challenge, with both hands. Had studied and listened andpracticedandsavedlives,changedthem,untilshehadclimbedtotheverytopofherclass.Untilanunknownhealer’sdaughterfromFenharrowwasapproachedbyhealersoldandyoung,whohadtrainedtheirentirelives,forheradviceandassistance.

Themagichelped.Glorious,lovelymagicthatcouldmakeherbreathlessorsotiredshecouldn’tgetoutofbedfordays.Magicdemandedacost—tobothhealerandpatient.ButYrenewaswilling topay it.Shehadneverminded theaftermathofabrutalhealing.

Ifitmeantsavingalife…Silbahadgrantedheragift—andayoungstrangerhadgivenheranothergift,thatfinalnightinInnishtwoyearsago.Yrenehadnoplanstowasteeither.

Shewaitedinsilenceastheslenderwomanacrossfromherfinishedreadingthroughsomemessageonherchronicallymessydesk.Despitetheservants’bestefforts,theancientrosewooddeskwasalwayschaotic,coveredwithformulasorspellsorvialsandjarsbrewingsometonic.

There were two such vials on the desk now, clear orbs atop silver feetfashionedafteribislegs.Beingpurifiedbytheendlesssunshinewithinthetower.

Hafiza, Healer on High of the Torre Cesme, plucked up one of the vials,swirled its pale blue contents, frowned, and set it down. “The damned thingalways takes twice as long as I anticipate.” She asked casually, usingYrene’sownlanguage,“Whydoyouthinkthatis?”

Yreneleanedforwardintheworn,tuftedarmchaironhersideofthedesktostudy the tonic.Everymeeting, every encounterwithHafiza,was a lesson—achancetolearn.Tobechallenged.Yreneliftedthevialfromitsstand,holdingitto the golden light of sunset as she examined the thick azure liquid within.“Use?”

“Ten-year-oldgirldevelopedadrycoughsixweeksago.Sawthephysicians,whoadvisedhoneytea,rest,andfreshair.Gotbetterforatime,butreturnedaweekagowithavengeance.”

ThephysiciansoftheTorreCesmewerethefinestintheworld,distinguishedonlyfromtheTorre’shealersbythefactthattheydidnotpossessmagic.Theywere the first line of inspection for the healers in the tower, their quartersoccupyingthesprawlingcomplexarounditsbase.

Magicwas precious, its demands costly enough that someHealer onHighcenturiesagohaddecreedthatiftheyweretoseeapatient,aphysicianmustfirstinspect theperson.Perhaps ithadbeenapoliticalmaneuver—abone tossed tothe physicians so often passed over by a people clamoring for the cure-all

remediesofmagic.Yetmagiccouldnotcureall things.Couldnothaltdeath,orbringsomeone

backfromit.She’dlearneditagainandagainthesepasttwoyears,andearlier.Andevenwiththeprotocolswiththephysicians,Yrenestill—asshehadalwaysdone—found herself walking toward the sound of coughing in the narrow,slopedstreetsofAntica.

Yrene tilted thevial thiswayand that. “The tonicmightbe reacting to theheat.It’sbeenunseasonablywarm,evenforus.”

Withtheendofsummerfinallynear,evenaftertwoyears,Yrenewasstillnotentirelyaccustomedtotheunrelenting,dryheatofthegod-city.Mercifully,somelong-agomastermind had invented the bidgier, wind-catching towers set atopbuildingstodrawinfreshairtotheroomsbelow,someevenworkingintandemwiththefewundergroundcanalswindingbeneathAnticatotransformhotwindintocoolbreezes.Thecitywaspepperedwiththesmalltowers,likeathousandspears jutting toward the sky, ranging from the small housesmade of earthenbrickstothegreat,domedresidencesfullofshadedcourtyardsandclearpools.

Unfortunately,theTorrehadpredatedthatstrokeofbrilliance,andthoughtheupper levels possessed some cunning ventilation that cooled the chambers farbelow, there were plenty of days when Yrene wished some clever architectwould take it upon themselves to outfit the Torre with the latest advances.Indeed,withtherisingheatandthevariousfiresburningthroughoutthetower,Hafiza’sroomwasnear-sweltering.WhichledYrenetoadd,“Youcouldputitinalowerchamber—whereit’scooler.”

“Butthesunlightneeded?”Yreneconsidered.“Bringinmirrors.Catchthesunlightthroughthewindow,

andfocusituponthevial.Adjustitafewtimesadaytomatchthepathofthesun.Thecoolertemperatureandmoreconcentratedsunlightmighthavethetonicreadysooner.”

Alittle,pleasednod.Yrenehadcometocherishthosenods,thelightinthose

browneyes.“Quickwitssavelivesmoreoftenthanmagic,”wasHafiza’sonlyreply.

She’dsaiditathousandtimesbefore,usuallywhereYrenewasinvolved—toher eternal pride—but Yrene bowed her head in thanks and set the vial backuponitsstand.

“So,” Hafiza said, folding her hands atop each other on the near-glowingrosewooddesk,“Eretiainformsmethatshebelievesyouarereadytoleaveus.”

Yrenestraightenedinherseat,theverysamechairshe’dsatinthatfirstdayshe’d climbed the thousand steps to the top of the tower and begged foradmittance.Thebegginghadbeentheleastofherhumiliationsthatmeeting,thecrowningmoment beingwhen she dumped the bag of gold onHafiza’s desk,blurtingthatshedidn’tcarewhatthecostwasandtotakeitall.

NotrealizingthatHafizadidnottakemoneyfromstudents.No,theypaidfortheireducationinotherways.Yrenehadsufferedthroughendlessindignitiesanddegradationsduringheryearworkingat thebackwaterWhitePig Inn,but shehadneverbeenmoremortified than themomentHafizaorderedher toput themoney back in that brown pouch. Scraping the gold off the desk like somecardplayerscrambling tocollecthiswinnings,Yrenehaddebated leapingrightoutthearcofwindowstoweringbehindHafiza’sdesk.

Muchhad changed since then.Gonewas the homespundress, the too-slimbody.ThoughYrenesupposedtheendlessstairsoftheTorrehadkeptincheckthe weight she’d gained from steady, healthy eating, thanks to the Torre’senormouskitchens,thecountlessmarketsteemingwithfoodstalls,andthedine-inshopsalongeverybustlingstreetandwindingalley.

Yreneswallowedonce,tryingandfailingtogleantheHealeronHigh’sface.Hafiza had been the one person here whom Yrene could never read, neveranticipate. She’d never once shown a display of temper—something thatcouldn’t be said of many of the instructors here, Eretia especially—and hadneverraisedhervoice.Hafizahadonlythreeexpressions:pleased,neutral,and

disappointed.Yrenelivedinterrorofthelattertwo.Notforanypunishment.Therewasnosuch thinghere.Norationsheld,no

pain threatened.Not likeat theWhitePig,whereNolanhaddockedherpay ifshesteppedoutoflineorwasovergenerouswithacustomer,orifhecaughtherleavingoutnightlyscrapsforthehalf-feralurchinswhohadprowledthefilthystreetsofInnish.

She’d arrived here thinking it would be the same: people who took hermoney,whomadeitharderandharder to leave.She’dspentayearworkingattheWhitePigduetoNolan’sincreasesinherrent,decreasesinherpay,hiscutof her meager tips, and knowledge that most women in Innish worked thestreets,andhisplace,disgustingasithadbeen,wasafarbetteralternative.

She’dtoldherselfneveragain—untilshe’darrivedhere.Untilshe’ddumpedthatgoldonHafiza’sdeskandhadbeenreadytodoitallover, indebtandsellherself,justforachancetolearn.

Hafizadidnotevenconsidersuchthings.Herworkwasindirectoppositionto thepeoplewhodid, thepeople likeNolan.Yrene still remembered the firsttimeshe’dheardHafizasayinthatthick,lovelyaccentofhers,nearlythesamewords that Yrene’s mother had told her, over and over: they did not charge,studentsorpatients,forwhatSilba,GoddessofHealing,giftedthemforfree.

In a landof somanygods thatYrenewas still struggling to keep themallstraight,atleastSilbaremainedthesame.

Yetanotherclever thingthekhaganatehaddoneuponpatchingtogether thekingdomsandterritoriesduringtheiryearsofconquest:keepandadaptthegodsof everyone. Including Silba, whose dominance over the healers had beenestablished in these lands long ago. History was written by the victors,apparently.OrsoEretia,Yrene’sdirect tutor,hadonce toldher.Even thegodsseemednomoreimmunetoitthanmeremortals.

Butitdidn’tstopYrenefromofferingupaprayertoSilbaandwhatevergodsmightbelisteningasshesaidatlast,“Iamready,yes.”

“Toleaveus.”Suchsimplewords,offeredwiththatneutralface—calmandpatient.“OrhaveyouconsideredtheotheroptionIpresentedtoyou?”

Yrenehad.She’d thought about it endlessly in the twoweeks sinceHafizahadsummonedhertothisofficeandspoketheonewordthathadclenchedafistaroundherheart:Stay.

Stay,and learnmore—stay,andseewhat this fledgling lifeshe’dbuiltheremightgrowinto.

Yrenerubbedatherchestasifshecouldstillfeelthatviselikegrip.“Wariscoming to my home again—the northern continent.” So they called it here.Yreneswallowed.“Iwanttobetheretohelpthosefightingagainsttheempire’scontrol.”

At last, after somany years, a forcewas rallying. Adarlan itself had beensundered,ifrumorsweretobebelieved,byDorianHavilliardinthenorth,andthedeadking’sSecond,DukePerrington, in the south.DorianwasbackedbyAelinGalathynius, the long-lost queen now ripewith power and ravenous forvengeance, judging by what she’d done to the glass castle and its king. AndPerrington, rumor also claimed,was aided by horrors birthed from some darknightmare.

ButifthiswastheonlychanceatfreedomforFenharrow…Yrenewouldbe there tohelp, inwhateverwayshecould.Shestill smelled

smoke,lateatnightorwhenshewasdrainedafterahardhealing.SmokefromthatfirethoseAdarlaniansoldiershadbuilt—andburnedhermotherupon.Shestill heard her mother’s screaming and felt the wood of that tree trunk digbeneathhernailsasshe’dhiddenattheedgeofOakwald.Asshewatchedthemburnhermotheralive.AfterhermotherhadkilledthatsoldiertobuyYrenetimetorun.

Ithadbeentenyearssincethen.Nearlyeleven.Andthoughshehadcrossedmountainsandoceans…thereweresomedayswhenYrenefeltasifshewerestill standing inFenharrow, smelling that fire, splinters slicingunderhernails,

watchingasthesoldierstooktheirtorchesandburnedhercottage,too.ThecottagethathadhousedgenerationsofTowershealers.Yrenesupposeditwasfitting,somehow,she’dwoundupinatowerherself.

With only the ring on her left hand as proof that once, for hundreds of years,there had existed a line of prodigally gifted female healers in the south ofFenharrow.Aringshenowtoyedwith, thatlastshredofproofthathermotherandmother’smotherandallthemothersbeforethemhadoncelivedandhealedinpeace.ItwasthefirstofonlytwoobjectsYrenewouldnotsell—evenbeforesellingherself.

Hafizahadnotreplied,andsoYrenewenton,thesunsinkingfarthertowardthejadewatersoftheharboracrossthecity,“Evenwithmagicnowreturnedtothenortherncontinent,manyof thehealersmightnothave the training, ifanysurvivedatall.Icouldsavemanylives.”

“Warcouldalsoclaimyourlife.”Sheknewthis.Yreneliftedherchin.“Iamawareoftherisks.”Hafiza’sdarkeyessoftened.“Yes,yes,youare.”Ithadcomeoutduringthatfirst,mortifyingmeetingwiththeHealeronHigh.Yrenehadnotcriedforyears—sincethatdayhermotherhadbecomeashon

thewind—andyet themomentHafizahadaskedaboutYrene’sparents…shehadburiedher face inherhandsandwept.Hafizahadcomefromaround thatdeskandheldher,rubbingherbackinsoothingcircles.

Hafizaoftendidthat.NotjusttoYrene,buttoallherhealers,whenthehourswerelongandtheirbackshadcrampedandthemagichadtakeneverythinganditwasstillnotenough.Aquiet,steadypresencewhosteeledthem,soothedthem.

Hafizawasas close to amother asYrenehad found since shewaseleven.Andnowweeksawayfromtwenty-two,shedoubtedshe’deverfindanotherlikeher.

“Ihave takentheexaminations,”Yrenesaid,eventhoughHafizaknewthatalready.She’dgiventhemtoYreneherself,overseeingthegruelingweekoftests

on knowledge, skill, and actual human practice. Yrene had made sure shereceivedthehighestmarksofherclass.Asneartoaperfectscoreasanyonehadeverbeengivenhere.“I’mready.”

“Indeedyouare.Andyet I stillwonderhowmuchyoumight learn in fiveyears,tenyears,ifyouhavealreadylearnedsomuchintwo.”

YrenehadbeentooskilledtobeginwiththeacolytesinthelowerlevelsoftheTorre.

She’d shadowed her mother since she was old enough to walk and talk,learning slowly, over the years, as all the healers in her family had done. Ateleven,Yrenehad learnedmore thanmostwould inanotherdecade.Andevenduringthesixyearsthathadfollowed,whereshe’dpretendedtobeanordinarygirlwhileworking on hermother’s cousin’s farm—the family unsurewhat toreallydowithher, unwilling toget toknowherwhenwar andAdarlanmightdestroythemall—she’dquietlypracticed.

Butnottoomuch,nottoonoticeably.Duringthoseyears,neighborhadsoldout neighbor for even the whisper of magic. And even though magic hadvanished, taking Silba’s gift with it, Yrene had been careful never to appearmorethanasimplefarmer’srelative,whosegrandmotherhadperhapstaughtherafewnaturalremediesforfeversorbirthingpainorsprainedandbrokenlimbs.

In Innish, she’d been able to do more, using her sparse pocket money topurchaseherbs,salves.Butshedidn’toftendare,notwithNolanandJessa,hisfavored barmaid, watching her day and night. So these past two years, she’dwanted to learn asmuch as she could.But it had alsobeen anunleashing.Ofyearsofstifling,oflyingandhiding.

Andthatdayshe’dwalkedofftheboatandfelthermagicstir,feltitreachforamanlimpingdownthestreet…Shehadfallenintoastateofshockthathadnotendeduntilshewoundupweepinginthisverychairthreehourslater.

Yrenesighedthroughhernose.“Icouldreturnhereonedaytocontinuemystudies. But—with all due respect, I am a full healer now.” And she could

venturewhereverhergiftcalledher.Hafiza’swhitebrowsrose,starkagainstherbrownskin.“AndwhatofPrince

Kashin?”Yreneshiftedinherseat.“Whatofhim?”“Youwereoncegoodfriends.Heremainsfondofyou,andthat isnosmall

thingtoignore.”YreneleveledalookfewdaredtodirecttowardtheHealeronHigh.“Willhe

interferewithmyplanstoleave?”“Heisaprince,andhasbeendeniednothing,savethecrownhecovets.He

mayfindthatyourleavingisnotsomethinghewilltolerate.”Dreadsluicedthroughher,startingatherspineandendingcurleddeepinher

gut. “I’ve given him no encouragement. I made my thoughts on that matterperfectlyclearlastyear.”

Ithadbeenadisaster.She’dgoneover it againandagain, the things she’dsaid, the moments between them—everything that had led up to that awfulconversationinthatlargeDarghantentatopthewindsweptsteppes.

It had started a few months after she’d arrived in Antica, when one ofKashin’sfavoredservantshadfallenill.Tohersurprise,theprincehimselfhadbeen at the man’s bedside, and during the long hours Yrene worked, theconversation had flowed, and she’d found herself… smiling. She’d cured theservant,anduponleavingthatnight,she’dbeenescortedbyKashinhimself tothegatesoftheTorre.Andinthemonthsthatfollowed,friendshiphadsprungupbetweenthem.

Perhaps freer, lighter than the friendship she also wound up forming withHasar,whohadtakenalikingtoYreneafterrequiringsomehealingofherown.AndwhileYrenehad struggled to findcompanionswithin theTorre thanks toher and her fellow students’ conflicting hours, the prince and princess hadbecomefriendsindeed.AshadHasar’slover,thesweet-facedRenia—whowasaslovelyinsideasshewasout.

A strange group theymade, but…Yrene had enjoyed their company, thedinnersKashinandHasarinvitedherto,whenYreneknewshehadnoreasontoreallybe there.Kashinoftenmanaged to findaway to sitnext toher,ornearenoughtoengageherinconversation.Formonths,thingshadbeenfine—betterthanfine.AndthenHafizahadbroughtYreneouttothesteppes,thenativehomeofthekhagan’sfamily,tooverseeagruelinghealing.WithKashinastheirescortandguide.

TheHealeronHighnowexaminedYrene,frowningslightly.“Perhapsyourlackofencouragementhasmadehimmoreeager.”

Yrene rubbed her eyebrowswith her thumb and forefinger. “We’ve barelyspokensincethen.”Itwastrue.ThoughmostlyduetoYreneavoidinghimatthedinnerstowhichHasarandReniastillinvitedher.

“The prince does not seem like a man easily deterred—certainly not inmattersoftheheart.”

Sheknewthat.She’dlikedthataboutKashin.Untilhe’dwantedsomethingshecouldn’tgivehim.Yrenegroanedabit.“WillIhavetoleavelikeathiefinthenight,then?”Hasarwouldneverforgiveher,thoughshehadnodoubtReniawould try tosootheandrationalize it to theprincess. IfHasarwaspureflame,thenReniawasflowingwater.

“Shouldyoudecidetoremain,youwillnothavetoworryaboutsuchthingsatall.”

Yrene straightened. “You would really use Kashin as a way to keep mehere?”

Hafizalaughed,acrowofwarmth.“No.Butforgiveanoldwomanfortryingtouseanyavenuenecessarytoconvinceyou.”

Prideandguilteddiedinherchest.ButYrenesaidnothing—hadnoanswer.Returning to the northern continent … She knew there was no one and

nothing left there for her.Nothing but unforgivingwar, and thosewhowouldneedherhelp.

Shedidnotevenknowwheretogo—wheretosail,howtofindthosearmiesandtheirwounded.She’dtraveledfarandwidebefore,hadevadedenemiesbenton slaughtering her, and the thought of doing it all again… She knew somewouldthinkhermad.UngratefulfortheofferHafizahadlaidbeforeher.She’dthoughtthosethingsofherselfforalongwhilenow.

YetnotasingledaypassedwithoutYrenegazingtowardtheseaatthefootofthecity—gazingnorthward.

Yrene’sattentionindeedslidfromtheHealeronHightothewindowsbehindher,tothedistant,darkeninghorizon,asifitwerealodestone.

Hafiza said, a shademoregently, “There is no rush to decide.Wars take alongtime.”

“ButIwillneed—”“ThereisataskIwouldfirsthaveyoudo,Yrene.”Yrenestilledatthattone,thehintofcommandinit.SheglancedtotheletterHafizahadbeenreadingwhenshe’dentered.“What

isit?”“There isaguestat thepalace—aspecialguestof thekhagan. Iwouldask

youtotreathim.Beforeyoudecidewhethernowistherighttimetoleavetheseshores,orifitisbettertoremain.”

Yreneangledherhead.Rare—veryrareforHafizatopassoffataskfromthekhagan to someone else. “What is his ailment?”Common, standardwords forhealersreceivingcases.

“He is a young man, age twenty-three. Healthy in every regard, in fitcondition.Buthesufferedagraveinjurytohisspineearlierthissummerthatlefthimparalyzedfromthehipsdownward.Hecannotfeelormovehislegs,andhasbeeninawheeledchairsince.Iambypassingtheinitialphysicians’examinationtoappealdirectlytoyou.”

Yrene’smindchurned.Acomplex,longprocesstohealthatmannerofinjury.Spineswerenearlyasdifficultasbrains.Connectedtothemquiteclosely.With

thatsortofhealing,itwasn’tamatteroflettinghermagicwashoverthem—thatwasn’thowitworked.

Itwasfindingtherightplacesandchannels,infindingthecorrectamountofmagictowield.Itwasgettingthebraintoagainsendsignalstothespine,downthose broken pathways; itwas replacing the damaged, smallest kernels of lifewithinthebodywithnew,freshones.Andontopofit…learningtowalkagain.Weeks.Months,perhaps.

“Heisanactiveyoungman,”Hafizasaid.“Theinjuryisakintothewarrioryouaidedlastwinteronthesteppes.”

She’d guessed asmuch already—itwas likelywhy she’d been asked.Twomonths spent healing the horse-lordwho’d taken a bad fall off hismount andinjuredhisspine.ItwasnotanuncommoninjuryamongtheDarghan,someofwhomrodehorsesandsomeofwhomsoaredonruks,andtheyhadlongreliedontheTorre’shealers.Workingonthewarriorhadbeenherfirsttimeputtingherlessonsonthesubjectintoeffect,preciselywhyHafizahadaccompaniedhertothesteppes.Yrenewasfairlyconfidentshecoulddoanotherhealingonherownthistime,butitwasthewayHafizaglanceddownattheletter—justonce—thatmadeYrenepause.Madeherask,“Whoishe?”

“Lord Chaol Westfall.” Not a name from the khaganate. Hafiza added,holding Yrene’s gaze, “He was the former Captain of the Guard and is nowHandtothenewKingofAdarlan.”

Silence.Yrenewassilent,inherhead,herheart.Onlythecryingofthegullssailing

abovetheTorreandtheshoutsofvendorsgoinghomeforthenightinthestreetsbeyondthecompound’shighwallsfilledthetowerroom.

“No.”ThewordpushedoutofYreneonabreath.Hafiza’sslimmouthtightened.“No,”Yrenesaidagain.“Iwillnothealhim.”

Therewasnosoftness,nothingmotherlyinHafiza’sface,asshesaid,“Youtookanoathuponenteringthesehalls.”

“No.”Itwasallshecouldthinktosay.“Iamwellawarehowdifficultitmaybeforyou—”Herhandsstartedshaking.“No.”“Why?”“Youknowwhy.”Thewordswereastrangledwhisper.“Y-y-youknow.”“IfyouseeAdarlaniansoldierssufferingonthosebattlefields,willyoustomp

rightoverthem?”ItwasthecruelestHafizahadeverbeentoher.Yrenerubbedtheringonherfinger.“IfhewasCaptainoftheGuardforthe

lastking,he—heworkedfor themanwho—”Thewordsspilledandstumbledout.“Hetookordersfromhim.”

“AndnowworksforDorianHavilliard.”“Who indulged in his father’s riches—the riches of my people. Even if

Dorian Havilliard did not participate, the fact that he stood back while ithappened…”Thepalestonewallspressedin,eventhesolidtowerbeneaththemfeelingunwieldy.“Doyouknowwhattheking’smendidtheseyears?Whathisarmies, his soldiers, his guards did? And you ask me to heal a man whocommandedthem?”

“Itisarealityofwhoyouare—whoweare.Achoiceallhealersmustmake.”“Andyouhavemadeitsooften?Inyourpeacefulkingdom?”Hafiza’sfacedarkened.Notwithire,butmemory.“Iwasonceaskedtoheala

manwhowasinjuredwhileevadingcapture.Afterhehadcommittedacrimesounspeakable…Theguardstoldmewhathe’ddonebeforeIwalkedintohiscell.They wanted him patched up so he could live to be put on trial. He’dundoubtedlybeexecuted—theyhadvictimswillingtotestifyandproofaplenty.Eretiaherselfsawthelatestvictim.His lastone.Gatheredall theevidencesheneeded and stood in that court and condemned himwithwhat she had seen.”

Hafiza’s throatbobbed.“Theychainedhimdown in thatcell, andhewashurtenough that I knew … I knew I could use my magic to make the internalbleeding worse. They’d never know. He’d be dead by morning, and no onewoulddarequestionme.”Shestudiedthevialofbluetonic.“ItwastheclosestIhaveevercometokilling.Iwantedtokillhimforwhathehaddone.Theworldwouldbebetterforit.Ihadmyhandsonhischest—Iwasreadytodoit.ButIremembered.IrememberedthatoathIhadtaken,andrememberedthattheyhadaskedmetohealhimsothathewouldlive—sothatjusticemightbefoundforhisvictims.Andtheirfamilies.”ShemetYrene’seyes.“Itwasnotmydeathtodoleout.”

“Whathappened?”Thewordswereawobble.“Hetriedtopleadinnocent.EvenwithwhatEretiapresented,withwhatthat

victimwaswillingto talkabout.Hewasamonster throughandthrough.Theyconvictedhim,andhewasexecutedatsunrisethenextday.”

“Didyouwatchit?”“Ididnot.Icamebackuphere.ButEretiadid.Shestoodatthefrontofthe

crowd and stayed until they hauled his corpse into a cart. She stayed for thevictimswhocouldnotbeartowatch.Thenshereturnedhere,andwebothcriedforalong,longwhile.”

Yrenewasquietforafewbreaths,enoughthatherhandssteadied.“SoIamtohealthisman—sohemayfindjusticeelsewhere?”

“You do not know his story, Yrene. I suggest listening to it beforecontemplatingsuchthings.”

Yreneshookherhead.“Therewillbenojusticeforhim—notifheservedtheoldandnewking.Notifhe’scunningenoughtoremaininpower.IknowhowAdarlanworks.”

Hafizawatchedherforalongmoment.“Thedayyouwalkedintothisroom,so terribly thin and coveredwith the dust of a hundred roads… I had neversensed such a gift. I looked into those beautiful eyes of yours, and I nearly

gaspedattheuncutpowerinyou.”Disappointment.ItwasdisappointmentontheHealeronHigh’sface, inher

voice.“I thought tomyself,”Hafizawenton,“Wherehas thisyoungwomanbeen

hiding?What god reared you, guided you tomy doorstep? Your dresswas intattersaroundyourankles,andyetyouwalkedin,straight-backedasanynoblelady.AsifyouweretheheirtoKamalaherself.”

UntilYrene had dumped themoney on the desk and fallen apartmomentslater.ShedoubtedtheveryfirstHealeronHighhadeverdonesuchathing.

“Even your family name: Towers. A hint at your foremothers’ long-agoassociationwith theTorre,perhaps. Iwondered in thatmoment if Ihadat lastfoundmyheir—myreplacement.”

Yrene felt thewords like a blow to the gut.Hafiza had never somuch ashinted…Stay,theHealeronHighhadoffered.Tonotonlycontinuethetraining,butto

alsotakeupthemantlenowlaidbeforeher.ButithadnotbeenYrene’sownambition,toonedayclaimthisroomasher

own.NotwhenhersightshadalwaysbeensetacrosstheNarrowSea.Andevennow…itwasanhonorbeyondwords,yes.Butonethatranghollow.

“I asked what you wanted to do with the knowledge I would give you,”Hafizawenton.“Doyourememberwhatyousaidtome?”

Yrenedid.Shehadnotforgottenitforamoment.“IsaidIwantedtouseittodosomegoodfortheworld.Todosomethingwithmyuseless,wastedlife.”

Thewordshadguidedhertheseyears—alongwiththenoteshecarriedeveryday,movingit frompocket topocket,dress todress.Wordsfromamysteriousstranger, perhaps a god who had worn the skin of a battered young woman,whosegiftofgoldhadgottenherhere.Savedher.

“Andsoyoushall,Yrene,”Hafizasaid.“Youshallonedayreturnhome,andyoushalldogood,youshalldowonders.Butbeforeyoudo,Iwouldaskthisof

you.Help that youngman.You have done the healing before—you can do itagainnow.”

“Whycan’tyou?”She’dneversoundedsosullen,so…ungrateful.Hafizagaveherasmall,sadsmile.“Itisnotmyownhealingthatisneeded.”YreneknewtheHealeronHighdidnotmeantheman’shealing,either.She

swallowedagainstthethicknessinherthroat.“Itisasoul-wound,Yrene.Andlettingitfestertheseyears…Icannotblame

you.ButIwillholdyouaccountableifyouletitturnintosomethingworse.AndIwillmournyouforit.”

Yrene’s lips wobbled, but she pressed them together, blinking back theburninginhereyes.

“You passed the tests, better than anyone who has ever climbed into thistower,”Hafiza said softly. “But let this bemypersonal test for you.The finalone.Sothatwhenyoudecidetogo,Imaybidyoufarewell,sendyouofftowar,and know…”Hafiza put a hand on her chest. “Know thatwherever the roadtakesyou,howeverdark,youwillbeallright.”

Yrene swallowed the small sound that tried tocomeoutofher and insteadlookedtowardthecity,itspalestonesresplendentinthelastlightofthesettingsun.ThroughtheopenwindowsbehindtheHealeronHigh,anightbreezelacedwithlavenderandclovesflittedin,coolingherfaceandrufflingHafiza’scloudofwhitehair.

Yreneslidahandintothepocketofherpalebluedress,herfingerswrappingaroundthefamiliarsmoothnessof thefoldedpieceofparchment.Sheclutchedit,asshehadoftendoneonthesailingoverhere,duringthoseinitialfewweeksofuncertaintyevenafterHafizahadadmittedher,duringthelonghoursandharddaysandmomentsthathadnearlybrokenherwhileshetrained.

Anote,writtenbyastrangerwhohadsavedherlifeandgrantedherfreedominamatterofhours.Yrenehadneverlearnedhername,thatyoungwomanwho

hadwornherscarslikesomeladiesworetheirfinestjewelry.Theyoungwomanwhowasatrainedkiller,buthadpurchasedahealer’seducation.

So many things, so many good things, had come from that night. Yrenesometimes wondered if it had actually happened—might have believed she’ddreamed it if not for the note in her pocket, and the second objectYrene hadneversold,evenwhenthegoldhadthinned.

Theornategold-and-rubybrooch,worthmorethanentireblocksofAntica.Adarlan’scolors.Yrenehadneverlearnedwheretheyoungwomanhadcome

from,whohadbestowedthebeatingthathadleftlingeringbruisesonherprettyface,butshehadspokenofAdarlanasYrenedid.Asall thechildrenwhohadlost everything toAdarlandid—those childrenwith their kingdoms left in ashandbloodandruin.

Yreneranathumboverthenote,thewordsinkedthere:

Forwhereveryouneedtogo—andthensome.Theworldneedsmorehealers.

Yrenebreathedinthatfirstnightbreeze,thespicesandbrineitusheredintotheTorre.

ShelookedbacktoHafizaatlast,theHealeronHigh’sfacecalm.Patient.Yrenewould regret it, if she refused.Hafizawould yield, butYrene knew

thatwhethershelefthere,whethershesomehowdecidedtoremain,shewould… regret. Think back on this. Wonder if she had repaid the extraordinarykindness she’dbeengiven ratherpoorly.Wonderwhathermotherwouldhavethoughtofit.

AndevenifthismanhailedfromAdarlan,evenifhe’ddonethebiddingofthatbutcher…

“Iwillmeetwithhim.Assesshim,”Yreneconceded.Hervoiceonlywobbledslightly.Sheclutchedthatpieceofpaperinherpocket.“AndthendecideifIwillhealhim.”

Hafizaconsidered.“Fairenough,girl,”shesaidquietly.“Fairenough.”

Yreneblewoutashakingbreath.“WhendoIseehim?”“Tomorrow,”Hafizasaid,andYrenewinced.“Thekhaganhasaskedyouto

cometoLordWestfall’schamberstomorrow.”

5

Chaolhadbarelyslept.Partiallyduetotheunrelentingheat,partiallyduetothefactthattheywereinatentativeally’sfraughthousehold,fullofpotentialspiesandunknowndangers—perhaps even fromMorath itself—andpartiallydue towhathadbefallenRiftholdandallhehelddear.

Andpartiallyduetothemeetingthathewasnowminutesawayfromhaving.Nesrynpacedwithuncharacteristicnervesthroughthesittingroomthatwas

tobehissickroom.Low-lyingcouchesandclustersofcushionsfilledthespace,theshiningfloorsinterruptedonlybyrugsofthickestandfinestweaving—fromtheskilledhandsofcraftswomeninthewest,Nesryntoldhim.Artandtreasuresfrom across the khagan’s empire adorned the space, interspersed with pottedpalmssaggingintheheatandsunlighttricklingthroughthegardenwindowsanddoors.

Ten in the morning, the khagan’s eldest daughter had declared to him atdinner last night. Princess Hasar—plain and yet fierce-eyed. A lovely youngwomanhadsatatherside,theonlypersonatwhomHasarsmiled.Herloverorwife,judgingbythefrequenttouchingandlonglooks.

TherehadbeenenoughofanedgetoHasar’swickedgrinasshetoldChaolwhenthehealerwouldarrivethathe’dbeenlefttowonderwho,precisely,theyweresending.

Hestilldidnotknowwhat tomakeof thesepeople, thisplace.Thiscityofhigh learning, this blend of somany cultures and history, peacefully dwelling

together…Not at all like the raging andbroken spirits dwelling inAdarlan’sshadow,livinginterror,distrustingoneanother,enduringitsworstcrimes.

They’d asked him about the butchering of the slaves in Calaculla andEndovieratdinner.

Or the oily one, Arghun, did. Had the prince been among Chaol’s newrecruitstotheroyalguard,hewouldhaveeasilygottenhimtofallinlinethanksto a fewwell-timed shows of skill and sheer dominance.But here, he had noauthoritytobringtheconniving,haughtyprincetoheel.

NotevenwhenArghunwantedtoknowwhytheformerKingofAdarlanhaddeemeditnecessarytoenslavehispeople.Andthenputthemdownlikeanimals.Why the man had not looked to the southern continent for education on thehorrorsandstainofslavery—andavoidedinstitutingit.

Chaolhadofferedcurtanswersthatvergedonimpolite.Sartaq,theonlyoneofthembeyondKashinwhomChaolwasinclinedtolike,hadfinallytiredofhiselderbrother’squestioningand steered the conversation away.Towhat,Chaolhad no idea. He’d been too busy fighting against the roaring in his ears overArghun’srazor-sharpinquiries.Andthentoobusymonitoringeveryface—royal,vizier,orservant—whomadeanappearanceinthekhagan’sgreathall.Nosignsofblackringsorcollars;nostrangebehaviortoremarkon.

He’dgivenKashinasubtleshakeofhisheadatonepointtotellhimasmuch.Theprince hadpretendednot to see, but thewarning flared in his eyes:Keeplooking.

SoChaol had, half paying attention to themeal unfolding before him, halfmonitoringeverywordandglanceandbreathofthosearoundhim.

Despite their youngest sister’s death, the heirs made the meal lively,conversation flowing, mostly in languages Chaol did not know or recognize.Suchawealthofkingdomsinthathall,representedbyviziersandservantsandcompanions—the now-youngest princess, Duva, herself wedded to a dark-haired,sad-eyedprincefromafarawaylandwhokeptclosetohispregnantwife

andspokelittletoanyonearoundhim.ButwheneverDuvasmiledsoftlyathim…Chaol didnot think the light that filled theprince’s facewas feigned.Andwondered if the man’s silence was not from reticence but perhaps not yetknowingenoughofhiswife’slanguagetokeepup.

Nesryn, however, had no such excuse. She’d been silent and haunted atdinner. He’d only learned that she’d bathed before it thanks to the shout andslamming door in her chambers, followed by a huffy-looking male servantscrambling out of her rooms. The man did not come back again, nor did areplacementarrive.

Kadja, theservantassigned toChaol,hadhelpedhimdress fordinner, thenundress forbed,andhadbroughtbreakfast thismorning immediatelyuponhisawakening.

Thekhagancertainlyknewhowtoeatwell.Exquisitelyspicedandsimmeredmeats,sotendertheyfellrightoffthebone;

herbedriceofvariouscolors; flatbreadscoated inbutterandgarlic; richwinesand liquors from the vineyards and distilleries across his empire. Chaol hadpassed on the latter, accepting only the ceremonial glass offered before thekhaganmadeahalf-heartedtoasttohisnewguests.Foragrievingfather,itwasawarmerwelcomethanChaolhadexpected.

YetNesryn had a sip of her drink, barely a bite of hermeal, andwaited ascantminute until the feastwas cleared before asking to return to their suite.He’dagreed—ofcoursehe’dagreed,butwhenthey’dclosedthesuitedoorsandhe’daskedifshewantedtotalk,shehadsaidno.Shewantedtosleepandwouldseehiminthemorning.

He’dhadthenervetoaskNesrynifshewantedtosharehisroomorhers.Theshuttingofherdoorwasemphasisenough.SoKadjahadhelpedhim intobed,andhehad tossedand turned, sweating

andwishinghecouldkickoffthesheetsinsteadofhavingtothrowthemback.Even the cool breeze that drifted in through the cleverly crafted ventilation

system—theairhauledfromwind-snaringtowersamidthedomesandspirestobecooledbycanalsbeneath thepalace, then scatteredamongst the roomsandhalls—hadnotofferedanyreprieve.

He andNesryn had never been good at talking. They’d tried, usuallywithdisastrousresults.

They’ddoneeverythingoutoforder,andhe’dcursedhimselfagainandagainfornotmakingitrightwithher.Nottryingtobebetter.

She’dbarelylookedathimthesepasttenminutesthey’dbeenwaitingforthehealertoarrive.Herfacewashaggard,hershoulder-lengthhairlimp.Shehadn’tputonhercaptain’suniform,butratherreturnedtoherusualmidnight-bluetunicandblackpants.Asifshecouldn’tstandtobeinAdarlan’scolors.

Kadjahaddressedhimagaininhistealjacket,evengoingsofarastopolishthebucklesdownthefront.Therewasaquietpridetoherwork,notatall likethetimidityandfearofsomanyofthecastleservantsinRifthold.

“She’s late,” Nesryn murmured. Indeed, the ornate wooden clock in thecornerannouncedthehealerwastenminuteslate.“Shouldwecallforsomeonetofindoutifshe’scoming?”

“Givehertime.”Nesrynpausedbeforehim,frowningdeeply.“Weneedtobeginimmediately.

Thereisnotimetowaste.”Chaol took a breath. “I understand that you want to return home to your

family—”“Iwillnotrushyou.Butevenadaymakesadifference.”Henotedthelinesofstrainbracketinghermouth.Hehadnodoubttwinones

marked his own. Forcing himself to stop contemplating and dreading whereDorianmightnowbehadbeen an effort of purewill thismorning. “Once thehealer arrives, why don’t you go track down your kin in the city? Perhapsthey’veheardfromyourfamilyinRifthold.”

Aslicingwaveofherslenderhand.“Icanwaituntilyou’redone.”

Chaolliftedhisbrows.“Andpacetheentiretime?”Nesryn sank onto the nearest sofa, the gold silk sighing beneath her slight

weight.“Icameheretohelpyou—withthis,andwithourcause.Iwon’trunoffformyownneeds.”

“WhatifIgiveyouanorder?”She only shook her head, her dark curtain of hair swaying with the

movement.And before he could give that exact order, a brisk knock thudded on the

heavywooddoor.NesrynshoutedawordthatheassumedmeantenterinHalha,andhelistened

tothefootstepsastheyapproached.Oneset—quietandlight.The door to the sitting room drifted open beneath the press of a honey-

coloredhand.ItwashereyesthatChaolnoticedfirst.Shelikelystoppedpeopledeadinthestreetwiththoseeyes,avibrantgolden

brownthatseemedlitfromwithin.Herhairwasaheavyfallofrichbrownsamidflashesofdarkgold,curlingslightlyattheendsthatbrushedhernarrowwaist.

Shemovedwithanimblegrace,herfeet—cladinpracticalblackslippers—swiftandunfalteringasshecrossedtheroom,eithernotnoticingorcaringabouttheornatefurnishings.

Young,perhapsayearortwoolderthantwenty.Butthoseeyes…theywerefarolderthanthat.Shepausedatthecarvedwoodenchairacrossfromthegoldencouch,Nesryn

shooting toher feet.Thehealer—for therewasnooneelseshecouldbe,withthat calm grace, those clear eyes, and that simple, pale blue muslin dress—glanced between them. She was a few inches shorter than Nesryn, built withsimilardelicacy,yetdespiteherslenderframe…Hedidn’tlooklongattheotherfeaturesthehealerhadbeengenerouslyblessedwith.

“AreyoufromtheTorreCesme?”NesrynaskedinChaol’sowntongue.

The healer only stared at him. Something like surprise and anger lightingthoseremarkableeyes.

She slid a hand into the pocket of her gown, and he waited for her towithdraw something, but it remained there. As if she was grasping an objectwithin.

Not a doe ready to bolt, but a stag, weighing the options of fighting orfleeing,ofstandingitsground,loweringitshead,andcharging.

Chaolheldhergaze,coolandsteady.He’d takenonplentyofyoungbucksduringtheyearsofbeingcaptain—hadgottenthemalltoheel.

NesrynaskedsomethinginHalha,nodoubtarepeatofherquestion.Athinscarslicedacrossthehealer’sthroat.Perhapsthreeincheslong.Heknewwhat sortofweaponhadgiven that scar.All thepossibilities that

burstintohisheadforwhyitmighthavehappenedwerenotpleasantones.Nesrynfellsilent,watchingthem.The healer only turned on her heel,walked to the desk near thewindows,

tookaseat,andpulledapieceofparchment towardherfromtheneatstack inthecorner.

Whoever these healers were, the khagan was right: they certainly did notanswertohisthrone.Orfinditinthemselvestobeimpressedwithanymannerofnobilityandpower.

Sheopenedadrawer,foundaglasspen,andhelditpoisedoverthepaper.“Name.”Shedidnothaveanaccent—or,rather,theaccentoftheselands.“ChaolWestfall.”“Age.”Theaccent.Itwasfrom—“Fenharrow.”Herpenstalled.“Age.”“You’refromFenharrow?”

Whatareyoudoinghere,sofarfromhome?Sheleveledacool,unimpressedstareathim.Heswallowedandsaid,“Twenty-three.”Shescribbledsomethingdown.“Describewheretheinjurybegins.”Eachwordwasclipped,hervoicelow.Had it been an insult to be assigned his case? Had she other things to do

whenshewas summonedhere?He thoughtagainofHasar’swickedsmile thenightbefore.Perhapstheprincessknewthatthiswomanwasnotpraisedforherbedsidemanner.

“Whatisyourname?”ThequestioncamefromNesryn,whosefacewasbeginningtotighten.The healer stilled as she took in Nesryn, blinking like she had not really

noticedher.“You—arefromhere?”“Myfatherwas,”Nesrynsaid.“HemovedtoAdarlan,wedmymother,andI

nowhave family there—andhere.”She impressivelyhidany traceofdreadatthementionofthemassheaddedcoaxingly,“MynameisNesrynFaliq.IamtheCaptainoftheRoyalGuardofAdarlan.”

Thatsurpriseinthehealer’seyesturnedwary.Butsheagaingazedathim.Sheknewwhohewas.The lookconveyed it—theanalysis.Sheknewhe’d

onceheld that title,andnowwassomethingelse.So thename, theage…thequestionswerebullshit.Orsomebureaucraticnonsense.Hedoubteditwasthelatter.

AwomanfromFenharrow,meetingwithtwomembersfromAdarlan’scourt…

Itdidn’ttakemuchtoreadher.Whatshesaw.Wherethatmarkonherthroatmighthavecomefrom.

“Ifyoudon’twanttobehere,”Chaolsaidroughly,“thensendsomeoneelse.”Nesrynwhirledonhim.The healer only held his stare. “There is no one else to do this.” The

unspokenwordssaidtherest:Theysenttheirbest.Withthatsteady,self-assuredposture,hedidn’tdoubtit.Sheangledherpen

again.“Describewheretheinjurybegins.”Asharpknockon thesitting roomdoorcut through thesilence.Hestarted,

cursinghimselffornothavingheardtheapproach.But itwas PrincessHasar, clad in green and gold and smirking like a cat.

“Goodmorning,LordWestfall.CaptainFaliq.”Herbraidedhair swayingwitheach swaggering step,Hasar strolled over to the healer,who looked up at herwithanexpressionChaoldaredcallexasperation,andleaneddowntokissheroneithercheek.“You’renotusuallysogrumpy,Yrene.”

There—aname.“I forgotmykahve thismorning.”The thick,spiced,bitterdrinkChaolhad

chokeddownwithhisbreakfast.Anacquiredtaste,Nesrynhadsaidwhenhe’daskedaboutitlater.

Theprincesstookupaperchalongtheedgeofthedesk.“Youdidn’tcometodinnerlastnight.Kashinwassulkingaboutit.”

Yrene’sshoulderstightened.“Ihadtoprepare.”“YreneTowerslockingherselfintheTorretowork?Imightdieofshock.”From the princess’s tone, he filled in enough. The best healer in the Torre

Cesmehadbecomesothankstothatgruelingworkethic.Hasarlookedhimover.“Stillinthechair?”“Healing takes time,” Yrene said mildly to the princess. Not an ounce of

subservienceorrespecttothetone.“Wewerejustbeginning.”“Soyouagreedtodoit,then?”Yrenecut theprincessa sharpglare.“Wewereassessing the lord’sneeds.”

Shejerkedherchintowardthedoors.“ShallIfindyouwhenI’mdone?”NesryngaveChaolanimpressed,waryglance.Ahealerdismissingaprincess

ofthemostpowerfulempireintheworld.Hasar leaned forward to ruffle Yrene’s gold-brown hair. “If you weren’t

gods-blessed, I’d carve out your tongue myself.” The words were honeyedvenom.Yreneonlyofferedafaint,bemusedsmilebeforeHasarhoppedoffthedeskandgavehimamockinginclineofthehead.“Don’tworry,LordWestfall.Yrenehashealedinjuriessimilarandfarworsethanyourown.She’llhaveyoubackonyourfeetandabletodoyourmaster’sbiddingagaininnotime.”Withthatlovelypartingshot,whichleftNesryncold-eyed,theprincessvanished.

Theywaited a good fewmoments tomake sure they heard the outer doorshut.

“YreneTowers,”wasallChaolsaid.“Whatofit.”Gonewasthefaintamusement.Fine.“Thelackoffeelingandmovementbeginsatmyhips.”Yrene’seyesshotrighttothem,dancingoverhim.“Areyoucapableofusing

yourmanhood?”Hetriednottoflinch.EvenNesrynblinkedatthefrankquestion.“Yes,”hesaidtightly,fightingtheheatrisinginhischeeks.Shelookedbetweenthem,assessing.“Haveyouusedittocompletion?”Heclenchedhisjaw.“Howisthatrelevant?”Andhowhadshegleanedwhat

wasbetweenthem?Yreneonlywrotesomethingdown.“Whatareyouwriting?”hedemanded,cursingthedamnedchairforkeeping

himfromstormingtoripthepaperoutofherhands.“I’mwritingagiantno.”Whichshethenunderlined.Hegrowled,“Isupposeyou’llaskaboutmybathroomhabitsnow?”“Itwasnextonmylist.”“Theyareunchanged,”hebitout.“UnlessyouneedNesryntoconfirm.”YrenemerelyturnedtoNesryn,unruffled.“Haveyouseenhimstrugglewith

it?”

“Donotanswerthat,”hesnarledatNesryn.Nesrynhadthegoodwitstosinkintoachairandremainquiet.Yrene rose, settingdown thepen, andcamearound thedesk.Themorning

sunlightcaughtinherhair,bouncingoffherheadinacorona.Shekneltathisfeet.“ShallyouremoveyourbootsorshallI?”“I’lldoit.”Shesatbackonherheelsandwatchedhimmove.Another test.Todiscern

howmobileandagilehewas.Theweightofhislegs,havingtoconstantlyadjusttheirposition…Chaolgrittedhisteethashegrippedhisknee,liftinghisfootoffthe wooden slat, and bent to remove his boot in a few sharp tugs.When hefinishedwiththeotherone,heasked,“Pants,too?”

Chaolknewheshouldbekind,shouldbeseechhertohelphim,andyet—“After a drink or two, I think,” Yrene only said. Then looked over her

shoulder toabemusedNesryn.“Sorry,”sheadded—andsoundedonlyslightlylesssharp-tongued.

“Whyareyouapologizingtoher?”“Iassumeshehasthemisfortuneofsharingyourbedthesedays.”Ittookhisself-restrainttokeepfromgoingforhershouldersandshakingher

soundly.“HaveIdonesomethingtoyou?”That seemed to give her pause.Yrene only yankedoff his socks, throwing

thematopwherehe’ddiscardedhisboots.“No.”Alie.Hescentedandtastedit.Butitfocusedher,andChaolwatchedasYrenepickeduphisfootinherslim

hands. Watched, since he didn’t feel it—beyond the shift in his abdominalmuscles. He couldn’t tell if shewas squeezing or holding lightly, if her nailswerediggingin;notwithoutlooking.Sohedid.

A ring adorned her fourth finger—awedding band. “Is your husband fromhere?”Orwife,hesupposed.

“I’mnot—”Sheblinked,frowningatthering.Shedidn’tfinishthesentence.

Not married, then. The silver ring was simple, the garnet no more than adroplet.Likelyworntokeepmenfrombotheringher,ashe’dseenmanywomendointhestreetsofRifthold.

“Canyoufeelthis?”Yreneasked.Shewastouchingeachtoe.“No.”Shediditontheotherfoot.“Andthis?”“No.”He’dbeenthroughsuchexaminationsbefore—atthecastle,andwithRowan.“Hisinitialinjury,”Nesryncutin,asifrememberingtheprinceaswell,“was

totheentirespine.Afriendhadsomeknowledgeofhealingandpatchedhimupasbesthe could.He regainedmovement inhisupperbody,butnotbelow thehips.”

“Howwasitattained—theinjury?”Herhandsweremovingoverhis foot and ankle, tapping and testing.As if

she’dindeeddonethisbefore,asPrincessHasarhadclaimed.Chaoldidn’timmediatelyreply,sortingthroughthosemomentsofterrorand

painandrage.Nesrynopenedhermouth,buthecutheroff.“Fighting.Ireceivedablowto

mybackwhilefighting.Amagicalone.”Yrene’sfingerswereinchinguphislegs,pattingandsqueezing.Hefeltnone

ofit.Herbrowsbunchedinconcentration.“Yourfriendmusthavebeenagiftedhealerifyouregainedsomuchmotion.”

“Hedidwhathecould.Thentoldmetocomehere.”Herhandspushedandpressedonhis thighs,andhewatchedwithnosmall

amountofgrowinghorrorassheslidthemhigherandhigher.Hewasabouttodemandifsheplannedtoascertainforherselfaboutthelifeinhismanhood,butYreneliftedherheadandmethisstare.

Thisclose,hereyeswereagoldenflame.NotlikethecoldmetalofManonBlackbeak’s,notlacedwithacenturyofviolenceandpredator’sinstincts,but…

likealong-burningflameonawinter’snight.“Ineedtoseeyourback,”wasallYrenesaid.Thenshepeeledaway.“Liedownonthenearestbed.”

BeforeChaolcouldremindherthatitwasn’tquitesoeasytodothat,Nesrynwas instantly inmotion,wheelinghim intohis room.Kadjahadalreadymadehisbed,andleftabouquetoforangeliliesonthetablebesideit.Yrenesniffedatthescent—asifitwasunpleasant.Herefrainedfromasking.

HewavedoffNesrynwhen she tried to help himonto the bed. Itwas lowenoughthathecouldmanage.

Yrene lingered in thedoorway,observingwhilehebracedonehandon themattress,oneon the armof the chair, and in apowerfulpush,heavedhimselfinto a sitting positionon the bed.Heunbuckled eachof those newlypolishedbuttonsonhisjacket,thenpeeleditoff.Alongwiththewhiteshirtbeneath.

“Facedown,Iassume?”Yrenegavehimacurtnod.Grippinghisknees,abdomenclenching,hepulledhislegsontothemattress

ashelayflatonhisback.Forafewheartbeats,spasmsshookhislegs.Notreal,controlledmotion,he’d

realizedafter the first time ithadhappenedweeksago.Hecouldstill feel thatcrushing weight in his chest after he’d understood it was some effect of theinjury—thatitusuallyhappenedifhemovedhimselfaboutagreatdeal.

“Spasms in the legs are common with such an injury,” Yrene supplied,observing them fade away into stillness once again. “These may calm withtime.”Shewavedahandtohiminsilentremindertoturnoverontohisbelly.

Chaol saidnothingashe sat up to foldone ankleover theother, laydownagainonhisback,andthentwistedover,hislegsfollowingsuit.

Whether she was impressed that he’d picked up on the maneuverings soquickly,shedidn’tleton.Didn’tevenliftabrow.

Foldinghishandsunderhis chin,hepeeredoverhis shoulder andwatchedherapproach,watchedhermotionNesryntositwhenthewomanbeganpacing

again.He scannedYrene for any sort of flickeringmagic.What it’d look like, he

hadnotthefaintestinkling.Dorian’shadbeeniceandwindandflashinglight;Aelin’shadbeenraging,singingflame,buthealingmagic…Wasitsomethingexternal, something tangible? Or something only his bones and blood mightwitness?

He’doncebalkedatthosesortsofquestions—mightoncehaveevenbalkedattheideaoflettingmagictouchhim.Butthemanwhohaddonethosethings,fearedthosethings…Hewasgladtoleavehimintheshatteredruinoftheglasscastle.

Yrenestoodoverhimforamoment,surveyinghisback.Herhandswereaswarmasthemorningsunwhenshelaidthempalm-down

on the skin between his shoulder blades. “You were hit here,” she observedquietly.

Therewasamark.Afaint,splatteringpaleness tohisskinwheretheking’sblowhadhit.Dorianhadshownhimusingatrickwithtwohand-mirrorsbeforehe’dleft.

“Yes.”Her hands trailed along the groove of his spine. “It rippled down here,

shredding and severing.” The words were not for him—but as if she werespeakingtoherself,lostinsometrance.

He fought against the memory of that pain, the numbness and oblivion itsummoned.

“Youcan—tellthat?”Nesrynasked.“My gift tells me.” Yrene’s hand stalled along the middle of his back,

pushingandprodding.“Itwasterriblepower—whatstruckyou.”“Yes,”wasallhesaid.Herhandswentlower,lower,untiltheyshoveddownthewaistofhispantsa

few inches.Hehissed throughhis teeth andglaredover his bare shoulder. “A

littlewarning.”Yreneignoredhimandtouchedthelowestpartofhisback.Hedidnotfeelit.She spider-walked her fingers up his spine as if counting the vertebrae.

“Here?”“Icanfeelyou.”Shebacktrackedonestep.“Here?”“Nothing.”Herfacebunched,asifmakingamentalnoteofthelocation.Shebeganon

theouteredgesofhisback,creepingup,askingwherehestoppedfeelingit.Shetook his neck and head in her hands, turning it thisway and that, testing andassessing.

Finally,sheorderedhimtomove.Nottorise,buttoturnoveragain.Chaolstaredupatthearched,paintedceilingasYrenepokedandproddedhis

pectorals,themusclesofhisabdomen,thosealonghisribs.Shereachedtheveeof muscles leading beneath his pants, kept moving lower, and he demanded,“Really?”

Yreneshothimanincredulouslook.“Istheresomethingyou’reparticularlyembarrassedformetosee?”

Oh,shecertainlyhadsomefightinher,thisYreneTowersfromFenharrow.Chaolheldherstare,thechallengeinit.

Yreneonlysnorted.“Ihadforgottenthatmenfromthenortherncontinentaresoproperandguarded.”

“Andheretheyarenot?”“No.Bodiesarecelebrated,notshamedintohiding.Menandwomenboth.”Thatwouldexplaintheservantwhohadnoqualmsaboutsuchthings.“Theyseemedplentydressedatdinner.”“Wait until the parties,” Yrene countered coolly. But she lifted her hands

fromthealready-lowwaistofhispants.“Ifyouhavenotnoticedanyproblemsexternallyorinternallywithyourmanhood,thenIdon’tneedtolook.”

Heshovedagainstthefeelingthathewasagainthirteenyearsoldandtryingtotalktoaprettygirlforthefirsttimeandgroundout,“Fine.”

Yrene withdrew a step and handed him his shirt. He sat up, arms andabdominalmusclesstraining,andsliditon.

“Well?”Nesrynasked,stalkingclose.Yrenetoyedwithaheavy,loosecurl.“Ineedtothink.Talktomysuperior.”“Ithoughtyouwerethebest,”Nesrynsaidcarefully.“I am one of many who are skilled,” Yrene admitted. “But the Healer on

Highassignedmetothis.Ishouldliketospeaktoherfirst.”“Isitbad?”Nesryndemanded.Hewasgratefulshedid—hedidn’thavethe

nerveto.Yreneonlylookedtohim,hergazefrankandunafraid.“Youknowitisbad.”“Butcanyouhelphim?”Nesrynpushed,sharperthistime.“Ihavehealedsuchinjuriesbefore.Butthis…itremainstobeseen,”Yrene

said,meetinghergazenow.“When—whenwillyouknow?”“WhenIhavehadtimetothink.”Todecide,Chaolrealized.Shewantedtodecidewhethertohelphim.HeheldYrene’sstareagain, lettingherseethathe,at least,understood.He

wasgladNesrynhadnotentertainedtheidea.HehadafeelingYrenewouldbeface-firstagainstthewallifshedid.

ButforNesryn…thehealerswerebeyondreproach.Holyasoneofthegodshere.Theirethicunquestionable.

“Whenwillyoureturn?”Nesrynasked.Never,healmostanswered.Yreneslidherhandsintoherpockets.“I’llsendword,”wasallshesaid,and

left.Nesrynstaredafterher,thenrubbedherface.Chaolsaidnothing.

But Nesryn straightened, then dashed out—to the sitting room. Rustlingpaper,andthen—

Nesrynhalted in thedoorway tohis room,browscrossed,Yrene’spaper inherhands.

Shehandedittohim.“Whatdoesthisevenmean?”Therewerefournameswrittenonthepaper,herhandwritingmessy.Olgnia.Marte.Rosana.Josefin.Itwasthefinalnamethathadbeenwrittendownseveraltimes.Thefinalnamethathadbeenunderlined,overandover.Josefin.Josefin.Josefin.“Perhapsthey’reotherhealersintheTorrewhocouldhelp,”helied.“Perhaps

shefearedspiesoverhearinghersuggestsomeoneelse.”Nesryn’s mouth quirked to the side. “Let’s see what she says—when she

returns. At least we knowHasar can track her down if need be.” Or Kashin,whoseverynamehadsetthehealeronedge.Notthathe’dforceYrenetoworkonhim,but…itwasusefulinformation.

Chaolstudiedthepaperagain.Theferventunderliningofthatfinalname.AsifYrenehadneededtoremindherselfwhilehere.Inhispresence.Asif

sheneededwhoevertheyweretoknowthatsherememberedthem.He had met another talented young healer from Fenharrow. His king had

loved her enough to consider fleeing with her, to seek a better life for them.Chaol knew what had gone on in Fenharrow during their youth. Knew whatSorschahadenduredthere—andwhatshe’denduredinRifthold.

He’driddenthroughFenharrow’sscarredgrasslandsovertheyears.Hadseenthe burned or abandoned stone cottages, their thatched roofs long since gone.Ownerseitherenslaved,dead,orfledelsewhere.Far,faraway.

No,Chaolrealizedasheheldthatpieceofpaper,YreneTowerswouldnotbereturning.

6

She’dknownhisage,butYrenehadstillnotexpectedtheformercaptaintolookso…young.

She hadn’t done the math until she’d walked into that room and seen hishandsome face, amix of caution and hopewritten across the hardened, broadfeatures.

Itwasthathopethathadmadeherseered.Hadmadeherachetogivehimamatchingscartotheslenderoneslicingacrosshischeek.

She’dbeenunprofessionalinthemosthorrificsense.Never—neverhadshebeensorudeandunkindtowardanyofherpatients.

Mercifully, Hasar had arrived, cooling her head slightly. But touching theman,thinkingofwaystohelphim…

She had notmeant to write the list of the last four generations of Towerswomen. Had not meant to write her mother’s name over and over whilepretending to recordhis information. Ithadnothelpedwith theoverwhelmingroaringinherhead.

Sweatinganddusty,YreneburstintoHafiza’sofficenearlyanhourlater,thetrekfromthepalacethroughtheclogged,narrowstreets,thentheendlessstepsuphere,takinganeternity.

She’dbeenlate—thathadbeenherfirsttrulyunprofessionalmoment.She’dnever been late to an appointment.Yet right at ten, she’d found herself in analcove of the hallway outside his bedroom, hands over her face, struggling to

breathe.Hehadn’tbeenthebruteshe’dexpected.He’d spoken well, more lord than soldier. Though his body had most

certainly belonged to the latter. She had patched up and healed enoughof thekhagan’s favoredwarriors toknowthefeelofmusclebeneathher fingers.Thescars coveringLordWestfall’s tan skin spokevolumesabouthow themuscleshadbeenearnedthehardway.Andnowaidedhiminmaneuveringthroughtheworldwiththechair.

Andtheinjurytohisspine…As Yrene halted at the threshold of the Healer on High’s office, Hafiza

lookedupfromwhereshesatbesideasnifflingacolyte.“Ineedaword,”Yrenesaidtightly,onehandgrippingthedoorjamb.“You shall have onewhenwe are done,”Hafiza simply replied, handing a

handkerchieftotheweepygirl.Somemalehealersexisted,butthemajorityofthosewhoreceivedSilba’sgift

were female. And this girl, likely no more than fourteen… Yrene had beenlaboringonhercousin’sfarmatthatage.Dreamingofbeinghere.Certainlynotcryingtoanyoneabouthersorrylotinlife.

ButYrenewalkedout, shutting thedoorbehindher,andwaitedagainst thewallonthenarrowlanding.

There were two other doors up here: one locked that led into Hafiza’spersonalworkshop,andadoorthatledintotheHealeronHigh’sbedroom;theformer carvedwith an owl taking flight, the latterwith an owl at rest. Silba’ssymbol.Itwaseverywhereinthetower—owlscarvedandembossedinthestoneandwood,sometimesinunexpectedplacesandwithsillylittleexpressions,asifsome long-ago acolyte had etched them as a secret joke. But the owl on theHealeronHigh’sprivateworkshop…

Eventhoughitperchedatopagnarledbranchofironthatflowedacrossthedooritself,wingsflaredwideasitpreparedtoleapintotheskies,itseemed…

alert. Aware of all who passed that door, who perhaps gazed too long in thedirectionoftheworkshop.NonebutHafizapossessedthekeytoit,handeddownby her predecessor.Ancient, half-forgotten knowledge and devices laywithin,the acolytes whispered—unnatural things that were better locked up than setlooseintheworld.

Yrenealways laughedat theirhushedwords,butdidn’t tell themsheandafew select others had been granted the pleasure of joining Hafiza in thatworkshop,which,saveforthesheerageofsomeofthetoolsandfurniture,heldnothing worth gossiping about. But the mystery of the Healer on High’sworkshoppersisted,as ithadlikelydoneforcenturies—yetanotherwell-lovedmythoftheTorre,passedonfromacolytetoacolyte.

Yrene fannedher face, still out of breath from the climband theheat.Sheleanedherheadbackagainstthecoolstone,andagainfeltforthescrapofpaperinherpocket.Shewonderedifthelordhadnoticedhowoftenshe’dgrabbedthatstranger’s note. If he’d thought she was reaching for a weapon. He’d seeneverything,beenawareofhereverybreath.

A man trained for it. He had to be, if he’d served the dead king. Just asNesrynFaliq,achildofthiscontinent,nowservedthekingofaterritorythathadnottreatedoutsidersverywellatall.

Yrenecouldnotmakesenseofit.Therewassomeromanticbond,sheknewfromboththetensionandcomfortbetweenthem.Buttowhatdegree…Itdidn’tmatter.Savefor theemotionalhealingthelordwouldneedaswell.Amannotused to voicing his feelings, his fears and hopes and hurts—that much wasobvious.

ThedoortoHafiza’sofficeopenedatlast,andtheacolyteemerged,smilingapologeticallyatYrene,red-nosedandglassy-eyed.

Yrene sighed through her nose and offered a smile back. Shewas not thepersonwhohadjustbargedintotheoffice.No,evenbusyasshewas,Yrenehadalwaystakentimefortheacolytes,thehomesickonesespecially.

Noonehadsatbesideherinthemesshallbelowduringthoseinitialdays.Yrene still remembered those lonelymeals.Remembered that she’dbroken

after two days and began taking her food to the vast healers’ librarybelowground, hiding from the stiff-backed librarianswho forbade such things,withonlytheoccasionalmercurialBaastCatandcarvedowlforcompany.

Yrene had returned to themess hall once her lessons had garnered enoughacquaintances to make the prospect of finding a place to sit less daunting,spotting familiar and smiling faces giving her enough courage to leave thelibraryanditsenigmaticcatsbehindforanythingbutresearch.

Yrene touched the acolyte on the shoulder and whispered, “Cook madealmondcookiesthismorning.Ismelledthemonthewayout.TellherIwantsix,buttakefourofthoseforyourself.”Shewinkedatthegirl.“Leavetheothertwoformeatmyroom.”

Thegirlbeamed,nodding.CookwasperhapsYrene’sfirstfriendintheTorre.She’d spiedYrene eating alone and began sneaking extra treats onto her tray.Leavingtheminherroom.Eveninherfavoritesecretspotinthelibrary.Yrenehad repaidCook lastyearbysavinghergranddaughter froman insidious lungsicknessthathadcreptuponher.Cookstillgotweepywhenevertheyranintoeach other, andYrene hadmade it a point to stop by the girl’s house once amonthtocheckonher.

When she left, she’d have to ask someone to look after the girl. Cleavingherselffromthislifeshe’dbuilt…Itwouldbenoeasytask.Andcomewithnosmallamountofguilt.

Yrenewatchedthestill-snifflingacolytehopdownthewidespiralstairs,thentookadeepbreathandstrodeintoHafiza’soffice.

“Will theyoung lordwalk again?”Hafiza askedbywayof greeting,whitebrowshighonherforehead.

Yreneslid intoherusualchair, the seat stillwarmfrom thegirlwho’d justvacatedit.

“Hewill.TheinjuryisnearlytwintotheoneIhealedlastwinter.Butitwillbetricky.”

“Inregardtothehealing,oryou?”Yreneblushed.“Ibehaved…poorly.”“Thatwastobeexpected.”Yrene wiped the sweat from her brow. “I’m embarrassed to tell you how

badly.”“Thendon’t.Dobetterthenexttime,andwe’llconsiderthisanotherlesson.”Yrenesaggedinherchair,stretchingherachinglegsontheworncarpet.No

matter howHafiza’s servants begged, she refused to change the red-and-greenrug. It hadbeengood enough for the last five of her predecessors, and itwasgoodenoughforher.

Yrene leaned her head against the soft back of the chair, staring at thecloudlessdaybeyondtheopenwindows.“IthinkIcanhealhim,”shesaid,moretoherselfthanHafiza.“Ifhecooperates,Icouldgethimwalkingagain.”

“Andwillhecooperate?”“Iwasnot theonlyonewhobehavedpoorly,”shesaid.“Thoughhe’s from

Adarlan—itcouldbehisnature.”Hafizahuffedalaugh.“Whendoyoureturntohim?”Yrenehesitated.“Youwillreturn,won’tyou?”Hafizapushed.Yrenepickedatthesun-blanchedthreadsofthechair’sarm.“Itwashard—

hardtolookathim,hearhisaccent,and…”Shestilledherhand.“Butyouareright.Ishall…try.IfonlysoAdarlanmayneverholditagainstme.”

“Doyouexpectthemto?”“Hehas powerful friendswhomight remember.His companion is thenew

CaptainoftheGuard.Herfamilyhailsfromhere,yetsheservesthem.”“Andwhatdoesthattellyou?”Alwaysalesson,alwaysatest.“Ittellsme…”Yreneblewoutabreath.“It

tells me I don’t know as much as I assumed.” She straightened. “But it alsodoesn’tforgivethemofanysins.”

Yetshehadmetplentyofbadpeopleinherlife.Livedamongthem,servedthem,inInnish.ShehadtakenonelookatLordWestfall’sbrowneyesandhadknown,deepdown,hewasnotoneofthem.Neitherwashiscompanion.

Andwithhisage…Hehadbeenaboywhensomanyofthoseatrocitieshadbeencommitted.Hestillcouldhaveplayedsomepart,andplentymorehadbeendoneinrecentyears—enoughtomakeherillatthethought—but…

“Theinjurytohisspine,”Yrenesaid.“Heclaimssomefoulmagicdidit.”Hermagichadrecoiledagainstthesplatteredmark.Curvedaway.“Oh?”Sheshivered.“I’venever…I’venever feltanything like that.As if itwas

rotted,yetempty.Coldasthelongestwinternight.”“Ishallhavetotakeyourwordonthatone.”Yrenesnorted,gratefulforthedryhumor.Indeed,Hafizahadneversomuch

asseensnow.WithAntica’syear-roundwarmclimate,theclosestthey’dgottentowinterthesetwoyearswasperhapsacrustoffrostsparklingoverthelavenderandlemontreesonemorning.

“Itwas…”Yrenebrushedoffthememoryoftheechostillheldwithinthatscar.“Itwasnotanymagic-woundIhadencounteredbefore.”

“Willitimpactthehealingofhisspine?”“Idon’tknow.Ihaven’ttriedtoprobewithmypoweryet,but…I’llletyou

know.”“I’matyourdisposal.”“Evenifthisismyfinaltest?”“Agoodhealer,”Hafizasaidwithasmile,“knowswhentoaskforhelp.”Yrene nodded absently. And when she sailed back home, to war and

bloodshed,whowouldsheturntothen?“I’ll go back,” Yrene said at last. “Tomorrow. I want to look into spinal

injuriesandparalysisinthelibrarytonight.”“I’llletCookknowwheretofindyou.”YrenegaveHafizaawrygrin.“Nothingescapesyou,doesit?”Hafiza’sknowinglookwasn’tcomforting.

The healer didn’t return that day. Nesryn waited for another hour, then two,Chaol filling his time with reading in the sitting room, before she finallydeclaredshewasgoingtoseeherfamily.

Ithadbeenyearssinceshe’dseenherauntanduncleandtheirchildren.Sheprayedtheywerestillinthehousewhereshe’dlastvisited.

She’dbarelyslept.Hadbarelybeenabletothinkorfeelthingslikehungerorexhaustionthankstothethoughtswreakinghavocwithinher.

Thehealerwithherlackofanswershadn’tsoothedher.Andwithnoformalmeetingscheduledwiththekhaganorhischildrentoday

…“Icanentertainmyself,youknow,”Chaolsaid,settinghisbookonhislapas

Nesrynagainlookedtothefoyerdoor.“I’djoinyou,ifIcould.”“You soon will be able to,” she promised. The healer had seemed skilled

enough,despiteherrefusaltoevengivethemashredofhope.If the woman couldn’t help them, then Nesryn would find another. And

another.EvenifshehadtobegtheHealeronHightohelp.“Go,Nesryn,”Chaolordered.“You’llgetnopeaceuntilyoudo.”Sherubbedherneck,thenrosefromherspotonthegoldencouchandstrode

overtohim.Bracedherhandsoneitherarmofhischair,currentlypositionedbytheopengardendoors.Shebroughtherfaceclosetohis,closerthanit’dbeenindays. His own eyes seemed … brighter, somehow. A smidge better thanyesterday.“I’llcomebackassoonasIcan.”

He gave her a quiet smile. “Take your time. See your family.”He had not

seenhismotherorbrother inyears,he’d toldher.His father…Chaoldidnottalkabouthisfather.

“Perhaps,”shesaidquietly,“wecouldgetananswerforthehealer.”Heblinkedather.Shemurmured,“Aboutthecompletion.”Thatfast,thelightwinkedoutfromhiseyes.Shewithdrewquickly.He’dstoppedherontheboat,whenshe’dpractically

leapedatophim.Andseeinghimwithouthisshirtearlier,thosemusclesripplingalonghisback,hisstomach…She’dalmostbeggedthehealertoletherdotheinspecting.

Pathetic.Thoughshe’dneverbeenparticularlygoodatavoidinghercravings.She’dstartedsleepingwithhimthatsummerbecauseshedidn’tseethepointinresistingwhereherinteresttuggedher.Evenifshehadn’tcaredforhim,notasshedidnow.

Nesrynslidahandthroughherhair.“I’llbebackbydinner.”Chaolwavedheroff,andwasalreadyreadinghisbookagainwhensheleft

theroom.Theyhadmadenopromises,sheremindedherself.Sheknewhistendencies

drovehimtowanttodorightbyher,tohonorher,andthissummer,whenthatcastlehadcollapsedandshe’dthoughthimdead…Shehadneverknownsuchfear. She had never prayed as she had in thosemoments—untilAelin’s flamesparedherfromdeath,andNesrynhadprayedthatshehadsparedhim,too.

Nesrynshutout thethoughtsofthosedaysasshestrodethroughthepalacehalls, vaguely remembering where to find the gates to the city proper. Whatshe’d thought she wanted, what was most important—or had been. Until thekhaganhadutteredthenews.

Shehadleftherfamily.Sheshouldhavebeenthere.Toprotectthechildren,protectheragingfather,herfierceandlaughingsister.

“CaptainFaliq.”

Nesryn halted at the pleasant voice, at the title she was still barelyaccustomedtoanswering.Shewasstandingatoneofthepalacecrossroads,thepath ahead to take her to the front gates if she kept going straight. She hadmarkedeveryexitthey’dpassedonthewayin.

AndattheendofthehallwaythatbisectedherswasSartaq.Gonewere the fineclothesofyesterday.Theprincenowworeclose-fitting

leathers, the shoulders cappedwith simple yet sturdy armor, reinforced at thewrists, knees, and shins.Nobreastplate.His longblack hair had been braidedback,athinstrapofleathertyingitoff.

Sheboweddeeply.Lowerthanshewouldhavefortheotherchildrenofthekhagan.ButforarumoredHeirapparent,whomightonedaybeAdarlan’sally—

Iftheysurvived.“Youwereinahurry,”Sartaqsaid,notingthehallshe’dbeenstridingdown.“I—I have family in the city. I was going to see them.” She added

halfheartedly,“UnlessYourHighnesshasneedofme.”A wry smile graced his face. And she realized she’d replied in her own

tongue.Their tongue.“I’mheadedforarideonKadara.Myruk,”heclarified,fallingintohislanguageaswell.

“Iknow,”shesaid.“I’veheardthestories.”“EveninAdarlan?”Heliftedabrow.Awarriorandacharmer.Adangerous

combination, though she couldnot recall anymentionof a spouse. Indeed, noringmarkedhisfinger.

“EveninAdarlan,”Nesrynsaid,thoughshedidnotmentionthattheaveragepersononthestreetmightnotknowsuchtales.Butinherhousehold…Oh,yes.TheWingedPrince,theycalledhim.

“MayIescortyou?Thestreetsareamaze,eventome.”Itwasagenerousoffer,anhonor.“Iwouldnotkeepyoufromtheskies.”If

only because she did not know how to talk to such men—born and bred to

power, used to fine ladies and scheming politicians. Though his ruk riders,legendclaimed,couldcomefromanywhere.

“Kadaraisaccustomedtowaiting,”Sartaqsaid.“Atleastletmeleadyoutothegates.Thereisanewguardouttoday,andIwilltellthemtomarkyourfacesoyoumaybeletbackin.”

Becausewithherclothes,herunadornedhair…Indeed,theguardsmightnotpermitherpast.Whichwouldhavebeen…mortifying.“Thankyou,”shesaid,andfellintostepbesidehim.

They were silent as they passed white banners streaming from one of theopen windows. Chaol had told her yesterday of Kashin’s worry that theiryoungest sister’s death had been through foul play—that one of Perrington’sagentsmightbe responsible. Itwasenough toplanta seedofdread inher.Tomakehermarkeachfacesheencountered,peerintoeveryshadow.

Keeping a smooth pace beside him, Nesryn glanced at Sartaq as thosebanners flitted by. The prince, however, nodded to a few bowing men andwomeninthegoldrobesofviziers.

Nesrynfoundherselfasking,“Aretheretrulythirty-sixofthem?”“Wehaveafascinationwiththenumber,soyes.”Hesnorted,thesoundmost

un-princely.“Myfatherdebatedhalvingthem,butfearedthegods’wrathmorethanpoliticalrepercussions.”

Itfeltlikeabreathofcrispautumnair,tohearandspeakherowntongue.Tohave it be thenormandnotbegawkedat.She’dalways felt sowhencominghere.

“DidLordWestfallmeetwiththehealer?”Therewas no harm in the truth, she decided, soNesryn said, “Yes.Yrene

Towers.”“Ah.ThefamedGoldenLady.”“Oh?”“Sheisstriking,no?”

Nesrynsmiledslightly.“Youfavorher,Isee.”Sartaq chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. My brother Kashin would not be

pleased.”“Theyhaveanattachment?”Hasarhadhintedatasmuch.“They are friends—or were. I haven’t seen them talk in months, but who

knowswhathappened?Though I suppose I’mnobetter than thecourtgossipsfortellingyou.”

“It’sstillusefultoknow,ifweareworkingwithher.”“WasherassessmentofLordWestfallapositiveone?”Nesrynshrugged.“Shewashesitanttoconfirm.”“Manyhealerswilldothat.Theydon’t like togivehopeandtakeitaway.”

He flicked his braid over a shoulder. “Though I will also tell you that YreneherselfhealedoneofKashin’sDarghanriderslastwinterofaverysimilarinjury.And the healers have long repaired suchwounds amongst our people’s horse-tribesandmyownrukhin.Theywillknowwhattodo.”

Nesrynswallowed thehope thatblossomedasbrightness flaredahead—theopendoorstothemaincourtyardandpalacegates.“Howlonghaveyoubeenarukrider,Prince?”

“Ithoughtyou’dheardthestories.”Humordancedinhisface.“Onlygossip.Ipreferthetruth.”Sartaq’sdarkeyessettledonher,theirunwaveringfocusenoughtomakeher

gladnot tobeon the receivingendof it toooften.Not for fear, but… itwasunsettling, tohave theweightof thatgazewhollyuponyou. Itwasaneagle’sgaze—aruk’sgaze.Keenandpiercing.

“Iwastwelvewhenmyfatherbroughtusalltothemountainaerie.AndwhenIsnuckawayandclimbedontothecaptain’sownruk,soaringintotheskiesandrequiringthemtochasemedown…MyfathertoldmethatifIhadsplatteredonthe rocks, I would have deserved to die for my stupidity. As punishment, heorderedme to liveamongst the rukhinuntil Icouldprove Iwasn’tacomplete

fool—alifetime,hesuggested.”Nesryn quietly laughed, and blinked against the sunshine as they emerged

into thegrandcourtyard.Ornate arches andpillarshadbeen carvedwith floraandfauna,thepalacerisingupbehindthemlikealeviathan.

“Thankfully, Ididnotdieof stupidity, and insteadcame to love the riding,theirlifestyle.TheygavemehellbecauseIwasaprince,butIprovedmymettlesoonenough.KadarahatchedwhenIwasfifteen,andIraisedhermyself.Ihavehadnoothermountsince.”Prideandaffectionbrightenedthoseonyxeyes.

And yet Nesryn and Chaol would ask him, beg him, to take that belovedmount into battle against wyverns many times the weight and with infinitelymorebrutestrength.Withvenomintheirtails.Herstomachroiled.

They reached the toweringmain gates, a small door cut into the enormousslabs of studded bronze, left open to allow access to pedestrians scurrying onerrands to and from the palace.Nesryn remained stillwhile Sartaq introducedhertotheheavilyarmedguardsonduty,orderingthemtograntherunrestrictedaccess.Thesunglintedonthehiltsoftheswordscrossedovertheirbacksastheguardsbowedtheiracquiescence,eachwithafistoverhisheart.

She’d seen how Chaol could barely look at them—the palace guards andthoseatthedocks.

Sartaq led her through the small door, the bronze of the gate nearly a footthick,andontothebroad,cobblestonedavenuethatslopedintothelabyrinthofcity streets. Fine houses and more guards lined the surrounding streets,residencesofthewealthywhowishedtodwell inthepalace’sshadow.Butthestreetitselfwascrammedwithpeopleabouttheirbusinessorleisure,evensometravelerswhoclimbedallthewayupheretogawkatthepalace,andnowtriedtopeerthroughthesmalldoorthroughwhichNesrynandSartaqhadwalkedforaglimpse to the courtyard beyond.None seemed to recognize the prince besideher—though she knew the guards on the street and stationed at the gatesmonitoredeverybreathandword.

OneglanceatSartaq,andshehadnodoubttheprincewasalsowellawareofhissurroundingswhilehestoodbeyondthegates,asifhewereanordinaryman.Shestudiedthecrowdedstreetsahead,listeningtotheclamor.Itwouldtakeanhour on foot to reach her family’s house across the city, but even longer in acarriageoronhorsebackthankstothecloggedtraffic.

“Areyousureyoudon’tneedanescort?”A half smile tugged on Nesryn’s mouth as she found him watching her

sidelong.“Icanhandlemyself,Prince,butIthankyouforthehonor.”Sartaqlookedherover,aquickwarrior’sassessment.Indeed,hewasaman

whohadlittletofearwhensteppingbeyondthepalacewalls.“Ifyoueverhavethe timeor interest,youshouldcomeforaride.Theairup there isopen—notlikethedustandbrinedownhere.”

Openenoughwherelisteningearsmightnothearthem.Nesrynboweddeeply.“Ishouldlikethatverymuch.”She felt the prince stillwatchingwhile she strode down the sunny avenue,

dodging carts and conveyances fighting for passage. But she didn’t dare lookback.Shewasn’tentirelysurewhy.

7

Chaolwaited untilNesryn had been gone for a good thirtyminutes before hesummonedKadja.She’dbeenwaitingintheexteriorhallwayandslippedinsidehis suitemeremoments after he’d calledher name.Lingering in the foyer, hewatchedtheservinggirlapproach,herstepslightandswift,hereyesdowncastassheawaitedhisorder.

“Ihavea favor toaskyou,”hesaidslowlyandclearly,cursinghimself fornotlearningHalhaduringtheyearsDorianhadstudiedit.

Adipofthechinwasheronlyanswer.“Ineedyou togodownto thedocks, towherever informationcomes in, to

see if there’s any news about the attack on Rifthold.” Kadja had been in thethrone room yesterday—she’d undoubtedly heard about it. And he’d debatedaskingNesryntodosomesearchingwhileshewasout,butifthenewswasgrim…hedidn’twantherlearningitalone.Bearingitalone,allthewaybackuptothepalace.“Doyouthinkyoucoulddothat?”

Kadja liftedhereyesat last, thoughshekeptherhead low.“Yes,” she saidsimply.

He knew she was likely answering to one of the royals or viziers in thispalace. But his asking formore information,while certainly a detail tomark,wasn’t any threat to his cause. And if they deemed it weak or stupid to beconcernedforhiscountry,theycouldgotohell.

“Good,”Chaolsaid,thechairbeneathhimgroaningashewheeleditforward

a foot and tried not to scowl at the sound, at his silent body. “And there isanotherfavorIwouldaskofyou.”

JustbecauseNesrynwasoccupiedwithherfamilydidn’tmeanhehadtobeidle.ButasKadjadepositedhiminArghun’schambers,hewonderedifheshould

havewaitedforNesryn’sreturntohavethismeeting.Theeldestprince’sentryroomwasaslargeasChaol’sentiresuite.Itwasa

long,ovalspace,thefarendopeningintoacourtyardadornedwithasparklingfountainandpatrolledbyapairofwhitepeacocks.Hewatchedthemsweepby,themassoftheirsnowyfeatherstrailingovertheslatetiles,theirdelicatecrownsbobbingwitheachstep.

“Theyarebeautiful,aretheynot?”Asealedsetofcarveddoorstothelefthadopened,revealingtheslim-faced,

cold-eyedprince,hisattentiononthebirds.“Stunning,”Chaoladmitted,hatingthewayhehadtoanglehisheadupward

to look theman in theeye.Hadhebeen standing,he’dbeagood four inchestaller, able to use his size to his advantage during thismeeting. Had he beenstanding—

Hedidn’tlethimselfcontinuedownthatpath.Notnow.“They are my prized pair,” Arghun said, his use of Chaol’s home tongue

utterlyfluent.“Mycountryhomeisfulloftheiroffspring.”Chaolsearchedforananswer,somethingDorianorAelinmighthaveeasily

supplied, but found nothing. Absolutely nothing that didn’t sound inane andinsincere.Sohesaid,“I’msureit’sbeautiful.”

Arghun’s mouth tugged upward. “If you ignore their screaming at certainpointsoftheyear.”

Chaol clenched his jaw. His people were dying in Rifthold, if not alreadydead,andyetbandyingwordsaboutscreeching,preeningbirds…thiswaswhat

hewastodo?Hedebatedit,whethertoparrymoreorgettothepoint,butArghunsaid,“I

supposeyouareheretoaskwhatIknowregardingyourcity.”Theprince’scoolglancefinallylandedonhim,andChaolheldthelook.This—thestaringcontest—wassomethinghecoulddo.He’dhadplenty,withunrulyguardandcourtieralike.

“You supplied your fatherwith the information. Iwant to knowwho gaveyouthedetailsoftheattack.”

Amusementlituptheprince’sdarkbrowneyes.“Abluntman.”“Mypeoplearesuffering.IwouldliketoknowasmuchasIcan.”“Well,” Arghun said, picking at a piece of lint clinging to the golden

embroidery along his emerald tunic, “in the spirit of honesty, I can tell youabsolutelynothing.”

Chaolblinked—once,andslowly.Arghunwenton,extendingahandtowardtheouterdoors,“Therearefartoo

many eyes watching, Lord Westfall, and my being seen with you sends amessage, for better or worse, regardless of what we discuss. So while Iappreciateyourvisit,Iwillaskyoutoleave.”Theservantswaitingatthedoorcameforward,presumablytowheelhimaway.

And the sight of one of them reaching their hands toward the back of hischair…

Chaolbaredhisteethattheservant,stoppinghimdead.“Don’t.”Whetherthemanspokehislanguage,heclearlyunderstoodtheexpressionon

hisface.Chaoltwistedbacktotheprince.“Youreallywanttoplaythisgame?”“It is nogame,”Arghun said simply, striding toward theofficewherehe’d

beenensconced.“The information iscorrect.Myspiesdonot inventstories toentertain.Gooddaytoyou.”

Andthenthedoubledoorstotheprince’sofficeweresealed.

ChaoldebatedbangingonthosedoorsuntilArghunstarted talking,perhapspoundinghisfistintotheprince’sface,too,but…thetwoservantsbehindhimwerewaiting.Watching.

He’dmet enough courtiers in Rifthold to sense when someone was lying.Evenifthosesenseshadfailedhimsospectacularlythesepastfewmonths.WithAelin.Withtheothers.With…everything.

Buthedidn’tthinkArghunwaslying.Aboutanyofit.Rifthold had been sacked. Dorian remained missing. His people’s fate

unknown.Hedidn’tfighttheservantagainwhenthemansteppeduptoescorthimback

tohisroom.Andthatmighthaveenragedhimmorethananything.

Nesryndidnotreturnfordinner.Chaoldidnotletthekhagan,hischildren,orthethirty-sixhawk-eyedviziers

getawhiffoftheworrythatwrackedhimwitheverypassingminutethatshedidnotemergefromoneofthehallwaystojointheminthegreathall.Shehadbeengonehourswithnoword.

EvenKadjahadreturned,anhourbeforedinner,andonelookathercarefullycalmfacetoldhimeverything:she’dlearnednothingnewatthedocksabouttheattackonRifthold,either.SheonlyconfirmedwhatArghunclaimed:thecaptainsandmerchantshadspokentocrediblesourceswho’deithersailedpastRiftholdorbarelyescaped.Theattackhadindeedhappened,withnoaccuratenumberontheliveslostorthestatusofthecity.Alltradefromthesoutherncontinentwashalted—atleasttoRiftholdandanywherenorthofit thatrequiredpassingnearthecity.NowordhadcomeatallofDorian’sfate.

It pressed on him, weighing him further, but that soon became secondary,once he’d finished dressing for dinner and foundNesryn had not arrived.HeeventuallyyieldedandletKadjabringhimtothebanquetinthekhagan’sgreat

hall, butwhen longminutes passed andNesryn still did not return, it was anefforttoremainunaffected.

Anything could have happened to her. Anything. Especially if Kashin’stheoryregardinghislatesisterwascorrect.IfMorath’sagentswerealreadyhere,hehadlittledoubtthatassoonastheylearnedofhisandNesryn’sarrival,they’dbegunhuntingthem.

He should have considered it before she’d gone out today. Should havethoughtbeyondhisowndamnproblems.Butdemandingaguardbesentouttosearchforherwouldonlytellanypotentialenemieswhathevaluedmost.Wheretostrike.

SoChaolfought togethisfooddown,barelyable tofocusonconversationwith the people beside him. On his right: Duva, pregnant and serene, askingaboutthemusicanddancingnowfavoredinhislands;onhisleft:Arghun,whodidn’t mention his visit that afternoon, and instead prodded him about traderoutesoldandproposed.Chaolmadeuphalftheanswers,andtheprincesmiled—asifwellawareofit.

Still,Nesryndidn’tappear.ThoughYrenedid.Halfway through the meal, she entered, in a slightly finer yet still simple

gownofamethystthatsethergolden-brownskinglowing.Hasarandherloverrosetogreetthehealer,claspingYrene’shandsandkissinghercheeks,andtheprincesskickedoutthevizierseatedonherlefttomakeroomforher.

Yrenebowedtothekhagan,whowavedheroffwithoutmorethanaglance,then to the royalty assembled. Arghun did not bother to acknowledge herexistence;Duvabeamed atYrene, her quiet husbandoffering amore subduedsmile.OnlySartaqbowedhishead,whilethefinalsibling,Kashin,offeredheraclose-lippedsmilethatdidn’tmeethiseyes.

But Kashin’s gaze lingered long enough while Yrene took her seat besideHasarthatChaolrememberedwhattheprincesshadteasedYreneaboutearlier

thatday.ButYrene did not return the prince’s smile, only offering a distant nod in

return, and claimed the seat Hasar had conquered for her. She fell intoconversationwithHasarandRenia,acceptingthemeatReniapiledonherplate,the princess’s lover fussing that Yrene looked too tired, too skinny, too pale.Yreneacceptedeverymorselofferedwithabemusedsmileandnodof thanks.DeliberatelynotlookinganywherenearKashin.OrChaol,forthatmatter.

“Iheard,”amalevoicetoChaol’srightsaidinhisownlanguage,“thatYrenehasbeenassignedtoyou,LordWestfall.”

HewasnotatallsurprisedtofindthatKashinhadleanedforwardtospeaktohim.

Andnotatallsurprisedtosee thethinlyveiledwarningin themale’sgaze.Chaolhadseenitoftenenough:Territoryclaimed.

WhetherYrenewelcomeditornot.Chaolsupposeditwasamarkinherfavorthatshedidnotseemtopaythe

prince much heed. Though he could only wonder why. Kashin was thehandsomest of the siblings, and Chaol had witnessed women literally fallingover themselves forDorian’sattentionduring thoseyears in thecastle.Kashinhadaself-satisfiedlooktohimthathe’doftenglimpsedonDorian’sface.

Once—longago.Adifferentlifetimeago.Beforeanassassinandacollarandeverything.

Theguardsstationedthroughoutthegreathallsomehowturnedlooming,asiftheywerekindledflamesthatnowtuggedathisgaze.Herefusedtoevenglancetowardthenearestone,whichhe’dmarkedoutofhabit,standingtwentyfeettothe side of the high table. Right where he’d once stood, before another king,anothercourt.

“Shehas,”wasallChaolcouldmanagetosay.“Yrene is our most skilled healer—save for the Healer on High,” Kashin

wenton,glancingatthewomanwhostillpaidhimnoheedandindeedseemed

tofalldeeperintoconversationwithReniaasiftoemphasizeit.“SoIhaveheard.”Certainlythesharpest-tongued.“She received the highest marks anyone has ever attained on her formal

examinations,”KashincontinuedwhileYreneignoredhim,somethinglikehurtflickeringacrosstheprince’sface.

“Seehowhetripsoverhimself,”ArghunmutteredoverDuva,herhusband,andChaoltosaytoSartaq.DuvaswattedatArghun’sarm,snappingathimforinterruptingherfork’spathtohermouth.

Kashindidnotappeartohearorcareforhiselderbrother’sdisapproval.Andto his credit, Sartaq didn’t, either, choosing instead to turn to a golden-robedvizierwhileKashin said toChaol, “Unheard ofmarks for anyone, let alone ahealerwhohasbeenhereforjustovertwoyears.”

Anotherseedlingofinformation.YrenehadnotspentlonginAntica,then.ChaolfoundYrenewatchinghimbeneath loweredbrows.Awarningnot to

dragherintotheconversation.Heweighed themerits of either option: the petty revenge for her taunting

earlier,or…Shewashelpinghim.Orwasdebatingit,atleast.He’dbestupidtoalienate

herfurther.Sohe said toKashin, “Ihearyouusuallydwelldown inBalruhnand look

aftertheterrestrialarmies.”Kashinstraightened.“Ido.Formostoftheyear,Imakemyhomethereand

overseethetrainingofourtroops.IfI’mnotthere,thenI’moutonthesteppeswithourmother-people—thehorse-lords.”

“Thank thegods,”Hasarmuttered fromacross the table,earningawarninglook fromSartaq.Hasar only rolled her eyes andwhispered something in herlover’searthatmadeRenialaugh,abright,silverysound.

Yrenewasstillwatchinghim,though,anemberofwhathecouldhaveswornwasannoyanceinherface—asifChaol’smerepresenceatthistablewasenough

to set her clenching her jaw—while Kashin began explaining his variousroutines inhiscityon thesouthwesterncoast,and thecontrasting lifeamongstthehorse-tribesonthesteppes.

ChaolshotYrenebackanequallydispleasedlookthemomentKashinpausedtosiphiswine,andthenlaunchedquestionafterquestiontotheprinceregardinghislife.Helpfulinformation,herealized,abouttheirarmy.

Hewasnottheonlyonewhorealizedit.Arghuncutinwhilehisbrotherwasmidsentence about the forges they had constructed near their northern climes,“Letusnotdiscussbusinessatdinner,brother.”

Kashinshuthismouth,everthetrainedsoldier.AndsomehowChaolknew—thatfast—thatKashinwasnotbeingconsidered

forthethrone.Notwhenheobeyedhiseldestbrotherlikeanycommonwarrior.Heseemeddecent,though.Abetteralternativethanthesneering,aloofArghun,orthewolflikeHasar.

ItdidnotentirelyexplainYrene’sutterneedtodistanceherselffromKashin.Notthatitwasanyofhisbusiness,orofanyinteresttohim.CertainlynotwhenYrene’smouthtightenedifshesomuchasturnedherheadinChaol’sdirection.

Hemighthavecalledheroutonit,mighthavedemandedifthismeantshe’ddecidednottotreathim.ButifKashinfavoredher,Yrene’ssubtlerejectionsornot,itsurelywouldn’tbeawisemovetogetintoitwithheratthistable.

Footstepssoundedfrombehind,butitwasonlyavizier’shusband,cometomurmursomethinginherearbeforevanishing.

NotNesryn.Chaol studied the dishes strewn over the table, calculating the remaining

courses. With the feasting, last night’s meal had gone on for ages. Not onedessertdelicacyhadbeenbroughtoutyet.

He looked again to the exits, skipping over the guards stationed there,searchingforher.

Facing the table again, Chaol found Yrene observing him. Wariness,

displeasurestilldarkenedthosegoldeneyes,but…warning,too.Sheknewwhohelookedfor.Whoseabsencegnawedathim.Tohisshock,shesubtlyshookherhead.Don’trevealit, sheseemed tosay.

Don’taskthemtolookforher.HeknewitalreadybutgaveYreneatersenodbackandcontinuedon.Kashin attempted to engage Yrene in conversation, but each time he was

promptlyandpolitelyshutdownwithsimpleanswers.Perhaps the healer’s disdain toward Chaol that morning was simply her

nature,ratherthanhatredbornofAdarlan’sconquest.Orperhapsshejusthatedmen.Itwashardnottolooktowardthefaintscaracrossherthroat.

Chaolmanaged towaituntildessertarrivedbefore feigningexhaustionandleavingthetable.Kadjawasalreadythere,waitingbythefarthestpillarsofthehallwith the other servants, and said nothing as shewheeled that chair away,everyrattlemakinghimgratehisteeth.

Yrenedidn’tsayawordofparting,orofferapromiseofreturningthenextday.Shedidn’tsomuchaslookinhisdirection.

ButNesrynwasnotintheroomwhenhereturned.Andifhesearchedforher,ifhedrewattention to the threat, to theirclosenessandhowanyenemymightwielditagainstthem…

Sohewaited.Listenedtothegardenfountain,thesingingofthenightingaleperched ina fig treewithin it, listened to the steadycountof theclockon thesittingroommantel.

Eleven.Twelve.HetoldKadjatogotosleep—thathe’dcareforhimselfandgethimself inbed.Shedidnot leave,only tookupaplaceagainst thepaintedfoyerwalltowait.

Itwasnearlyonewhenthedooropened.Nesryn slipped in.He knew it, simply because he’d learned her sounds of

moving.Shesawthecandlesinthesittingroomandstrodein.

Notamarkonher.Only—light.Hercheekswereflushed,hereyesbrighterthanthey’dbeenthismorning.“I’msorryImisseddinner,”wasallshesaid.

Hisreplywaslow,guttural.“DoyouhaveanyideahowworriedI’vebeen?”Shehalted,hairswayingwiththemovement.“IwasnotawareIhadtosend

wordofmycomingsandgoings.Youtoldmetogo.”“You went into a foreign city and did not come back when you said you

would.”Everywordwasbiting,slicing.“Itisnotaforeigncity—nottome.”Heslammedhispalmontothearmofthechair.“Oneoftheprincesseswas

murderedafewweeksago.Aprincess.Inherownpalace—theseatofthemostpowerfulempireintheworld.”

Shecrossedherarms.“Wedon’tknowifitwasmurder.Kashinseemstobetheonlyonewhothinksso.”

Itwasutterlybesidethepoint.Evenifhe’dbarelyrememberedtostudyhisdinner companions tonight for any sign of the Valg’s presence. He said tooquietly,“Icouldn’tevengolookingforyou.Ididn’tdaretellthemthatyouweremissing.”

Sheblinked,slowandlong.“Myfamilywasgladtoseeme,incaseyouwerewondering.Andtheyreceivedabriefletterfrommyfatheryesterday.Theygotout.”Shebeganunbuttoningherjacket.“Theycouldbeanywhere.”

“I’mgladtohearit,”Chaolsaidthroughhisteeth.Thoughheknewthatnotknowingwhereherfamilywaswouldeatatherasmuchastheterrorofthepastday of not knowingwhether they lived.He said as calmly as he could, “Thisthing between us doesn’twork if you don’t tellmewhere you are, or if yourplanschange.”

“Iwasattheirhouse,eatingdinner.Ilosttrackoftime.Theybeggedmetostaywiththem.”

“You know better than to not send word. Not after the shit we’ve beenthrough.”

“Ihavenothingtofearinthiscity—thisplace.”She said itwith enoughbite that heknewshemeant that inRifthold… in

Riftholdshedid.He hated that she felt that way. Hated it and yet: “Isn’t that what we are

fightingfor?Sothatourownlandsmightbesosafeoneday?”Herfaceshuttered.“Yes.”Shefinishedunbuttoningherjacket,peelingitofftorevealtheshirtbeneath,

andslungitoverashoulder.“I’mgoingtobed.I’llseeyouinthemorning.”Shedidn’twaitforhisfarewellbeforeshestrodeintoherroomandshutthe

door.Chaolsatforlongminutesinthesittingroom,waitingforhertoemerge.And

whenhefinallyletKadjabringhimintohisroomandhelpchangehimintohisbedclothes,aftersheblewout thecandlesand leftonsilent feet,hewaitedforhisdoortoopen.

But Nesryn did not come in. And he could not go to her—not withoutdraggingpoorKadja fromwherever sheslept, listening foranysound that shemightbeneeded.

HewasstillwaitingforNesrynwhensleepclaimedhim.

8

Yrenemadesure tobeon timethenextmorning.Shehadn’tsentwordahead,butshewaswillingtogamblethatLordWestfallandthenewcaptainwouldbewaitingatten.Thoughfromtheglareshethrewherwaylastnight,shewonderedifhedoubtedshe’dreturnatall.

Lethimthinkwhathewanted.Shedebatedwaitinguntileleven,sinceHasarandReniahaddraggedherout

drinking—orrather,Yrenehadwatchedthemdrink,sippingatherownglassofwine—andshehadn’tcrawledintoherroomintheTorreuntilnearlytwo.Hasarhadofferedherasuiteatthepalaceforthenight,butgiventhefactthatthey’dnarrowly escaped Kashin joining them at the quiet, elegant taproom in thebustlingRoseQuarter,Yrenewasnotinclinedtoriskrunningintohimagain.

Honestly, whenever the khagan ordered his children back to their variousoutposts,itwouldnotbesoonenough.They’dlingeredafterTumelun’sdeath—which Hasar had still refused to even mention. Yrene had barely known theyoungestprincess,thegirlhavingspentmostofhertimewithKashinamongtheDarghanonthesteppesandthewalledcitiesscatteredaroundthem.Butinthoseinitial days after Tumelun’s body had been found, after Hafiza herself hadconfirmedthatthegirlhadjumpedfromthebalcony,YrenehadtheurgetoseekoutKashin.Toofferhersympathies,yes,butalsotojustseehowhewasdoing.

Yreneknewhimwellenough tounderstand thatdespite theeasy,unruffledmannerhepresentedtotheworld,thedisciplinedsoldierwhoobeyedhisfather’s

every order and fearlessly commanded his terrestrial armies … beneath thatsmiling face lay a churning sea of grief.Wonderingwhat he could have donedifferently.

ThingshadindeedturnedawkwardandawfulbetweenYreneandKashin,but…shestillcared.Yetshehadnotreachedouttohim.Hadnotwantedtoopenthatdoorshe’dspentmonthstryingtoshut.

She’d hated herself for it, thought about it at least once a day. Especiallywhen she spied thewhite banners flapping throughout the city, the palace.Atdinner last night, she’d done her best not to crumple up with shame as sheignored him, suffered through his praise, the pride still in hiswordswhen hespokeofher.Fool,Eretiahadcalledhermorethanonce,afterYrenehadconfessedduring

a particularly grueling healing what had occurred on the steppes last winter.Yrene knew it was true—but she … well, she had other plans for herself.Dreamsshewouldnot,couldnot,deferoryieldentirely.SoonceKashin,oncetheotherroyals,returnedtotheirrulingposts…itwouldbeeasieragain.Better.

She onlywished LordWestfall’s own return to his hateful kingdom didn’trelysoheavilyuponherassistance.

Bitingbackascowl,Yrenesquaredhershouldersandknockedon thesuitedoors, the lovely-faced servant answering before the sound had even finishedechoinginthehall.

ThereweresomanyoftheminthepalacethatYrenehadlearnedthenamesofjustafew,butshe’dseenthisonebefore,hadmarkedherbeauty.EnoughthatYrenenoddedinrecognitionandstrodein.

Servants were paid handsomely, and treated well enough that competitionwas fierce to land a spot in the palace—especially when positions tended toremainwithinfamilies,andanyopeningswenttothosewithinthem.Thekhaganand his court treated their servants as people, with rights and laws to protectthem.

Unlike Adarlan, where so many lived and died in shackles. Unlike theenslavedinCalacullaandEndovier,neverallowedtoseethesunorbreathefreshair,entirefamiliestornasunder.

Shehadheardof themassacres in themines this spring.Thebutchering. Itwasenoughthatanyneutralexpressionvanishedfromherfacebythetimeshereached the lavishsitting room.Shedidn’tknowwhat theirbusinesswaswiththekhagan,buthecertainlylookedafterhisguests.

LordWestfallandtheyoungcaptainweresittingpreciselywherethey’dbeenthepreviousmorning.Neitherlookedhappy.

Indeed,neitherwasreallyglancingattheother.Well,atleastnoneofthemwouldbothertopretendtobepleasanttoday.ThelordwasalreadysizingYreneup,nodoubtmarkingthebluedressshe’d

wornyesterday,thesameshoes.Yrene owned four dresses, the purple one she’d worn to dinner last night

being thefinest.Hasarhadalwayspromised toprocurefinerclothesforher towear, but the princess never remembered the next day. Not that Yreneparticularly cared. If she received the clothes, she’d feel obligated to visit thepalacemore than she already did, and…Yes, therewere some lonely nightswhen shewonderedwhat the hell shewas thinking by pushing awayKashin,whensheremindedherselfthatmostgirlsintheworldwouldkillandclawtheirwaytoanopenpalaceinvitation,butshewouldnotstayhereformuchlonger.Therewasnopoint.

“Goodmorning,”saidthenewcaptain—NesrynFaliq.Thewomanseemedmorefocused.Settled.Andyetthisnewtensionbetween

herandLordWestfall…Notherbusiness.Onlyifitinterferedwithherhealing.“Ispoketomysuperior.”Alie,thoughshetechnicallyhadspokentoHafiza.“And?”Not one word from the lord so far. Shadows were smudged beneath his

browneyes,histanskinpalerthanyesterday.Ifhewassurprisedshe’dreturned,herevealednothing.

Yrene scooped theupper portionsof her hair and tied it backwith a smallwoodencomb, leaving thebottomhalfdown.Herpreferred style forworking.“AndIshouldliketogetyouwalkingagain,LordWestfall.”

No emotion flickered in the lord’s eyes. Nesryn, however, loosed ashudderingbreathandleanedbackagainstthedeepcushionsofthegoldensofa.“Howlikelyisitthatyouwillsucceed?”

“Ihavehealedspinal injuriesbefore.Thoughitwasariderwhotookabadfalloffhishorse—notawoundinbattle.Certainlynotonefrommagic.Ishalldomybest,butImakenoguarantees.”

LordWestfallsaidnothing,didn’tsomuchasshiftinhischair.Saysomething,shedemanded,meetinghiscoldandwearystare.Hiseyesslidtoherthroat,tothescarshehadnotletEretiahealwhenshe’d

offeredlastyear.“Will it be hours every day that youwork on him?”Nesryn’swordswere

steady,almostflat,andyet…Thewomanwasnotacreaturewhotookwelltoacage.Evenagildedonesuchasthis.

“I would recommend,”Yrene said toNesryn over a shoulder, “that if youhaveotherdutiesortaskstoattendto,Captain,thesehourswouldbeagoodtimeforthat.Ishallsendwordifyouareneeded.”

“Whataboutmovinghimaround?”Thelord’seyesflashedatthat.AndthoughYrenewaspredisposedtochuckthembothtotheruks,shenoted

the lord’s simmering outrage and self-loathing at thewords and found herselfsaying,“Icanhandlemostofit,butIbelieveLordWestfallismorethancapableoftransportinghimself.”

Something like wary gratitude shot across his face. But he just said toNesryn,“AndIcanaskmyowndamnquestions.”

Guilt flashed across Nesryn’s face, even as she stiffened. But she nodded,bitingherlip,beforeshemurmuredtoChaol,“Ihadsomeinvitationsyesterday.”Understandinglithiseyes.“Iplantoseeaboutthem.”

Smart—nottospeaktooclearlyofhermovements.Chaolnoddedgravely.“Sendamessagethistime.”Yrene had noted his worry at dinner last night when the captain had not

appeared.Amanunusedtohavingthepeoplehecaredforoutofhissight,andnow limited in how he might look for them himself. She tucked away theinformationforlater.

Nesryn bid her farewells, perhaps more tersely to the lord, and then wasgone.

Yrenewaiteduntilsheheardthedoorshut.“Shewaswisetonotspeakaloudofherplans.”

“Why.”HisfirstwordstoYrenesofar.Shejerkedherchintowardtheopendoorstothefoyer.“Thewallshaveears

andmouths.Andalltheservantsarepaidbythekhagan’schildren.Orviziers.”“Ithoughtthekhaganpaidthemall.”“Oh,hedoes,”Yrenesaid,goingtothesmallsatchelshe’dleftbythedoor.

“But his children and viziers buy the servants’ loyalty through other means.Favorsandcomfortsandstatusinexchangeforinformation.I’dbecarefulwithwhoeverwasassignedtoyou.”

Docileastheservantgirlwho’dletYreneinmightseem,shekneweventhesmallestsnakescouldcontainthemostlethalvenom.

“Doyouknowwho…ownsthem?”Hesaidthatword—owns—asifittastedfoul.

Yrene said simply, “No.” She rooted through the satchel, pulling out twinvialsofamberliquid,astubofwhitechalk,andsometowels.Hefollowedeverymovement. “Doyouownany slaves inAdarlan?”Shekept thequestionmild,

uninterested.Idlechatterwhileshereadied.“No.Never.”She set a black leather journal upon the table before lifting a brow. “Not

one?”“Ibelieveinpayingpeoplefortheirwork,asyoudohere.AndIbelieveina

humanbeing’sintrinsicrighttofreedom.”“I’msurprisedyourkingletyouliveifthatishowyoufeel.”“Ikeptsuchopinionstomyself.”“Awisermove.Bettertosaveyourhidethroughsilencethanspeakingforthe

thousandsenslaved.”Hewentstillatthat.“Thelaborcampsandslavetradehavebeenshutdown.

Itwasoneofthefirstdecreesthatmykingmade.Iwastherewithhimwhenhedraftedthedocument.”

“Newdecreesforanewera,Isuppose?”Thewordsweresharperthanthesetofknivesshecarriedwithher—forsurgery,forscrapingawayrottingflesh.

Heheld her gaze unflinchingly. “DorianHavilliard is not his father. ItwashimIservedtheseyears.”

“And yet you were the former king’s honored Captain of the Guard. I’msurprisedthekhagan’schildrenaren’tclamoringtohearyoursecretsabouthowyouplayedbothsowell.”

Hishandsclenchedonthearmsofthechair.“Therearechoicesinmypast,”hesaidtightly,“thatIhavecometoregret.ButIcanonlymoveon—andattemptto fix them. Fight tomake sure they do not occur again.”He jerked his chintowardthesuppliesshe’dsetdown.“WhichIcannotdowhileinthischair.”

“You certainly could do such things from that chair,” she said tartly, andmeant it.Hedidn’t respond.Fine. If hedidnotwish to talk about this…shecertainly didn’t wish to, either. Yrene jerked her chin toward the long, deepgoldensofa.“Getonthat.Shirtoffandfacedown.”

“Whynotthebed?”

“CaptainFaliqwashereyesterday.Iwouldnotenteryourbedroomwithoutherpresent.”

“Sheisnotmy…”Hetrailedoff.“Itwouldnotbeanissue.”“Andyetyousawlastnighthowitmightpresentanissueforme.”“With—”“Yes.”Shecuthimoffwitha sharp look toward thedoor. “Thecouchwill

do.”ShehadseenthelookKashinhadgiventhecaptainatdinner.She’dwanted

toslideoffherchairandhidebeneaththetable.“Youhavenointerestwherethatisconcerned?”hesaid,wheelinghimselfthe

fewfeettothecouch,thenunbuttoninghisjacket.“Ihavenoplanstoseeksuchalifeformyself.”Notwhentheriskswereso

high.Execution of herself, her husband, and their children if Kashin should

challenge the new khagan, if he should stake a claim on the throne. BeingrenderedinfertilebyHafizaatbest—oncethenewkhaganhadproducedenoughheirstoensurethecontinuationofthebloodline.

Kashinhadwavedawaythoseconcernsthatnightonthesteppes,hadrefusedtounderstandtheinsurmountablewalltheywouldalwayspresent.

But Chaol nodded, likely well aware of the costs of wedding into thebloodlineifyourspousewasnottheHeirselected.AsKashinwouldneverbe—notwithSartaq,Arghun,orHasarlikelytobechosen.

Yrene added before Chaol could inquire further, “And it is none of yourconcern.”

He looked her over slowly. Not in the way that men sometimes did, thatKashindid,but…asifhewassizingupanopponent.

Yrenecrossedherarms,distributingherweightevenlybetweenherfeet,justas she had been taught and now instructed others to do. A steady, defensivestance.Readytotakeonanyone.

Even lords from Adarlan. He seemed to note that stance, and his jawclenched.

“Shirt,”sherepeated.Withasimmeringglare,hereachedoverhisheadandshuckedoffhisshirt,

settingitneatlyatopwherehe’dfoldedhisjacketovertherolledarmofthesofa.Thenheremovedhisbootsandsockswithswift,brutaltugs.

“Pantsthistime,”shetoldhim.“Leavetheundershorts.”Hishandswenttohisbelt,andhesitated.Hecouldnotremovethepantswithoutsomedegreeofhelp—atleastinthe

chair.Shedidn’tletaflickerofpityshowinherfaceasshewavedahandtoward

thecouch.“Geton,andI’llunclotheyoumyself.”Hehesitatedagain.Yreneputherhandsonherhips.“WhileIwishIcould

sayyouweremysolepatienttoday,”shelied,“Idohaveotherappointmentstokeep.Thecouch,ifyouwill.”

Amusclebeatinhisjaw,buthebracedonehandonthecouch,anotherontheedgeofthechair,andliftedhimself.

Thestrengthinthemovementalonewasworthyofsomeadmiration.Soeasily,themusclesinhisarmsandbackandchesthoistedhimupwardand

over.Asifhe’dbeendoingithisentirelife.“You’ve kept up your exercising since… how long has it been since the

injury?”“It happened onMidsummer.” His voicewas flat—hollow as he lifted his

legsupontothecouchwithhim,gruntingattheweight.“Andyes.Iwasnotidlebeforeithappened,andIdon’tseethepointofbeingsonow.”

This man was stone—rock. The injury had cracked him a bit, but notsunderedhim.Shewonderedifheknewit.

“Good,”shesimplysaid.“Exercising—bothyourupperbodyandyourlegs—willbeavitalpartofthis.”

He peered at his legs as those faint spasms rocked them. “Exercising mylegs?”

“Iwillexplaininamoment,”shesaid,motioninghimtoturnover.Heobeyedwithanotherreproachfulglare,butsethimselffacedown.Yrenetookafewbreathstosurveythelengthofhim.Hewaslargeenough

thathenearlytookuptheentirecouch.Welloversixfeet.Ifhestoodagain,he’dtoweroverher.

Shestrodetohisfeetandtuggedhispantsdowninshort,perfunctorybursts.Hisundershortshidenough,thoughshecouldcertainlyseetheshapeofhisfirmbacksidethroughthethinmaterial.Buthisthighs…She’dfeltthemusclestillinthemyesterday,butstudyingthemnow…

Theywerestartingtoatrophy.Theyalreadylackedthehealthyvitalityoftherestofhim,theripplingmusclebeneaththattanskinseeminglooser—thinner.

Shelaidahandonthebackofonethigh,feelingthemusclebeneaththecrisphairs.

Hermagic seeped from her skin into his, searching and sweeping throughbloodandbone.

Yes—thedisusewasbeginningtowearonhim.Yrenewithdrewherhandandfoundhimwatching,handangledonthethrow

pillowhe’ddraggedbeneathhischin.“They’rebreakingdown,aren’tthey?”Shekeptherfacesetinamaskofstone.“Atrophiedlimbsmayregaintheir

fullstrength.Butyes.Weshallhavetofocusonwaystokeepthemasstrongaswecan,toexercisethemthroughoutthisprocess,sothatwhenyoustand”—shemade sure he heard the slight emphasis on when—“you will have as muchsupportaspossibleinyourlegs.”

“Soitwillnotjustbehealing,buttrainingaswell.”“Yousaidyou liked tobekeptactive.Therearemanyexerciseswecando

withaspinalinjurythatwillgetbloodandstrengthflowingtoyourlegs,whichwillaidinthehealingprocess.Iwilloverseeyou.”

Sheavoidedthealternativewords—helpyou.Lord ChaolWestfall was not a man who desired help from people. From

anyone.Shetookafewstepsupthelengthofhisbody, topeerathisspine.At that

pale, strange mark just beneath his nape. At that first prominent knob of hisspine.

Evennow,theinvisiblepowerthatswirledalongherpalmsseemedtorecoilintoher.

“Whatmannerofmagicgavethattoyou?”“Doesitmatter?”Yrenehoveredherhandoverit,butdidnotlethermagicbrushit.Sheground

her teeth.“Itwouldhelpme toknowwhathavoc itmighthavewreakeduponyournervesandbones.”

Hedidn’tanswer.TypicalAdarlanianbullishness.Yrenepushed,“Wasitfire—”“Notfire.”Amagic-giveninjury.Ithadtohavehappened…Midsummer,he’dsaid.The

day rumors claimed thatmagic had returned to the northern continent.That ithadbeenfreedbyAelinGalathynius.

“Wereyoufightingagainstthemagic-wielderswhoreturnedthatday?”“Iwasnot.”Clipped,sharpwords.Andshelookedintohiseyes—hishardstare.Reallylooked.Whateverhadoccurred,ithadbeenhorrible.Enoughtoleavesuchshadows

andreticence.She had healed peoplewho’d endured horrors.Who could not reply to the

questionssheasked.Andhemighthaveservedthatbutcher,but…Yrenetriednottogrimaceassherealizedwhatlayahead,whatHafizahadlikelyguessedatbeforeassigninghertohim:healersoftendidnotjustrepairwounds,butalsothetraumathatwentalongwiththem.Notthroughmagic,but…talking.Walking

alongsidethepatientastheytraveledthosehard,darkpaths.Andtodosowithhim…Yreneshovedthethoughtaside.Later.She’dthink

ofitlater.Closinghereyes,Yreneunspooledhermagic intoagentle,probing thread,

andlaidapalmonthatsplatteredstaratophisspine.Thecoldslammedintoher,spikesofitfiringthroughherbloodandbones.Yrenereeledbackasifshe’dbeengivenaphysicalblow.Coldanddarkandangerandagony—Sheclenchedherjaw,fightingpastthisechointhebone,sendingthatthread-

thinprobeofpoweralittlefartherintothedark.Thepainwouldhavebeenunbearablewhenithithim.Yrene pushed back against the cold—the cold and the lack and the oily,

unworldlywrongnessofit.Nomagicofthisworld,somepartofherwhispered.Nothingthatwasnatural

orgood.Nothingsheknew,nothingshehadeverdealtwith.Hermagicscreamedtodrawbackthatprobe,moveaway—“Yrene.” His words were far away while the wind and blackness and

emptinessofitroaredaroundher—Andthenthatechoofnothingness…itseemedtoawaken.Coldfilledher,burnedalongherlimbs,creepingwider,encircling.Yreneflungouthermagicinablindflare,thelightpureassea-foam.The blackness retreated, a spider scuttling into a shadowed corner. Just

enough—justenough thatsheyankedbackherhand,yankedbackherself, andfoundChaolgapingather.

Herhandstrembledasshegazeddownatthem.Asshegazedatthatsplotchofpalenessonhistanskin.Thatpresence…Shecoiledhermagicdeepwithinherself,willingittowarmherownbonesandblood,tosteadyherself.Evenasshesteadiedit,too—someinternal,invisiblehandstrokingherpower,soothingit.

Yrene rasped, “Tell me what that is.” For she had seen or felt or learnednothinglikethat.

“Isitinsideme?”Thatwasfear—genuinefearinhiseyes.Oh,heknew.Knewwhatmannerofpowerhaddealtthiswound,whatmight

belurkingwithinit.Knewenoughaboutittobeafraid.IfsuchapowerexistedinAdarlan…

Yreneswallowed.“I think…I thinkit’sonly—onlytheechoofsomethingbigger. Like a tattoo or a brand. It is not living, and yet…” She flexed herfingers. Ifamereprobingof thedarknesswithhermagichad triggeredsucharesponse,thenafull-ononslaught…“Tellmewhatthatis.IfIamgoingtobedealingwith…withthat,Ineedtoknow.Everythingyoucantellme.”

“Ican’t.”Yreneopenedhermouth.Butthelordflickedhisgazetowardtheopendoor.

Herwarningtohimsilentlyechoed.“Thenweshalltrytoworkaroundit,”shedeclared.“Situp.Iwanttoinspectyourneck.”

Heobeyed,andsheobservedhimwhilehisheavilymuscledabdomeneasedhimupright,thenhecarefullyswunghisfeetandlegstothefloor.Good.Thathehadnot just thismuchmobility,but thesteady,calmpatiencetoworkwithhisbody…Good.

Yrenekeptthattoherselfwhileshestrodeonstill-wobblykneestothedeskwhereshe’dleft thevialsofamberfluid—massageoilspressedfromrosemaryand lavender fromestates justbeyondAntica’swalls, andeucalyptus from thefarsouth.

Sheselectedtheeucalyptus,thecrisp,smotheringscentcoilingaroundherasshepriedoff the stopper from thevial and tookup a placebesidehimon thecouch.Soothing,thatscent.Forbothofthem.

Seated together on that couch, he indeed towered over her—the muscledmass of him enough to make her understand why he’d been so adept at hisposition.Beingperchedbesidehimwasdifferent,somehow,thanstandingabove

him,touchinghim.SittingbesideaLordofAdarlan…Yrenedidn’tletthethoughtsettleasshepooledasmallamountoftheoilinto

her palm and rubbed her hands together to warm it. He inhaled deeply, as iftakingthescentintohislungs,andYrenedidn’tbothertospeakasshelaidherhandsuponhisnape.

Broad, sweeping strokes around and down the broad column of his neck.Overhisshoulders.

He let out a deep groan as she passed over a knot between his neck andshoulder,thesoundofitreverberatingintoherpalms,thenstiffened.“Sorry.”

She ignored the apology, digging her thumbs into the area. Another noiserumbled out of him. Perhaps it made her cruel not to comment on his slightembarrassment, not to dismiss it. But Yrene just leaned in, sliding her palmsdownhisback,givingawideberthtothathorridmark.

She reined her magic in tightly, not letting her power brush up against itagain.

“Tellmewhatyouknow,”shemurmuredinhisear,hercheekcloseenoughtoscrapethefaintstubblecoatinghisjaw.“Now.”

He waited a moment, listening for anyone nearby. And as Yrene’s handsstrokedoverhisneck,kneadingmusclesthatwereknottedenoughtomakehercringe,LordWestfallbeganwhispering.

ToYreneTowers’scredit,herhandsdidnotfalteroncewhileChaolmurmuredinherearabouthorrorsevenadarkgodcouldnotconjure.

Wyrdgates andWyrdstone andWyrdhounds.TheValg andErawan and hisprinces and collars. Even to him, it sounded no more than a bedtime story,something his mother might have once whispered during those long winternightsinAnielle,thewildwindshowlingaroundthestonekeep.

Hedidnot tellherof thekeys.Of thekingwhohadbeenenslavedfor two

decades. OfDorian’s own enslavement. He did not tell herwho had attackedhim, orPerrington’s true identity.Only thepower theValgwielded, the threattheyposed.ThattheysidedwithPerrington.

“So this—agent of these… demons. It was his power that hit you here,”Yrenemused inanear-whisper,handhoveringover thespotonhisspine.Shedidn’tdaretouchit,hadavoidedthatareacompletelywhileshe’dmassagedhim,as if dreading contact with that dark echo again. She indeed nowmoved herhandovertohisleftshoulderandresumedhergloriouskneading.Hebarelykeptin his groan at the tension she eased from his aching back and shoulders, hisupperarms,hisneckandlowerhead.

Hehadn’tknownhowknottedtheywere—howhardhe’dworkedhimselfintraining.

“Yes,”hesaidat last,hisvoicestill low.“Itmeant tokillme,but…Iwasspared.”

“Bywhat?”Thefearhadlongfadedfromhervoice;notremorlingeredinherhands.Butlittlewarmthhadreplacedthem,either.

Chaolangledhishead,lettingherworkamusclesotightithadhimgrindinghisteeth.“Atalismanthatguardedmeagainstsuchevil—andastrokeofluck.”Of mercy, from a king who had tried to pull that final punch. Not just as akindnesstohim,buttoDorian.

Yrene’smiraculoushandsstilled.Shepulledback,searchinghisface.“AelinGalathyniusdestroyedtheglasscastle.Thatwaswhyshedidit—whyshetookRifthold,too.Todefeatthem?”Andwherewereyou?washerunspokendemand.“Yes.”Andhefoundhimselfaddingintoherear,hiswordslittlemorethana

rumble,“She,Nesryn,andIworkedtogether.Withmanyothers.”Who he had not heard from, had no idea where they were. Off fighting,

scrambling to save their lands, their future, while he was here. Unable to somuchasevengetaprivateaudiencewithaprince,letalonethekhagan.

Yreneconsidered.“Thoseare thehorrorsallyingwithPerrington,”shesaidsoftly.“Whatthearmieswillbefighting.”

Fearreturnedtoblanchherface,butheofferedwhattruthhecould.“Yes.”“Andyou—youwillbefightingthem?”Hegaveherabittersmile.“IfyouandIcanfigurethisout.”Ifyoucandothe

impossible.Butshedidnotreturntheamusement.Yreneonlyscootedbackonthesofa,

assessinghim,waryanddistant.Foramoment,hethoughtshe’dsaysomething,ask him something, but she only shook her head. “I havemuch to look into.BeforeIdaregoanyfurther.”Shegesturedtohisback,andherealizedthathewasstillsittinginhisundershorts.

Hebitdownontheurgetoreachforhisclothes.“Istherearisk—toyou?”Iftherewas—

“Idon’tknow.I…Itrulyhaveneverencounteredanythinglikethisbefore.Ishouldliketolookintoit,beforeIbegintreatingyouandcomposeanexerciseregimen.IneedtodosomeresearchintheTorrelibrarytonight.”

“Of course.” If this damned injury got themboth hurt in the process, he’drefuse.Hedidn’t knowwhat thehell he’ddo,buthe’d refuse to let her touchhim.And for the risk, the effort…“Younevermentioned your fee. For yourhelp.”

Ithadtobeexorbitant.Ifthey’dsenttheirbest,ifshehadsuchskill—Yrene’sbrowsfurrowed.“Ifyouaresoinclined,anydonationmaybemade

to help the upkeep of the Torre and its staff, but there is no price, noexpectation.”

“Why?”Herhandslidintoherpocketassherose.“IwasgiventhisgiftbySilba.Itis

notrighttochargeforwhatwasgrantedforfree.”Silba—GoddessofHealing.Hehadknownoneotheryoungwomanwhowasgods-blessed.Nowonder

theybothpossessedsuchunbankedfireintheireyes.Yrenetookhervialofthatlovely-smellingoilandbeganpackingupherbag.“Whydidyoudecidetocomebacktohelpme?”Yrenepaused,herslimbodygoingrigid.Thensheturnedtohim.Awinddriftedinfromthegarden,blowingthestrandsofherhair,stillhalf-

up,overherchestandshoulder.“IthoughtyouandCaptainFaliqwouldusemyrefusalagainstmeoneday.”

“Wedon’tplantolivehereforever.”Nomatterwhatelseshe’dimplied.Yreneshrugged.“NeitherdoI.”Shepackeduptherestofherbagandheadedforthedoor.Hestoppedherwithhisnextquestion.“Youplantoreturn?”ToFenharrow?

Tohell?Yrene looked to the door, to the servants listening, waiting, in the foyer

beyond.“Yes.”ShewishednotjusttoreturntoFenharrow,butalsotohelpinthewar.Forin

thiswarhealerswouldbeneeded.Desperately.Nowondershehadpaledatthehorrorshehadwhispered intoherear.Notonly forwhat theywould face,butwhatmightcometokillher,too.

Andthoughherfaceremainedwan,asshenotedhisraisedbrows,sheadded,“Itistherightthingtodo.WithallIhavebeengranted—allthekindnessthrownmyway.”

Hedebatedwarningher to stay, to remainhere, safe andprotected.But henotedthewarinessinhereyesassheawaitedhisanswer.Others,herealized,hadlikelyalreadycautionedagainstherleaving.Perhapsmadeherdoubtherself,justabit.

SoChaol instead said, “CaptainFaliq and I arenot the sort of peoplewhowouldholdagrudgeagainstyou—trytopunishyouforit.”

“Youservedamanwhodidsuchthings.”Andlikelyactedonhisbehalf.“Would you believe me if I told you that he left his dirty work to others

beyondmycommand,andIwasoftennottold?”Herexpressiontoldhimenough.Shereachedforthedoorknob.“I knew,” he said quietly. “That he had done and was doing unspeakable

things.IknewthatforceshadtriedtofightagainsthimwhenIwasaboy,andhehad smashed them to bits. I—to become captain, I had to yield certain …privileges.Assets. I did sowillingly, becausemy focuswas on protecting thefuture.OnDorian.Evenasboys,Iknewhewasnothisfather’sson.Iknewabetterfuturelaywithhim,ifIcouldmakesureDorianlivedlongenough.Ifhenotonlylived,butalsosurvived—emotionally.Ifhehadanally,atruefriend,inthatcourtofvipers.Neitherofuswasoldenough,strongenough tochallengehisfather.Wesawwhathappenedtothosewhowhisperedofrebellion.IknewthatifI,ifhesetonefootoutofline,hisfatherwouldkillhim,heirorno.SoIcravedthestability,thesafetyofthestatusquo.”

Yrene’sfacehadnotaltered,notsoftenedorhardened.“Whathappened?”Hereachedforhisshirtatlast.Fitting,hethought,thathe’dlaidsomepartof

himselfbarewhilesittingheremostlynaked.“Wemetsomeone.WhosetusalldownapathIfoughtagainstuntilitcostmeandothersmuch.Toomuch.Soyoumaylookatmewithresentment,YreneTowers,andIwillnotblameyouforit.ButbelievemewhenIsaythat there isnooneinErileawholoathesmemorethanIdomyself.”

“Forthepathyoufoundyourselfforceddown?”Heslunghisshirtoverhisheadandreachedforhispants.“Forfightingthat

pathtobeginwith—forthemistakesImadeindoingso.”“Andwhatpathdoyouwalknow?HowshalltheHandofAdarlanshapeits

future?”Noonehadaskedhim.NotevenDorian.“I am still learning—still … deciding,” he admitted. “But it begins with

wipingPerringtonandtheValgfromourhomeland.”She caught the word—our. She chewed on her lip, as if tasting it in her

mouth. “What happened onMidsummer, exactly?”He’d been vague.Had nottoldheroftheattack,thedaysandmonthsleadingtoit,theaftermath.

Thatchamberflashedinhismind—aheadrollingacrossthemarble,Dorianscreaming.Blendingwithanothermoment,ofDorianstandingbesidehisfather,facecoldasdeathandcruelerthananylevelofHellas’srealm.“Itoldyouwhathappened,”hesimplysaid.

Yrenestudiedhim,toyingwiththestrapofherheavyleathersatchel.“Facingtheemotionalconsequencesofyourinjurywillbeapartofthisprocess.”

“I don’t need to face anything. I knowwhat happened before, during, andafter.”

Yrene stood perfectly still, those too-old eyes utterly unfazed. “We’ll seeaboutthat.”

Thechallengehangingintheairbetweenthem,dreadpoolinginhisstomach,thewordscurdledinChaol’smouthassheturnedonherheelandleft.

9

Twohourslater,herheadleaningagainstthelipofthetubcarvedintothestoneflooroftheenormouscavernbeneaththeTorre,Yrenestaredintothedarknesslurkinghighabove.

TheWombwasnearlyemptyinthemidafternoon.Heronlycompanywasthetrickleofthenaturalhotspringwatersflowingthroughthedozentubsbuiltintothe cave floor, and the drip ofwater from jagged stalactites landing upon thecountless bells strung on chains between the pillars of pale stone that rose upfromtheancientrock.

Candleshadbeentuckedintonaturalalcoves,orhadbeenclumpedateitherendofeachsunkentub,gildingthesulfuroussteamandsettingtheowlscarvedintoeverywallandslickpillarinflickeringrelief.

Aplushclothcushioningherheadagainsttheunforgivingstonelipofthetub,Yrene breathed in theWomb’s thick air, watching it rise and vanish into theclear,crispdarknesssquattingfaroverhead.Allaroundherechoedhigh-pitched,sweetringing,occasionallyinterruptedbysolitaryclearnotes.

NooneintheTorreknewwhohadfirstbroughtthevariousbellsofsilverandglassandbronzedown to theopenchamberofSilba’sWomb.Somebellshadbeentheresolongtheywerecrustedwithmineraldeposits,theirringingaswaterdroppedfromthestalactitesnownomorethanafaintplunk.Butitwastradition—oneYreneherselfhadparticipatedin—foreachnewacolytetobringabellofherchoosing.TohavehernameanddateofentryintotheTorreengravedonit,

andtothenfindaplaceforit,beforeshefirstimmersedherselfinthebubblingwaters of the Womb floor. The bell to hang for eternity, offering music andguidance toallhealerswhocameafterward; thevoicesof theirbelovedsistersforeversingingtothem.

And considering how many healers had passed through the Torre halls,consideringthenumberofbells,largeandsmall,thatnowhungthroughoutthespace…Theentirechamber,nearlythesizeofthekhagan’sgreathall,wasfullof the echoing, layered ringing. A steady hum that filled Yrene’s head, herbones,asshesoakedinthedeliciousheat.

Someancientarchitecthaddiscovered thehotspringsfarbeneath theTorreandconstructedanetworkof tubsbuilt into the floor so that thewater flowedbetweenthem,aconstantstreamofwarmthandmovement.Yreneheldherhandagainstoneoftheventsinthesideofthetub,lettingthewaterripplethroughherfingersonitswaytotheventontheotherend,topassbackintothestreamitself—andintotheslumberingheartoftheearth.

Yrenetookanotherdeepbreath,brushingbackthedamphairclingingtoherbrow.She’dwashedbeforeenteringthetub,asallwererequiredtodoinoneofthesmallantechambersoutsidetheWomb,tocleanawaythedustandbloodandstainsoftheworldabove.Anacolytehadbeenwaitingwithalightweightrobeof lavender—Silba’s color—for Yrene to wear into theWomb proper, whereshe’ddiscarded itbeside thepoolandstepped in,nakedsave forhermother’sring.

In thecurling steam,Yrene liftedherhandbeforeherandstudied the ring,theway the lightbentalong thegoldandsmoldered in thegarnet.Allaround,bellsrangandhummedandsang,blendingwiththetricklingwateruntilshewasadriftinastreamoflivingsound.

Water—Silba’selement.Tobatheinthesacredwatershere,untouchedbytheworld above,was to enterSilba’s very lifeblood.Yreneknew shewasnot theonlyhealerwhohadtakenthewatersandfeltasifshewereindeednestledinthe

warmthofSilba’swomb.Asifthisspacehadbeenmadeforthemalone.And thedarknessaboveher…itwasdifferent fromwhat shehadspied in

LordWestfall’s body.The opposite of that blackness. The darkness above herwasthatofcreation,ofrest,ofunformedthought.

Yrenestared into it, into thewombofSilbaherself.Andcouldhaveswornshe felt something staringback.Listening,while she thought through allLordWestfallhadtoldher.

Thingsoutofancientnightmares.Thingsfromanotherrealm.Demons.Darkmagics.Poisedtounleashthemselvesuponherhomeland.Eveninthesoothing,warmwaters,Yrene’sbloodchilled.

Onthosenorthern,far-offbattlefields,shehadexpectedtotreatstabwoundsand arrows and shatteredbones.Expected to treat anyof thediseases that ranrampantinarmycamps,especiallyduringthecoldermonths.

Notwounds from creatures that destroyed soul aswell as body. That usedtalonsandteethandpoison.Themaleficentpowercoiledaroundtheinjurytohisspine…Itwasnotsomefracturedboneortangled-upnerves.Well,ittechnicallywas,butthatfellmagicwastiedtoit.Boundtoit.

Shestillcouldnotshaketheoilyfeel,thesensethatsomethinginsideithadstirred.Awoken.

Theringingofthebellsflowedandebbed,lullinghermindtorest,toopen.She’dgotothelibrarytonight.Seeiftherewasanyinformationregardingall

the lord had claimed, if perhaps someone before her had any thoughts onmagicallygrantedinjuries.

Yetitwouldnotbeaninjurythatsolelyrelieduponhertoheal.She’dsuggestedasmuchbeforeleaving.Buttobattlethatthingwithinhim

…How?Yrenemouthedthewordintothesteamanddark,intotheringing,bubbling

quiet.Shecouldstillseeherprobeofmagicrecoiling,still feel itsrepulsionfrom

thatdemon-bornpower.Theoppositeofwhatshewas,whathermagicwas.Inthedarknesshoveringoverhead,shecouldseeitall.Inthedarknessfarabove,tuckedintoSilba’searthlywomb…itbeckoned.

Asiftosay,Youmustenterwhereyoufeartotread.Yreneswallowed.Todelve into that festeringpitofpower thathad latched

itselfontothelord’sback…Youmustenter,thesweetdarknesswhispered,thewatersingingalongwithit

whileitflowedaroundandpasther.AsifshewereswimminginSilba’sveins.Youmustenter,itmurmuredagain,thedarknessaboveseemingtospread,to

inchcloser.Yreneletit.Andletherselfstaredeeper,movedeeper,intothatdark.To fight that festering force within the lord, to risk it for some test of

Hafiza’s, to risk it for a son of Adarlan when her own people were beingattackedorbattlinginthatdistantwarandeverydaydelayedher…Ican’t.Youwon’t,thelovelydarknesschallenged.Yrene balked. She had promised Hafiza to remain, to heal him, but what

she’dfelttoday…Itcouldtakeanuntoldamountoftime.Ifshecouldevenfinda way to help him. She’d promised to heal him, and though some injuriesrequiredthehealertowalktheroadwiththeirpatient,thisinjuryofhis—

Thedarknessseemedtorecede.Ican’t,Yreneinsisted.Itdidnotansweragain.Distantly,as ifshewerenowfaraway,abellrang,

clearandpure.Yrene blinked at the sound, theworld tumbling into focus. Her limbs and

breathreturning,asifshe’ddriftedabovethem.Shepeeredatthedarkness—findingonlysmooth,veilingblack.Hollowand

empty, as if it had been vacated. There, and gone. As if she had repelled it,disappointedit.

Yrene’sheadspunslightlyasshesatup,stretchinglimbsthathadgoneabit

stiff,eveninthemineral-richwater.Howlonghadshesoaked?Sherubbedatherslickarms,heartthunderingasshescannedthedarkness,as

ifitmightstillhaveanotheranswerforwhatshemustdo,whatlaybeforeher.Analternative.

Nonecame.A sound shuffled through the cavern, distinctly not ringing or trickling or

lapping.Aquiet,shudderingintakeofbreath.Yrene turned,waterdrippingoff theerrant strandsofhair thathadescaped

theknotatopherhead,andfoundanotherhealerhadenteredtheWombatsomepoint,claimingatubontheoppositeendoftheparallelrowsflankingeithersideof the chamber.With the drifting veils of steam, it was nearly impossible toidentifyher,thoughYrenecertainlydidn’tknowthenameofeveryhealerintheTorre.

ThesoundraspedthroughtheWombagain,andYrenesatupfarther,handsbracingonthecool,darkfloorasshestoodfromthewater.Steamcurledoffherskinasshereachedforthethinrobeandtieditaroundher,thefabricclingingtohersoakedbody.

TheWomb’s protocolwaswell established. Itwas a place for solitude, forsilence.HealersenteredthewaterstoreconnectwithSilba,tocenterthemselves.Somesoughtguidance; somesoughtabsolution;somesought to releaseahardday’sworthofemotionstheycouldnotshowbeforepatients,perhapscouldnotshowbeforeanyone.

And though Yrene knew the healer across the Womb was entitled to herspace,thoughshewaspreparedtoleaveandgrantthehealerprivacytoweep…

Thewoman’sshouldersshook.Anothermuffledsob.Onnear-silentfeet,Yreneapproachedthehealerinthetub.Sawtherivulets

downheryoungface—her lightbrownskinandgold-kissedumberhairnearlyidenticaltoYrene’sown.Sawthebleaknessinthewoman’stawnyeyesasshegazedatthedarknesshighabove,tearsdrippingoffherslenderjawandintothe

ripplingwater.Thereweresomewoundsthatcouldnotbehealed.Someillnessesthateven

thehealers’powercouldnotstop,ifrootedtoodeeply.Iftheyhadcometoolate.Iftheydidnotmarktherightsigns.

ThehealerdidnotlookatherasYrenesilentlysatbesidehertub,curlingherknees to her chest before she picked up the healer’s hand and interlaced theirfingers.

So Yrene sat there, holding the healer’s hand while she silently wept, thedriftingsteamfulloftheclear,sweetringingofthosebells.

Afteruntoldminutes,thewomaninthetubmurmured,“Shewasthreeyearsold.”

Yrenesqueezedthehealer’sdamphand.Therewerenowordstocomfort,tosoothe.

“Iwish…”Thewoman’svoicebroke,herentirebodyshaking,candlelightjumpingalongherbeigeskin.“SometimesIwishthisgifthadneverbeengiventome.”

Yrenestilledatthewords.The woman at last turned her head, scanning Yrene’s face, a flicker of

recognition in her eyes. “Do you ever feel that way?” A raw, unguardedquestion.

No. She hadn’t. Not once. Not even when the smoke of her mother’simmolationhadstunghereyesandsheknewshecoulddonothingtosaveher.Shehadneveroncehatedthegiftshe’dbeengiven,becauseinall thoseyears,shehadneverbeenalonethankstoit.Evenwithmagicgoneinherhomeland,Yrene had still felt it, like awarm hand clasping her shoulder.A reminder ofwhoshewas,whereshehadcomefrom,alivingtethertocountlessgenerationsofTowerswomenwhohadwalkedthispathbeforeher.

The healer searched Yrene’s eyes for the answer she wanted. The answerYrene could not give. So Yrene just squeezed the woman’s hand again and

staredintothedarkness.Youmustenterwhereyoufeartotread.Yreneknewwhatshehadtodo.Andwishedshedidn’t.

“Well?HasYrenehealedyouyet?”Seated at the high table in the khagan’s great hall, Chaol turned to where

Princess Hasar sat several seats down. A cooling breeze that smelled ofoncoming rain flowed through the open windows to rustle the white death-bannershangingfromtheirupperframes.

Kashin and Sartaq glanced their way—the latter giving his sister adisapprovingfrown.

“TalentedasYrenemaybe,”Chaolsaidcarefully,awarethatmanylistenedevenwithoutacknowledgingthem,“weareonlyintheinitialstagesofwhatwilllikelybealongprocess.SheleftthisafternoontodosomeresearchattheTorrelibrary.”

Hasar’s lips curled into a poisoned smile. “How fortunate for you, thatweshallhavethepleasureofyourcompanyforawhileyet.”

Asifhe’dwillinglystayhereforamomentlonger.ButNesrynanswered, stillglowing fromhoursagain spentwithher family

thatafternoon,“Anychanceforourtwolandstobuildbondsisafortunateone.”“Indeed,”wasallHasarsaid,andwentbacktopickingatthechilledtomato-

and-okradishonherplate.Herloverwasnowheretobeseen—butneitherwasYrene.Thehealer’sfearearlier…he’dbeenabletoalmosttasteitintheair.Butsheer will had steadied her—will and temper, Chaol supposed. He wonderedwhichwouldwinoutintheend.

Indeed, some small part of him hoped Yrene would stay away, if only toavoid what she so heavily implied they’d also be doing: talking. Discussingthings.Himself.

He’dmakeitcleartohertomorrowthathecouldhealjustfinewithoutit.Forlongminutes,Chaolremainedinsilence,markingthoseatthetable,the

servantsflittingby.Theguardsatthewindowsandarchways.Themincedlambturnedleadeninhisstomachatthesightoftheiruniforms,

at how they stood so tall and proud. How many meals had he himself beenpositionedbythedoors,oroutinthecourtyard,monitoringhisking?Howmanytimeshadhelaidintohismenforslouching,forchatteringamongstthemselves,andreassignedthemtolesserwatches?

Oneofthekhagan’sguardsnoticedhisstareandgaveacurtnod.Chaollookedawayquickly,hispalmsclammy.Butheforcedhimselftokeep

observing the faces around him, what they wore and how they moved andsmiled.

No sign—none—of anywicked force, whether dispatched fromMorath orelsewhere.Nosignbeyondthosewhitebannerstohonortheirfallenprincess.

AelinhadclaimedtheValghadareektothem,andhe’dseentheirbloodrunblack from mortal veins more times than he cared to count, but short ofdemandingeveryoneinthishallcutopentheirhands…

Itactuallywasn’tabadidea—ifhecouldgetanaudiencewiththekhagantoconvincehimtoorderit.Tomarkwhoeverfled,ormadeexcuses.

An audience with the khagan to convince him of the danger, and perhapsmakesomeprogresswiththisalliance.SothattheprincesandprincessessittingaroundhimmightneverwearaValgcollar.Theirlovedonesneverknowwhatitwastolookintotheirfacesandseenothingbutancientcrueltysmirkingback.

Chaoltookasteadyingbreathandleanedforward,towherethekhagandinedafewseatsdown,immersedinconversationwithavizierandPrincessDuva.

The khagan’s now-youngest seemed to watch more than participate, andthoughherprettyfacewassoftenedwithasweetsmile,hereyesmissednothing.ItwasonlywhenthevizierpausedforasipofwineandDuvaturnedtowardherquiethusbandonherleftthatChaolclearedhisthroatandsaidtothekhagan,“I

wouldthankyouagain,GreatKhagan,forofferingtheservicesofyourhealers.”Thekhaganslidweary,hardeyestowardhim.“Theyarenomoremyhealers

than theyareyours,LordWestfall.”He returned to thevizier,who frownedatChaolforinterrupting.

ButChaolsaid,“Iwashopingtoperhapsbegrantedthehonorofameetingwithyouinprivate.”

Nesryndugherelbowintohisinwarningassilencerippleddownthetable.Chaolrefusedtotakehisstarefromanywherebutthemanbeforehim.

Thekhaganonlysaid,“Youmaydiscusssuch thingswithmyChiefVizier,whomaintainsmydailyschedule.”Ajerkofthechintowardashrewd-eyedmanmonitoringfromdownthetable.OneglanceattheChiefVizier’sthinsmiletoldChaolthemeetingwasn’tgoingtohappen.“Myfocusremainsonassistingmywife throughhermourning.”Thegleamofsorrowin thekhagan’seyeswasn’tfeigned.Indeed,therewasnosignofthekhagan’swifeatthetable,notevenaplaceleftoutforher.

Distantthundergrumbledinthethicksilencethatfollowed.Notthetimeortheplacetoinsist.Amangrievingforalostchild…He’dbeafooltopush.Andcoarsebeyondmeasure.

Chaoldippedhischin.“Forgiveme for intruding in thisdifficult time.”Heignored the smirk twisting Arghun’s face while the prince observed from hisfather’sside.Duva,atleast,offeredhimasympatheticsmile-wince,asiftosay,Youarenotthefirsttobeshutdown.Givehimtime.

Chaolgave theprincessashallownodbefore returning tohisownplate. Ifthe khaganwas set on ignoring him, grief or no… perhaps therewere otheravenuestoconveyinformation.

Otherwaystogainsupport.He glanced to Nesryn. She’d informed him when she’d returned before

dinnerthatshe’dhadnoluckseekingoutSartaqthismorning.Andnow,withtheprince seated across from them, sipping from his wine, Chaol found himself

casuallyasking,“Iheardthatyourlegendaryruk,Kadara,ishere,Prince.”“Ghastly beast,”Hasarmuttered halfheartedly into her okra, earning a half

smilefromSartaq.“Hasar isstill sore thatKadara tried toeatherwhen theyfirstmet,”Sartaq

confided.Hasarrolledhereyes,thoughaglimmerofamusementshonethere.Kashinsuppliedfromafewseatsdown,“Youcouldhearherscreechingfrom

theharbor.”ToChaol’ssurprise,Nesrynasked,“Theprincessortheruk?”Sartaq laughed, a startled, bright sound, his cool eyes lighting.Hasar only

gaveNesrynawarninglookbeforeturningtothevizierbesideher.KashingrinnedatNesrynandwhispered,“Both.”A chuckle escaped Chaol’s throat, though he reined it in at Hasar’s glare.

Nesrynsmiled,incliningherheadingood-willedapologytotheprincess.Yet Sartaqwatched them closely over the rim of his golden goblet. Chaol

asked,“AreyouabletoflyKadaramuchwhileyou’rehere?”Sartaqdidn’tmissabeatashenodded.“AsoftenasIcan,usuallyneardawn.

Iwasintheskiesrightafterbreakfasttoday,andreturnedjustintimefordinner,thankfully.”

HasarmutteredtoNesrynwithoutbreakingfromtheviziercommandingherattention,“He’snevermissedamealinhislife.”

Kashinbarkedalaughthathadeventhekhagandownthetableglancingtheirway,Arghunscowlingwithdisapproval.Whenhadtheroyalslastlaughedsincetheirsister’spassing?Fromthekhagan’stightface,perhapsawhile.

ButSartaqtossedhislongbraidoverashoulderbeforepattingtheflat,firmstomach beneath his fine clothes. “Why do you think I come home so often,sister,ifnotforthegoodfood?”

“Toplotandscheme?”Hasaraskedsweetly.Sartaq’ssmileturnedsubdued.“IfonlyIhadtimeforsuchthings.”

AshadowseemedtopassoverSartaq’sface—andChaolmarkedwhere theprince’s gaze drifted. The white banners still streamed from the windows sethighinthewallsofthehall,nowcaughtinwhatwassurelytheheraldingwindof a thunderstorm. Amanwho perhapswished he’d possessed extra time formorevitalpartsofhislife.

Nesrynaskedatouchsoftly,“Youflyeveryday,then,Prince?”Sartaq dragged his stare from his youngest sister’s death-banners to assess

Nesryn.Morewarrior thancourtier,yethenodded—inanswer toanunspokenrequest.“Ido,Captain.”

WhenSartaqturnedtorespondtoaquestionfromDuva,ChaolexchangedaglancewithNesryn—allheneededtoconveyhisorder.Beintheaerieatdawn.Findoutwherehestandsinthiswar.

10

AsummerstormgallopedinofftheNarrowSeajustbeforemidnight.Even tucked into the sprawling library at the base of the Torre,Yrene felt

everyshudderofthunder.Occasionalflashesoflightningsliceddownthenarrowcorridorsofthestacksandhalls,chasedbywindthatcreptthroughthecracksinthepalestone,gutteringthecandlesinitswake.Mostwereshieldedwithinglasslanterns, the books and scrolls too precious to risk open flame. But thewindfound them in there, too—and set the glass lanterns hanging from the archedceilingsswingingandgroaning.

Seated at an oak desk built into an alcove far from the brighter lights andbusier areasof the library,Yrenewatched themetal lanterndangling from thearchaboveherswayinthatstormwind.Starsandcrescentmoonshadbeencutfromitssidesandfilledwithcoloredglassthatcastsplotchesofblueandredandgreenonthestonewallbeforeher.Thesplotchesbobbedanddipped,alivingseaofcolor.

Thundercracked,soloudsheflinched,theancientchairbeneathhercreakinginobjection.

Afewfeminineyelpsansweredit,thengiggles.Acolytes—studyinglatefortheirexaminationsnextweek.Yrenehuffeda laugh,mostlyatherself,andshookherheadasshefocused

againuponthetextsNoushahaddugupforherhoursago.YreneandtheHeadLibrarianhadneverbeenclose,andYrenewascertainly

not inclined to seekout thewoman if she spottedher in themesshall, but…Noushawasfluent infifteenlanguages,someof themdead,andhadtrainedatthefamedParvaniLibraryonthewesterncoast,nestledamidthelushandspice-richlandsoutsideBalruhn.

The City of Libraries, they called Balruhn. If the Torre Cesme was thedomain of healers, the Parvaniwas the domain of knowledge. Even the greatroadthatlinkedBalruhntothemightySister-Road,themainarterythroughthecontinentthatflowedfromAnticaallthewaytoTigana,hadbeennamedforit:theScholars’Road.

Yrenedidn’tknowwhathadbroughtNoushahereall thosedecadesago,orwhattheTorrehadofferedhertostay,butshewasaninvaluableresource.Andforallofherunsmilingnature,NoushahadalwaysfoundYrenetheinformationsheneeded,nomatterhowoutlandishtherequest.

Tonight,thewomanhadnotlookedpleasedwhenYrenehadapproachedherin themesshall, apologies falling fromher lips for interrupting the librarian’smeal.Yrenemighthavewaiteduntilthemorning,butshehadlessonstomorrow,andLordWestfallafterthat.

NoushahadmetYrenehereafter finishinghermeal,andhad listened, longfingersfoldedinfrontofherflowinggrayrobes,toYrene’sstory—andneeds:

Information.Anyshecouldfind.Wounds from demons. Wounds from dark magic. Wounds from unnatural

sources.Woundsthatleftechoesbutdidnotappeartocontinuetowreakhavocuponthevictim.Woundsthatleftmarksbutnoscartissue.

Noushahad found them.Stack after stackof books andbundles of scrolls.She’dpiledthemonthedeskinsilence.SomewereinHalha.SomeinYrene’sowntongue.SomeinEyllwe.Somewere…

Yrenescratchedherheadatthescrollshe’dweightedwiththesmoothonyxstonesfromthejarsetoneachlibrarydesk.

Even Nousha had admitted she did not recognize the strange markings—

runesofsomesort.Fromwhere,shehadnoinkling,either,onlythatthescrollshad been wedged beside the Eyllwe tomes in a level of the library so deepbeneaththegroundthatYrenehadneverventuredthere.

Yreneranafingeroverthemarkingbeforeher,tracingitsstraightlinesandcurvingarcs.

The parchment was old enough that Nousha had threatened to flay Yrenealiveifshegotanyfood,water,ordrinkonit.WhenYrenehadaskedjusthowold,Noushahadshookherhead.Ahundredyears?Yrenehadasked.Nousha had shrugged and said that judging by the location, the type of

parchment,andinkpigment,itwasovertentimesthat.Yrene cringed at the paper she was so flagrantly touching, and eased the

weighting stones off the corners.None of the books in her own language hadyielded anything valuable—more old wives’ warnings about ill-wishers andspiritsofairandrot.

NothinglikewhatLordWestfallhaddescribed.Afaint,distantclickechoedfromthegloomtoherright,andYreneliftedher

head, scanning thedarkness, ready to leapontoher chair at the first signof ascurryingmouse.

Itseemedeventhelibrary’sbelovedBaastCats—thirty-sixfemales,nomore,noless—couldnotkeepoutallvermin,despitetheirwarrior-goddessnamesake.

Yrene again scanned the gloom to her right, cringing, wishing she couldsummononeoftheberyl-eyedcatstogohunting.

ButnoonesummonedaBaastCat.Noone.Theyappearedwhenandwheretheywilled,andnotamomentbefore.

TheBaastCatshaddwelledintheTorrelibraryforaslongasithadexisted,yetnoneknewwheretheyhadcomefrom,orhowtheywerereplacedwhenageclaimed them. Each was as individual as any human, save for those beryl-coloredeyestheyeachbore,andthefactthatallwerejustaspronetocurlupin

a lap as theywere to shun company altogether. Some of the healers, old andyoung alike, swore the cats could step through pools of shadow to appear onanother level of the library; some swore the cats had been caught pawingthroughthepagesofopenbooks—reading.

Well,it’dcertainlybehelpfuliftheybotheredtoreadlessandhuntmore.Butthe cats answered to no one and nothing, except, perhaps, their namesake, orwhatevergodhadfoundaquiethomein thelibrary,withinSilba’sshadow.TooffendoneBaastCatwastoinsultthemall,andeventhoughYrenelovedmostanimals—withtheexceptionofsomeinsects—shehadbeensuretotreatthecatskindly, occasionally leaving morsels of food, or providing a belly rub or earscratchwhenevertheydeignedtocommandthem.

But there was no sign of those green eyes glinting in the dark, or of ascurryingmouse fleeing their path, soYrene loosedabreath and set aside theancient scroll, carefully placing it at the edge of the desk before pulling anEyllwetometowardher.

Thebookwasboundinblackleather,heavyasadoorstop.SheknewalittleoftheEyllwelanguagethankstolivingsoclosetoitsborderwithamotherwhospokeitfluently—certainlynotfromthefatherwhohadhailedfromthere.

Noneof theTowerswomenhad evermarried, preferring either loverswholeftthemwithapresentthatarrivedninemonthslaterorwhoperhapsstayedayearortwobeforemovingon.Yrenehadneverknownherfather,neverlearnedanything about who he was other than a traveler who had stopped at hermother’scottageforthenight,seekingshelterfromawildstormthatsweptoverthegrassyplain.

Yrene traced her fingers over the gilt title, sounding out the words in thelanguageshehadnotspokenorheardinyears.

“The…The…”She tappedher fingeron the title.SheshouldhaveaskedNousha. The librarian had already promised to translate some other texts thathad caught her eye, but… Yrene sighed again. “The…” Poem. Ode. Lyric

—“Song,”shebreathed.“TheSongof…”Start.Onset—“Beginning.”TheSongofBeginning.The demons—the Valg—were ancient, Lord Westfall had said. They had

waitedaneternitytostrike.Partofnear-forgottenmyths;littlemorethanbedsidestories.

Yreneflippedopenthecover,andcringedattheunfamiliartangleofwritingwithinthetableofcontents.Thetypeitselfwasold,thebooknotevenprintedonapress.Handwritten.Withsomewordvariationsthathadlongsincediedout.

Lightning flashed again, and Yrene rubbed at her temple as she leafedthroughthemusty,yellow-linedpages.

Ahistorybook.That’sallitwas.Hereyesnaggedonapage,andshepaused,backtrackinguntiltheillustration

reappeared.Ithadbeendone in sparingcolors:blacks,whites, reds, and theoccasional

yellow.All painted by a master’s hand, no doubt an illustration of whatever was

writtenbeneathit.The illustration revealed a barren crag, an army of soldiers in dark armor

kneelingbeforeit.Kneelingbeforewhatwasatopthecrag.Atoweringgate.Nowall flanking it,nokeepbehind it.As ifsomeonehad

builtthegatewayofblackstoneoutofthinair.Therewerenodoorswithinthearchway.Onlyswirlingblacknothing.Beams

of it shot from the void, some foul corruption of the sun, falling upon thesoldierskneelingbeforeit.

Shesquintedatthefiguresintheforeground.Theirbodieswerehuman,butthehandsclutchingtheirswords…Clawed.Twisted.

“Valg,”Yrenewhispered.Thundercrackedinanswer.

Yrene scowled at the swaying lantern as the reverberations from thethunderheadrumbledbeneathherfeet,upherlegs.

She flipped through the pages until the next illustration appeared. Threefigures stood before the same gate, the drawing too distant to make out anyfeaturesbeyondtheirmalebodies,tallandpowerful.

Sheranafingeroverthecaptionbelowandtranslated:Orcus.Mantyx.Erawan.ThreeValgKings.WieldersoftheKeys.Yrene chewed on her bottom lip. Lord Westfall had not mentioned such

things.Butiftherewasagate…thenitwouldneedakeytoopen.Orseveral.Ifthebookwascorrect.Midnightchimedinthegreatclockofthelibrary’smainatrium.Yrene riffled through the pages, to another illustration. Itwas divided into

threepanels.Everythingthelordhadsaid—shehadbelievedhim,ofcourse,but…itwas

true.Ifthewoundwasn’tproofenough,thesetextsofferednootheralternative.For there in the first panel, tied down upon an altar of dark stone … a

desperateyoungman strained to freehimself from the approachof a crowneddark figure. Something swirled around the figure’s hand—some asp of blackmistandwickedthought.Norealcreature.

Thesecondpanel…Yrenecringedfromit.For therewas that youngman, eyeswide in supplication and terror,mouth

forcedopenasthatcreatureofblackmistslithereddownhisthroat.Butitwasthelastpanelthatmadeherbloodchill.Lightningflashedagain,illuminingthefinalillustration.Theyoungman’sfacehadgonestill.Unfeeling.Hiseyes…Yreneglanced

betweenthepreviousdrawingandthefinalone.Hiseyeshadbeensilverinthe

firsttwo.In the final one… they had gone black. Passable as human eyes, but the

silverhadbeenwipedawaybyunholyobsidian.Notdead.Fortheyhadshownhimrising,chainsremoved.Notathreat.No—whatevertheyhadputinsidehim…Thundergroanedagain,andmoreshrieksandgigglesfollowed.Alongwith

theslamandclatteroftheacolytesleavingforthenight.Yrenesurveyedthebookbeforeher,theotherstacksNoushahadlaidout.LordWestfallhaddescribedcollarsandringstoholdtheValgdemonswithin

ahumanhost.Butevenafter theywere removed,he’d said, theycould linger.They were merely implantation devices, and if they remained on too long,feedingofftheirhost…

Yreneshookherhead.Themaninthedrawinghadnotbeenenslaved—he’dbeeninfested.Themagichadcomefromsomeonewiththatsortofpower.Powerfromthedemonhostwithin.

Aclashoflightning,thenthunderimmediatelyonitsheels.And thenanotherclick sounded—faintandhollow—fromthedimstacks to

herright.Closernowthanthatearlieronehadbeen.Yreneglancedagaintowardthegloom,thehaironherarmsrising.Notamovementofamouse.Oreventhescrapeoffelineclawsonstoneor

bookshelf.Shehadneveronce feared forher safety,not from themomentshehadset

footwithinthesewalls,butYrenefoundherselfgoingstillasshestaredintothatgloomtoherright.Thenslowlylookedoverhershoulder.

The shelf-lined corridorwas a straight shot toward a larger hallway,whichwould,inthreeminutes’walk,takeherbacktothebright,constantlymonitoredmainatrium.Fiveminutesatmost.

Only shadows and leather and dust surrounded her, the light bobbing andtiltingwiththeswayinglanterns.

Healingmagic offered no defenses. She’d discovered such things the hardway.

ButduringthatyearattheWhitePigInn,she’dlearnedtolisten.Learnedtoreadaroom,tosensewhentheairhadshifted.Mencouldunleashstorms,too.

The grumbling echoof the thunder faded, and only silence remained in itswake.

Silence,andthecreakingoftheancientlanternsinthewind.Nootherclickissued.

Foolish—foolishtoreadsuchthingssolate.Andduringastorm.Yrene swallowed. Librarians preferred the books remainwithin the library

proper,but…SheslammedshutTheSongofBeginning, shoving it intoherbag.Mostof

the books she’d already deemed useless, but there were perhaps six more, amixtureofEyllweandothertongues.Yreneshovedthoseintoherbag,too.Andgentlyplacedthescrollsintothepocketsofhercloak,tuckedoutofview.

All while keeping one eye over her shoulder—on the hall behind her, thestackstoherright.Youwouldn’towemeanythingifyou’dusedsomecommonsense.Theyoung

stranger had snapped that at her that fateful night—after she’d savedYrene’slife.Thewordshad lingered,bitingdeep.Ashad theother lessons she’dbeentaughtbythatgirl.

AndthoughYreneknewshe’dlaughatherselfinthemorning,thoughmaybeitwasoneoftheBaastCatsstalkingsomethingintheshadows,Yrenedecidedtolistentothattugoffear,thattrickledownherspine.

Though she could have cut down dark stacks to reach the main hallwayfaster,shekept to the lights,hershouldersbackandheadhigh.Justas thegirlhadtoldher.Looklikeyou’dputupafight—bemoretroublethanyou’reworth.

Her heart pounded sowildly she could feel it in her arms, her throat. ButYrenemadehermouthahardline,hereyesbrightandcold.Lookingasfurious

asshe’deverbeen,herpaceclippedandswift.Asifshehadforgottensomethingorsomeonehadfailedtoretrieveabookforher.

Closerandcloser,shenearedtheintersectionofthatbroad,mainhallway.Towheretheacolyteswouldbetrudginguptobedintheircozydormitory.

Sheclearedherthroat,readyingtoscream.Notrape,nottheft—notsomethingthatcowardswouldratherhidefrom.Yell

fire,thestrangerhadinstructedher.Athreattoall.Ifyouareattacked,yellaboutafire.

Yrenehadrepeatedtheinstructionssomanytimesthesepasttwoandahalfyears.Tosomanywomen.Justasthestrangerhadorderedherto.Yrenehadnotthoughtshe’deveragainneedtorecitethemforherself.

Yrene hurried her steps, jaw angled. She had noweapons save for a smallknife she used for cleaning outwounds or cutting bandages—currently in thebottomofherbag.

Butthatsatchel,ladenwithbooks…Shewrappedtheleatherstrapsaroundherwrist,gettingagoodgriponit.

Awell-placedswingwouldknocksomeonetotheground.Closerandclosertothesafetyofthathallway—Fromthecornerofhereye,shesawit.Sensedit.Someoneinthenextstackover.Walkingparalleltoher.Shedidn’tdarelook.Acknowledgeit.Yrene’seyesburned,evenasshefoughttheterrorthatclaweditswayupher

body.Glimpsesofshadowsanddarkness.Stalkingher.Huntingher.Quickening itspace tograbher—cutheroffat thathallwayandsnatchher

intothedark.Commonsense.Commonsense.Running—it would know. It would know she was aware. It might strike.

Whoeveritwas.

Commonsense.A hundred feet left until the hallway, shadows pooling between the dim

lanterns,thelightsnowpreciousislandsinaseaofdarkness.Shecouldhaveswornfingerslightlythuddedastheytrailedoverthebooks

ontheothersideoftheshelf.SoYreneliftedherchinfurtherandsmiled,laughingbrightlyasshelooked

aheadtothehallway.“Maddya!Whatareyoudoingheresolate?”She hurried her pace, especially as whoever it was slowed in surprise.

Hesitation.Yrene’s foot slammed into something soft—soft and yet hard—and she bit

downheryelp—Shehadn’tseenthehealercurledonhersideintheshadowsalongtheshelf.Yrene bent, hands grappling for the woman’s thin arms, her build slender

enoughthatwhensheturnedherover—The footsteps began once more just as she turned the healer over. As she

swallowedthescreamthattriedtoshatteroutofher.Lightbrowncheeks turned tohollowedhusks, eyes stainedpurplebeneath,

lipspaleandcracked.Asimplehealer’sgownthathadlikelyfitherthatmorningnowhungloose,herslimformnowemaciated,as ifsomethinghadsuckedthelifefromher—

Sheknewthatface,gauntasitwas.Knewthegolden-brownhair,nearlythetwintoherown.ThehealerfromtheWomb,theveryoneshe’dcomfortedonlyhoursearlier—

Yrene’sfingersshookasshefumbledforapulse,theskinleatheryanddry.Nothing.Andhermagic…Therewasnolifeforittoswirltoward.Nolifeat

all.Thefootstepsontheothersideofthestackneared.Yrenestoodontrembling

knees, taking a steadying breath as she forced herself to walk again. Forcedherself toleavethatdeadhealerinthedark.Forcedherself toliftherbagasif

nothinghadhappened,asifshowingthesatcheltosomeoneahead.Butwiththeangleofthestacks—thepersondidn’tknowthat.“Just finishing up my reading for the night,” she called to her invisible

salvationahead.ShesentupasilentprayerofthankstoSilbathathervoiceheldsteadyandmerry.“Cookisexpectingmeforalastcupoftea.Wanttojoin?”

Makingitseemlikesomeonewasexpectingher:another trickshe’dpickedup.

Yreneclearedfivemorestepsbeforesherealizedwhoeveritwashadagainhalted.

Buyingherruse.Yrenedashed the last few feet to the hallway, spotted a cluster of acolytes

justemergingfromanotherhazeofstacks,andhurtledflatouttowardthem.TheireyeswidenedatYrene’sapproach,andallshewhisperedwas,“Go.”The threegirls, barelymore than fourteen, caught the tears of terror inher

eyes,thesurewhitenessofherface,anddidnotlookbehindYrene.Theydidnotdisobey.

Theywereinherclass.She’dtrainedthemformonthsnow.Theysawthestrapsofhersatchelwrappedaroundherfistandclosedranks

aroundher.Smiledbroadly,nothingatallwrong.“CometoCook’stogettea,”Yrenetoldthem,fightingtokeepherscreamfromshatteringoutofher.Dead.Ahealerwasdead—“Sheisexpectingme.”AndwillraisethealarmifIdonotarrive.Totheircredit,thosegirlsdidnottremble,didnotshowonelickofdreadas

theywalkeddownthemainhall.Astheynearedtheatrium,withitsroaringfireandthirty-sixchandeliersandthirty-sixcouchesandchairs.

AsleekblackBaastCatwaslounginginoneofthoseembroideredchairsbythe fire. And as they neared, she leaped up, hissing as fiercely as her feline-headednamesake.NotatYreneorthegirls…No,thoseberyl-coloredeyeswerenarrowedatthelibrarybehindthem.

OneofthegirlstightenedhergriponYrene’sarm.ButnotoneofthemleftYrene’ssideassheapproachedthemassivedeskoftheHeadLibrarianandherHeir.Behind them, theBaastCatheldherground—held the line—as theHeirLibrarian,ondutyforthenight,lookedupfromherbookatthecommotion.

Yrene murmured to the middle-aged woman in gray robes, “A healer hasbeengravelyattackedinthestacksoffthemainhall.Geteveryoneoutandcallfortheroyalguard.Now.”

Thewomandidnotaskquestions.Didnotfalterorshake.Sheonlynoddedbeforeshereachedforthebellboltedontothedesk’sedge.

Thelibrarianrangitthrice.Toanoutsider,itwasnomorethanafinalcall.Buttothosewholivedhere,whoknewthelibrarywasopendayandnight…Firstring:Listen.Second:Listennow.TheHeirLibrarian rang it a third time, loudandclear, thepealingechoing

downintothelibrary,intoeverydarkcornerandhallway.Thirdring:Getout.Yrenehadonceasked,whenEretiahadexplainedthewarningbellherfirst

dayhere,aftershehadtakenavownever torepeat itsmeaningtoanoutsider.Theyallhad.AndYrenehadaskedwhyitwasneeded,whohadinstalledit.

Longago,before thekhaganatehadconqueredAntica, thiscityhadpassedfrom hand to hand, victim to a dozen conquests and rulers. Some invadingarmieshadbeenkind.Afewhadnot.

Tunnelsstillexistedbeneaththelibrarythat theyhadusedtoevadethem—longsinceboardedup.

Butthewarningbelltothosewithinremained.Andforathousandyears,theTorrehadkept it.Occasionallyhaddrillswith it.Just incase.If itshouldeverhappen.

Thethirdringechoedoffstoneandleatherandwood.AndYrenecouldhaveswornsheheardthesoundofcountlessheadspoppingupfromwheretheybent

overdesks.Heardthesoundofchairsshovedbackandbooksdropped.Run,shebegged.Keeptothelights.But Yrene and the others lingered in silence, counting the seconds. The

minutes.TheBaastCatquietedherhissingandmonitored thehallbeyond theatrium,blacktailslashingoverthechaircushion.OneofthegirlsbesideYrenesprinted off to the guards by the Torre gates.Who had likely heard that bellpealingandwerealreadyrunningtowardthem.

Yrenewasshakingby the timequickstepsandrustlingclothingdrewnear.SheandtheHeirLibrarianmarkedeachfacethatemerged—eachwide-eyedfacethathurriedoutofthelibrary.

Acolytes,healers,librarians.Nooneoutofplace.TheBaastCatseemedtobecheckingthemall,too—thoseberyleyesseeingthingsperhapsbeyondYrene’scomprehension.

Armorandstompingsteps,andYreneclampeddownontheweepingreliefattheapproachofhalfadozenTorreguardsnowstalkingthroughtheopenlibrarydoors,theacolyteattheirheels.

The acolyte and her two companions remained with Yrene while sheexplained.Whiletheguardscalledforreinforcements,whiletheHeirLibrariansummonedNousha, Eretia, andHafiza. The three girls remained, two holdingYrene’stremblinghands.

Theydidnotletgo.

11

Yrenewaslate.Chaolhadcometoexpectherat ten,thoughshehadgivennoindicationof

when shemight arrive. Nesryn had left well before he’d awoken to seek outSartaqandhisruk,leavinghimheretobatheand…wait.

Andwait.Anhourin,Chaolbegangoingthroughwhatexerciseshecouldmanageon

hisown,unabletostandthesilence,theheavyheat,theendlesstrickleofwaterfrom the fountain outside. The thoughts that kept sliding back to Dorian,wonderingwherehiskingwasnowheaded.

She’dmentionedexercises—someinvolvinghislegs,howevershe’dmanageto accomplish that—but if Yrene didn’t bother to arrive on time, then hecertainlywouldn’tbothertowaitforher.

Hisarmsweretremblingbythetimetheclockonthesideboardchimednoon,littlesilverbellsatopthecarvedwoodpiecefillingthespacewithclear,brightringing. Sweat slid down his chest, his spine, his face as hemanaged to haulhimself intohischair,arms tremblingwith theeffort.Hewasabout tocall forKadjatobringhimajugofwaterandacoolclothwhenYreneappeared.

Inthesittingroom,helistenedassheenteredthemaindoor,thenhalted.ShesaidtoKadja,waitinginthefoyer,“IhaveamatterofdiscretionthatI

needyoutopersonallyoversee.”Obedientsilence.

“LordWestfallrequiresatonicforarashdevelopingonhislegs.Likelyfromsome oil you dumped into his bath.” The words were calm, yet edged. Hefrowneddownathislegs.He’dseennosuchthingthismorning,buthecertainlycouldn’t sense an itch or burning. “I needwillow bark, honey, andmint. Thekitchenswillhavethem.Tellnoonewhy.Idon’twantwordgettingaround.”

Silenceagain—thenadoorclosing.Hewatchedtheopendoorstothesittingroom,listeningtoherlistentoKadja

leaving.Thenherheavysigh.Yreneemergedamomentlater.Shelookedlikehell.“What’swrong?”Thewordswereoutbeforehecouldconsiderthefactthathehadnorightto

asksuchthings.ButYrene’sgolden-brownfacewasashen,hereyessmudgedwithpurple,her

hairlimp.Sheonlysaid,“Youexercised.”Chaolglanceddownathissweat-soakedshirt.“Itseemedasgoodawayto

pass the timeasanythingelse.”Eachofhersteps towardthedeskwasslow—heavy.Herepeated,“What’swrong?”

But she reached the desk and kept her back to him. He ground his teeth,debatingwheelingthechairoverjustsohecouldseeherface,ashemighthaveoncestormedovertosee—topushintoherspaceuntilshetoldhimwhatthehellhadhappened.

Yrenejustsethersatchelonthedeskwithathud.“Ifyouwishtoexercise,perhapsabetterplace for itwouldbe thebarracks.”Awry lookat the carpet.“Ratherthansweatingalloverthekhagan’spricelessrugs.”

Hishandsclenchedathissides.“No,”wasallhesaid.Allhecouldsay.She lifted a brow. “YouwereCaptain of theGuard,weren’t you? Perhaps

trainingwiththepalaceguardwillbebeneficialto—”“No.”

She peered over her shoulder, those golden eyes sizing him up. He didn’tbalk,evenasthestill-shreddedthinginhischestseemedtotwistandrenditselffurther.

He had no doubt she marked it, no doubt she’d tucked away that bit ofinformation.Somesmallpartofhimhatedherforit,hatedhimselfforrevealingthat wound through his obstinance, but Yrene only turned from the desk andstrodetowardhim,faceunreadable.

“Iapologizeifrumornowgetsoutthatyouhaveanunfortunaterashonyourlegs.” That usual, sure-footed grace had been replaced by trudging feet. “IfKadjaisassmartasIthinksheis,she’llworrythattherashbeingaresultofherministrationswouldgetherintroubleandnottellanyone.Oratleastrealizethatifwordgetsout,we’llknowshewastheonlyonetoldofit.”

Fine.Shestilldidn’twanttoanswerhisquestion.Soheinsteadasked,“WhydidyouwantKadjagone?”

Yrene slumped onto the golden sofa and rubbed her temples. “Becausesomeonekilledahealerinthelibrarylastnight—andthenhuntedme,too.”

Chaolwentstill.“What?”He glanced to thewindows, the open garden doors, the exits.Nothing but

heatandgurglingwaterandbirdsong.“Iwas reading—aboutwhat you toldme,”Yrene said, the freckles on her

facesostarkagainstherwanskin.“AndIfeltsomeoneapproaching.”“Who?”“Idon’tknow. Ididn’t see them.Thehealer…I foundheras I fled.”Her

throat bobbed. “We cleared the library from top to bottom once she was…retrieved,butfoundnoone.”Sheshookherhead,jawtight.

“I’msorry,”he said,andmeant it.Not just for the lossof life,butalso forwhat seemed like the loss of a long-held peace and serenity. But he asked,becausehecouldnomorestophimselffromgettinganswers,fromassessingtherisks,thanhecouldhalthisownbreathing,“Whatmannerofinjuries?”Halfof

himdidn’twanttoknow.Yreneleanedbackagainstthesofacushions,thedownstuffingsighingasshe

stared at thegilded ceiling. “I’d seenherbefore inpassing.Shewasyoung, alittleolderthanme.AndwhenIfoundheronthefloor,shelookedlikealong-desiccatedcorpse.Noblood,nosignofinjury.Just…drained.”

Hisheartstumbledat thetoo-familiardescription.Valg.He’dbetallhehadleft,he’dbeteverythingonit.“Andwhoeverdidthisjustleftherbodythere?”

Anod.Herhands shook as shedragged them throughherhair, closinghereyes.“Ithinktheyrealizedthey’dattackedthewrongperson—andmovedawayquickly.”

“Why?”Sheturnedherhead,openinghereyes.Exhaustionlaythere.Andutterfear.

“Shelooks—lookedlikeme,”Yrenerasped.“Ourbuilds,ourcoloring.Whoeveritwas…Ithinktheywerelookingforme.”

“Why?”heaskedagain,scramblingtosortthroughallshe’dsaid.“Because what I was reading last night, about the potential source of the

powerthatinjuredyou…Ileftsomebooksaboutitonthetable.Andwhentheguards searched the area, the bookswere gone.” She swallowed again. “Whoknewyouwerecominghere?”

Chaol’sbloodchilleddespitetheheat.“Wedidnotmakeitasecret.”Itwasinstincttoresthishandonaswordthat

was not there—a sword he had chucked in theAverymonths ago. “It wasn’tannounced,butanyonecouldhavelearned.Longbeforewesetfoothere.”

It was happening again. Here. A Valg demon had come to Antica—anunderlingatbest,aprinceatworst.Itcouldbeeither.

The attackYrene had described fitAelin’s account of the remains she andRowanhad found from theValg prince’s victims inWendlyn. People teemingwithlifeturnedtohusksasiftheValgdranktheirverysouls.

He found himself saying quietly, “Prince Kashin suspects Tumelun was

killed.”Yrene sat up, any lingering color draining fromher face. “Tumelun’sbody

wasnotdrained.Hafiza—theHealeronHighherselfdeclareditwasasuicide.”Therewas,ofcourse,achance the twodeathsweren’tconnected,achance

thatKashinwaswrongaboutTumelun.PartofChaolprayeditwasso.Buteveniftheywereunrelated,whathadhappenedlastnight—

“Youneedtowarnthekhagan,”Yrenesaid,seemingtoreadhismind.Henodded.“Ofcourse.OfcourseIwill.”Damnedastheentiresituationwas

…Perhapsitwastheinhe’dbeenwaitingforwiththekhagan.Buthestudiedherhaggardface,thefearthere.“I’msorry—tohavebroughtyouintothis.HassecuritybeenincreasedaroundtheTorre?”

“Yes.”Abreathypushofsound.Shescrubbedatherface.“Andyou?Didyoucomehereunderguard?”Shethrewhimafrown.“Inplaindaylight?Inthemiddleofthecity?”Chaolcrossedhisarms.“IwouldputnothingpasttheValg.”Shewavedahand.“Iwon’tbeheadingaloneintoanydarkcorridorsanytime

soon.NoneofusintheTorrewill.Guardshavebeencalledin—stationeddownevery hall, in every few feet of the library. I don’t even know where Hafizasummonedthemfrom.”

Valgunderlings could takebodiesof anyone theywished, but their princeswerevainenoughthatChaoldoubtedthey’dbothertotaketheformofalowlyguard.Notwhentheypreferredbeautifulyoungmen.

Acollarandadead,coldsmileflashedbeforehiseyes.Chaolblewoutabreath.“Iamtrulysorry—aboutthathealer.”Especiallyif

his being here had somehow triggered this attack, if they pursuedYrene onlybecause of her helping him. He added, “You should be on your guard.Constantly.”

She ignored the warning and scanned the room, the carpets, and the lushpalms.“Thegirls—theyoungacolytes…They’refrightened.”

Andyou?Before, he would have volunteered to stand watch, to guard her door, to

organizethesoldiersbecauseheknewhowthesethingsoperated.Buthewasnocaptain,andhedoubtedthekhaganorhismenwouldbeinclinedtolistentoaforeignlord,anyway.

Buthecouldn’tstophimself,thatpartofhim,asheasked,“WhatcanIdotohelp?”

Yrene’seyes shifted towardhim,assessing.Weighing.Nothim,buthehadthefeelingitwassomethinginsideherself.Sohekeptstill,kepthisgazesteady,while she looked inward.While she at last took a breath and said, “I teach aclass.Onceaweek.Afterlastnight,theywerealltootired,soIletthemsleepinstead.Tonight,wehaveavigilfor thehealerwho—whodied.But tomorrow…”Shechewedonherlip,againdebatingforaheartbeatbeforesheadded,“Ishouldlikeyoutocome.”

“Whatsortofclass?”Yrenetoyedwithaheavycurl.“Thereisnotuitionforstudentshere—butwe

pay our way in other forms. Some help with the cooking, the laundry, thecleaning.ButwhenIcame,Hafiza…ItoldherIwasgoodatallthosethings.I’ddonethemfor—awhile.SheaskedmewhatelseIknewbeyondhealing,andItoldher…”Shebitherlip.“Someoneoncetaughtmeself-defense.Whattodoagainstattackers.Usuallythemalekind.”

Itwasaneffortnottolookatthescaracrossherthroat.Nottowonderifshehadlearneditafter—orifeventhathadnotbeenenough.

Yrenesighedthroughhernose.“ItoldHafizathatIknewalittleaboutit,andthat…Ihadmadeapromisetosomeone,tothepersonwhotaughtme,toshowandteachittoasmanywomenaspossible.SoIhave.Onceaweek,Iteachtheacolytes, along with any older students, healers, servants, or librarians whowouldliketoknow.”

This delicate, gentle-handed woman … He supposed he’d learned that

strengthcouldbehiddenbeneaththemostunlikelyfaces.“Thegirlsaredeeplyshaken.Therehasn’tbeenanintruderintheTorrefora

greatwhile.Ithinkitwouldgoalongwayifyouweretojoinmetomorrow—toteachwhatyouknow.”

Foralongmoment,hestaredather.Blinked.“YourealizeI’minthischair.”“And?Yourmouthstillworks.”Tart,crispwords.Heblinkedagain.“Theymightnotfindmethemostreassuringinstructor—”“No,they’lllikelybeswooningandsighingoveryousomuchthey’llforget

tobeafraid.”Histhirdandfinalblinkmadehersmileslightly.Grimly.Hewonderedwhat

thatsmilewouldlooklikeifsheeverwastrulyamused—happy.“Thescaraddsatouchofmystery,”shesaid,cuttinghimoffbeforehecould

remembertheslicedownhischeek.Hestudiedherassherosefromthesofatostridebacktothedeskandunpack

herbag.“Youwouldtrulylikemetobetheretomorrow?”“We’ll have to figure out how to get you there, but it should not be so

difficult.”“Stuffingmeintoacarriagewillbefine.”Shestiffened,glancingoverhershoulder.“Save thatangerforour training,

LordWestfall.”Shefishedoutavialofoilandsetitonthetable.“Andyouwillnotbetakingacarriage.”

“Alittercarriedbyservants,then?”He’dsoonercrawl.“Ahorse.Everheardofone?”Heclenchedthearmsofhischair.“Youneedlegstoride.”“Soit’sagoodthingyoustillhavebothofthem.”Shewentbacktostudying

whatevervialswereinthatbag.“Ispoketomysuperiorthismorning.Shehasseen similarly injuredpeople ride until they couldmeetwith us—with specialstraps and braces. They are fashioning them for you in the workshops as we

speak.”He let those words sink in. “So you assumed I would come with you

tomorrow.”Yreneturnedatlast,satchelinherhandnow.“Iassumedyouwouldwishto

rideregardless.”Hecouldonlystarewhilesheapproached,vialinhand.Onlyaprimsortof

irritationonherface.Betterthanthestarkfear.Heasked,voiceabitraw,“Youthinksuchathingispossible?”

“Ido.I’llarriveatdawn,sowehaveenoughtimetofigureitout.Thelessonbeginsatnine.”

To ride—even if he could notwalk, riding… “Please do not giveme thishopeandletitcrumble,”hesaidhoarsely.

Yrenesetthesatchelandvialdownonthelow-lyingtablebeforethesofaandmotioned him to move closer. “Good healers don’t do such things, LordWestfall.”

Hehadn’tbotheredwithajackettoday,andhadlefthisbeltinthebedroom.Slidinghissweat-soakedshirtoverhishead,hemadequickworkofunbuttoningthe tops of his pants. “It’s Chaol,” he said after a moment. “My name—it’sChaol.NotLordWestfall.”Hegruntedashehoistedhimselffromthechairontothesofa.“LordWestfallismyfather.”

“Well,you’realord,too.”“JustChaol.”“LordChaol.”He shot her a look as he positioned his legs. She did not reach to help, to

adjust.“HereIwas,thinkingyoustillresentedme.”“Ifyouhelpmygirlstomorrow,I’llreconsider.”Fromthegleaminthosegoldeneyes,heverymuchdoubtedthat,butahalf

smiletuggedonhismouth.“Anothermassagetoday?”Please,henearlyadded.Hismuscles already ached fromhis exercising, andmoving somuch between

bedandsofaandchairandbath—“No.” Yrene gestured for him to lie facedown on the sofa. “I’m going to

begintoday.”“Youfoundinformationonit?”“No,”sherepeated,tuggingoffhispantswiththatcool,swiftefficiency.“But

afterlastnight…Idonotwanttodelay.”“I will—I can…” He ground his teeth. “We’ll find a way to protect you

whileyouresearch.”Hehatedthewords,feltthemcurllikerancidmilkonhistongue,alonghisthroat.

“Ithinktheyknowthat,”shesaidquietly,anddabbedspotsofoilalonghisspine.“I’mnotsure if it’s the information, though.That theywant tokeepmefromfinding.”

His gut tightened, even as she ran soothing hands down his back. Theylingerednearthatsplotchatitsapex.“Whatdoyouthinktheywant,then?”

Healreadysuspected,buthewanted tohearher say it—wanted toknow ifshethoughtthesame,understoodtherisksasmuchashedid.

“Iwonder,”shesaidatlast,“ifitwasnotjustwhatIwasresearching,butalsothatI’mhealingyou.”

Hecranedhisheadtolookatherasthewordssettledbetweenthem.Sheonlystaredatthatmarkonhisspine,hertiredfacedrawn.Hedoubtedshe’dslept.“Ifyou’retootired—”

“Iamnot.”He clenched his jaw. “You can nap here. I’ll look after you.”Useless as it

wouldbe.“Thenworkonmelater—”“Iwillworkonyounow.Iamnotgoingtoletthemscaremeaway.”Hervoicedidnottrembleorwaver.She added,more quietly but no less fiercely, “I once lived in fear of other

people.I letotherpeoplewalkallovermejustbecauseIwastooafraidoftheconsequences for refusing. I did not know how to refuse.” Her hand pushed

downonhis spine in a silentorder to rest hisheadagain. “Theday I reachedtheseshores,Icastasidethatgirl.AndIwillbedamnedifIletherreemerge.Orletsomeonetellmewhattodowithmylife,mychoicesagain.”

The hair on his arms rose at the simmeringwrath in her voice. Awomanmadeofsteelandcracklingembers.Heatindeedflaredbeneathherpalmasshesliditupthecolumnofhisspine,towardthatsplotchofwhite.

“Let’sseeifitenjoysbeingpushedaroundforachange,”shebreathed.Yrenelaidherhanddirectlyatopthescar.Chaolopenedhismouthtospeak

—Butascreamcameoutinstead.

12

Burning,razor-sharppainsliceddownhisbackinbrutalclaws.Chaolarched,bellowinginagony.Yrene’shandwasinstantlygone,andacrashingsounded.Chaolpanted,gasping,ashepushedupontohiselbowstofindYrenesitting

on the low-lying table,hervialofoiloverturnedand leakingacross thewood.Shegapedathisback,atwhereherhandhadbeen.

Hehadnowords—nonebeyondtheechoingpain.Yreneliftedherhandsbeforeherfaceasifshehadneverseenthembefore.Sheturnedthemthiswayandthat.“Itdoesn’tjustdislikemymagic,”shebreathed.Hisarmsbuckled,sohelaydownagainonthecushions,holdingherstareas

Yrenedeclared,“Ithatesmymagic.”“Yousaiditwasanecho—notconnectedtotheinjury.”“MaybeIwaswrong.”“Rowanhealedmewithnoneofthoseproblems.”Herbrowsknottedat thename,andhesilentlycursedhimselfforrevealing

that piece of his history in this palace of ears and mouths. “Were youconscious?”

Heconsidered.“No.Iwas—nearlydead.”Shenoticedthespilledoilthenandcursedsoftly—mildly,comparedtosome

otherfilthymouthshe’dhadthedistinctpleasureofbeingaround.

Yrenelungedforhersatchel,buthemovedfaster,grabbinghissweat-dampshirtfromwherehe’dlaiditonthesofaarmandchuckingitoverthespreadingpuddlebeforeitcoulddripontothesurelypricelessrug.

Yrenestudiedtheshirt,thenhisoutstretchedarm,nownearlyacrossherlap.“Either your lack of consciousness during that initial healing kept you fromfeelingthissortofpain,orperhapswhateverthisishadnot…settled.”

His throat clogged. “You think I’m possessed?” By that thing that haddwelledinsidetheking,thathaddonesuchunspeakablethings—

“No.Butpaincanfeelalive.Maybethis isnodifferent.Andmaybeitdoesnotwanttoletgo.”

“Ismyspineeveninjured?”Hebarelymanagedtoaskthequestion.“Itis,”shesaid,andsomepartofhischestcavedin.“Isensedthebrokenbits

—the tangled and severed nerves. But to heal those things, to get themcommunicatingwithyourbrainagain…Ineedtogetpastthatecho.Orbeatitintosubmissionenoughtohavespacetoworkonyou.”Herlipspressedintoagrimline.“Thisshadow,thisthingthathauntsyou—yourbody.Itwillfightmeeverystepof theway,fight toconvinceyou to tellme tostop.Throughpain.”Hereyeswereclear—stark.“DoyouunderstandwhatIamtellingyou?”

Hisvoicewaslow,rough.“Thatifyouaretosucceed,Iwillhavetoendurethatsortofpain.Repeatedly.”

“Ihaveherbsthatcanmakeyousleep,butwithaninjurylikethis…IthinkIwon’t be the only one who has to fight back against it. And if you areunconscious…Ifearwhatitmighttrytodotoyouifyou’retrappedthere.Inyourdreamscape—yourpsyche.”Herfaceseemedtopalefurther.

Chaol slidhishand fromwhere it still restedatophis shirt-turned-mopandsqueezedherhand.“Dowhatyouhaveto.”

“Itwillhurt.Likethat.Constantly.Worse,likely.Iwillhavetoworkmywaydown,vertebrabyvertebra,beforeIevenreachthebaseofyourspine.Fightingitandhealingyouatthesametime.”

Hishandtightenedonhers,sosmallcomparedtohis.“Dowhatyouhaveto,”herepeated.

“Andyou,”shesaidquietly.“Youwillhavetofightitaswell.”Hestilledatthat.Yrenewenton,“If thesethingsfeeduponusbynature…Iftheyfeed,and

yetyouarehealthy…”Shegesturedtohisbody.“Thenitmustbefeedinguponsomethingelse.Somethingwithinyou.”

“Isensenothing.”Shestudiedtheirjoinedhands—thenslidherfingersaway.Notasviolentas

droppinghishand,butthewithdrawalwaspointedenough.“Perhapsweshoulddiscussit.”

“Discusswhat.”Shebrushedherhairovera shoulder. “Whathappened—whatever it is that

youfeedthisthing.”Sweatcoatedhispalms.“Thereisnothingtodiscuss.”Yrenestaredathimforalongmoment.Itwasallhecoulddonottoshrink

from that frank gaze. “Fromwhat I’ve gleaned, there is quite a bit to discussregardingthepastfewmonths.Itseemsasifit’sbeena…tumultuoustimeforyourecently.Youyourselfsaidyesterday that there isnoonewho loathesyoumorethanyourself.”

Tosaytheleast.“Andyou’resuddenlysoeagertohearaboutit?”Shedidn’tsomuchasflinch.“Ifthatiswhatisrequiredforyoutohealand

begone.”Hisbrowsrose.“Well,then.Itfinallycomesout.”Yrene’sfacewasanunreadablemaskthatcouldhavegivenDorianarunfor

hismoney.“Iassumeyoudonotwishtobehereforever,whatwithwarbreakinglooseinourhomeland,asyoucalledit.”

“Isitnotourhomeland?”Silently, Yrene rose to grab her satchel. “I have no interest in sharing

anythingwithAdarlan.”He understood.He really did. Perhaps itwaswhy he still had not told her

who,exactly,thatlingeringdarknessbelongedto.“And you,” Yrene went on, “are avoiding the topic at hand.” She rooted

throughhersatchel.“You’llhavetotalkaboutwhathappenedsoonerorlater.”“Withallduerespect,it’snoneofyourbusiness.”Hereyesflickedtohimatthat.“Youwouldbesurprisedbyhowcloselythe

healingofphysicalwoundsistiedtothehealingofemotionalones.”“I’vefacedwhathappened.”“Thenwhatisthatthinginyourspinefeedingon?”“Idon’tknow.”Hedidn’tcare.She fished something out of the satchel at last, andwhen she strode back

towardhim,hisstomachtightenedatwhatsheheld.Abit.Craftedfromdark,freshleather.Unused.Sheofferedittohimwithouthesitation.Howmanytimeshadshehandedone

overtopatients,tohealinjuriesfarworsethanhis?“Nowwouldbethetimetotellmetostop,”Yrenesaid,facegrim.“Incase

you’dratherdiscusswhathappenedthesepastfewmonths.”Chaolonlylayonhisstomachandslidthebitintohismouth.

Nesrynhadwatchedthesunrisefromtheskies.She’dfoundPrinceSartaqwaitinginhisaerieinthehourbeforedawn.The

minaretwasopentotheelementsatitsuppermostlevel,andbehindtheleather-cladprince…Nesrynhadbracedahandon the archway to the stairwell, stillbreathlessfromtheclimb.

Kadarawasbeautiful.Eachoftheruk’sgoldenfeathersshonelikeburnishedmetal,thewhiteofher

breastbrightasfreshsnow.AndhergoldeyeshadsizedNesrynupimmediately.

BeforeSartaqeventurnedfromwherehe’dbeenbucklingonthesaddleacrossherbroadback.

“CaptainFaliq,”theprincehadsaidbywayofgreeting.“You’reupearly.”Casualwordsforanylisteningears.“Thestormlastnightkeptmefromsleep.IhopeIamnotdisturbingyou.”“On the contrary.” In the dim light, his mouth quirked in a smile. “I was

abouttogoforaride—toletthisfathoghuntforherbreakfastforonce.”Kadarapuffedherfeathersinindignation,clickingherenormousbeak—fully

capable of taking a man’s head off in one snip. No wonder Princess Hasarremainedwaryofthebird.

Sartaqchuckled,pattingherfeathers.“Caretojoin?”With the words, Nesryn suddenly had a sense of how very, very high the

minaretwas.AndhowKadarawould likelyflyabove it.Withnothing tokeepherfromdeathbuttheriderandsaddlenowsetinplace.

Buttoridearuk…Evenbetter,toridearukwithaprincewhomighthaveinformationforthem

…“Iamnotparticularlyskilledwithheights,butitwouldbemyhonor,Prince.”Ithadbeenamatterofafewminutes.Sartaqhadorderedhertoswitchfrom

hermidnight-blue jacket to the spare leather one folded in a chest of drawersshoved against the far wall. He’d politely turned his back when she changedpants as well. Since her hair fell only to her shoulders, she had difficultybraidingitback,buttheprincehadfishedintohisownpocketsandsuppliedherwithaleatherthongtopullitbackintoaknot.

Always carry a spare, he told her. Or else she’d be combing her hair forweeks.

He’d mounted the keen-eyed ruk first, Kadara lowering herself like someoversized hen to the floor.He climbed her side in two fluidmovements, thenreacheddownahand forNesryn.Shegingerly laidherpalmagainstKadara’s

ribs,marvelingatthecoolfeatherssmoothasfinestsilk.Nesrynwaited for the ruk to shift about and glarewhileSartaq hauled her

intothesaddleinfrontofhim,buttheprince’smountremaineddocile.Patient.Sartaqhadbuckledandharnessedthembothintothesaddle,triple-checking

theleatherstraps.Thenheclickedhistongueonce,and—Nesrynknewitwasn’tpolitetosqueezeaprince’sarmssohardthebonewas

likely to break. But she did so anyway as Kadara spread her shining goldenwingsandleapedout.

Leapeddown.Herstomachshotstraightupherthroat.Hereyeswateredandblurred.Windtoreather,tryingtoripherfromthatsaddle,andsheclenchedwithher

thighssotightlytheyached,whileshegrippedSartaq’sarms,holdingthereins,sohardhechuckledinherear.

But the pale buildings of Antica loomed up, near-blue in the early dawn,rushingtomeetthemasKadaradoveanddove,astarfallingfromtheheavens—

Thenflaredthosewingswideandshotupward.Nesrynwasgladshehad forgonebreakfast.For surely itwouldhavecome

spewingoutofhermouthatwhatthemotiondidtoherstomach.Withinthespanofafewbeats,Kadarabankedright—towardthehorizonjust

turningpink.The sprawlofAntica spreadbefore them, smaller and smaller as they rose

into the skies. Until it was no more than a cobblestoned road beneath them,spreading intoeverydirection.Until shecouldspy theolivegrovesandwheatfieldsjustoutsidethecity.Thecountryestatesandsmalltownsspeckledabout.Theripplingdunesofthenortherndeserttoherleft.Thesparkling,snakingbandofriversturninggoldenintherisingsunthatcrestedoverthemountainstoherright.

Sartaqdidnotspeak.Didnotpointoutlandmarks.NoteventhepalelineoftheSister-Roadthatrantowardthesouthernhorizon.

No, in the rising light, he let Kadara have her head. The ruk took themfloatinghigher still, the air turningcrisp—theawakeningblue skybrighteningwitheachmightyflapofherwings.

Open.Soopen.Notatallliketheendlesssea,thetediouswavesandcrampedship.Thiswas…thiswasbreath.Thiswas…She couldnot look fast enough, drink it all in.How small everythingwas,

howlovelyandpristine.Alandclaimedbyaconqueringnation,yet lovedandnurtured.

Herland.Herhome.The sun and the scrub and the undulating grasslands that beckoned in the

distance.Thelushjunglesandricefieldstothewest;thepalesanddunesofthedesert to the northeast. More than she could see in a lifetime—farther thanKadara could fly in a single day.An entireworld, this land.The entireworldcontainedhere.

Shecouldnotunderstandwhyherfatherhadleft.Whyhehadstayed,whensuchdarknesshadcreptintoAdarlan.Whyhehad

kepttheminthatfesteringcitywhereshesorarelylookedupatthesky,orfeltabreezethatdidnotreekofthebrinyAveryortherubbishrottinginthestreets.

“Youarequiet,”theprincesaid,anditwasmorequestionthanstatement.NesrynadmittedinHalha,“Idon’thavewordstodescribeit.”ShefeltSartaqsmilenearhershoulder.“ThatwaswhatIfelt—thatfirstride.

Andeveryridesince.”“I understand why you stayed at the camp those years ago.Why you are

eagertoreturn.”Abeatofquiet.“AmIsoeasytoread?”“Howcouldyounotwishtoreturn?”“Someconsidermyfather’spalacetobethefinestintheworld.”“Itis.”

Hissilencewasquestionenough.“Rifthold’spalacewasnothingsofine—solovelyandapartoftheland.”Sartaqhummed,thesoundreverberatingintoherback.Thenhesaidquietly,

“The death of my sister has been hard upon my mother. It is for her that Iremain.”

Nesrynwincedabit.“I’msoverysorry.”Onlytherushingwindspokeforatime.ThenSartaqsaid,“Yousaidwas.RegardingRifthold’sroyalpalace.Why?”“Youheardwhatbefellit—theglassportions.”“Ah.”Anotherbeatofquiet. “Shatteredby theQueenofTerrasen.Your…

ally.”“Myfriend.”Hecranedhisbodyaroundherstopeeratherface.“Isshetruly?”“She is a goodwoman,”Nesryn said, andmeant it. “Difficult, yes, but…

somemightsaythesameofanyroyalty.”“Apparently,shefoundtheformerKingofAdarlansodifficultthatshekilled

him.”Carefulwords.“The man was a monster—and a threat to all. His Second, Perrington,

remainsthatway.ShedidErileaafavor.”Sartaq angled the reins as Kadara began a slow, steady descent toward a

sparklingrivervalley.“Sheistrulythatpowerful?”Nesryndebated themeritsof the truthordownplayingAelin’smight. “She

and Dorian both possess considerable magic. But I would say it is theirintelligencethatisthestrongerweapon.Brutepowerisuselesswithoutit.”

“It’sdangerouswithoutit.”“Yes,”Nesrynagreed,swallowing.“Are…”Shehadnotbeentrainedinthe

mazelikewayofspeakingatcourt.“Istheresuchathreatwithinyourcourtthatwarrantedusneedingtospeakintheskies?”

Hecouldverywellbethethreatposed,sheremindedherself.“Youhavedinedwithmysiblings.Youseehowtheyare.IfIweretoarrange

ameetingwithyou,itwouldsendamessagetothem.ThatIamwillingtohearyour suit—perhaps press it to our father. They would consider the risks andbenefitsofunderminingme.Orwhetheritwouldmakethemlookbettertotrytojoin…myside.”

“Andareyou?Willingtohearusout?”Sartaqdidn’tanswerforalongmoment,onlythescreamingwindfillingthe

quiet.“Iwouldlisten.ToyouandLordWestfall.Iwouldhearwhatyouknow,what

hashappenedtoyouboth.Idonotholdasmuchswaywithmyfatherasothers,butheknowstherukridersareloyaltome.”

“Ithought—”“That Iwashis favorite?”A low,bitter laugh.“Iperhapsstandachanceat

beingnamedHeir, but thekhagandoesnot selecthisHeirbasedonwhomhelovesbest.Evenso,thatparticularhonorgoestoDuvaandKashin.”

Sweet-facedDuva,shecouldunderstand,but—“Kashin?”“He is loyal to my father to a fault. He has never schemed, never

backstabbed.I’vedoneit—plottedandmaneuveredagainstthemalltogetwhatIwant.ButKashin…Hemaycommandthelandarmiesandthehorse-lords,hemaybebrutalwhenrequired,butwithmyfather,heisguileless.Therehasneverbeen amore loving or loyal son.When our father dies… Iworry.What theotherswilldotoKashinifhedoesnotsubmit,orworse:whathisdeathwilldotoKashinhimself.”

She dared ask, “What would you do to him?”Destroy him, if he will notswearfealty?

“It remains to be seenwhat sort of threat or alliance he could pose. OnlyDuva and Arghun are married, and Arghun has yet to sire offspring. ThoughKashin,ifhehashisway,wouldlikelysweepthatyounghealeroffherfeet.”

Yrene.“Strangethatshehasnointerestinhim.”“Amarkinherfavor.Itisnoteasytoloveakhagan’soffspring.”Thegreengrasses,stilldewybeneaththefreshsun,rippledasKadaraswept

toward a swift-moving river. With those enormous talons of hers, she couldeasilysnatchupfistfulsoffish.

But it was not the preyKadara sought as she flew over the river, seekingsomething—

“Someone broke into the Torre’s library last night,” Sartaq said as hemonitoredtheruk’shuntover thedarkbluewaters.Mistoff thesurfacekissedNesryn’sface,butthechillathiswordswentfardeeper.“Theykilledahealer—throughsomevilepowerthatrenderedherintoahusk.WehaveneverseenitslikeinAntica.”

Nesryn’sstomachturnedover.Withthatdescription—“Who?Why?”“YreneTowerssoundedthealarm.Wesearchedforhoursandfoundnotrace,

beyondmissingbooksfromwhereshehadbeenstudying,andwhereitstalkedher.Yrenewasrattled,butfine.”

Researching—Chaolhad informedher last night thatYrenehadplanned todosomeresearchregardingwoundsfrommagic,fromdemons.

Sartaqaskedcasually,“DoyouknowwhatYrenemighthavebeen lookingintothatposedsuchdarkinterestandtheftofherbooks?”

Nesryn considered. It could be a trick—his revealing something personalfromhis family,his life, to lullher into tellinghimsecrets.NesrynandChaolhadnotyieldedanyinformationofthekeys,theValg,orErawantothekhaganorhischildren.Theyhadbeenwaitingtodoso—toassesswhomtotrust.ForiftheirenemiesheardthattheywerehuntingforthekeystosealtheWyrdgate…

“No,”shelied.“Butperhapstheyareunannouncedenemiesofourswhowishto scare her and the other healers out of helping the captain. I mean—LordWestfall.”

Silence.She thought he’dpushher on it,waited for it asKadara skimmed

closertotheriver’ssurface,asifclosinginonsomeprey.“Itmustbestrange,tobearanewtitle,withtheformerownerrightbesideyou.”

“Iwasonlycaptainforafewweeksbeforeweleft.IsupposeIshallhavetolearnwhenIreturn.”

“IfYreneissuccessful.Amongotherpossiblevictories.”Likebringingthatarmywiththem.“Yes,”wasallshemanagedtosay.Kadara dove, a sharp, swift motion that had Sartaq tightening his arms

aroundher,bracingherthighswithhisown.Shelethimguideher,keepingthemuprightinthesaddleasKadaradipped

into the water, thrashed, and sent something hurling onto the riverbank. Aheartbeatlater,shewasuponit,talonsandbeakspearingandslashing.Thethingbeneathherfought,twistingandwhipping—

Acrunch.Thensilence.The ruk calmed, feathers puffing, then smoothing against the blood now

splatteredalongherbreastandneck.SomehadsplashedontoNesryn’sbootsaswell.

“Be careful, Captain Faliq,” Sartaq said as Nesryn got a good look at thecreaturetheruknowfeastedupon.

Itwasenormous,nearly fifteen feet, covered in scales thickas armor.Likethe marsh beasts of Eyllwe, but bulkier—fatter from the cattle it no doubtdraggedintothewateralongtheserivers.

“There is beauty in my father’s lands,” the prince went on while Kadararipped into that monstrous carcass, “but there is much lurking beneath thesurface,too.”

13

Yrenepanted,herlegssprawledbeforeherontherug,herbackrestingagainstthecouchonwhichLordChaolnowgaspedforbreathaswell.

Hermouthwasdryassand,her limbstremblingsoviolently thatshecouldbarelykeepherhandslimpinherlap.

Aspittingsoundandalittlethumptoldherhe’dremovedthebit.He’d roared around it.His bellowinghadbeen almost as bad as themagic

itself.Itwasavoid.Itwasanew,darkhell.Her magic had been a pulsing star that flared against the wall that the

darknesshadcraftedbetweenthetopofhisspineandtherestofit.Sheknew—knewwithout testing—that if she bypassed it, jumped right to the base of hisspine…itwouldfindherthere,too.

Butshehadpushed.Pushedandpushed,untilshewassobbingforbreath.Still,thatwalldidnotmove.Itonlyseemedtolaugh,quietlyandsibilantly, thesoundlacedwithancient

iceandmalice.She’dhurledhermagicagainst thewall, letting itsswarmofburningwhite

lightsattackinwaveafterwave,but—nothing.Andonlyattheend,whenhermagiccouldfindnocrack,nocrevicetoslide

into…Onlywhenshemadetopullbackdidthatdarkwallseemtotransform.Tomorphintosomething…Other.

Yrene’smagichadturnedbrittlebeforeit.Anysparkofdefianceinthewakeofthathealer’sdeathhadcooled.Andshecouldnotsee,didnotdaretolookatwhat she feltgathering there,what filled thedarkwithvoices, as if theywereechoingdownalonghall.

Butithadloomed,andshehadslidaglanceoverhershoulder.Thedarkwallwasalive.Swimmingwithimages,oneafteranother.Asifshe

werelookingthroughsomeone’seyes.SheknewoninstincttheydidnotbelongtoLordChaol.

A fortress of dark stone jutted up amid ash-colored, barren mountains, itstowers sharp as lances, its edges and parapets hard and slicing. Beyond it,coatingthevalesandplainsamidthemountains,anarmyrippledawayintothedistance,morecampfiresthanshecouldcount.

Andsheknewthenamefor thisplace, theassembledhost.Heardthenamethunderthroughhermindasifitwerethebeatofahammeronanvil.Morath.She’dpulledout.Hadyankedherselfbacktothelightandheavyheat.Morath—whether it was some true memory, left by whatever power had

struck him; whether it was something the darkness conjured from her owndarkestterrors…

Notreal.Atleastnotinthisroom,withitsstreamingsunlightandchatteringfountaininthegardenbeyond.ButifitwasindeedatrueportrayalofthearmiesthatLordChaolhadmentionedyesterday…

Thatwaswhat shewould face.Thevictimsof that host, possibly even thesoldierswithinit,shouldthingsgoverywrong.

Thatwaswhatawaitedherbackhome.Notnow—shewouldnotthinkaboutthisnow,withhimhere.Frettingabout

it,remindinghimofwhathemustface,whatmightbesweepingdownuponhisfriendsastheysathere…Nothelpful.Toeitherofthem.

SoYrenesatthereontherug,forcinghertremblingtoabatewitheachdeep

breathsheinhaledthroughhernoseandouthermouth,lettinghermagicsettleand refillwithin her as she calmed hermind. LettingLordChaol pant on thecouchbehindher,neitherofthemsayingaword.

No,thiswouldnotbeausualhealing.Butperhapsdelayingherreturn,remainingheretohealhimforhoweverlong

ittook…Theremightbeotherslikehimonthosebattlefields—sufferingfromsimilarinjuries.Learningtofacethisnow,howeverharrowing…Yes,thisdelaymight turn fruitful. If she could stomach, if she could endure, that darknessagain.Findsomewaytoshatterit.Gowhereyoufeartotread.Indeed.Hereyesdriftedclosed.Atsomepoint,theservantgirlhadcomebackwith

theingredientsYrenehadinvented.Hadtakenonelookatthemandvanished.Ithadbeenhoursago.Daysago.Hungerwasatightknotinherbelly—astrangelymortalfeelingcomparedto

the hours spent attacking that blackness, only half aware of the hand she’dplacedonhisback,ofthescreamingthatcamefromhimeverytimehermagicshovedagainstthatwall.

Hehadnotonceaskedhertostop.Hadnotbeggedforreprieve.Shaking fingers brushed her shoulder. “Are…you…”Each of hiswords

wasaburntrasp.She’dhavetogethimpeppermintteawithhoney.Sheshouldcall to the servant—if she could remember to speak.Muster thevoiceherself.“…allright?”

Yrenecrackedhereyelidsopenashishandsettledonhershoulder.Notfromanyaffectionorconcern,butbecauseshehadafeelingthattheexhaustionlaysoheavilyuponhimthathecouldn’tmoveitagain.

Andshewasdrainedenough that shecouldn’tmuster thestrength tobrushoff that touch,asshe’ddoneearlier.“I shouldaskyou ifyou’reall right,”shemanagedtosay,voiceraw.“Anything?”

“No.” The sheer lack of emotion behind the word told her enough of histhoughts,hisdisappointment.Hepausedforafewheartbeatsbeforeherepeated,“No.”

Sheclosedhereyesagain.Thiscouldtakeweeks.Months.Especiallyifshedidnotfindsomewaytoshovebackthatwallofdarkness.

Shetriedandfailedtomoveherlegs.“Ishouldgetyou—”“Rest.”Thehandtightenedonhershoulder.“Rest,”hesaidagain.“You’redonefortheday,”shesaid.“Noadditionalexercise—”“Imean—you.Rest.”Eachwordwaslabored.Yrenedraggedherstare toward the largeclock in thecorner.Blinkedonce.

Twice.Five.Theyhadbeenhereforfivehours—Hehadendureditallthattime.Fivehoursofthisagony—The thought alone had her drawing up her legs.Groaning as she braced a

handon the low-lying table and rallied her strength, pushingup, up, until shewasstanding.Weavingonherfeet,but—standing.

Hisarmsslidbeneathhim,themusclesofhisbarebackripplingashetriedtopushhimselfup.“Don’t,”shesaid.

Hedid so anyway.Theconsiderablemuscles inhis armsandchestdidnotfailhimasheshovedupward,untilhewassitting.Staringather,glassy-eyed.

Yrenerasped,“Youneed—tea.”“Kadja.”Thenamewaslittlemorethanapushofbreath.Theservantimmediatelyappeared.Tooquickly.Yrenestudiedhercloselyasthegirlslippedin.She’dbeenlistening.Waiting.Yrenedidnotbothertosmileasshesaid,“Pepperminttea.Lotsofhoney.”

Chaoladded,“Twoofthem.”Yrenegavehima look, but sankonto the couchbeside him.The cushions

wereslightlydamp—withhissweat,sherealizedasshesawitgleamingonthecontoursofhisbronzedchest.

Sheshuthereyes—justforamoment.She didn’t realize it was far longer than that until Kadja was setting two

delicate teacups before them, a small iron kettle steaming in the center of thetable. The woman poured generous amounts of honey into both, and Yrene’smouthwastoodry,tonguetooheavy,tobothertellinghertostoporshe’dmakethemillfromthesweetness.

Theservantstirredbothinsilence,thenhandedthefirstcuptoChaol.HemerelypassedittoYrene.Shewastootiredtoobjectasshewrappedherhandsaroundit,tryingtorally

thestrengthtoraiseittoherlips.Heseemedtosenseit.HetoldKadjatoleavehiscuponthetable.Toldhertogo.Yrenewatched as through a distantwindowwhileChaol took her cup and

liftedittoherlips.Shedebatedshovinghishandoutofherface.Yes, she’d work with him; no, he was not the monster she’d initially

suspectedhe’dbe,notinthewayshe’dseenmenbe;butlettinghimthisclose,lettinghimtendtoherlikethis…

“Youcaneitherdrinkit,”hesaid,hisvoicealowgrowl,“orwecansitlikethisforthenextfewhours.”

She slid her eyes to him. Found his stare to be level—clear, despite theexhaustion.

Shesaidnothing.“So, that’s the line,”Chaolmurmured,more to himself than her. “You can

stomachhelpingme,butIcan’treturnthefavor.Orcan’tdoanythingthatsteps

beyondyourideaofwhat—whoIam.”Hewasmoreastutethanmostpeoplelikelygavehimcreditfor.She had a feeling the hardness in his rich brown eyeswasmirrored in her

own.“Drink.” Pure command laced his voice—aman used to being obeyed, to

givingorders.“Resentmeallyouwant,butdrinkthedamnthing.”Anditwasthefaintkernelofworryinhiseyes…Amanusedtobeingobeyed,yes,butamanalsoinclinedtocareforothers.

Look after them.Driven to do it by a compulsion he couldn’t leash, couldn’ttrainoutofhim.Couldn’thavebrokenoutofhim.

Yrenepartedherlips,asilentyielding.Gently,hesettheporcelainteacupagainsthermouthandtippeditforher.Shesippedonce.Hemurmuredinencouragement.Shedidsoagain.Sotired.Shehadneverbeensotiredinherlife—Chaol pushed the cup against hermouth a third time, and she drank a full

gulp.Enough.Heneededitmorethanshedid—Hesensedshewaslikelytobarkathim,withdrewthecupfromhermouth,

andmerelysippedit.Onegulp.Two.He drained it and grabbed the other one, offering her the first sips again

beforehetookthedregs.Insufferableman.Yrenemusthavesaidasmuch,becauseahalfsmilekickedupononesideof

hisface.“You’renotthefirsttocallmethat,”hesaid,hisvoicesmoother.Lesshoarse.

“Iwon’tbethelast,I’msure,”shemuttered.Chaolsimplygaveherthathalfsmileagainandstretchedtorefillbothcups.

Headdedthehoneyhimself—lessthanKadjahad.Therightamount.Hestirredthem,hishandssteady.

“Icandoit,”Yrenetriedtosay.“SocanI,”wasallhesaid.She managed to hold the cup this time. He made sure she was well onto

drinkinghersbeforeheliftedhisowntohislips.“Ishouldgo.”Thethoughtofgettingoutofthepalace,letalonethetrekto

theTorre,thenthewalkupthestairstoherrooms…“Rest.Eat—youmustbestarving.”Sheeyedhim.“You’renot?”He’dexercisedheavilybeforeshe’darrived;he

hadtobefamishedfromthatalone.“I am.But I don’t think I canwait fordinner.”Headded, “Youcould join

me.”Itwasonethingtohealhim,workwithhim,lethimservehertea.Buttodine

withhim, themanwhohad served that butcher, themanwhohadworked forhimwhile thatdarkarmywasamasseddown inMorath…There itwas.Thatsmokeinhernose,thecrackleofflameandscreaming.

Yrene leaned forward to set her cup on the table. Then stood. Everymovement was stiff, sore. “I need to return to the Torre,” she said, kneeswobbling.“Thevigilisatsundown.”Stillagoodhourfromnow,thankfully.

Henotedherswayingandreachedforher,butshesteppedoutofhisrange.“I’llleavethesupplies.”Becausethethoughtofluggingthatheavybagback…

“Letmearrangeacarriageforyou.”“Icanaskatthefrontgate,”shesaid.Ifsomeonewashuntingher,she’dopt

forthesafetyofacarriage.Shehad togrip thefurnitureasshepassed tokeepupright.Thedistance to

thedoorseemedeternal.“Yrene.”Shecouldbarelystandatthedoor,butshepausedtolookback.“Thelessontomorrow.”Thefocushadalreadyreturnedtothosebrowneyes.

“Wheredoyouwantmetomeetyou?”

Shedebatedcallingitoff.Wonderedwhatshe’dbeenthinking,askinghimofallpeopletocome.

But…fivehours.Fivehoursofagony,andhehadnotbroken.Perhaps it was for that alone that she had declined dinner. If he had not

broken, then shewouldnotbreak—not in seeinghimasanythingbutwhathewas.Whathe’dserved.

“I’llmeetyouinthemaincourtyardatsunrise.”Musteringthestrengthtowalkwasaneffort,butshedidit.Putonefoot in

frontoftheother.Lefthimaloneinthatroom,stillstaringafterher.Fivehoursofagony,andshe’dknownithadnotallbeenphysical.Shehadsensed,shovingagainstthatwall,thatthedarknesshadalsoshowed

himthingsontheothersideofit.Glimmershadsometimesshiveredpasther.Nothingshecouldmakeout,but

theyfelt…theyhadfeltlikememories.Nightmares.Perhapsboth.Yethehadnotaskedhertostop.And part of Yrene wondered, as she trudged through the palace, if Lord

Chaolhadnot askedher to stopnot justbecausehe’d learnedhow tomanagepain,butalsobecausehesomehowfelthedeservedit.

Everythinghurt.Chaol did not let himself think aboutwhat he had seen.What had flashed

throughhismindasthatpainhadwrackedhim,burnedandflayedandshatteredhim.What—andwhohe’d seen.Thebodyon thebed.The collar on a throat.Theheadthathadrolled.

Hecouldnotescapethem.NotwhileYrenehadworked.Sothepainhadrippedthroughhim,sohehadseenit,overandover.Sohehadroaredandscreamedandbellowed.

She’dstoppedonlywhenshe’dslidtothefloor.He’dbeenlefthollow.Void.Shestillhadnotwantedtospendmorethanamomentnecessarywithhim.Hedidn’tblameher.Not that itmattered. Though he reminded himself that she’d asked him to

helptomorrow.Inwhateverwayhecould.ChaolatehismealwhereYrenehadlefthim,stillinhisundershorts.Kadja

didn’t seem to notice or care, and hewas too aching and tired to botherwithmodesty.

Aelinwouldlikelyhavelaughedtoseehimnow.Themanwhohadstumbledoutofher roomaftershe’ddeclared thathercyclehadarrived.Nowsitting inthisfineroom,mostlynakedandnotgivingashitaboutit.

Nesrynreturnedbeforesundown,herfaceflushedandhairwindblown.Onelook at her tentative smile told him enough. At least she’d been somewhatsuccessfulwithSartaq.Perhapsshe’dmanagetodowhat itseemedhehimselfwasfailingto:raisingahosttobringbackhome.

He’dmeanttospeaktothekhagantoday—aboutthethreatlastnight’sattackhadposed.Meantto,andyetitwasnowlateenoughtopreventarrangingsuchameeting.

HebarelyheardNesrynasshewhisperedaboutSartaq’spossiblesympathy.Herrideonhismagnificentruk.Exhaustionweighedonhimsoheavilyhecouldhardlykeephiseyesopen,evenwhilehepicturedthoserukssquaringoffagainstIronteethwitchesandwyverns,evenwhilehedebatedwhomightsurvivesuchbattles.

But hemanaged to give the order that curdled on his tongue:Go hunting,Nesryn.

IfoneofErawan’sValgminionshadindeedcometoAntica,timewasnotontheirside.Everystep,everyrequestmightbereportedbacktoErawan.And if

theywerepursuingYrene,either for readingupon theValgor forhealing theHandoftheKingofAdarlan…Hedidn’ttrustanyonehereenoughtoaskthemtodothis.AnyoneotherthanNesryn.

Nesryn had nodded at his request.Had understoodwhy he’d nearly spat itout.Tolethergointodanger,tohuntthatsortofdanger…

Butshe’ddoneitbeforeinRifthold.Sheremindedhimofthat—gently.Sleepbeckoned,turninghisbodyforeignandheavy,buthemanagedtomakehisfinalrequest:Becareful.

Chaoldidn’tresistwhenshehelpedhimintothechair,thenwheeledhimintohis room. He tried and failed to lift himself into bed, and was only vaguelyawareofherandKadjahaulinghimontoitlikeaslabofmeat.

Yrene—sheneverdidsuchthings.Neverwheeledhimwhenhecoulddosohimself.Constantlytoldhimtomovehimselfinstead.

Hewonderedwhy.Wastoodamntiredtowonderwhy.Nesrynsaidshewouldmakehisapologiesatdinner,andwenttochange.He

wondered if the servants heard thewhine of thewhetstone against her bladesfromherbedroomdoor.

Hewasasleepbeforesheleft,theclockinthesittingroomdistantlychimingseven.

NoonepaidNesrynmuchheedatdinner thatnight.Andnoonepaidheranyheedlater,whenshedonnedherfightingknives,sword,andbowandquiver,andslippedintothecitystreets.

Noteventhekhagan’swife.AsNesryn stalkedby a large stonegardenonherwayoutof thepalace, a

glimmerofwhitecaughthereye—andsentherduckingbehindoneofthepillarsflankingthecourtyard.

Withinaheartbeat,sheremovedherhandfromthelongknifeatherside.

Cladinwhitesilk,herlongcurtainofdarkhairunbound,theGrandEmpressstrolled,silentandgraveasawraith,downawalkwaywendingthroughtherockformations of the garden. Only moonlight filled the space—moonlight andshadow, as the empress strode alone and unnoticed, her simple gown flowingbehindherasifonaphantomwind.

Whiteforgrief—fordeath.TheGrandEmpress’sfacewasunadorned,hercoloringfarpalerthanthatof

herchildren.Nojoylimnedherfeatures;nolife.Nointerestineither.Nesrynlingeredintheshadowsofthepillar,watchingthewomandriftfarther

away,asifshewerewanderingthepathsofsomedreamscape.Orperhapssomeempty,barrenhell.

Nesrynwondered if itwasatall similar to theonessheherselfhadwalkedduringthoseinitialmonthsafterhermother’spassing.Wonderedifthedaysalsobled together for theGrandEmpress, if foodwasashonher tongueand sleepwasbothcravedandelusive.

Onlywhenthekhagan’swifestrodebehinda largeboulder,vanishingfromsight,didNesryncontinueon,herstepsalittleheavier.

Anticaunder the fullmoonwasawashofbluesandsilvers, interruptedbythegoldenglowof lanternshangingfrompublicdiningroomsandthecartsofvendors selling kahve and treats. A few performers plucked out melodies onlutesanddrums,afewgiftedenoughtomakeNesrynwishshecouldpause,butstealthandspeedwereheralliestonight.

Shestalkedthroughtheshadows,sortingthroughthesoundsofthecity.Various temples were interspersed amongst the main thoroughfares: some

crafted of marble pillars, some beneath peaked wooden roofs and paintedcolumns, somemere courtyards filled with pools or rock gardens or sleepinganimals.Thirty-sixgodswatchedoverthiscity—andtherewerethriceasmanytemplestothemscatteredthroughout.

AndwitheachoneNesrynpassed,shewonderedifthosegodswerepeering

outfromthepillarsorbehindthecarvedrocks;iftheywatchedfromtheeavesofthatslopedroof,orfrombehindthespottedcat’seyeswhereitlayhalfawakeonthetemplesteps.

She beseeched all of them to make her feet swift and silent, to guide herwheresheneededtogowhilesheprowledthestreets.

IfaValgagenthadcometothiscontinent—orworse,apossibleValgprince… Nesryn scanned the rooftops and the gargantuan pillar of the Torre. Itgleamed bone white in the moonlight, a beacon watching over this city, thehealerswithin.

Chaol and Yrene had made no progress today, but—it was fine. Nesrynremindedherself, againandagain, that itwas fine.These things tookawhile,even if Yrene … It was clear she had some personal reservations regardingChaol’sheritage.Hisformerroleintheempire.

Nesryn paused near an alley entrance while a band of young revelersstaggered past, singing bawdy songs that would surely make her aunt scoldthem.Andlaterhumalongherself.

As shemonitored the alley, the bordering, flat rooftops,Nesryn’s attentionsnaggedonaroughcarvingintheearthenbrickwall.Anowlatrest, itswingstuckedin,thoseunearthlylargeeyeswideandeternallyunblinking.Perhapsnomore than vandalism, yet she brushed a gloved hand over it, tracing the linesetchedintothebuilding’sside.

Antica’s owls. They were everywhere in this city, tribute to the goddessworshippedperhapsmorethananyotherofthethirty-six.Nochiefgodruledthesoutherncontinent,yetSilba…Nesrynagainstudiedthemightytower,shiningbrighter than the palace on the opposite end of the city. Silba reignedunchallengedhere.ForanyonetobreakintothatTorre,tokilloneofthehealers,theyhadtobedesperate.Orutterlyinsane.

OraValgdemon,withnofearof thegods—onlyof theirmaster’swrath iftheyshouldfail.

ButifshewereaValginthiscity,wheretohide?Wheretolurk?Canals ran beneath some of the homes, but it was not like the vast sewer

networkofRifthold.YetperhapsifshestudiedtheTorre’swalls…Nesrynaimed for thegleaming tower, theTorre loomingwitheachnearing

step.ShepausedintheshadowsbesideoneofthehomesacrossthestreetfromthesolidwallthatenclosedtheTorre’sentirecompound.

Torchesflickeredalongbracketsinthepalewall,guardsstationedeveryfewfeet.Andatop it.Royalguards, judging fromtheircolors,andTorreguards intheir cornflower blue and yellow—so many that none would get by withoutnotice.Nesrynstudiedtheirongates,nowsealedforthenight.

“Weretheyopenlastnight,istheanswernoguardwantstoyield.”Nesrynwhirled,herknifeangledlowandup.PrinceSartaqleanedagainstthebuildingwallafewfeetbehindher,hisgaze

ontheloomingTorre.Twinswordspeekedabovehisbroadshoulders,andlongkniveshungfromhisbelt.He’dchangedfromthefineryofdinnerbackintohisflying leathers—again reinforcedwithsteelat theshoulders, silvergauntletsathiswrists,andablackscarfathisneck.No,notscarf—butaclothtopulloverhis mouth and nose when the heavy hood of his cloak was on. To remainanonymous,unmarked.

Shesheathedherknife.“Wereyoufollowingme?”Theprince flickedhisdark,calmeyes toher. “Youdidn’texactly try tobe

inconspicuouswhenyouleftthroughthefrontgate,armedtotheteeth.”Nesryn turned toward theTorrewalls. “I have no reason to hidewhat I’m

doing.”“Youthinkwhoeverattackedthehealersisjustgoingtobestrollingaround?”

Hisbootswerebarelyascrapeagainst theancientstonesasheapproachedherside.

“Ithoughttoinvestigatehowtheymighthavegottenin.Getabettersenseofthelayoutandwherethey’dlikelyfindappealingtohide.”

Apause.“Yousoundasifyouknowyourpreyintimately.”Anddidn’tthinktomentionthistomeduringourridethismorning,wastheunspokenrest.

NesrynglancedsidelongatSartaq.“IwishIcouldsayotherwise,butIdo.Ifthe attackwasmadebywhomwe suspect… I spentmuchof this spring andsummerhuntingtheirkindinRifthold.”

Sartaqwatched thewall for a longminute.He saidquietly, “Howbadwasit?”

Nesrynswallowedastheimagesflickered:thebodiesandthesewersandtheglasscastleexploding,awallofdeathflyingforher—

“CaptainFaliq.”Agentleprod.Asoftertonethanshe’dexpectfromawarrior-prince.“Whatdidyourspiestellyou?”Sartaq’s jaw tightened, shadows crossing his face before he said, “They

reported thatRiftholdwas full of terrors.Peoplewhowerenotpeople. BeastsfromVanth’sdarkestdreams.”

Vanth—GoddessoftheDead.HerpresenceinthiscitypredatedevenSilba’shealers, her worshippers a secretive sect that even the khagan and hispredecessors feared and respected, despite her rituals being wholly differentfrom the Eternal Sky to which the khagan and the Darghan believed theyreturned.NesrynhadwalkedswiftlypastVanth’sdark-stonedtempleearlier,theentrance marked only by a set of onyx steps descending into a subterraneanchamberlitwithbone-whitecandles.

“Icanseethatnoneofthissoundsoutlandishtoyou,”saidSartaq.“Ayearago,itmighthave.”Sartaq’s gaze swept over her weapons. “So you truly faced such horrors,

then.”“Yes,”Nesryn admitted. “Forwhatever good it did, considering the city is

nowheldbythem.”Thewordscameoutasbitterlyastheyfelt.Sartaqconsidered.“Mostwouldhavefled,ratherthanfacethematall.”

Shedidn’tfeellikeconfirmingordenyingsuchastatement,nodoubtmeanttoconsoleher.Akindeffortfromamanwhodidnotneedtodosuchthings.Shefound herself saying, “I—I saw yourmother earlier.Walking alone through agarden.”

Sartaq’seyesshuttered.“Oh?”Acarefulquestion.Nesryn wondered if she perhaps should have held her tongue, but she

continued,“Ionlymentionitincase…incaseitissomethingyoumightneed,mightwanttoknow.”

“Wasthereaguard?Ahandmaidenwithher?”“NonethatIsaw.”Thatwasindeedworrytighteninghisfaceasheleanedagainstthewallofthe

building.“Thankyouforthereport.”Itwasnotherplacetoaskaboutit—notforanyone,andcertainlynotforthe

mostpowerful family in theworld.ButNesryn saidquietly, “MymotherdiedwhenIwasthirteen.”Shegazedupatthenear-glowingTorre.“Theoldking…youknowwhathedid to thosewithmagic.Tohealersgiftedwith it.So therewasnoonewhocouldsavemymotherfromthewastingsicknessthatcreptuponher.Thehealerwemanagedtofindadmittedtousthat itwaslikelyfromagrowth insidemymother’s breast. That shemight have been able to cure herbeforemagicvanished.Beforeitwasforbidden.”

Shehadnevertoldanyoneoutsideofherfamilythisstory.Wasn’tsurewhyshewasreallytellinghimnow,butshewenton,“Myfatherwantedtogetheronaboattosailhere.Wasdesperateto.Butwarhadbrokenoutupanddownourlands.ShipswereconscriptedintoAdarlan’sservice,andshewastoosicktoriska land journey all the way down to Eyllwe to try to cross there. My fathercombedthrougheverymap,everytraderoute.Bythetimehefoundamerchantwhowouldsailwiththem—justthetwoofthem—toAntica…Mymotherwassosickshecouldnotbemoved.Shewouldnothavemadeithere,evenifthey’d

gottenontheboat.”Sartaqwatchedher,faceunreadable,whileshespoke.Nesrynslidherhandsintoherpockets.“Soshestayed.Andwewereallthere

whenshe…whenitwasover.”Thatoldgriefwrappedaroundher,burninghereyes.“Ittookmeafewyearstofeelrightagain,”shesaidafteramoment.“TwoyearsbeforeIstartednoticingthingslikethesunonmyface,orthetasteoffood—startedenjoyingthemagain.Myfather…heheldustogether.MysisterandI.Ifhemourned,hedidnotletusseeit.Hefilledourhousewithasmuchjoyashecould.”

Shefellsilent,unsurehowtoexplainwhatshe’dmeantbystartingdownthisroad.

Sartaqsaidatlast,“Wherearetheynow?AftertheattackonRifthold?”“Idon’tknow,”shewhispered,blowingoutabreath.“Theygotout,but…I

don’tknowwheretheyfled,oriftheywillbeabletomakeithere,withsomanyhorrorsfillingtheworld.”

Sartaq fell quiet for a long minute, and Nesryn spent every second of itwishingshe’djustkepthermouthshut.Thentheprincesaid,“Iwillsendword—discreetly.”Hepushedoffthewall.“FormyspiestokeepaneyeoutfortheFaliqfamily,andtoaidthem,shouldtheypasstheirway,inanyformtheycantosaferharbors.”

Her chest tightened to the point of pain, but she managed to say, “Thankyou.”Itwasagenerousoffer.Morethangenerous.

Sartaqadded,“Iamsorry—foryour loss.As longagoas itwas. I…Asawarrior,Igrewupwalkinghand-in-handwithDeath.Andyetthisone…Ithasbeenhardertoendurethanothers.Andmymother’sgriefperhapsevenhardertofacethanmyown.”Heshookhishead,themoonlightdancingonhisblackhair,andsaidwithforcedlightness,“WhydoyouthinkIwassoeagertorunoutafteryouintothenight?”

Nesryn,despiteherself,offeredhimaslightsmileinreturn.

Sartaq lifted a brow. “Though it would help to know what, exactly, I’msupposedtobelookingfor.”

Nesryndebatedwhattotellhim—debatedhisverypresencehere.Hegavea low,soft laughwhenherhesitationwentonamoment too long.

“YouthinkI’mtheonewhoattackedthathealer?AfterIwastheonewhotoldyouaboutitthismorning?”

Nesrynbowedherhead.“Imeannodisrespect.”Evenifshe’dseenanotherprince enslaved this spring—had fired an arrow at a queen to keep him alive.“Yourspieswerecorrect.Riftholdwas…IwouldnotwishtoseeAnticasufferthroughanythingsimilar.”

“Andyou’reconvincedtheattackattheTorrewasjustthestart?”“I’mouthere,aren’tI?”Silence.Nesryn added, “If anyone, familiar or foreign, offers you a black ring or

collars, ifyouseeanyonewith something like it…Donothesitate.Not foraheartbeat. Strike fast, and true. Beheading is the only thing that keeps themdown.Thepersonwithinthemisgone.Don’ttrytosavethem—oritwillbeyouwhowindsupenslavedaswell.”

Sartaq’s attention drifted to the sword at her side, the bow and quiverstrappedtoherback.Hesaidquietly,“Tellmeeverythingthatyouknow.”

“Ican’t.”Therefusalalonecouldendherlife,butSartaqnoddedthoughtfully.“Tellme

whatyoucan,then.”Soshedid.Standing in the shadowsbeyond theTorrewalls, sheexplained

everythingshecould,saveforthekeysandgates,andDorian’senslavement,aswellasthatoftheformerking.

Whenshe’dfinished,Sartaq’sfacehadnotchanged,thoughherubbedathisjaw.“Whendidyouplantotellmyfatherthis?”

“Assoonashe’dgrantusaprivatemeeting.”

Sartaqswore, lowandcreative.“Withmysister’sdeath…It’sbeenharderfor him than he’ll admit to return to our usual rhythms. Hewill not takemycounsel.Oranyoneelse’s.”

Itwas theworry in the prince’s tone—and sorrow—thatmadeNesryn say,“I’msorry.”

Sartaqshookhishead.“Imustthinkonwhatyoutoldme.Thereareplaceswithin this continent, nearmy people’s homeland…”He rubbed at his neck.“WhenIwasaboy, they toldstoriesat theaeriesofsimilarhorrors.”Hesaid,moretohimselfthanher,“PerhapsitistimeIpaidmyhearth-motheravisit.Tohear her stories again. And how that ancient threat was dealt with, long ago.Especiallyifitisnowstirringoncemore.”

ArecordoftheValg…here?Herfamilyhadnevertoldheranysuchtales,butthenherownpeoplehadhailedfromdistantreachesofthecontinent.IftherukridershadsomehoweitherknownoftheValgorevenfacedthem…

Footstepsscuffedonthestreetbeyond,andtheypressedintothewallsofthealley,handsontheirswordhilts.Butitwasonlyadrunkstumblinghomeforthenight, saluting the Torre guards along the wall as he passed, earning a fewlaughinggrinsinreturn.

“Are there canals beneath here—nearby sewers that might connect to theTorre?”Herquestionwaslittlemorethanapushofair.

“I don’t know,” Sartaq admitted with equal quiet. He smiled grimly as hepointedtowardanancientgrateintheslopedstonesofthealley.“Butitwouldbemyhonortoaccompanyyouindiscoveringone.”

14

Yrenedidn’tcareifsomeonecametomurderherinhersleep.Bythetimethesolemn,candlelitvigilintheTorrecourtyardhadfinished,by

the time Yrene crawled to her room near the top of the Torre, two acolytespropping her between them after she’d collapsed at the base of the stairs, shedidn’tcareaboutanything.

Cookbroughtherdinnerinbed.Yrenemanagedabitebeforeshepassedout.Sheawokepastmidnightwithherforkonherchestandspiced,slow-cooked

chickenstainingherfavoritebluegown.She groaned, but felt slightlymore alive. Enough so that she sat up in the

near-darknessofhertowerroom,androseonlytoseetoherneedsandhaulhertinydeskinfrontofthedoor.Shestackedbooksandanyspareobjectsshecouldfind atop it, checked the locks twice, and stumbled back into bed, still fullyclothed.

Sheawokeatsunrise.Preciselywhenshesaidshe’dmeetLordChaol.Cursing,Yrenehauledawaythedesk,thebooks,undidthelocks,andflung

herselfdownthetowerstairs.She’d ordered the brace for his horse to be brought directly to the castle

courtyard,andshe’dlefthersuppliesathisroomyesterday,sotherewasnothingforhertotakebeyondherownfranticselfasshehurtleddowntheendlessspiraloftheTorre,scowlingatthecarvedowlspassingsilentjudgmentwhilesheflew

by doors now beginning to open to reveal sleepy-faced healers and acolytesblinkingblearilyather.

Yrene thankedSilba for the restorative powers of deep, dreamless sleep asshe sprinted across the complex grounds, past the lavender-lined pathways,throughthejust-openedgates.

Anticawas stirring, the streetsmercifully quiet as she raced for the palaceperched on its other side. She arrived in the courtyard thirty minutes late,gaspingforbreath,sweatpoolingineverypossiblecreviceofherbody.

LordWestfallhadstartedwithouther.Gulpingdownair,Yrenelingeredbythetoweringbronzegates,theshadows

still lyingthickwiththesunsolowonthehorizon,andwatchedtheunfoldingmounting.

Asshe’dspecified, thepatient-lookingroanmarewason theshorterside—theperfectheightforhimtoreachthesaddlehornwithanupraisedhand.Whichhewascurrentlydoing,Yrenenotedwithnosmalldegreeofsatisfaction.Buttherest…

Well, it seemed he’d decided not to use the wooden ramp that she’d alsoorderedcraftedinlieuofasteppedmountingblock.Themountingrampnowsatbythestill-shadowedhorsepensagainsttheeasternwallofthecourtyard—asifhe’d outright refused to even go near it, and instead had them bring over thehorse.Tomountthemareonhisown.

Itdidn’tsurpriseheronebit.Chaoldidnotlookatanyoftheguardsclusteredaroundhim—atleast,more

thanwasnecessary.Withtheirbackstoher,shecouldonlyidentifyoneortwobyname,but—

Onestepped in silently to letChaolbracehisotherhandonhisarmor-cladshoulderasthelordpushedhimselfuprightinamightyheave.Themarestoodpatientlywhilehisrighthandgrippedthesaddlehorntobalancehimself—

She stepped forward just as LordWestfall pushed off the guard’s shoulder

and into the saddle, theguard stepping in close ashedid it. It left himsittingsidesaddle, butChaol still did not give the guardmuch thanks beyond a tightnod.

Instead,he silently studied the saddlebeforehim, assessinghowhewas togetonelegovertheothersideofthehorse.Colorstainedhischeeks,hisjawatightline.Theguardslingered,andhestiffened,tighterandtighter—

Butthenhemovedagain,leaningbackinthesaddleandhaulinghisrightlegoverthehorn.Theguardwho’dhelpedhimlungedtosupporthisback,anotherdarting from the other side to keep him from tumbling off, but Chaol’s torsoremainedsolid.Unwavering.

Hismuscle controlwasextraordinary.Amanwhohad trained thatbody toobeyhimnomatterwhat,evennow.

And—hewasinthesaddle.Chaolmurmured something to the guards that had them backing off as he

leanedtoeithersidetobucklethestrapsofthebracearoundhislegs.Ithadbeenset into the saddle—the fit perfect based on the estimations she’d given thewoman in the workshop—designed to stabilize his legs, replacing where histhighswould have clamped to keep him steady. Just until he became used toriding.Hemightverywellnotneedthematall,but…itwasbettertobesafeforthisfirstride.

Yrenewipedhersweatyforeheadandapproached,offeringawordofthanksto the guards, who now filtered back to their posts. The one who’d directlyhelpedLordWestfallturnedinherdirection,andYrenegavehimabroadsmileasshesaidinHalha,“Goodmorning,Shen.”

Theyoungguardreturnedhersmileashecontinuedtowardthesmallstablesinthefarshadowsofthecourtyard,winkingatherashepassedby.“Morning,Yrene.”

She found Chaol sitting upright in the saddle when she faced ahead oncemore—thatstiffpostureandclenchedjawgoneashewatchedherapproach.

Yrenestraightenedherdress, realizing justasshereachedhimthatshestillworeyesterday’sclothes.Nowwithagiantredsplotchonherchest.

Chaol took in the stain, then her hair—oh, gods, her hair—and only said,“Goodmorning.”

Yreneswallowed,stillpantingfromherrun.“I’msorryI’mlate.”Upclose,the brace indeed blended in enough formost people not to notice. Especiallywiththewayhecarriedhimself.

Hesattallandproudonthathorse,shoulderssquared,hairstillwetfromhismorningbath.Yreneswallowedagainandinclinedherheadtowardtheunusedmounting ramp across the courtyard. “Thatwas alsomeant for your use, youknow.”

He lifted his brows. “I doubt there will be one readily available on abattlefield,” he said, mouth twisting to the side. “So I might as well learn tomountonmyown.”

Indeed. But even with the crisp golden dawn around them, what she’dglimpsedwithinhiswound, thearmytheymightbothface, flashedbeforeher,stretchingthelongshadows—

Motioncaughthereye,snappingYrenetoalertnessasShenledasmallwhitemarefromthosesameshadows.Saddledandreadyforher.Shefrownedatherdress.

“IfI’mriding,”Chaolsaidsimply,“soareyou.”Perhapsthatwaswhathe’dmutteredtotheguardsbeforethey’ddispersed.

Yreneblurted,“I’mnot—it’sbeenawhilesinceIrodeone.”“IfIcanletfourmenhelpmeontothisdamnedhorse,”hesaidsimply, the

colorstillbloominginhischeeks,“thenyoucangetonone,too.”From the tone, sheknew itmust havebeen—embarrassing.She’d seen the

expressiononhisfacejustnow.Buthe’ddoneit.Grittedhisteethanddoneit.Andwith theguardshelpinghim…Sheknew thereweremultiple reasons

whyhecouldbarelyglanceat them.That itwasnot just the lone reminderof

what he’doncebeen thatmadehim tenseup in their presence, refuse to evenconsidertrainingwiththem.

But thatwasnotaconversation tobehadnow—nothere,andnotwith thelightstartingtoreturntohiseyes.

SoYrenehitchedupherhemandletShenhelpherontothehorse.Theskirtsofherdresshikedupenoughtorevealmostofherlegs,butshe’d

seenfarmorerevealedhere.Inthisverycourtyard.NeitherShennoranyotherguards somuch as glanced her way. She turned to Chaol to order him to goahead,butfoundhiseyesonher.

On the legexposed fromankle tomidthigh,paler thanmostofhergolden-brownskin.Shedarkenedeasilyinthesun,butithadbeenmonthssinceshe’dgoneswimmingandbaskedinanysunlight.

Chaol noticed her attention and snapped his eyes up to hers. “You have agoodseat,”hetoldher,asclinicallyassheoftenremarkedonthestatusofherpatients’bodies.

YrenegavehimanexasperatedlookbeforenoddingherthankstoShenandnudgingherhorseintoawalk.Chaolsnappedthereinsanddidthesame.

Shekeptoneeyeonhimastheyrodetowardthecourtyardgates.Thebraceheld.Thesaddleheld.Hewaspeeringdownatit—thenatthegates,atthecityawakeningbeyond

them, the tower jutting high above it all as if it were a hand raised in boldwelcome.

Sunlightbrokethroughtheopenarchway,gildingthemboth,butYrenecouldhaveswornitwasfarmorethanthedawnthatshoneinthecaptain’sbrowneyesastheyrodeintothecity.

Itwasnotwalkingagain,butitwasbetterthanthechair.Betterthanbetter.

Thebracewascumbersome,goingagainstallhisinstinctsasarider,but…itheld him firm. Allowed him to guide Yrene through the gates, the healerclutchingatthepommeleverynowandthen,forgettingthereinsentirely.

Well,he’dfoundonethingshewasn’tsoself-assuredat.Thethoughtbroughtasmallsmiletohislips.Especiallyasshekeptadjusting

her skirts. For all she’d chided him about his modesty, flashing her legs hadgivenherpause.

Men in the streets—workers and peddlers and city guards—looked twice.Lookedtheirfill.

Untiltheynoticedhisstareandavertedtheireyes.AndChaolmadesuretheydid.Just as he’dmade sure the guards in the courtyard had kept their attention

polite the moment she’d run in, huffing and puffing, sun-kissed and flushed.Evenwiththestainonherclothes,evenwearingyesterday’sdressandcoatedinafaintsheenofsweat.

Ithadbeenmortifyingtobehelpedintothesaddlelikeunrulybaggageafterhe’drefusedthemountingramp—mortifyingtoseethoseguardsintheirpristineuniforms, thearmoron their shouldersandhiltsof their swordsglinting in theearlymorning sunlight, allwatchinghim fumbleabout.Buthe’ddealtwith it.Andthenhefoundhimselfforgettingthatentirelyattheappreciativeglancestheguards gave her. No lady, beautiful or plain, young or old, deserved to begawkedat.AndYrene…

Chaolkepthismareclosebesidehers.MetthestareofanymanwhoglancedtheirwayastheyrodetowardthetoweringspireoftheTorre,thestonespaleascreaminthemorninglight.Everysinglemanswiftlyfoundsomewhereelse togape.Someevenlookedapologetic.

WhetherYrene noticed, he had no clue. Shewas too busy lunging for thesaddlehornatanyunexpectedmovementsofthehorse,toobusywincingasthemareincreasedherpaceupaparticularlysteepstreet,causingher toswayand

slidebackinhersaddle.“Leanforward,”heinstructedher.“Balanceyourweight.”Hedidthesame—

asmuchasthebraceallowed.Theirhorsesslowlyplowedupthestreets,headsbobbingastheyworked.Yrenegavehimasharpglare.“Idoknowthosethings.”Heliftedhisbrowsinalookthatsaid,Couldhavefooledme.Shescowled,butfacedahead.Leanedforward,ashe’dinstructedher.He’dbeensleepinglike thedeadwhenNesrynreturnedlate lastnight—but

she’drousedhimlongenoughtosayshehadn’tdiscoveredanythinginregardtopotentialValginthecity.NosewersconnectedtotheTorre,andwiththeheavyguardatthewalls,noonewasgettinginthatway.He’dmanagedtoholdontoconsciousness longenough to thankher,andhearherpromise tokeephuntingtoday.

Butthiscloudless,brightday…definitelynottheValg’spreferreddarkness.AelinhadtoldhimhowtheValgprincescouldsummondarknessforthemselves—darkness that struckdownany livingcreature in itspath,draining themdry.But evenoneValg in this city, regardlessofwhether theywereaprinceor anordinarygrunt…

Chaol pushed the thought from his mind, frowning up at the mammothstructurethatgrewmoreimposingwitheachstreettheycrossed.

“Towers,”hemused,glancingtowardYrene.“Isitcoincidenceyoubearthatname,ordidyourancestorsoncehailfromtheTorre?”

Herknuckleswerewhiteasshegrippedthepommel,asifturningtolookathimwould send her toppling off. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “My—itwasknowledgethatIneverlearned.”

He considered the words, the way she squinted at the bright pillar of thetoweraheadratherthanmeethisstare.AchildofFenharrow.Hedidn’tdareaskwhyshemightnotknowtheanswer.Whereherfamilywas.

Instead,hejerkedhischintotheringonherfinger.“Doesthefakewedding

bandreallywork?”Sheexaminedtheancient,scuffedring.“IwishIcouldsayotherwise,butit

does.”“Youencounterthatbehaviorhere?”Inthiswondrouscity?“Very,veryrarely.”Shewriggledherfingersbeforesettlingthemaroundthe

saddle’spommelagain.“Butit’sanoldhabitfromhome.”Foraheartbeat,herecalledanassassininabloodywhitegown,collapsingat

theentrancetothebarracks.Recalledthepoisonedbladethemanhadslicedherwith—andhadusedwithcountlessothers.

“I’mglad,”hesaidafteramoment.“Thatyoudon’tneedtofearsuchthingshere.” Even the guards, for all their ogling, had been respectful. She’d evenaddressedonebyname—andhisreturnedwarmthhadbeengenuine.

Yrene clenched the saddle horn again. “The khagan holds all peopleaccountabletotheruleofthelaw,whetherthey’reservantsorprinces.”

Itshouldn’thavebeensuchanovelconcept,yet…Chaolblinked.“Truly?”Yreneshrugged.“AsfarasIhaveheardandobserved.Lordscannotbuytheir

wayoutofcrimescommitted,norrelyon their familynames tobail themout.Andwould-becriminalsinthestreetsseetheexactinghandofjusticeandrarelydaretotemptit.”Apause.“Didyou…”

Heknewwhatshe’dbalkedatasking.“Iwasorderedtoreleaseorlooktheotherwayfornobilitywhohadcommittedcrimes.Atleast,theoneswhowereofvalueincourtandintheking’sarmies.”

Shestudiedthepommelbeforeher.“Andyournewking?”“Heisdifferent.”If hewas alive. If he hadmade it out ofRifthold.Chaol forcedhimself to

add, “Dorian has long studied and admired the khaganate. Perhaps he’ll putsomeofitspoliciesintoeffect.”

Along,assessingglancenow.“Doyouthinkthekhaganwillallywithyou?”He hadn’t told her that, but it was fairly obvious why he’d come, he

supposed.“Icanonlyhope.”“Wouldhisforcesmakethatmuchofadifferenceagainst…thepowersyou

mentioned?”Chaol repeated, “I can only hope.”He couldn’t bring himself to voice the

truth—thattheirarmieswerefewandscattered,iftheyexistedatall.ComparedtothegatheringmightofMorath…

“Whathappenedthesemonths?”Aquiet,carefulquestion.“Tryingtotrickmeintotalking?”“Iwanttoknow.”“It’snothingworthtelling.”Hisstorywasn’tworthtellingatall.Notasingle

partofit.She fell silent, the clopping of their horses’ hooves the only sound for a

block.Then,“Youwillneedtotalkaboutit.Atsomepoint.I…beheldglimpsesofitwithinyouyesterday.”

“Isn’tthatenough?”Thequestionwassharpastheknifeathisside.“Notifitiswhatthethinginsideyoufeedson.Notifclaimingownershipof

itmighthelp.”“Andyou’re socertainof this?”He shouldmindhis tongue,heknew that,

but—Yrene straightened in her saddle. “The traumaof any injury requires some

internalreflectionduringthehealingandaftermath.”“Idon’twantit.Needit.Ijustwanttostand—towalkagain.”Sheshookherhead.Hechargedon,“Andwhataboutyou,then?Howaboutwemakeadeal:you

tellmeallyourdeep,darksecrets,YreneTowers,andI’lltellyoumine.”Indignation lit those remarkable eyes as she glared at him.He glared right

back.Finally,Yrenesnorted,smilingfaintly.“You’reasstubbornasanass.”“I’vebeencalledworse,”hecountered,thebeginningsofasmiletuggingon

hismouth.“I’mnotsurprised.”Chaolchuckled,catchingthemakingsofagrinonherfacebeforesheducked

herheadtohideit.AsifsharingonewithasonofAdarlanweresuchacrime.Still,heeyedher fora longmoment—thehumor lingeringonher face, the

heavy,softlycurlinghairthatwasoccasionallycaughtinthemorningbreezeoffthe sea.And foundhimself still smiling as something coiled tight in his chestbegantoloosen.

They rode the restof theway to theTorre in silence, andChaol tippedhishead back as they neared, walking down a broad, sunny avenue that slopedupwardtothehilltopcomplex.

TheTorrewasevenmoredominatingupclose.It was broad, more of a keep than anything, but still rounded. Buildings

flanked its sides, connected on lower levels. All enclosed by towering whitewalls,theirongates—fashionedtolooklikeanowlspreadingitswings—thrownwide to reveal lavenderbushes and flowerbeds lining the sand-coloredgravelwalkways.Notflowerbeds.Herbbeds.

Thesmellsofthemopeningtothemorningsunfilledhisnose:basilandmintandsageandmoreofthatlavender.Eventheirhorses,hoovescrunchingonthewalkways,seemedtosighastheyapproached.

GuardsinwhatheassumedwereTorrecolors—cornflowerblueandyellow—letthempasswithoutquestion,andYrenebowedherheadinthanks.Theydidnot look at her legs.Did not either dare or have the inclination to disrespect.Chaolglancedawayfromthembeforehecouldmeettheirquestioningstares.

Yrenetookthelead,guidingthemthroughanarchwayandintothecomplexcourtyard.Windows of the three-story buildingwrapped around the courtyardgleamedwiththelightoftherisingsun,butinsidethecourtyarditself…

BeyondthemurmurofawakeningAnticaoutsidethecompound,beyondthehooves of their horses on the pale gravel, there was only the gurgle of twin

fountainsanchoredagainstparallelwallsof thecourtyard—theirspoutsshapedlikescreechingowlbeaks,spewingwaterintodeepbasinsbelow.Palepinkandpurpleflowerslinedthewallsbetweenlemontrees,thebedstidybutlefttogrowastheplantswilled.

Itwasoneofthemoresereneplaceshehadeverlaideyeson.Andwatchingthemapproach…Twodozenwomenindressesofeverycolor—thoughmostofthesimplemakeYrenefavored.

Theystoodinneatrowsonthegravel,somebarelymorethanchildren,somewellintotheirprime.Afewwereelderly.

Includingonewoman, dark-skinned andwhite-haired,who strode from thefrontofthelineandsmiledbroadlyatYrene.Itwasnotafacethathadeverheldanybeauty,buttherewasalightinthewoman’seyes—akindnessandserenitythatmadeChaolblinkinwonder.

All theotherswatchedher,as if shewere theaxisaroundwhich theywereordered. Even Yrene, who smiled at the woman as she dismounted, lookinggratefultobeoffthemare.Oneoftheguardswhohadtrailedthemincametoretrievethehorse,buthesitatedasChaolremainedastride.

ChaolignoredthemanasYrenefinger-combedhertangledhairandspoketothe ancient woman in his tongue. “I take it the good crowd this morning isthankstoyou?”Lightwords—perhapsanattemptatnormalcy,consideringwhathadhappenedinthelibrary.

Theoldwomansmiled—suchwarmth.Shewasbrighterthanthesunpeekingabovethecompoundwalls.“Thegirlsheardarumorofahandsomelordcomingtoteach.Iwaspracticallytrampledinthestampededownthestairs.”

Shecastawrygrintothreered-facedgirls,noolderthanfifteen,wholookedguiltilyattheirshoes.Andthenshotlooksathimbeneaththeirlashesthatwereanythingbut.

Chaolstifledalaugh.Yrene turned to him, assessing the brace and the saddle as the crunch of

approachingwheelsongravelfilledthecourtyard.Theamusementfaded.Dismountinginfrontofthesewomen…Enough.Thewordsoundedthroughhim.Ifhecouldnotendureitinfrontofagroupoftheworld’sbesthealers,then

hewoulddeservetosuffer.Hehadofferedhishelp.Hewouldgiveit.For indeed, there were some younger girls in the back who were pale.

Shiftingontheirfeet.Nervous.Thissanctuary,thislovelyplace…Ashadowhadcreptoverit.Hewoulddowhathecouldtopushitback.“LordChaolWestfall,”Yrenesaid tohim,gesturing to theancientwoman,

“mayIpresentHafiza,HealeronHighoftheTorreCesme.”Oneoftheblushinggirlssighedatthesoundofhisname.Yrene’seyesdanced.ButChaol inclinedhishead to theoldwomanas she

extendedherhandsuptohim.Theskinwasleathery—aswarmashersmile.Shesqueezedhisfingerstightly.“AshandsomeasYrenesaid.”

“Isaidnosuchthing,”Yrenehissed.Oneofthegirlsgiggled.Yrene cut her awarning look, andChaol lifted his brows before saying to

Hafiza,“Itisanhonorandapleasure,mylady.”“Sodashing,”oneofthegirlsmurmuredbehindhim.Waituntilyouseemydismount,healmostsaid.Hafiza squeezedhis handsoncemore anddropped them.She facedYrene.

Waiting.Yreneonlyclappedherhandstogetherandsaidtothegirlsassembled,“Lord

Westfall has suffered a severe injury to his lower spine and finds walkingdifficult. Yesterday, Sindra in the workshop crafted this brace for him, baseduponthedesignsfromthehorse-tribesinthesteppes,whohavelongdealtwithsuchinjuriesfortheirriders.”Shewavedahandtoindicatehislegs,thebrace.

Witheveryword,hisshouldersstiffened.Moreandmore.“Ifyouarefacedwithapatient inasimilarsituation,”Yrenewenton,“the

freedom of riding may be a pleasant alternative to a carriage or palanquin.Especiallyiftheywereusedtoacertainlevelofindependencebeforehand.”Sheaddeduponconsideration,“Oreveniftheyhavefacedmobilitydifficultiestheirentirelives—itmayprovideapositiveoptionwhileyouhealthem.”

Littlemorethananexperiment.Eventheblushinggirlshadlosttheirsmilesastheystudiedthebrace.Hislegs.

Yreneaskedthem,“WhoshouldliketoassistLordWestfallfromhismounttohischair?”

Adozenhandsshotup.Hetriedtosmile.Triedandfailed.Yrenepointedatafew,whorushedover.Nonelookedupathimabovethe

waist,orevenbidhimgoodmorning.Yrene lifted her voice as they crowded around her, making sure those

assembled in the courtyard could also hear. “For patients completelyimmobilized,thismaynotbeanoption,butLordWestfallretainstheabilitytomoveabovehiswaistandcansteerthehorsewiththereins.Balanceandsafety,ofcourse,remainconcerns,butanotheristhatheretainsuseandsensationofhismanhood—whichalsopresentsafewhiccupsregardingthecomfortofthebraceitself.”

One of the younger girls let out a giggle at that, but most only nodded,lookingdirectlyattheareaindicated,asifhehadnoclothesonwhatsoever.Faceheating,Chaolrestrainedtheurgetocoverhimself.

Twoyounghealersbeganunstrappingthebrace,someexaminingthebucklesandrods.Stilltheydidnotlookhimintheeye.Asifheweresomenewtoy—newlesson.Someoddity.

Yrene merely went on, “Mind you don’t jostle him too much when you—careful.”

Hefoughttokeephisfeaturesdistant,foundhimselfmissingtheguardsfromthepalace.Yrenegavethegirlsfirm,soliddirectionsastheytuggedhimdownfromthesaddle.

Hedidn’ttrytohelptheacolytes,orfightthem,whentheypulledathisarms,someone going to steady his waist, the world tilting as they hauled himdownward.But theweightofhisbodywas toogreat,andhe felthimself slidefartherfromthesaddle,thedroptothegroundlooming,thesunabrandonhisskin.

Thegirlsgrunted, someonegoing to theotherside tohelpmovehis legupandoverthehorse—orhethoughtso.Heonlyknewitbecausehesawherheadofcurlsjustpeekoverthehorse’sside.Shepushed,juttinghislegupward,andhehung there, threegirlsgritting their teethwhile they tried to lowerhim, theotherswatchinginobservationalsilence—

Oneofthegirlsletoutanoomphandlosthergriponhisshoulder.Theworldplunged—

Strong, unfaltering hands caught him, his nose barely half a foot from thepalegravelastheothergirlsshuffledandgrunted, tryingtohefthimupagain.He’d come freeof thehorse, but his legswerenowsprawledbeneathhim, asdistantfromhimastheverytopoftheTorre,highabove.

Roaringfilledhishead.Asortofnakednesscreptoverhim.Worsethansittinginhisundershortsfor

hours.Worsethanthebathwiththeservant.Yrene, gripping his shoulder from where she’d just barely caught him in

time,saidtothehealers,“Thatcouldhavebeenbetter,girls.Agreatdealbetter,formanyreasons.”Asigh.“Wecandiscusswhatwentwronglater,butfornow,movehimtothechair.”

He could barely stand to hear her, listen to her, as he hung between thosegirls,most ofwhomwere half hisweight.Yrene stepped aside to let the girlwho’ddroppedhimbackintoplace,whistlingsharply.

Wheelshissedongravelfromnearby.Hedidn’tbothertolookatthewheeledchairthatanacolytepushedcloser.Didn’tbothertospeakastheysettledhiminit,thechairshudderingbeneathhisweight.

“Careful.”Yrenewarnedagain.The girls lingered, the rest of the courtyard still watching. Had it been

seconds orminutes since this ordeal had begun?He clenched the arms of thechairasYrenerattledoffsomedirectionsandobservations.Clenchedthearmsharderasoneofthegirlsstoopedtotouchhisbootedfeet,toarrangethemforhim.

Wordsroseuphisthroat,andheknewthey’dburstfromhim,knewhecoulddolittletostophisbellowtobackoffasthatacolyte’sfingersnearedthedustyblackleather—

Withered brown hands landed on the girl’s wrist, halting her mere inchesaway.

Hafizasaidcalmly,“Letme.”ThegirlspeeledbackasHafizastoopedtohelphiminstead.“Get the ladies ready,Yrene,”Hafiza saidover a slim shoulder, andYrene

obeyed,usheringthembackintotheirlines.The ancient woman’s hands lingered on his boots—his feet, currently

pointinginoppositedirections.“ShallIdoit,lord,orwouldyouliketo?”Wordsfailedhim,andhewasn’tcertainhecouldusehishandswithoutthem

shaking,sohegavethewomananodofapproval.Hafiza straightened one foot, waiting until Yrene had walked a few steps

awayandbegungivingstretchinginstructionstotheladies.“This is a place for learning,”Hafizamurmured. “Older students teach the

younger.” Even with her accent, he understood her perfectly. “It was Yrene’sinstinct, LordWestfall, to show the girls what she did with the brace—to letthemlearnforthemselveswhatitistohaveapatientwithsimilardifficulties.Toreceivethistraining,Yreneherselfhadtoventureoutontothesteppes.Manyof

thesegirlsmightnothavethatopportunity.Atleastnotforseveralyears.”Chaol met Hafiza’s eyes at last, finding the understanding in them more

damningthanbeinghauledoffahorsebyagroupofgirlshalfhisweight.“Shemeanswell,myYrene.”Hedidn’tanswer.Hewasn’tsurehehadwords.Hafiza straightened his other foot. “There are many other scars, my lord.

Beyondtheoneonherneck.”Hewantedtotelltheoldwomanthatheknewthattoodamnwell.Butheshoveddownthatbareness,thatsimmeringroarinhishead.Hehadmadetheseladiesapromisetoteachthem,tohelpthem.Hafizaseemedtoreadthat—senseit.Sheonlypattedhisshoulderbeforeshe

rosetoherfullheight,groaningabit,andwalkedbacktotheplaceleftforherinline.

Yrene had turned toward him, stretching done, and scanned him. As ifHafiza’slingeringpresencehadindicatedsomethingshe’dmissed.

Hereyessettledonhis,browsnarrowing.What’swrong?He ignored thequestionwithinher look—ignored thebitofworry.Shoved

whateverhe feltdowndeepandrolledhischair towardher. Inchby inch.Thegravelwasnotideal,buthegrittedhisteeth.He’dgiventheseladieshisword.Hewouldnotbackdownfromit.

“Wheredidweleaveoffthelastlesson?”Yreneaskedagirlinthefront.“Eyegouge,”shesaidwithabroadsmile.Chaolnearlychoked.“Right,”Yrenesaid, rubbingherhands together.“Someonedemonstratefor

me.”Hewatchedinsilenceashandsshotup,andYreneselectedone—asmaller-

bonedgirl.Yrenetookupthestanceofattacker,grabbingthegirlfromthefrontwithsurprisingintensity.

Butthegirl’sslimhandswentrighttoYrene’sface,thumbstothecornersof

hereyes.Chaolstartedfromhischair—orwouldhave,hadthegirlnotpulledback.“Andnext?”Yrenemerelyasked.“Hookinmythumbslikethis”—thegirlmadethemotionintheairbetween

themforalltosee—“andpop.”Someofthegirlslaughedquietlyattheaccompanyingpopthegirlmadewith

hermouth.Aelinwouldhavebeenbesideherselfwithglee.“Good,” Yrene said, and the girl strode back to her place in line. Yrene

turnedtohim,thatworryagainflashingasshebeheldwhateverwasinhiseyes,andsaid,“Thisisourthirdlessonofthisquarter.Wehavecoveredfront-basedattacksonlysofar.Iusuallyhavetheguardscomeinaswillingvictims”—somesnickersatthat—“buttodayIwouldlikeforyoutotelluswhatyouthinkladies,youngandold,strongandfrail,coulddoagainstanysortofattack.Yourlistoftopmaneuversandtips,ifyou’dbesokind.”

He’dtrainedyoungmenreadytoshedblood—nothealpeople.Butdefensewasthefirstlessonhe’dbeentaught,andhadtaughtthoseyoung

guards.Beforethey’dwounduphangingfromthecastlegates.Ress’sbattered,unseeingfaceflashedintohismind.Whatgoodhaditdoneanyofthemwhenitmattered?Notone.Notoneofthatcoregrouphe’dtrustedandtrained,workedwithfor

years…notonehad survived.Brullo,hismentor andpredecessor,had taughthim all he knew—and what had it earned any of them? Anyone he’dencountered,he’dtouched…they’dsuffered.Theliveshe’dsworntoprotect—

Thesunturnedbleaching,thegurgleofthetwinfountainsadistantmelody.Whatgoodhadanyofitdoneforhiscity,hispeople,whenitwassacked?He looked up to find the lines ofwomenwatching him, curiosity on their

faces.

Waiting.There had been a moment, when he had hurled his sword into the Avery.

When he had been unable to bear itsweight at his side, in his hand, and hadchuckeditandeverythingtheCaptainoftheGuardhadbeen,hadmeant,intothedark,eddyingwaters.

He’dbeensinkinganddrowningsince.Longbeforehisspine.Hewasn’tcertainifhe’deventriedtoswim.Notsincethatswordhadgone

intotheriver.Notsincehe’dleftDorianinthatroomwithhisfatherandtoldhisfriend—hisbrother—thathelovedhim,andknewitwasgood-bye.He’d…left.Ineverysenseoftheword.

Chaolforcedhimselftotakeabreath.Totry.Yrene stepped up to his side as his silence stretched on, again looking so

puzzledandconcerned.Asifshecouldnotfigureoutwhy—whyhemighthavebeentheleastbit…Heshovedthethoughtdown.Andtheothers.

Shoved themdown to the silt-thick bottomof theAvery,where that eagle-pommeledswordnowlay,forgottenandrusting.

Chaol lifted his chin, looking each girl andwoman and crone in the face.Healersandservantsandlibrariansandcooks,Yrenehadsaid.

“Whenanattackercomesatyou,”hesaidatlast,“theywilllikelytrytomoveyousomewhereelse.Neverletthemdoit.Ifyoudo,wherevertheytakeyouwillbe the lastplaceyousee.”He’dgone toenoughmurdersites inRifthold, readandlookedintoenoughcases,toknowthetruthinthat.“Iftheytrytomoveyoufromyourcurrentlocation,youmakethatyourbattleground.”

“We know that,” one of the blushing girls said. “That was Yrene’s firstlesson.”

Yrenenoddedgravelyathim.Heagaindidnotlethimselflookatherneck.“Stompingontheinstep?”HecouldbarelymanageawordtoYrene.“Firstlessonalso,”thesamegirlrepliedinsteadofYrene.“Whatabouthowdebilitatingitistoreceiveablowtothegroin?”

Nodsallaround.Yrenecertainlyknewherfairshareofmaneuvers.Chaol smiled grimly. “What about ways to get a man my size or larger

flippedontotheirbacksinlessthantwomoves?”Someofthegirlssmiledastheyshooktheirheads.Itwasn’treassuring.

15

YrenefelttheangersimmeringoffChaolasifitwereheatripplingfromakettle.Notatthegirlsandwomen.Theyadoredhim.Grinnedandlaughed,evenas

they concentrated on his thorough, precise lesson, even as the events in thelibraryhungoverthem,theTorre,likeagrayshroud.Therehadbeenmanytearslastnightatthevigil—andafewredeyesstillinthehallsthismorningasshe’dhurtledpast.

Mercifully,therehadbeennosignofeitherwhenLordChaolcalledinthreeguards to volunteer their bodies for the girls to flip into the gravel.Over andover.

The men agreed, perhaps because they knew that any injuries would befussedoverandpatchedupbythegreatesthealersoutsideDoranelle.

Chaolevenreturnedtheirsmiles,ladiesand,tohershock,guardsalike.ButYrene…shereceivednoneofthem.Notone.Chaol’sfaceonlywenthard,eyesglintingwithfrost,whenevershestepped

intoaskaquestionorwatchhimwalkanacolytethroughthemotions.Hewascommanding,hisunrelentingfocusmissingnothing.Iftheyhadsomuchasonefootinthewrongposition,hecaughtitbeforetheymovedaninch.

Thehour-longlessonendedwitheachoneofthemflippingaguardontohisback. The poor men limped off, smiling broadly. Mostly because Hafizapromisedthemacaskofaleeach—andherstrongesthealingtonic.Whichwasbetterthananyalcohol.

The women dispersed as the bells chimed ten, some to lessons, some tochores, some to patients. A few of the sillier girls lingered, batting theireyelashes towardLordWestfall, one even looking inclined to perch in his lapbeforeHafizadrilyremindedherofapileoflaundrywithhernameonit.

Before the Healer on High hobbled after the acolyte, Hafiza merely gaveYrenewhatshecouldhaveswornwasawarning,knowinglook.

“Well,”YrenesaidtoChaolwhentheywereagainalone—despitethegaggleofgirlspeeringoutoneof theTorrewindows.TheynoticedYrene’s stareandsnappedtheirheadsbackin,slammingthewindowwithriotousgiggles.

Silbasaveherfromteenagegirls.She’dneverbeenone—notlikethat.Notsocarefree.Shehadn’tevenkissed

amanuntil lastautumn.Certainlyhadnevergiggledoverone.Shewishedshehad;wishedforalotofthingsthathadendedwiththatpyreandthosetorches.

“Thatwentbetterthanexpected,”YrenesaidtoChaol,whowasfrowningupat the looming Torre. “I’m sure they’ll be begging me next week for you toreturn.Ifyou’reinterested,Isuppose.”

Hesaidnothing.She swallowed. “Iwould like to tryagain today, ifyou’reup for it.Would

youpreferIfindaroomhere,orshallweridebacktothepalace?”Hemetherstarethen.Hiseyesweredark.“Thepalace.”Herstomachtwistedattheicytone.“Allright,”wasallshemanagedtosay,

andwalkedoffinsearchoftheguardsandtheirhorses.Theyrodebackinsilence.They’dbeenquietduringportionsoftherideover,

butthiswas…pointed.Heavy.Yrenewrackedhermemoryforwhatshemighthavesaidduringthelesson—

whatshemighthaveforgotten.Perhapsseeingtheguardssoactivehadremindedhimofwhathedidnotcurrentlyhave.Perhapsjustseeingtheguardsthemselveshadsethimdownthispath.

Shemusedoveritastheyreturnedtothepalace,whilehewasaidedbyShen

and another guard into the awaiting chair. He offered only a tight smile inthanks.

LordChaollookedupatheroverashoulder,themorningheatrisingenoughtomakethecourtyardstifling.“Areyougoingtopushit,orshallI?”

Yreneblinked.“Youcanmoveityourselfjustfine,”shesaid,herproverbialheelsdiggingin

atthattone.“Perhapsyoushouldaskoneofyouracolytes todo it.Or fiveof them.Or

whatevernumberyoudeemfittodealwithanAdarlanianlord.”Sheblinkedagain.Slowly.Anddidn’tgivehimanywarningasshestrodeoff

ataclip.Notbotheringtowaittoseeifhefollowed,orhowfasthedid.Thecolumnsandhallsandgardensofthepalacepassedinablur.Yrenewas

sointentonreachinghisroomsthatshebarelynoticedsomeonehadcalledhername.

It wasn’t until it was repeated a second time that she recognized it—andcringed.

Bythetimesheturned,Kashin—cladinarmorandsweatingenoughtorevealhe’dlikelybeenexercisingwiththepalaceguards—hadreachedherside.

“I’vebeen looking foryou,”he said, his browneyes immediatelygoing toherchest.No—tothestainstillonherdress.Kashin’sbrowslifted.“Ifyouwanttosendthattothelaundry,I’msureHasarcanlendyousomeclotheswhileitiscleaned.”

She’dforgottenshewasstillinit—thestained,wrinkleddress.Hadn’treallyfeltlikeshewasquiteasmuchofamessuntilnow.Hadn’tfeltlikeabarnyardanimal.

“Thankyoufortheoffer,butI’llmanage.”She took a step away, but Kashin said, “I heard about the assailant in the

library. I arranged for additional guards to arrive at the Torre after sundowneverynightandstayuntildawn.Noonewillgetinwithoutournotice.”

Itwasgenerous—kind.Ashehadalwaysbeenwithher.“Thankyou.”Hisfaceremainedgraveasheswallowed.Yrenebracedherselfforthewords

he’d voice, but Kashin only said, “Please be careful. I know you made yourthoughtsclear,but—”

“Kashin.”“—itdoesn’tchangethefactthatweare,orwere,friends,Yrene.”Yrene made herself meet his eyes. Made herself say, “Lord Westfall

mentionedyour…thoughtsaboutTumelun.”For a moment, Kashin glanced to the white banners streaming from the

nearbywindow.Sheopenedhermouth,perhapstofinallyofferhercondolences,to try tomend this thing thathad fracturedbetween them,but theprince said,“Thenyouunderstandhowdirethisthreatmaybe.”

Shenodded.“Ido.AndIwillbecareful.”“Good,” he said simply. His face shifted into an easy smile, and for a

heartbeat, Yrene wished she’d been able to feel anything beyond merefriendship.Butithadneverbeenthatwaywithhim,atleastonherpart.“HowisthehealingofLordWestfall?Haveyoumadeprogress?”

“Some,”shehedged.Insultingaprince,evenonewhowasaformerfriend,by striding offwas notwise, but the longer this conversationwent on…Shetookabreath.“Iwouldliketostayandtalk—”

“Then stay.” That smile broadened. Handsome—Kashin was truly ahandsomeman.Ifhehadbeenanyoneelse,boreanyothertitle—

Sheshookherhead,offeringatightsmile.“LordWestfallisexpectingme.”“IheardyourodewithhimthismorningtotheTorre.Didhenotcomeback

withyou?”Shetriedtokeepthepleadingexpressionoffherfaceasshebobbedacurtsy.

“Ihavetogo.Thankyouagainfortheconcern—andtheguards,Prince.”Thetitlehungbetweenthem,pealinglikeastruckbell.ButYrenewalkedon,feelingKashin’sstareuntilsheroundedacorner.

She leanedagainst thewall,closinghereyesandexhalingdeeply.Fool.Somanyotherswouldcallherafoolandyet—

“Ialmostfeelbadfortheman.”She opened her eyes to find Chaol, breathless and eyes still smoldering,

wheelinghimselfaroundthecorner.“Ofcourse,”hewenton,“IwasfarbackenoughthatIcouldn’thearyou,but

Icertainlysawhisfacewhenheleft.”“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yrene said blandly, and

resumedwalkingtowardhissuite.Slower.“Don’tcheckyourpaceonmyaccount.Youmadeimpressivetime.”Sheslicedhimaglare.“DidIdosomethingtooffendyoutoday?”His level stare revealed nothing, but his powerful arms kept working the

wheelsofhischairashepushedhimselfalong.“Well?”“Whydoyoushoveawaytheprince?Itseemslikeyoutwowereonceclose.”Itwasnotthetimeortheplaceforthisconversation.“Thatisnoneofyour

business.”“Indulgeme.”“No.”He easily kept pacewith her as she increased her own.All theway to the

doorstohissuite.Kadja was standing outside, and Yrene gave her an inane order—“I need

dried thyme, lemon, and garlic”—that might have very well been one of hermother’soldrecipesforfreshtrout.

The servant vanished with a bow, and Yrene flung open the suite doors,holdingonewideforhimtopass.

“Just soyouknow,”Yrenehissedas sheshut thedoors loudlybehindhim,“yourpiss-poorattitudehelpsnooneandnothing.”

Chaolslammedhischairtoahaltinthemiddleofthefoyer,andshewinced

atwhatitmusthavedonetohishands.Heopenedhismouth,butshutit.RightasthedoortotheotherbedroomopenedandNesrynemerged,hairwet

andgleaming.“Iwaswonderingwhereyouwent,”shesaidtohim,thengaveYreneanod

ofgreeting.“Earlymorning?”IttookYreneafewheartbeatstoreordertheroom,thedynamicwithNesryn

nowinit.Yrenewasnottheprimary…person.Shewasthehelp,thesecondary…whatever.

Chaol shook out his hands—indeed red marks marred them—but said toNesryn,“IwenttotheTorretohelpthegirlswithadefenselesson.”

Nesrynlookedatthechair.“Onhorseback,”hesaid.Nesryn’seyesnowshottoYrene,brightandwide.“You—how?”“Abrace,”Yreneclarified.“Wewerejustabouttoresumeoursecondattempt

athealing.”“Andyoucouldtrulyride?”Yrene felt Chaol’s inward flinch—mostly because she flinched aswell.At

thedisbelief.“Wedidn’ttryoutanythingmorethanafastwalk,butyes,”hesaidcalmly.

Evenly. Like he expected such questions fromNesryn.Had grown used to it.“MaybetomorrowI’lltryatrot.”

Thoughwithoutleveragefromhislegs,thebouncing…Yrenewentthroughhermentalarchivesongroininjuries.Butshestayedquiet.

“I’llgowithyou,”Nesrynsaid,darkeyeslighting.“Icanshowyouthecity—perhapsmyuncle’shome.”

Chaolonly replied,“Iwould like that,”beforeNesrynpressedakiss tohischeek.

“I’mseeingthemnowforanhourortwo,”saidNesryn.“Thenmeetingwith—youknow.I’llbebackthisafternoon.Andresumemy…dutiesafterward.”

Carefulwords.Yrenedidn’tblameher.NotwiththeweaponsstackedonthedeskinNesryn’sbedroom—barelyvisiblethroughtheajardoor.Knives,swords,multiplebowsandquivers…Thecaptainhadasmallarmoryinherchamber.

Chaol just grunted his approval, smiling slightly as Nesryn strode for thesuitedoors.Thecaptainpausedinthethreshold,hergrinbroaderthananyYrenehadseenbefore.

Hope.Fullofhope.Nesrynshutthedoorwithaclick.Aloneinthesilenceagain,stillfeelingverymuchtheintruder,Yrenecrossed

herarms.“CanIgetyouanythingbeforewebegin?”Hejustwheeledforward—intohisbedroom.“I’dpreferthesittingroom,”shesaid,snatchinghersupplybagfromwhere

Kadjahadsetitonthefoyertable.Andlikelyrifledthroughit.“I’dprefer tobeinbedwhile inagony.”Headdedoverhisbroadshoulder,

“Andhopefullyyouwon’tpassoutonthefloorthistime.”Heeasilymovedhimselffromthechairontothebed,thenbeganunbuckling

hisjacket.“Tellme,”Yrenesaid,lingeringinthedoorway.“TellmewhatIdidtoupset

you.”Hepeeledoffhisjacket.“Youmeanbeyonddisplayingmelikesomebroken

dollinfrontofyouracolytesandhavingthemhaulmeoffthathorselikealimpfish?”

Shestiffened,pullingoutthebitbeforedumpingthesupplybagonthefloor.“Plentyofpeoplehelpyouhereinthepalace.”

“Notasmanyasyou’dthink.”“TheTorre isaplaceof learning,andpeoplewithyour injurydonotcome

often—not when we usually have to go to them. I was showing the acolytesthingsthatmighthelpwithuntoldnumbersofpatientsinthefuture.”

“Yes,yourprized,shatteredhorse.LookhowwellbrokenIamtoyou.How

docile.”“Ididnotmeanthat,andyouknowit.”Herippedoffhisshirt,nearlytearingitattheseamsashehauleditoverhis

head. “Was it somesortofpunishment?For serving theking?Forbeing fromAdarlan?”

“No.”Thathebelievedshecouldbethatcruel,thatunprofessional—“ItwaspreciselywhatIjustsaid:Iwantedtoshowthem.”

“Ididn’twantyoutoshowthem!”Yrenestraightened.Chaol panted through his gritted teeth. “I didn’t want you to parade me

around. To let them handle me.” His chest heaved, the lungs beneath thosemusclesworkinglikebellows.“Doyouhaveanyideawhatitislike?Togofromthat”—hewavedahandtowardher,herbody,herlegs,herspine—“tothis?”

Yrenehadthesenseofthegroundslidingfrombeneathher.“Iknowitishard—”

“Itis.Butyoumadeithardertoday.Youmakemesitheremostlynakedinthis room, and yet I have never felt more bare than I did this morning.” Heblinked,asifsurprisedhe’dvocalizedit—surprisedhe’dadmittedtoit.

“I—I’msorry.”Itwasallshecouldthinktosay.His throat bobbed. “Everything I thought, everything I had planned and

wanted…It’sgone.AllIhaveleftismyking,andthisridiculous,slimscrapofhopethatwesurvivethiswarandIcanfindawaytomakesomethingofit.”

“Ofwhat?”“Ofeverythingthatcrumbledinmyhands.Everything.”Hisvoicebrokeontheword.Hereyesstung.Shameorsorrow,Yrenedidn’tknow.And shedidn’twant toknow—what itwas, orwhat hadhappened tohim.

Whatmade thatpaingutter inhiseyes.Sheknew,sheknewhehad to face it,hadtotalkaboutit,but…

“I’msorry,”sherepeated.Sheaddedstiffly,“Ishouldhaveconsideredyourfeelingsonthematter.”

Hewatched her for a longmoment, then removed the belt from hiswaist.Thentookoffhisboots.Socks.

“Youcanleavethepantson,if—ifyouwant.”Heremovedthem.Thenwaited.Still brimming with anger. Still gazing at her with such resentment in his

eyes.Yrene swallowed once. Twice. Perhaps she should have scrounged up

breakfast.Butwalking away, even for that…Yrene had a feeling, one she couldn’t

quiteplace,thatifshewalkedawayfromhim,ifhesawherbackturn…Healersandtheirpatientsrequiredtrust.Abond.If she turned her back on him and left, she didn’t think that riftwould be

repaired.So she motioned him to move to the center of the bed and turn onto his

stomachwhileshetookupaseatontheedge.Yrene hovered a hand over his spine, the muscled groove cutting deep

throughit.She hadn’t considered—his feelings. That hemight have them. The things

hauntinghim…His breathing was shallow, quick. Then he said, “Just to be clear: is your

grudgeagainstme,orAdarlaningeneral?”Hestaredatthedistantwall,theentrancetothebathingroomblockedbythat

carvedwoodscreen.Yreneheldherhandsteady,poisedoverhisback,evenasshamesluicedthroughher.

No,shehadnotbeeninherbestformthesepastfewdays.Notevenclose.Thatscaratophisspinewasstarkinthemidmorninglight,theshadowofher

handuponhisskinlikesomesister-mark.

The thing that waited within that scar… Her magic again recoiled at itsproximity. She’d been too tired last night and too busy this morning to eventhinkaboutfacingitagain.Tocontemplatewhatshemightsee,mightbattle—whathemightendure,too.

Buthe’dbeengoodtohisword,hadinstructedthegirlsdespiteherfoolish,callousmissteps.Shesupposedthatshecouldonlyreturnthefavorbydoingasshe’dpromisedaswell.

Yrenetookasteadyingbreath.Therewasnopreparingforit,sheknew.Therewas no bracing breath steeling enough to make this any less harrowing. Foreitherofthem.

YrenesilentlyofferedChaoltheleatherbit.Hesliditthroughhisteethandclampeddownlightly.Shestaredathim,hisbodybracedforpain,faceunreadableasheangledit

towardthedoor.Yrenesaidquietly,“Soldiers fromAdarlanburnedmymotheralivewhen I

waseleven.”AndbeforeChaolcouldanswer,shelaidherhandonthemarkatophisspine.

16

Therewasonlydarkness,andpain.Heroaredagainst it,distantlyawareof thebit inhismouth, therawnessof

histhroat.BurnedaliveburnedaliveburnedaliveThevoidshowedhimfire.Awomanwithgolden-brownhairandmatching

skinscreaminginagonytowardtheheavens.Itshowedhimabrokenbodyonabloodybed.Aheadrollingacrossamarble

floor.YoudidthisyoudidthisyoudidthisIt showed a womanwith eyes of blue flame and hair of pure gold poised

abovehim,daggerraisedandanglingtoplungeintohisheart.Hewished.Hesometimeswishedthatshehadn’tbeenstopped.The scar on his face—from the nails she’d gouged into it when she first

struck him… It was that hateful wish he thought of when he looked in themirror.Thebodyonthebedandthatcoldroomandthatscream.Thecollaronatan throat and a smile that did not belong to a beloved face. The heart he’dofferedandhadbeenleft todroponthewoodenplanksof theriverdocks.Anassassinwhohadsailedawayandaqueenwhohadreturned.Arowoffinemenhangingfromthecastlegates.

Allheldwithinthatslimscar.Whathecouldnotforgiveorforget.Thevoidshowedittohim,againandagain.

It lashed his body with red-hot, pronged whips. And showed him thosethings,overandover.

Itshowedhimhismother.Andhisbrother.Andhisfather.Everything he had left.What he’d failed.What he’d hated and what he’d

become.Thelinesbetweenthelasttwohadblurred.Andhehadtried.Hehadtriedtheseweeks,thesemonths.Thevoiddidnotwanttohearofthat.Black fire raced down his blood, his veins, trying to drown out those

thoughts.Theburningroseleftonanightstand.Thefinalembraceofhisking.Hehadtried.Triedtohope,andyet—Women little more than children hauling him off a horse. Poking and

proddingathim.Pain struck, low and deep in his spine, and he couldn’t breathe around it,

couldn’tout-screamit—Whitelightflared.Aflutter.Farinthedistance.Notthegoldorredorblueofflame.Butwhitelikesunlight,clearandclean.Aflickerthroughthedark,arcinglikelightningridingthroughthenight…Andthenthepainconvergedagain.His father’s eyes—his father’s raging eyes when he announced he was

leavingto join theguard.Thefists.Hismother’spleading.Theanguishonherfacethelasttimehe’dseenher,ashe’driddenawayfromAnielle.Thelasttimehe’d seen his city, his home.His brother, small and cowering in their father’slongshadow.

Abrotherhehadtradedforanother.Abrotherhehadleftbehind.Thedarknesssqueezed,crushinghisbonestodust.Itwouldkillhim.

Itwouldkillhim,thispain,this…thisendless,churningpitofnothing.Perhaps it would be amercy. Hewasn’t entirely certain his presence—his

presence beyond made any sort of difference. Not enough to warrant trying.Comingbackatall.

Thedarknesslikedthat.Seemedtothriveonthat.Evenasittightenedthevisearoundhisbones.Evenasitboiledthebloodin

hisveinsandhebellowedandbellowed—Whitelightslammedintohim.Blindinghim.Fillingthatvoid.Thedarknessshrieked,surgingback,thenrisinglikeatidalwavearoundhim

—Only tobounceoff a shell of thatwhite light,wrappedaroundhim, a rock

againstwhichtheblacknessbroke.Alightintheabyss.Itwaswarm,andquiet,andkind.Itdidnotbalkatthedark.Asifithaddwelledinsuchdarknessforalong,longtime—andunderstood

howitworked.Chaolopenedhiseyes.Yrene’shandhadslippedfromhisspine.Shewasalreadytwistingawayfromhim, lungingforhisdiscardedshirton

thebedroomcarpet.Hesawthebloodbeforeshecouldhideit.Spittingoutthebit,hegrippedherwrist,hispantingloudtohisears.“You’re

hurt.”Yrenewipedathernose,hermouth,andherchinbeforeshefacedhim.Itdidn’thidethestainsdownherchest,soakingintothenecklineofherdress.Chaolsurgedupright.“Holygods,Yrene—”“I’mfine.”Thewordswerestuffy,warpedwiththebloodstillslidingfromhernose.

“Is—is that common?”He filled his lungswith air to call for someone tofetchanotherhealer—

“Yes.”“Liar.”Heheardthefalsehoodinherpause.Sawitinherrefusaltomeethis

stare.Chaolopenedhismouth,but she laidherhandonhisarm, lowering thebloodiedshirt.

“I’mfine.Ijustneed—rest.”She appeared anything but, with blood staining and crusting her chin and

mouth.Yrenepressedhisshirtagaintohernoseasanewtrickleslidout.“Atleast,”

she said around the fabric andblood, “the stain fromearlier nowmatchesmydress.”

Asorryattemptathumor,butheofferedheragrimsmile.“Ithoughtitwaspartofthedesign.”

Shegavehimanexhaustedbutbemusedglance.“GivemefiveminutesandIcangobackinand—”

“Liedown.Rightnow.”Heslidawayafewfeetonthemattressforemphasis.Yrene surveyed the pillows, the bed large enough for four to sleep

undisturbedbesideoneanother.Withagroan,shepressed theshirt toher faceandslumpedonthepillows,kickingoffherslippersandcurlingherlegsup.Shetippedherheadupwardtostopthebleeding.

“WhatcanIgetyou,”hesaid,watchingherstareblanklyattheceiling.She’ddonethis—donethiswhilehelpinghim,likelybecauseofwhatevershittymoodhe’dbeeninbefore—

Yreneonlyshookherhead.Insilence,hewatchedherpresstheshirttohernose.Watchedbloodbloom

acrossitagainandagain.Untilitslowedatlast.Untilitstopped.Her nose,mouth, and chinwere ruddywith the remnants, her eyes fogged

witheitherpainorexhaustion.Perhapsboth.

Sohefoundhimselfasking,“How?”Sheknewwhathemeant.Yrenedabbedatthebloodonherchest.“Iwentin

there,tothesiteofthescar,anditwasthesameasbefore.Awallthatnostrikeofmymagiccouldcrumble.Ithinkitshowedme…”Herfingerstightenedontheshirtasshepresseditagainstthebloodsoakingherfront.

“What?”“Morath,” she breathed, and he could have sworn even the birds’ singing

faltered in thegarden.“Itshowedsomememory, leftbehind inyou. It showedme a great black fortress full of horrors. An army waiting in the mountainsaroundit.”

Hisbloodicedoverasherealizedwhosememoryitmightbelongto.“Realor—wasitsomemanipulationagainstyou?”Thewayhisownmemorieshadbeenwielded.

“Idon’tknow,”Yreneadmitted.“But thenIheardyourscreaming.Notouthere,but…inthere.”Shewipedathernoseagain.“AndIrealizedthatattackingthatsolidwallwas…Ithinkitwasadistraction.Adiversion.SoIfollowedthesoundsofyour screaming.Toyou.”To thatplacedeepwithinhim.“Itwas sofocuseduponrippingyouapartthatitdidnotseemecoming.”Sheshivered.“Idon’tknowif itdidanything,but…Icouldn’tstandit.Towatchandlisten.IstartleditwhenIleapedin,butIdon’tknowifitwillbewaitingthenexttime.Ifit will remember. There’s a… sentience to it. Not a living thing, but as if amemoryweresetfreeintheworld.”

Chaolnodded,andsilence fellbetween them.Shewipedathernoseagain,hisshirtnowcoatedinblood,thensetthefabriconthetablebesidethebed.

For uncountedminutes, sunshine drifted across the floor,wind rustling thepalms.

ThenChaolsaid,“I’msorry—aboutyourmother.”Thinkingthroughthetimeline…Ithadlikelyoccurredwithinafewmonths

ofAelin’sownterrorandloss.

Somanyofthem—thechildrenwhomAdarlanhadleftsuchdeepscarsupon.IfAdarlanhadleftthemaliveatall.

“Shewaseverythinggoodintheworld,”Yrenesaid,curlingontohersidetogazeat thegardenwindowsbeyond thefootof thebed.“She…Imade itoutbecauseshe…”Yrenedidnotsaytherest.

“Shedidwhatanymotherwoulddo,”hefinishedforher.Anod.As healers, they had been some of the first victims. And continued to be

executed longaftermagichadvanished.Adarlanhadalways ruthlesslyhunteddown themagicallygiftedhealers.Theirown townsfolkmighthavesold themouttoAdarlantomakequick,cheapcoin.

Chaolswallowed.Afteraheartbeat,hesaid,“IwatchedtheKingofAdarlanbutcherthewomanDorianlovedinfrontofme,andIcoulddonothingtostopit.Tosaveher.Andwhenthekingwenttokillmeforplanningtooverthrowhim…Doriansteppedin.Hetookonhisfatherandboughtmetimetorun.AndIran—Iranbecause…therewasnooneelsetocarryontherebellion.Togetwordto the people who needed it. I let him take on his father and face theconsequences,andIfled.”

Shewatchedhiminsilence.“Heisfinenow,though.”“Idon’tknow.Heisfree—heisalive.Butishefine?Hesuffered.Greatly.In

ways I can’t begin to…”His throat tightened to the point of pain. “It shouldhavebeenme.Ihadalwaysplannedforittobemeinstead.”

Atearslidoverthebridgeofhernose.Chaolscoopeditupwithhisfingerbeforeitcouldslidetotheotherside.Yrene held his stare for a longmoment, her tears turning those eyes near-

radiantinthesun.Hedidn’tknowhowlonghadpassed.Howlongithadtakenforhertoevenattempttocleavethatdarkness—justalittle.

Thedoortothesuiteopenedandclosed,silentlyenoughthatheknewitwasKadja.ButitdrewYrene’sstareawayfromhim.Withoutit—therewasasense

ofcold.Aquietandacold.Chaolclenchedhisfist, thattearseepingintohisskin,tokeepfromturning

herfacetowardhisagain.Toreadhereyes.Butherheadwhippedupwardsofastshenearlyknockedhisnose.ThegoldinYrene’seyesflared.“Chaol,”shebreathed,andhethoughtitmighthavebeenthefirsttimeshe’d

calledhimsuch.Butshelookeddown,dragginghisstarewithher.Downhisbaretorso,hisbarelegs.Tohistoes.To his toes, slowly curling and uncurling. As if trying to remember the

movement.

17

Nesryn’scousinswereoffatschoolwhensheknockedontheouterdoortoherauntanduncle’slovelyhomeintheRunniQuarter.Fromthedustystreet,allonecouldglimpseofthehousebeyondthehigh,thickwallswasthecarvedoakgate,reinforcedwithscrollingiron.

Butasitswungopenunderthehandsoftwoguardswhoinstantlybeckonedher in, it revealed a shaded, broad courtyard of pale stone, flanked by pillarscrawlingwithmagentabougainvillea,andamerryfountaininlaidwithseaglassburblinginitscenter.

The housewas typical ofAntica—and of theBalruhni people fromwhomNesrynandherfamilyhailed.Longadjustedtodesertclimes,theentirebuildinghadbeenerectedaroundsunandwind:outerwindowsneverplacedneartheheatof the southern exposure, the breeze-catching narrow towers atop the buildingfacing away from the sand-filled eastern wind to keep it from infiltrating therooms it cooled.Her familywasnot fortunateenough tohaveacanal runningbeneaththehouse,asmanyofthewealthierinAnticadid,butwiththetoweringplants and carved wooden awnings, the shade kept the public lower levelsaroundthecourtyardcoolenoughduringtheday.

Indeed,Nesryninhaleddeeplyasshestrodethroughtheprettycourtyard,herauntgreetingherhalfwayacrosswith,“Haveyoueatenyet?”

She had, but Nesryn said, “I savedmyself for your table, Aunt.” It was acommonHalhagreetingamongstfamily—noonevisitedahouse,especially in

theFaliqfamily,withouteating.Atleastonce.Her aunt—still a full-figuredbeautifulwomanwhose four childrenhadnot

slowedherdownonebit—noddedinapproval.“ItoldBrahimjustthismorningthatourcookisbetterthantheonesupatthatpalace.”

A snort of amusement from a level up, from the wood-screened windowoverlookingthecourtyard.Heruncle’sstudy.Oneofthefewcommonroomsontheusuallyprivatesecondlevel.“Careful,Zahida,orthekhaganmayhearyouandhauldearoldCooktohispalace.”

Her aunt rolledher eyes at the figure just barelyvisible through theornatewood screen and looped her arm through Nesryn’s. “Snoop. Alwayseavesdroppingonourconversationsdownhere.”

Herunclechuckledbutmadenofurthercomment.Nesryngrinned,lettingherauntleadhertowardthespaciousinteriorofthe

home,pastthecurvy-bodiedstatueofInna,GoddessofPeacefulHouseholdsandtheBalruhni people, her arms upraised inwelcome and defense. “Perhaps thepalace’sinferiorcookiswhytheroyalsaresoskinny.”

Heraunthuffed,pattingherbelly.“AndnodoubtwhyI’veaddedsomuchpaddingtheseyears.”ShegaveNesrynawink.“PerhapsIshouldgetridofoldCook,then.”

Nesrynkissedheraunt’spetal-softcheek.“YouaremorebeautifulnowthanyouwerewhenIwasachild.”Shemeantit.

Her aunt waved her off but still beamed as they entered the dim, coolinteriorsofthehouseproper.Pillarsupheldthehighceilingsofthelonghallway,thewoodbeamsandfurniturecarvedandfashionedafterthelushfloraandfaunaoftheirdistant,long-agohomeland.Herauntledherdeeperintothehousethanmostguestswouldeversee,right to thesecond,smallercourtyardat theback.The one just for family, most of it occupied by a long table and deep-seatedchairsbeneaththeshadeofanoverhangingawning.Atthishour,thesunwasontheoppositesideofthehouse—preciselywhyheraunthadchosenit.

Herauntguidedherintoaseatadjacenttotheheadofthetable,theplaceofhonor,andhurriedofftoinformthecooktobringoutrefreshments.

In the silence, Nesryn listened to the wind sighing through the jasminecrawlingupthewalltothebalconyhangingabove.Assereneahomeasshe’deverseen—especiallycomparedtothechaosofherfamily’shouseinRifthold.

Anachetightenedherchest,andNesrynrubbedatit.Theywerealive;theyhadgottenout.

Butitdidnotanswerwheretheynowwere.Orwhattheymightfaceonthatcontinentfullofsomanyterrors.

“Yourfathergetsthatsamelookwhenhe’sthinkingtoohard,”herunclesaidfrombehindher.

Nesryn twisted in her chair, smiling faintly as Brahim Faliq entered thecourtyard.Herunclewasshorterthanherfather,butslimmer—mostlythankstonotbakingpastriesforhislivelihood.No,herunclewasstill trimforamanofhisage,hisdarkhairpepperedwithsilver,bothperhapsduetothemerchantlifethatkepthimsoactive.

ButBrahim’sface…itwasSayedFaliq’sface.Herfather’sface.Withlessthantwoyearsseparatingthem,somehadthoughtthemtwinswhilegrowingup.Anditwasthesightofthatkind,still-handsomefacethatmadeNesryn’sthroattighten.“OneofthefewtraitsIinheritedfromhim,itseems.”

Indeed, where Nesryn was quiet and prone to contemplation, her father’sboominglaughhadbeenasconstantintheirhouseashersister’smerrysingingandgiggling.

Shefeltherunclestudyingherashetooktheseatacrossfromhers,leavingthe head of the table for Zahida. Men and women governed the householdtogether, their joint rule treated as lawby their children.Nesryn had certainlyfallen into line, though her sister…She could still hear the screeching fightsbetween her sister and father as Delara had grown older and longed forindependence.

“FortheCaptainoftheRoyalGuard,”herunclemused,“Iamsurprisedyouhavethetimetovisitussooften.”

Her aunt bustled in, bearing a tray of chilledmint tea and glasses. “Hush.Don’tcomplain,Brahim,orshe’llstopcoming.”

Nesrynsmiled,glancingbetweenthemasherauntgavethemeachaglassofthetea,setthetrayonthetablebetweenthem,andclaimedtheseatattheheadofthetable.“Ithoughttocomebynow—whilethechildrenareatschool.”

Anotherof thekhaganate’smanywonderfuldecrees:everychild,nomatterhow poor or rich, had the right to attend school. Free of charge. As a result,nearlyeveryoneintheempirewasliterate—farmorethanNesryncouldclaimofAdarlan.

“Andhere Iwas,”heruncle said, smilingwryly, “hopingyou’dbeback tosingmore forus.Sinceyou left theotherday, thechildrenhavebeenyowlingyoursongslikealleycats.Ihaven’tthehearttotellthemthattheirvoicesarenotquiteuptothesamestandardastheiresteemedcousin’s.”

Nesrynchuckled,evenasherfaceheated.Shesangforveryfew—onlyherfamily. She’d never sung for Chaol or the others, or evenmentioned that hervoicewas…betterthangood.Itwasn’tsomethingthatcouldeasilybebroughtupinconversation,andthegodsknewthatthelastseveralmonthshadnotbeenconducive to singing.But she’d foundherself singing toher cousins theothernight—oneof the songsher fatherhad taughther.A lullabyofAntica.By theendof it,herauntandunclehadbeengatheredround,herauntdabbingathereyes,and…well,nowtherewasnogoingbackwithit,wasthere?

She’dlikelybeteasedaboutituntilsheneveropenedhermouthagain.But if only she had come here just for singing. She sighed a bit, steeling

herself.In the silence,herauntanduncleexchanged looks.Herauntaskedquietly,

“Whatisit?”Nesryn sipped fromher tea, considering herwords.Her aunt and uncle, at

least,gaveher thegiftofwaitingforher tospeak.Hersisterwouldhavebeenshakinghershouldersbynow,demandingananswer.“TherewasanattackattheTorre theothernight.Ayounghealerwaskilledbyan intruder.Themurdererhasnotyetbeenfound.”

NomatterhowsheandSartaqhadcombedthroughthefewsewersandcanalsbeneathAnticalastnight,theyhadnotfoundasinglepathtowardtheTorre;noranysignofaValg’snest.Allthey’ddiscoveredweretypical,awfulcitysmellsandratsscurryingunderfoot.

Heruncleswore,earningalookfromheraunt.Butevenherauntrubbedatherchestbeforeasking,“We’dheardtherumors,but…Youhavenowcometowarnus?”

Nesryn nodded. “The attack lines up with the techniques of enemies inAdarlan. If they are here, in this city, I fear it may be in connection to myarrival.”

Shehadnotdaredtellherauntanduncletoomuch.Notforlackoftrust,butforfearofwhomightbelistening.SotheydidnotknowoftheValg,orErawan,orthekeys.

Theyknewofherquesttoraiseanarmy,forthatwasnosecret,but…Shedid not risk telling them of Sartaq. That he and his rukhinmight be the pathtowardwinningsupportfromthekhagan,thathispeoplemightknowsomethingabouttheValgthateventheyhadnotdiscoveredindealingwiththem.Shedidnotevenrisktellingthemshe’dbeenontheprince’sruk.Notthatthey’dreallybelieveit.Well-offasherfamilymightbe,therewaswealth,andthentherewasroyalty.

Herunclesaid,“Willtheytargetourfamily—togettoyou?”Nesrynswallowed.“Idon’tbelieveso,butIwouldputnothingpastthem.I—

it is still unknown if this attack was in relation to my arrival, or if we arejumpingtoconclusions,butonthechancethatitistrue…Icametowarnyoutohiremoreguardsifyoucan.”Shelookedbetweenthem,layingherhandspalm-

uponthetable.“Iamsorrytohavebroughtthistoyourhousehold.”Anotherglancebetweenherauntanduncle,theneachtookherbythehand.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” her aunt said. Just as her uncle added,“Gettingtoseeyousounexpectedlyhasbeenablessingbeyondmeasure.”

Herthroatclosedup.This—thiswaswhatErawanwaspoisedtodestroy.She’dfindawaytoraisethatarmy.Eithertorescueherfamilyfromwar,or

keepitfromreachingtheseshores.Herauntdeclared,“Wewillhiremoreguards,haveanescortforthechildren

toandfromschool.”Anodtoherhusband.“Andanywherewegointhiscity.”Nesryn’suncleadded,“Andwhatofyou?Traipsingabout thecityonyour

own.”Nesrynwaved a hand, though their concernwarmed her. She refrainedfromtelling themshe’dhuntedValg inRifthold’ssewers forweeks, thatshe’dbeen stalking them through Antica’s sewers last night. And most certainlyrefrained from telling them just how involved she’d been in the glass castle’sdemise.Shehadnowishtoseeherunclekeeloverinhischair,orseeheraunt’sthick,beautifulhairgowhite.“Icanhandlemyself.”

Herauntanduncledidnotlooksoconvinced,buttheynoddedallthesame.JustasCookemerged,smilingbroadlyatNesryn,littledishesofchilledsaladsbetweenherwitheredhands.

For longmoments,Nesrynateeverythingherauntandunclepiledontoherplate,whichwasindeedasgoodasanyfoodatthepalace.Bythetimeshewasstuffedtothepointofexploding,bythetimeshe’ddrainedherteatoitsdregs,herauntsaidslylytoher,“Ihadhopedyou’dbebringingaguest,youknow.”

Nesrynsnorted,brushingthehairfromherface.“LordWestfallisquitebusy,Aunt.”ButifYrenehadgottenhimontoahorsethismorning…perhapsshe’dindeedgethimheretomorrow.Introducehimtoherfamily—tothefourchildrenwhofilledthishousewithchaosandjoy.

Herauntsippeddaintilyfromher tea.“Oh,Ididn’tmeanhim.”AwrygrinbetweenZahidaandBrahim.“ImeantPrinceSartaq.”

Nesrynwasgladshe’dfinishedhertea.“Whatofhim?”That sly smile didn’t fade. “Rumor claims someone”—a pointed look at

Nesryn—“wasspottedridingwiththeprinceatdawnyesterday.Atophisruk.”Nesrynreinedinherwince.“I…was.”Sheprayednoonehadseenherwith

himlastnight—thatwordwouldnotreachtheValgagent’searstheywerebeinghunted.

Her uncle chuckled. “Andyouplanned to tell uswhen?The childrenwerebeside themselves with excitement that their beloved cousin had ridden onKadaraherself.”

“Ididnotwanttobrag.”Apatheticexcuse.“Hmmm,”wasallherunclereplied,mischiefdancinginhisgaze.ButNesryn’sauntgaveheraknowinglook,steelinherbrowneyes,asifshe,

too, did not forget for onemoment the family who remained in Adarlan andperhapsnowtried toflee to theseshores.Herauntsimplysaid,“Therukswillnotfearwyverns.”

18

Yrene’sheart thunderedas shekneltbesideChaolon thebedandwatchedhistoesshift.

“Canyou—feelthat?”Chaolwasstillstaringasifhedidn’tquitebelieveit.“I…”Thewordsstalledinhisthroat.“Canyoucontrolthemovement?”Heseemedtoconcentrate.Thenhistoesstopped.“Good,”shesaid,sittinguprighttowatchmoreclosely.“Nowmovethem.”Heagainappearedtoconcentrateandconcentrate,andthen—Twotoescurled.Thenthreeontheotherfoot.Yrene smiled—broadly, widely. Remained smiling as she turned her head

towardhim.Heonlystaredather.Hersmile.Asortoffocusedintensityfallingacrosshis

featuresthatmadehergoabitstill.“How?”heasked.“The—maybewhen I got to you,whenmymagic blasted back darkness a

little…”Ithadbeenterrible.Tofindhiminsideallthatdark.Thevoid,thecold,theshriekingpainandhorror.

Shehadrefusedtoacknowledgewhatittriedtoshowheratthatwall,againandagain:thatterriblefortress,thefatethatawaitedherwhenshereturned.She

hadrefusedtoacknowledgeitasshehadstruckthewall,hermagicbegginghertostop,topullaway.

Until…untilshe’dheardhim.Faroffanddeeperwithin.She’dblindlylunged,aspear-throwtowardthatsound.Andtherehe’dbeen

—orwhateveritwasofhim.Asifthiswasthecoreofthetetherbetweenmanandinjury,notthewallagainstthenervesfar,farabove.

She’dwrappedherselfaroundit,huggingtightevenasthedarknesspoundedinagainandagain.Andinanswer,she’dsenthermagicslashingintoit,ascytheoflightintothedark.Atorchthatburnedjustafraction.

Justenough,itseemed.“Thisisgood,”Yrenedeclared—perhapsuselessly.“Thisiswonderful.”Chaolwasstillstaringatherashesaid,“Itis.”Shebecameawareofthebloodonher—thestateofher.“Let’sstartwith this,”shesaid.“Doafewexercisesbeforewestopfor the

day.”Whatshehadadmittedabouthermother…ShehadonlytoldHafizaupon

entering the Torre. No one else. She had told no one else, not since she’dstaggeredontohermother’scousin’sfarmandbeggedforsanctuaryandshelter.

Shewonderedhowlonghisownstoryhadbeenlockedinhischest.“Let me order food first,” Yrene decided. She glanced toward the wood

screen shielding the bathing room from sight, then down at her blood-crustedchestanddress.“Whilewewait…Imightbegtouseyourbath.Andborrowasetofyourclothes.”

Chaolwas stillwatching herwith that focused, calm face.A different onefromanyshe’dseenonhimbefore.Asifinshavingoffsomeofthatdarkness,ithadrevealedthisfacetbeneath.

Thismanshehadnotyetmet.Shewasn’tsurewhattodowithit.Withhim.“Takewhateveryouwant,”Chaoltoldher,hisvoicelow—rough.

Yrenewaslight-headedwhenshecrawledoffthebed,takinghisruinedshirtwith her, and hurried for the bathing chamber. From the blood loss, she toldherself.

Evenasshesmiledthroughoutherbath.

“I can’t help but feel neglected, you know,”Hasar drawled as she pored overmaps Yrene didn’t dare inquire about. From across the princess’s lavishreceiving room, she couldn’t view them properly—and could only watch asHasarmovedseveralivoryfigurineshereandthere,herdarkbrowsscrunchedinconcentration.

“Renia,ofcourse,”Hasarwenton,slidingafiguretwoinchestotherightandfrowning, “says I should not expect so much of your time, but perhaps I’vegrownspoiledthesetwoyears.”

Yrenesippedhermintteaanddidnotcommentonewayortheother.Hasarhad summoned her here upon learning that Yrene had been healing LordWestfallallday,sendingaservanttofetchhertotheprincess’srooms,withthepromiseofsomemuch-neededrefreshments.Andindeed,thecarobcookiesandteahadpushedbackthetideofherexhaustionjustafraction.

Her friendship with the princess had been purely accidental. In one ofYrene’sfirston-sitelessons,Hafizahadbroughthertotendtotheprincess,whohad returned from her seaside palace in the northeast to be treated for anunrelentingstomachpain.Theywerebothofsimilarage,andduringthehoursthatHafizawentabout removinga trulyhorrific tapewormfromtheprincess’sintestines,HasarhadorderedYrenetotalk.

SoYrenehad,ramblingaboutherlessons,occasionallymentioningthemoredisgusting moments of her year working at the White Pig. The princessparticularlyenjoyedhertalesoftherathermessierbarfights.Herfavoritestorytohear,whichshe’dorderedYrenetonarratethriceduringthedaysHafizahad

extracted themagically slaughtered tapeworm through hermouth—one orificeor the other, the Healer on High had told the princess—was of the youngstrangerwhohadsavedYrene’slife,taughthertodefendherself,andleftherasmallfortuneingoldandjewels.

Yrene had deemed it idle talk, not expecting the princess to remember hernameonceHafizahad coaxed the last inchesof the tapeworm fromher body.Buttwodayslater,she’dbeencalledtotheprincess’srooms,whereHasarwasbusystuffingher facewithallmannerofdelicacies tomakeupfor theweightshe’dlost.

Toothin,she’dtoldYrenebywayofgreeting.Sheneededafatterassforherlovertogripatnight.

Yrene had burst out laughing—the first bit of true laughter she’d had in along,longtime.

Hasarhadonlysmirked,offeredYrenesomesmokedfishfromtheriver-richlowlands,andthathadbeenthat.Perhapsnotafriendshipofequals,butHasarseemedtoenjoyhercompany,andYrenewasinnopositiontodenyher.

SotheprincessmadeapointtosummonYrenewhenevershewasinAntica—andhadeventuallybroughtReniatothepalace,bothtomeetherfatherandtomeet Yrene. Renia, if Yrene was being honest, was far preferable to thedemanding and sharp-tongued princess, but Hasar was prone to jealousy andterritorialism,andoftenmadesureReniawaskeptwellawayfromthecourtandwould-becontendersforheraffections.

NotthatReniahadevergivencauseforsuchathing.No,thewoman—olderthan Yrene by a month—only had eyes for the princess. Loved her withunflinchingdevotion.

Hasarcalledheralady,hadgrantedRenialandswithinherownterritory.YetYrene had heard some of the other healerswhisper thatwhenRenia had firstentered Hasar’s orbit, Hafiza had been discreetly asked to heal her of …unpleasantries from her former life. Former profession, apparently.Yrene had

neveraskedHasarforthedetails,butgivenhowloyalReniawastotheprincess,sheoftenwonderedifthereasonwhyHasarsolovedtohearYrene’sownstoryofhermysterioussaviorwasbecauseshe,too,hadonceseenawomansufferingandreachedouttohelp.Andthentoholdher.

“You’re smilingmore today, too,” Hasar said, setting down her glass pen.“Despitethosehideousclothes.”

“Mine were sacrificed to the cause of healing LordWestfall,” Yrene said,rubbingatthedull throbbinginhertemplethateventheteaandcarobcookiescouldn’tchaseaway.“Hewaskindenoughtolendmesomeofhisown.”

Hasarsmirked.“Somemightseeyouandassumeyoulostyourclothesforafarmorepleasurablereason.”

Yrene’s face heated. “I’d hope they’d remember that I am a professionalhealerattheTorre.”

“It’dmakeitevenmorevaluablegossip.”“I’d think they’d have better things to do than whisper about a nobody

healer.”“YouareHafiza’sunofficialheir.Thatmakesyouslightlyinteresting.”Yrenewasn’t insultedby the frankwords.Shedidn’t explain toHasar that

she’d likely be leaving, and Hafiza would have to find someone else. Shedoubted the princess would approve—and wasn’t entirely certain that Hasarwouldletherleave.She’dbeenworriedaboutKashinforsolong,yetHasar…

“Well,regardless,IhavenodesignsonLordWestfall.”“Youshould.He’sdivertinglyhandsome.EvenI’mtempted.”“Really?”Hasarlaughed.“Notatall.ButIcouldseewhyyoumightbe.”“HeandCaptainFaliqareinvolved.”“Andiftheyweren’t?”Yrene tooka longsip fromher tea.“He ismypatient,andIamhishealer.

Thereareplentyofotherhandsomemen.”

“LikeKashin.”Yrene frowned at the princess over the black-and-gold rim of her teacup.

“Youkeeppushingyourbrotheronme.Areyouencouraginghim?”Hasar put a hand on her chest, her manicured nails gleaming in the late

afternoonsun.“Kashinhadno troublewithwomenuntilyoucamealong.Youtwowereoncesuchclosefriends.Whyshouldn’tIwishthatmydearfriendandbrotherformadeeperattachment?”

“Because if you are appointed khagan, you might kill us if he doesn’tsubmit.”

“Him,possibly, if hedoesn’t bow.And if youprove tonot be carryinghisoffspring,Imightletyoutakethecleansingoncemyownlineisestablishedandkeepyourwealth.”

Such bald casual words. Of such horrible methods meant to keep thiswondrous, sweeping empire from fracturing. ShewishedKashinwere here tolisten,tounderstand.

Yreneasked,“Andwhatwouldyoudo—forproducingoffspring?”WithReniaasthepossiblefutureGrandEmpress,Hasarwouldneedtofind

somewaytoproduceabloodheir.Hasarbeganpushingherfiguresaroundthemapagain.“Ihavealreadytold

myfather,anditisnoconcernofyours.”Right. For if she had selected some male to do the job … dangerous

knowledge.Her siblingsmight verywell try to destroy someonewhomHasarand Renia trusted enough to assist in that way. Or would pay handsomely toknowthatHasarandReniawereevenconsideringoffspringatthispoint.

But Hasar then said, “I heard that killer in the library hunted you.”Unforgivingwillfilledherface.“Whydidyounotcometomefirst?”

Before Yrene could answer, Hasar mercifully went on, “They said it wassomestrangedeath—notatypicaloneatall.”

Yrenetriedandfailedtoblockoutthememoryofthegaunt,leatheryface.“It

was.”Hasarsippedhertea.“Idon’tcareiftheattackwasadeliberatemoveonyour

life orwhether itwas just piss-poor coincidence.” She set downher cupwithdelicate precision. “When I findwhoever it is, I’ll behead themmyself.” Theprincesstappedahandonthesheathedbladediscardedalongtheedgeofheroakdesk.

Yrene didn’t doubt her. But she said, “I’ve been told the danger is …considerable.”

“Idonottakelightlytomyfriendsbeinghuntedlikebeasts.”Notthevoiceofaprincess—butawarrior-queen.“AndIdonot take lightly toTorrehealersbeingkilledandterrorized.”

Hasar was many things, but she was loyal. To her core. To the few, fewpeoplewhomshefavored.IthadalwayswarmedsomethinginYrene.Tohavesomeonewho actuallymeantwhat they said.Hasarwould behead thekiller ifthey were unfortunate enough to encounter her. She would ask no questions,either.

Yreneconsideredallsheknewaboutthepotentialmurdererandstruggledtorefrain fromtelling theprincess thatbeheadingwas, in fact, theproperway todealwithaValgdemon.

Unlessyouwerefacingtheremnantsofitwithinsomeone.Inwhichcase…Asawful,asexhaustingas today’s sessionwithLordWestfallhadbeen, she’dalready cataloged and tucked away the small scraps of information she’dgleaned.Notjustforhishealing,butifsheshouldeverfaceitagain—onthosebattlefields.EveniftheprospectofseeingthoseValgdemonsintheflesh…

Taking a steadying drink of her tea,Yrene asked, “Are you not concernedthatperhapsitisnocoincidencewarisuponthenortherncontinent,andnowwehaveenemiesinourmidst?”Shedidn’tdarementionTumelun’sdeath.

“PerhapsLordWestfallandCaptainFaliqbroughtintheirownspiestotrackyou.”

“Thatisnotpossible.”“Areyousocertain?Theyaredesperate.Anddesperationbreedspeoplewho

arewillingtodoanythingtogetwhattheyneed.”“And what would they need from me beyond what I am already giving

them?”HasarbeckonedYreneoverwitha flickofher fingers.Yrenesetdownher

teacupand strodeacross thedeepbluecarpet to thedeskbefore thewindows.Hasar’sroomscommandedaviewofthetealbay—theshipsandthegullsandtheglitteringsprawloftheNarrowSeabeyond.

Hasargesturedtothemapinfrontofher.“Whatdoyouseehere?”Yrene’s throat tightened as she recognized the landmass. The northern

continent—herownhome.Andallthefiguresonit,inredandgreenandblack…

“Arethose—armies?”“This isDukePerrington’s force,”Hasar said, pointing to the lineofblack

figuresstretching likeawallacross themiddleof thecontinent.Otherclusterslaytothesouth.

Andtothenorth:onesmallgreencluster.AndaloneredfigurejustbeyondtheshoresofRifthold.

“Whataretheothers?”Hasarsaid,“There isasmallarmyinTerrasen.”Shesnickeredat thegreen

figuresclusteredaroundOrynth.“AndinAdarlan?”Hasarpickeduptheredfigurine,twirlingitbetweentwofigures.“Noarmy

to speak of.DorianHavilliard remains unaccounted for.Will he flee north orsouth? Or perhaps cut inland—though there is certainly nothing beyond themountainssaveforhalf-feraltribes.”

“Whatis thatfigure?”Yreneasked,notingthegoldpawnHasarhadsetoffthemapentirely.

Hasarpickeditup,too.“ItisAelinGalathynius.Alsounaccountedfor.”“SheisnotinTerrasen?Withherarmy?”“No.”Hasarpatted thedocumentsshe’dbeen referencingasshe’dadjusted

herownmaps.Reports,Yrenerealized.“ThelatestnewsindicatestheQueenofTerrasenisnowheretobefoundinherownkingdom.Orinanyother.”Aslightsmile.“Perhapsyoushouldaskyourlordthat.”

“Idoubthe’lltellme.”Sherefrainedfromsayinghewasn’therlord.“Thenperhapsyoushouldmakehim.”Yrenecarefullyasked,“Why?”“BecauseIwouldliketoknow.”Yrene read between the words. Hasar wanted the information—before her

fatherorsiblings.“Towhatend?”“When a power broker of the realms goes missing, it is not a cause for

celebration.Especiallyonewhodestroyspalacesandtakescitiesonawhim.”Fear. Well hidden, but Hasar was at least considering the possibility that

AelinGalathyniusmightsethersightsbeyondherownlands.ButtoplayspyforHasar…“Youthinkthelibraryattackhassomethingto

dowiththis?”“I think that perhapsLordWestfall andCaptainFaliq are aware of how to

playthegame.AndiftheymakeitappearasifathreatfromPerringtonisinourmidst,whywouldn’tweconsiderallyingwiththem?”

Yrenedidn’tthinktheyplayedthosesortsofgamesatall.“Youthinkthey’redoing this to help Aelin Galathynius? Or because she is missing and they’refrightenedoflosingapowerfulallythemselves?”

“That’swhatIwouldliketoknow.Alongwiththequeen’slocation.Ortheirbestguess.”

Yrenemadeherselfholdtheprincess’sstare.“AndwhyshouldIhelpyou?”A Baast Cat’s smile. “Beyond the fact that we are dear friends? Is there

nothingIcouldgiveyoutosweetentheoffer,lovelyYrene?”“IhaveallIneed.”“Yes, but you do remember that the armadas aremine.TheNarrowSea is

mine.Andcrossingitmaybevery,verydifficulttothosewhoforget.”Yrenedidnotdarebackdown.Didn’tdarebreaktheprincess’sdarkgaze.Hasarknew.Knew,orguessed,thatYrenewantedtoleave.Andifshedidnot

aidtheprincess…YrenehadnodoubtthatasfiercelyasHasarloved,so,too,couldherneedforretributiondriveher.EnoughtomakesureYrenenever lefttheseshores.

“IshallseewhatIcanlearn,”Yrenesaid,refusingtosoftenhervoice.“Good,”Hasardeclared,andclearedthefigurinesoffthemapwithawipeof

herhand,scatteringthemintoadrawerandshuttingtheminside.“Tobegin,whydon’tyoujoinmeatTehome’sfeastthenightaftertomorrow?IcankeepKashinoccupied,ifitwillclearthewayforyou.”

Herstomachturnedover.She’dforgottenthattheseagoddess’sholidaywasin twodays.Frankly, therewereholidaysnearly everyotherweek, andYreneparticipatedwhenshecould,butthisone…Withherfleet,withtheNarrowSeaand several others under her jurisdiction, Hasar would certainly be honoringTehome.And the khaganatewould certainly not fail to honor theLady of theGreatDeep,either—notwhentheoceanshadbeengoodtothemthesecenturies.

So Yrene didn’t dare object. Didn’t let herself so much as hesitate beforeHasar’spiercingeyes.“As longasyoudon’tmindmewearing thesamedressfromtheothernight,”shesaidascasuallyasshecould,pluckingatheroversizedshirt.

“No need,” Hasar countered, smiling broadly. “I have something alreadyselected.”

19

ChaolkeptmovinghistoeslongafterYrenehadleft.Hewriggledtheminsidehisboots,notquitefeelingthem,butjustenoughtoknowtheyweremoving.

HoweverYrenehaddoneit…Hedidn’ttellNesrynwhenshereturnedbeforedinner,nosignoftheValgto

report. And he’d only quietly explained that he wasmaking enough progresswithYrenethathe’dliketoputofftomorrow’svisittoherfamilyuntilanotherday.

She’dseemedatadcrestfallen,buthadagreed,thatcoolmaskslippingbackoverherfacewithinafewblinks.

Hekissedherwhenshe’dwalkedbytodressfordinner.He’d grabbed her by thewrist and tugged her down, and kissed her once.

Brief—butthorough.She’dbeensurprisedenoughthatbythetimehe’dpulledaway,shehadn’tso

muchaslaidahandonhim.“Getready,”hetoldher,motioningtoherroom.Withabackwardglanceathim,ahalfsmileonhermouth,Nesrynobeyed.Chaolstaredafterherforafewminutes,shiftinghistoesinhisboots.Therehadbeennoheatinit—thekiss.Norealfeeling.He expected it. He’d practically shoved her away these weeks. He didn’t

blameheratallforthesurprise.Hewasstillflexinghistoesinhisbootswhentheyarrivedatdinner.Tonight,

he’d ask the khagan for an audience.Again.Mourning or no, protocol or no.Andthenhe’dwarnthemanofwhatheknew.

He would request it before Yrene’s usual arrival—in case they lost time.Whichseemedtobeanoccurrence.Ithadbeenthreehourstoday.Three.

Histhroatwasstillraw,despitethehoneyedteaYrenehadmadehimdrinkuntilhewasnearlysick.Thenshe’dmadehimexercise,manyofthemovementsonesshehadtoassisthimwith:rotatinghiships,rollingeachlegfromsidetoside, rotating his ankles and feet in circles. All designed to keep the bloodflowing to the muscles beginning to atrophy, all designed to re-create thepathwaysbetweenhisspineandbrain,shesaid.

She’drepeatedthesetsoverandover,untilanhourhadpassed.Untilshewasswayingagainonherfeet,andthatglassylookhadcreptoverhereyes.

Exhaustion.Forwhileshe’dbeenrotatinghislegs,orderinghimtomovehistoes every now and then, she’d sent tingles of her magic through his legs,bypassinghisspineentirely.Littlepinpricksinhistoes—likeswarmsoffireflieshadlandedonhim.Thatwasallhefelt,evenasshekepttryingtopatchupthosepathways in his body.What little she could do now, with the small progressshe’dmadehoursago.

Butallthatmagic…WhenYrenehadswayedafterhislastset,he’dcalledforKadja.Orderedanarmedcarriageforthehealer.

Yrene, to his surprise, didn’t object. Though he supposed it was hard to,when the healer was nearly asleep on her feet by the time she left, Kadjasupportingher.Yreneonlymurmuredsomethingaboutbeingonhishorseagainafterbreakfast,andwasgone.

Butperhapstheluckhe’dhadthatafternoonwasthelastofit.Hourslater,thekhaganwasnotatdinner.Hewasdininginprivatewithhis

belovedwife,theysaid.Theunspokenrestofitlaybeneaththewords:mourningwastakingitsnaturalcourse,andpoliticswouldbesetaside.Chaolhadtriedtolookasunderstandingaspossible.

AtleastNesrynseemedtobemakingsomeheadwaywithSartaq,eveniftheotherroyalshadalreadygrownboredwiththeirpresence.

Sohedined,sohekeptwrigglinghis toeswithinhisboots,anddidnot tellanyone,evenNesryn,longafterthey’dreturnedtotheirsuiteandhe’dtumbledofftobed.

Heawokewiththedawn,foundhimself…eagertowashanddress.Foundhimself eating breakfast as quickly as he could,whileNesryn only raised herbrows.

Butshe,too,wasoffearlytomeetSartaqatoponeofthepalace’sthirty-sixminarets.

Therewassomeholidaytomorrow,tohonoroneofthethirty-sixgodsthoseminarets each represented. Their sea goddess, Tehome. There would be aceremony at sunrise down by the docks,with all the royals, even the khagan,attending to laywreaths into thewater.Gifts for theLady of theGreatDeep,Nesrynhadsaid.Thenagrandfeastatthepalacecomesundown.

He’dbeen indifferent about his ownholidays back inAdarlan, found themoutdatedritestohonorforcesandelementshisancestorscouldnotexplain,andyetthebuzzofactivity,thewreathsofflowersandseashellsbeingraisedwithinthepalacetoatlastreplacethewhitebanners,thescentofshellfishsimmeringinbutterandspices…Itintriguedhim.Madehimseeabitclearer,brighter,ashewheeledthroughthebusypalacetowardthecourtyard.

Thecourtyard itselfwasameleeofarrivinganddepartingvendors,bearingfoodanddecorationsandwhatseemedtobeperformers.Alltobeseechtheirseagoddess formercy as the late summer gaveway to annual violent storms thatcouldripapartshipsandentiretownsonthecoastline.

ChaolscannedthecourtyardforYrene,flexinghistoes.Hespottedhishorseandhermarealongsideitinthefewpensbytheeastwall,but…nosignofher.

She’dbeenlateyesterday,sohewaiteduntilalullinthedeliveriesbeforehemotioned the stable hands to help him mount. But it was the guard from

yesterday—theonewho’daidedhimmost—whocameforwardwhenthemarewasbroughtover.Shen,Yrenehadcalledhim;she’dgreetedtheguardasifsheknewhimwell.

Shen saidnothing, thoughChaolkneweveryguard in thispalace spokeanassortmentof languagesbeyondHalha,onlyofferinganodofgreeting.WhichChaol found himself returning before he silently mounted, his arms strainingwith the effort to haul himself upward. But he made it, perhaps easier thanyesterday,earningwhathecouldhaveswornwasawinkofapprovalfromShenbeforetheguardsaunteredbacktohispost.

Shuttingoutwhatthatdidtohischest,Chaolbuckledthestrapsonhisbraceandsurveyedthechaoticcourtyardandopengatesbeyond.Theguardsinspectedeverywagon,everypieceofpaperthatconfirmedaroyalorderhadbeenplacedforthegoodstheybore.

Good.Regardlessofwhetherhe’dspoken to thekhaganpersonally,at leastsomeonehadwarnedtheguardtobecareful—perhapsKashin.

Thesundriftedhigher,raisingtheheatwithit.StillYrenedidnotcome.Aclockchimeddeepinthepalace.Anhourlate.The mare turned skittish, impatient beneath him, and he patted her thick,

sweatyneck,murmuring.Anotherfifteenminutespassed.Chaolstudiedthegates,thestreetbeyond.NowordofalarmhadcomefromtheTorre,butstayingstill,justwaitinghere

…He foundhimself snapping the reins, tapping the horse’s flank to launch it

intoawalk.He’dmarkedthepathYrenehadtakenyesterday.Perhapshe’drunintoher

onherwayoverhere.

Anticawascrawlingwithvendorsandpeoplesettingupfortomorrow’sholiday.

AndthosealreadytoastingtotheLadyoftheGreatDeep,fillingthetavernsandeatingroomsliningthestreets,musiciansplayingateachone.

It took him nearly twice as long to get to the Torre’s owl-adorned gates,though part of that slowness was due to his scanning for Yrene on everycrammedstreetandpassingalley.Buthefoundnosignofthehealer.

HeandhishorseweresweatingwhentheyrodethroughtheTorregates,theguardssmilingathim—faceshe’dmarkedfromyesterday’slesson.

How many times had he seen such a greeting in Adarlan? Taken it forgranted?

He’dalwaysriddenthroughtheblackirongates to theglasspalacewithouthesitation,without reallydoingmore thannotingwhowas stationed there andwhowasn’tlookinguptosnuff.He’dtrainedwiththosemen,learnedabouttheirfamiliesandlives.

Hismen.Theyhadbeenhismen.So Chaol’s own answering smile was tight, and he couldn’t stand tomeet

their bright eyes for more than a passing glance as he rode into the Torrecourtyard,thescentoflavenderwrappingaroundhim.

Buthepausedafewfeet in,wheeledhismarearound,andaskedtheguardclosest,“HasYreneTowerslefttoday?”

Likethoseatthekhagan’spalace,eachoftheTorre’sguardswasfluentinatleast three languages: Halha, the tongue of the northern continent, and thelanguageofthelandstotheeast.WithvisitorsfromalloverErilea,thoseattheTorregateshadtobefluentinthethreecommontongues.

Theguardbeforehimshookhishead,sweatslidingdownhisdarkskinintheripplingheat.“Notyet,LordWestfall.”

Perhapsitwasrudetoseekheroutwhenshewaslikelytoobusywithotherthingstoimmediatelytendtohim.She’dmentionedotherpatients,afterall.

Withanodof thanks,heagain turned the roanmare toward theTorre, andwasabout toaim for thecourtyard to its leftwhenanancientvoice said from

below,“LordWestfall.Goodtoseeyououtandabout.”Hafiza.TheHealeronHighstoodafewfeetaway,abasketdrapedoverher

thin arm and two middle-aged healers flanking her. The guards bowed, andChaolinclinedhishead.

“IwaslookingforYrene,”hesaidbywayofgreeting.Hafiza’swhitebrowsrose.“Didshenotcometoyouthismorning?”Uneasetightenedhisgut.“No,thoughperhapsImissedher—”One of the healers at Hafiza’s side stepped forward and murmured to the

HealeronHigh,“Sheisabed,mylady.”Hafizanowraisedherbrowsatthewoman.“Still?”Ashakeofthehead.“Drained.Eretiacheckedonheranhourago—shewas

asleep.”Hafiza’smouthtightened,thoughChaolhadafeelingheknewwhatshewas

about to say. Felt guilty enough before the crone spoke. “Our powers can dogreat things,LordWestfall, but theyalsodemandagreat cost.Yrenewas…”Shesought thewords,either fromnotusinghernative tongueor to sparehimfromfurtherguilt.“Shewasasleep in thecarriagewhenshearrived lastnight.Shehadtobecarriedtoherroom.”

Hecringed.Hafizapattedhisboot,andhecouldhaveswornhefeltitinhistoes.“Itisof

noconcern,mylord.Adayofsleep,andshewillbebackatthepalacetomorrowmorning.”

“Iftomorrowisaholiday,”hevolunteered,“shecanhavethedayoff.”Hafizachuckled.“YoudonotknowYreneverywellatall ifyou thinkshe

considers these holidays to bedaysoff. ” She pointed at him. “Though ifyouwantthedayoff,youshouldcertainlytellher,becauseshe’lllikelybeknockingatyourdoorcomesunrise.”

Chaolsmiled,evenashegazedatthetowerloomingoverhead.“It is a restorative sleep,” Hafiza supplied. “Utterly natural. Do not let it

burdenyou.”Witha final lookat thepale towerhighabove,henoddedandwheeledhis

horsebacktothegates.“MayIescortyouanywhere?”Hafiza’s smile was bright as the midday sun. “You certainly may, Lord

Westfall.”

TheHealeronHighwasstoppedeveryblockbythosewishingtomerelytouchherhand,orhavehertouchthem.

Sacred.Holy.Beloved.It took them thirtyminutes togetevenhalfadozenblocks from theTorre.

And though he offered to wait while Hafiza and her companions entered themodesthomeonaquietstreet,theywavedhimoff.

Thestreetswerecloggedenoughtodeterhimfromexploring,soChaolsoonheadedbacktowardthepalace.

But even as he steered his horse through the crowds, he found himselfglancingtothatpaletower—abehemothonthehorizon.Tothehealersleepingwithin.

Yrenesleptforadayandahalf.Shehadn’tmeantto.Hadbarelybeenabletorouseherselflongenoughtosee

toherneedsandwaveoffEretiawhenshe’dcometoprodher,tomakesureshewasstillalive.

Thehealingyesterday—twodaysago,sherealizedasshedressedinthegraylight before dawn—had decimated her. That bit of progress, the nosebleedafterward,hadtakenitstoll.

But his toes had moved. And the pathways she’d sent her magic floatingalong, dots of light darting through him … Damaged, yes, but if she could

slowlystarttoreplacethosefrayed,tinycommunicatorswithinhim…Itwouldbelong,andhard,yet…

Yreneknewitwasnotguiltalone thathadher risingsoearlyonTehome’sDay.

HewasfromAdarlan—shedoubtedhe’dcareifhegotthedayoff.DawnhadbarelybrokenbythetimeYreneslippedintotheTorrecourtyard

andpaused.Thesunhadcreptoverthecompoundwalls,spearingafewshaftsofgolden

lightintothepurplishshadows.Andinoneofthoseshaftsofsunlight,thefaintstrandsofgoldinhisbrown

hairgleaming…“Shewakes,”LordChaolsaid.Yrenestrodeforhim,gravelcrunchingloudlyinthedrowsydawn.“Yourode

here?”“Allbymyself.”Sheonlyarchedabrowatthewhitemarebesidehis.“Andyoubroughtthe

otherhorse?”“Agentlemanthroughandthrough.”She crossed her arms, frowning up atwhere he satmounted. “Any further

movement?”Themorningsunlithiseyes,turningthebrownintonear-gold.“Howareyou

feeling?”“Answermyquestion,please.”“Answermine.”She gaped at him a bit. Debated scowling. “I’m fine,” she said, waving a

hand.“Buthaveyoufeltanyfurther—”“Didyougettherestyouneeded?”Yrenegapedathim truly this time.“Yes.”She scowlednow, too. “And it’s

noneofyourconcern—”

“Itcertainlyis.”Hesaid it socalmly.With suchmale entitlement. “I know that inAdarlan,

womenbowtowhatevermensay,buthere, if Isayit’snoneofyourbusiness,thenitisn’t.”

Chaolgaveherahalfsmile.“Sowe’rebacktotheanimositytoday.”Shereinedinherrisingshriek.“Wearenotbacktoanything.I’myourhealer,

andyouaremypatient,andIaskedyouaboutthestatusofyour—”“If you’re not rested,” he said, as if it were themost rational thing in the

world,“thenI’mnotlettingyounearme.”Yreneopenedandclosedhermouth.“Andhowwillyoudecidethat?”Slowly,hiseyessweptoverher.Everyinch.Herheartthunderedatthelonglook.Therelentlessfocus.“Goodcolor,”he

said.“Goodposture.Certainlygoodsass.”“I’mnotsomeprizehorse,asyousaidyesterday.”“Twodaysago.”Shebracedherhandsonherhips.“I’mfine.Now,howareyou?”Eachword

wasaccentuated.Chaol’seyesdanced.“I’mfeelingquitewell,Yrene.Thankyouforasking.”Yrene. If shewasn’t inclined to leap onto his horse and strangle him, she

mighthavecontemplatedhowthewayhesaidhernamemadehertoescurl.But she hissed, “Don’tmistakemy kindness for stupidity. If you have had

anyprogress,orregressions,Iwillfindthemout.”“Ifthisisyourkindness,thenI’dhatetoseeyourbadside.”Sheknewhemeantthewordsinjest,yet…Herbackstiffened.Heseemedtorealizeit,andleaneddowninhissaddle.“Itwasajoke,Yrene.

Youhavebeenmoregenerousthan…Itwasajoke.”Sheshrugged,headingforthewhitehorse.Hesaid,perhapsanattempttosteerthembacktowardneutralground,“How

aretheotherhealersfaring—aftertheattack?”

Ashivercrawledupherspineasshegrabbedthemare’sreins,butmadenomove to mount. Yrene had offered to help with the burial, but Hafiza hadrefused,tellinghertosaveherstrengthforLordWestfall.Butithadn’tstoppedher from visiting the death chamber beneath the Torre two days ago—fromseeing thedesiccatedbodylaidouton thestoneslab in thecenterof therock-hewnchamber, theleathery,drainedface, thebonesthat juttedoutfrompaper-thinskin.She’dofferedupaprayertoSilbabeforeshe’dleft,andhadnotbeenawakeyesterdaywhenthey’dburiedherinthecatacombsfarbeneaththetower.

Yrenenow frownedupat the tower loomingoverhead, itspresencealwayssuchacomfort,andyet…Since thatnight in the library,despiteHafiza’sandEretia’sbestefforts,therehadbeenahushinthehalls,thetoweritself.Asifthelightthathadfilledthisplacehadguttered.

“They fight to retain a sense of normalcy,” Yrene said at last. “I think indefiance against … against whoever did it. Hafiza and Eretia have led byexample, staying calm, focused—smiling when they can. I think it helps theothergirlsnottobesopetrified.”

“Ifyouwantmetohelpwithanotherlesson,”heoffered,“myservicesareatyourdisposal.”

Shenoddedabsently,runningherthumboverthebridle.Silencefellforalongmoment,filledwiththescentofswayinglavenderand

the potted lemon trees. Then—“Were you really planning on barging intomyroomatdawn?”

Yreneturnedfromthepatientwhitemare.“Youdon’tseemthetypetolazeinbed.”Sheraisedherbrows.“Though,ifyouandCaptainFaliqareengagingin—”

“Youcancomeatdawn,ifyouwish.”Shenodded.Eventhoughsheusuallylovedsleeping.“Iwasgoingtocheck

onapatientbeforeIvisitedyou.Sincewetendto…losetime.”Hedidn’treply,soshewenton,“Icanmeetyoubackatthepalaceintwohours,ifyou—”

“Icangowithyou.Idon’tmind.”Shedroppedthereins.Surveyedhim.Hislegs.“Beforewego,Ishouldlike

todosomeexerciseswithyou.”“Onthehorse?”Yrene strode to him, gravel hissing beneath her shoes. “It’s actually a

successfulformoftreatmentformany—notjustthosewithspinalinjuries.Themovements of a horse during riding can improve sensory processing, amongother benefits.” She unbuckled the brace and slid his foot from the stirrup.“WhenIwasonthesteppeslastwinter,Ihealedayoungwarriorwhohadfallenfromhishorseonagruelinghunt—thewoundwasnearlythesameasyours.HistribedevisedthebraceforhimbeforeIgotthere,sincehewasevenlessinclinedtoremainindoorsthanyou.”

Chaolsnorted,runningahandthroughhishair.Yreneliftedhisfootandbegantorotateit,mindfulofthehorsehesatatop.

“Gettinghimtodoanyoftheexercising—thetherapy—wasanordeal.Hehatedbeingcoopedupinhisgirandwantedtofeelthefreshaironhisface.So,justtogivemyselfamoment’speace,Ilethimgetintothesaddle,rideabit,andthenwe’d do the exerciseswhile hewas astride.Only in exchange for later doingmore comprehensive exercises in the tent. But he made such progress whileastride that it became a main part of our treatment.” Yrene gently bent andstraightenedhisleg.“Iknowyoucan’tfeelmuchbeyondyourtoes—”

“Nothing.”“—but Iwantyou to focusonwriggling them.Asmuchasyoucan.Along

withtherestofyourleg,butconcentrateonyourfeetwhileIdothis.”Hefellsilent,andshedidn’tbother to lookupasshemovedhis leg,going

throughwhatexercisesshecouldwiththehorsebeneathhim.Thesolidweightof his leg was enough to get her sweating, but she kept at it, stretching andbending, pivoting and rolling. And beneath his boots, the thick black leathershifting…histoesindeedwriggledandpushed.

“Good,”Yrenetoldhim.“Keepatit.”His toes strained against the leather again. “The steppes—that’swhere the

khagan’speopleoriginallyhailedfrom.”Shewentthroughanotherfullsetoftheexercises,makingsurehistoeswere

moving the entire time, before she answered. Setting his leg back within thebraceandstirrup,givingthehorseplentyofspaceasshewentaround its frontandunbuckledhisotherleg,shesaid,“Yes.Abeautiful,pristineland.Thegrassyhills roll on forever, interrupted only by sparse pine forests and a few baldmountains.”Yrenegruntedagainsttheweightofhislegasshebeganthesameset of exercises. “Did you know that the first khagan conquered the continentwithonlyahundredthousandmen?Andthathediditinfouryears?”Shetookin the awakening city around them, marveling. “I knew about his people’shistory,about theDarghan,butwhenIwent to thesteppes,Kashintoldme—”Shefellsilent,wishingshecouldtakebackthelastbit.

“Theprincewentwithyou?”Acalm,casualquestion.Shetappedhisfootinsilentordertokeepwrigglinghistoes.Chaolobeyedwithahuffoflaughter.

“Kashin and Hafiza came with me. We were there over a month.” Yreneflexedhisfoot,upanddown,workingthroughtherepetitivemotionswithslow,deliberatecare.Magicaided in thehealing,yes,but thephysical elementof itplayedequallyasimportantarole.“Areyoumovingyourtoesasmuchasyoucan?”

Asnort.“Yes,mistress.”Shehidhersmile,stretchinghislegasfarashishipwouldallowandrotating

itinsmallcircles.“Iassume that trip to thesteppeswaswhenPrinceKashinpouredhisheart

out.”Yrenenearlydroppedhisleg,butinsteadglaredupathim,findingthoserich

browneyesfullofdryhumor.“Itisnoneofyourbusiness.”“Youdolovetosaythat,forsomeonewhoseemssointentondemandingI

tellhereverything.”Sherolledhereyesandwentbacktobendinghislegattheknee,stretching

andeasing.“Kashinwasoneof the first friends Imadehere,” she saidafteralongmoment.“Oneofmyfirstfriendsanywhere.”

“Ah.”Apause.“Andwhenhewantedmorethanfriendship…”YreneloweredChaol’slegatlast,bucklingitbackintothebraceandwiping

thedustfromhisbootsoffherhands.Shesetherhandsonherhipsasshepeeredathim,squintingagainsttherisinglight.“Ididn’twantmorethanthat.Itoldhimasmuch.Andthatisthat.”

Chaol’s lips twitched toward a smile, and Yrene at last approached herwaitingmare,haulingherselfintothesaddle.Whenshestraightened,arrangingthe skirts of her dress over her legs, she said to him, “My aim is to return toFenharrow, to helpwhere I am neededmost. I felt nothing strong enough forKashintowarrantyieldingthatdream.”

Understandingfilledhiseyes,andheopenedhismouth—asifhemightsaysomethingabout it.Buthejustnodded,smilingagain,andsaid,“I’mgladyoudidn’t.”She liftedabrow inquestion,andhis smilegrew.“Wherewould Ibewithoutyouheretobarkordersatme?”

Yrenescowled,scoopingupthereinsandsteeringthehorsetowardthegatesasshesaidsharply,“Letmeknowifyoustarttofeelanydiscomfortortinglinginthatsaddle—andtrytokeepyourtoesmovingasoftenasyoucan.”

Tohiscredit,hedidn’tobject.Heonlysaidwith thathalf smile,“Lead theway,YreneTowers.”

Andthoughshetoldherselfnotto…alittlesmiletuggedonYrene’smouthastheyrodeintotheawakeningcity.

20

With most of the city down by the docks for the sunrise ceremony to honorTehome, the streets were quiet. Chaol supposed only the sickest would bebedbound today,whichwaswhy,when they approached a slender house on asunny,dustystreet,hewasn’tatallsurprisedtobegreetedbyviolentcoughingbeforethey’devenreachedthedoor.

Well,beforeYrenehadevenreachedthedoor.Withoutthechair,he’dremainatopthehorse,butYrenedidn’tsomuchascommentonitasshedismounted,tiedhermaretothehitchingpostdownthestreet,andstrodeforthehouse.Hekept shiftinghis toes every sooften—asmuch ashe couldmanagewithin theboots. The movement alone, he knew, was a gift, but it required moreconcentrationthanhe’dexpected;moreenergy,too.

Chaolwasstillflexingthemwhenanelderlywomanopenedthehousedoor,sighingtoseeYreneandspeakinginveryslowHalha.ForYrenetounderstand,apparently,because thehealer replied in the languageassheentered thehouseand left thedoorajar,heruseof thewords tentativeandunwieldy.Better thanhisown.

Fromthestreet,hecouldseethroughthehouse’sopenwindowsanddoortothe littlebedtuckedjustunder thepaintedsill—asif tokeepthepatient in thefreshair.

Itwasoccupiedbyanoldman—thesourceofthatcoughing.Yrenespoketothecronebeforestridingtotheoldman,pullingupasquat,

three-leggedstool.Chaol stroked his horse’s neck,wriggling his toes again,whileYrene took

theman’switheredhandandpressedanothertohisbrow.Eachmovementwasgentle,calm.Andherface…Therewasasoftsmileonit.Onehe’dneverseenbefore.Yrenesaidsomethinghecouldn’theartotheoldwomanwringingherhands

behindthem,thenrolleddownthethinblanketcoveringtheman.Chaol cringed at the lesions crusting his chest and stomach. Even the old

womandid.ButYrenedidn’tsomuchasblink,herserenecountenancenevershiftingas

sheliftedahandbeforeher.Whitelightsimmeredalongherfingersandpalm.Theoldman, thoughunconscious,suckedinabreathasshe laidahandon

hischest.Rightovertheworstofthosesores.For long minutes, she only laid her hand there, brows scrunched, light

flowingfromherpalmtotheman’schest.Andwhensheliftedherhand…theoldwomanwept.KissedYrene’shands,

oneaftertheother.Yreneonlysmiled,kissingthewoman’ssaggingcheek,andbade her farewell, giving what had to be firm instructions for the man’scontinuedcare.

It was only after Yrene shut the door behind her that the beautiful smilefaded.That she studied thedusty cobblestones andhermouth tightened.As ifshe’dforgottenhewasthere.

Hishorsenickered,andherheadsnappedup.“Areyouallright?”heasked.Sheonlyunhitchedherhorseandmounted,chewingonherlowerlipasthey

startedintoaslowwalk.“Hehasadiseasethatwillnotgogently.Wehavebeenbattling it for five months now. That it flared up so badly this time…” Sheshookherhead—disappointed.Withherself.

“Itdoesn’thaveacure?”

“Ithasbeendefeatedinotherpatients,butsometimesthehost…Heisveryold.AndevenwhenIthinkI’vepurgeditfromhim,itcomesback.”Sheblewoutabreath.“Atthispoint,IfeelasifI’mjustbuyinghimtime,notgivinghimasolution.”

Hestudiedthetightnessinherjaw.Someonewhodemandedexcellencefromherself—whileperhapsnotexpectingthesamefromothers.Orevenhopingforit.

Chaol found himself saying, “Are there any other patients you need to seeto?”

Shefrownedtowardhislegs.Towardthebigtoehepushedagainstthetopofhisboot,theleathershiftingwiththemovement.“Wecanreturntothepalace—”

“I like to be outside,” he blurted. “The streets are empty. Let me…” Hecouldn’tfinish.

Yreneseemedtogetit,though.“There’sayoungmotheracrossthecity.”Along, long ride away. “She’s recovering fromahard labor twoweeks ago. I’dliketovisither.”

Chaoltriednottolooktoorelieved.“Thenlet’sgo.”

Sotheywent.Thestreetsremainedempty,theceremony,Yrenetoldhim,lastinguntil midmorning. Even though the empire’s gods had been cobbled together,mostpeopleparticipatedintheirholidays.

Religious tolerance, she’d said, was something the very first khagan hadchampioned—andallwhohadcomeafterhim, too.Oppressingvariousbeliefsonlyledtodiscordwithinhisempire,sohe’dabsorbedthemall.Someliterally,twining multiple gods into one. But always allowing those who wished topracticethefreedomtodosowithoutfear.

Chaol,inturn,toldYreneabouttheotherusehe’dlearnedwhilereadinguponthehistoryofthekhaganrule:inotherkingdoms,wherereligiousminorities

wereill-treated,hefoundmanywillingspies.She’dknownthatalready—andhadaskedhimifhe’deverusedspiesforhis

own…position.Hetoldherno.Thoughhedidn’trevealthathe’doncehadmenwhoworked

covertly, but they weren’t like the spies Aedion and Ren Allsbrook hademployed.ThathehimselfhadworkedwithinRiftholdthisspringandsummer.Buttalkingabouthisformerguards…Hefellsilent.

She’dremainedquietafterthat,asifsensinghissilencewasnotfromlackofconversation.

Shebroughthimintoaquarterofthecitythatwasfullofsmallgardensandparks,thehousesmodestyetwellkept.Firmlymiddle-class.ItremindedhimabitofRiftholdandyet…Cleaner.Brighter.Evenwith thestreetssoquiet thismorning,itteemedwithlife.

Especiallyattheelegantlittlehousetheystoppedbefore,whereamerry-eyedyoungwoman spotted them from thewindowa level above.Shecalledout toYreneinHalha,thenvanishedinside.

“Well, that answers that question,”Yrenemurmured, just as the front dooropenedandthatwomanappeared,aplumpbabeinherarms.

The mother paused upon seeing Chaol, but he offered a polite bob of hishead.

Thewomansmiledprettilyathim,butitturnedoutrightdeviousasshefacedYreneandwaggledhereyebrows.

Yrenelaughed,andthesound…Beautifulasthesoundwas,itwasnothinglikethesmileonherface.Thedelight.

He’dneverseenafacesolovely.NotasYrenedismountedandtookthechubbybaby—theportraitofnewborn

health—fromthemother’soutstretchedarms.“Oh,she’sbeautiful,”shecooed,brushingafingeroveraroundcheek.

Themotherbeamed.“Fatasadirt-grub.”ShespokeinChaol’sowntongue,

either because Yrene used it with her, or from noticing his own features, sodifferentfromthevariousnormshereinAntica.“Hungryasapig,too.”

Yrenebobbedandswayedwiththebaby,cooingatthegirl.“Thefeedingisgoingwell?”

“She’dbeonmybreastdayandnightifIlether,”themothergroused,notatallembarrassedtobediscussingsuchthingswithhimpresent.

Yrene chuckled, her smile growing as she let a tiny handwrap around herfinger. “She looks healthy as can be,” she observed. Then looked over themother.“Andyou?”

“I’vebeenfollowingtheregimenyougaveme—thebathshelped.”“Nobleeding?”Ashakeofthehead.Thensheseemedtonoticehim,becauseshesaidabit

more quietly, and Chaol suddenly found the buildings down the street veryinteresting,“HowlonguntilIcan—youknow?Withmyhusband.”

Yrenesnorted.“Giveitanothersevenweeks.”Thewomanletoutasquawkofoutrage.“Butyouhealedme.”“AndyounearlybledoutbeforeIcould.”Wordsthatbrookednoargument.

“Giveyourbodytimetorest.Otherhealerswouldtellyoueightmoreweeksataminimum,but…tryitatseven.Ifthereisanydiscomfort—”

“Iknow,Iknow,”thewomansaid,wavingahand.“It’sjust…beenawhile.”Yrene letoutanother laugh,andChaol foundhimselfgazing towardheras

thehealersaid,“Well,youcanwaitalittlelongeratthispoint.”ThewomangaveYreneawrysmileasshetookbackherburblingbaby.“I

certainlyhopeyouenjoyyourself,sinceIcan’t.”ChaolcaughthermeaningfulglanceinhisdirectionbeforeYrenedid.AndhegotnosmallamountofsmugsatisfactionfromwatchingYreneblink,

thenstiffen,thengored.“What—oh.Oh,no.”Thewayshespatthatno…Hetooknosatisfactioninthat.Thewomanonlylaughed,heftingthebabyabithigherassheheadedintoher

charminghouse.“Icertainlywould.”Thedoorshut.Still red, Yrene turned to him, distinctly not meeting his eyes. “She’s

opinionated.”Chaolchuckled.“Ihadn’trealizedthatIwasafirmno.”Sheglaredathim,haulingherselfontohermare.“Idon’t shareabedwith

patients.Andyou’rewithCaptainFaliq,”sheaddedquickly.“Andyou’re—”“Notinfitformtopleasureawoman?”Hewasshockedhesaid it.Butagainmore thana tadsmugtoseehereyes

flare.“No,”Yrenesaid,somehowgoingredder.“Certainlynotthat.Butyou’re…

you.”“I’mtryingnottobeinsulted.”Shewavedahand,lookingeverywherebutathim.“YouknowwhatImean.”ThathewasamanfromAdarlan,thathe’dservedtheking?Hecertainlydid.

Buthesaid,decidingtohavemercyonher,“Iwasjoking,Yrene.I…amwithNesryn.”

Sheswallowed,stillblushinglikemad.“Whereisshetoday?”“Shewent to attend the ceremonywith her family.”Nesryn hadn’t invited

him,andhe’dclaimedhewantedtoputofftheirownridethroughthecity.Yetherehenowwas.

Yrenenoddeddistantly.“Areyougoingtothepartytonight—atthepalace?”“Yes.Areyou?”Anothernod.Stiltedsilence.Thenshesaid,“I’mafraidtoworkonyoutoday

—justincasewelosetrackoftimeagainandmisstheparty.”“Woulditbesobadifwedid?”Sheeyedhimwhiletheyturnedacorner.“Itwouldoffendsomeofthem.Ifit

didn’toffendtheLadyoftheGreatDeepherself.I’mnotsurewhichscaresmemore.”HechuckledagainasYrenewenton,“Hasarlentmeadress,soIhaveto

go.Orriskherwrath.”Someshadowpassedoverherface.Andhewasabouttoaskaboutitwhen

shesaid,“Doyouwanttohaveatour?”Hestaredather,attheoffershe’dthrownhisway.“I’lladmitIdon’tknowthatmuchaboutthehistory,butmyworkhastaken

metoeveryquarter,soIcanatleastkeepusfromgettinglost—”“Yes,”hebreathed.“Yes.”Yrene’ssmilewastentative.Quiet.Butsheledhimonward,thestreetsbeginningtofillastheceremoniesended

andcelebratingbegan.Aslaughingpeoplestreameddowntheavenueandalleys,musicpouringfromeverywhere,thesmelloffoodandspiceswrappingaroundhim.

Heforgotabouttheheat,thebakingsun,forgottokeepmovinghistoeseverynow and then, as they rode through the winding quarters of the city, as hemarveled at the domed temples and free libraries, as Yrene showed him thepaper money they used—mulberry bark backed in silk—in lieu of unwieldycoins.

Sheboughthimherfavoritetreats,aconfectionmadefromcarob,andofferedsmilestoanyonewhocameherway.Rarelytohim,though.

Therewasnostreetshebalkedatturningdown,noneighborhoodoralleysheseemedtofear.Agod-city,yes—andalsoacityoflearning,oflightandcomfortandwealth.

Whenthesunreacheditszenith,she ledthemintoa lushpublicgarden, itsoverhanging trees andvines blockingout thebrutal rays.They rodedown thelabyrinthofwalkways,thegardennear-emptythankstoeveryonenowpartakinginthemiddaymeal.

Raisedbedsof flowersoverflowedwithblossoms,hangingfernsswayed inthe cool breeze off the sea, birds called to one another from the cover of thedroopingfrondsoverhead.

“Doyouthink…,”Yrenesaidafterlongminutesofquiet,“thatoneday…”Shegnawedonherbottomlip.“Thatwecouldhaveaplacelikethis?”

“InAdarlan?”“In anywhere,” she said. “But yes—in Adarlan, in Fenharrow. I heard

Eyllwe’scitieswereonceasfineasthis,before…”Beforetheshadowbetweenthem.Beforetheshadowinhisheart.“They were,” Chaol said, sealing away the thought of the princess who’d

livedinthosecities,who’dlovedthem.Evenasthescaronhisfaceseemedtotwinge.Butheconsideredherquestion.Andfromthoseshadowsofhismemory,heheardAedionAshryver’svoice.Whatdoyousuppose thepeopleonothercontinents,acrossall those seas,

thinkofus?Doyouthinktheyhateusorpityusforwhatwedotoeachother?Perhaps it’s just asbad there.Perhaps it’sworse.But… Ihave tobelieve it’sbetter.Somewhere,it’sbetterthanthis.

Hewondered if he’d ever get to tellAedion that he’d found such a place.Perhaps he would tell Dorian what he’d seen here. Help rebuild the ruins ofRifthold,ofhiskingdom,intosomethinglikethis.

Herealizedhehadn’tfinished.ThatYrenewasstillwaiting,asshebrushedaside a trailing vine of small purple flowers. “Yes,” he said at last, at thewarinesshidingthattinyburningkernelofhopeinhereyes.“Ibelievewecanbuildthisforourselvesoneday.”Headded,“Ifwesurvivethiswar.”IfhecouldleaveherewithanarmybehindhimtochallengeErawan.

Time pressed on him, smothering him. Faster.He had tomove faster witheverything—

Yrene scanned his face in the heavy heat of the garden. “You love yourpeopleverymuch.”

Chaolnodded,unabletofindthewords.Sheopenedhermouth, as if she’d say something,but closed it.Then said,

“Even thepeopleofFenharrowwerenotblamelesswith theiractions thispast

decade.”Chaoltriednottolookatthefaintscaracrossherthroat.Haditbeenoneof

herowncountrymenwhohad—She sighed, studying the rose garden wilting in the blistering heat. “We

shouldheadback.Beforethecrowdsgetimpossible.”He wondered what she’d thought of saying a moment ago but decided

against.Whatcausedthatshadowtolurkinhereyes.ButChaolonlyfollowedher,allthosewordshangingbetweenthem.

Theypartedwaysatthepalace,thehallspackedwithservantsreadyingfortheevening’sfestivities.YrenewentrighttofindHasarandthedress—andbath—she’dbeenpromised,andChaolreturnedtohisownsuite,towashoffthedustandsweatandfindsomethingsuitabletowear.

NosignofNesrynuntilshe’dreturnedmidwaythroughhisbath,shoutedthatshewastakingoneofherown,andclosedthedoortohersuite.

He’dopted forhis teal jacket,andwaited in thehall forNesryn toemerge.Whenshedid,heblinkedat thewell-cutamethyst jacketandpants.Hehadn’tseenasignofhercaptain’suniformfordays.Andwasn’tabouttoaskashesaid,“Youlookbeautiful.”

Nesrynsmiled,herglossyhairstilldampfromthebath.“Youdon’tlooksobadyourself.”Sheseemedtonotethecoloronhisfaceandasked,“Youwereinthesuntoday?”Herslightaccenthaddeepened,addingmoreofatwirltocertainsounds.

“IhelpedYrenewithsomepatientsaroundthecity.”Nesrynsmiledas theyheadedinto thehallway.“I’mgladtohear it.”Nota

word about the ride and visit he’d delayedwith her—hewondered if she hadevenremembered.

Hestillhadn’ttoldherabouthistoes.Butastheyreachedthegreathallofthe

palace…Later.They’ddiscussitalllater.Thegreathallofthepalacewasawonder.Thatwastheonlywordforit.The party was not as large as he would have assumed, only a few more

people than the usual gathering of the viziers and royals, but no expense hadbeensparedonthedecorations.Thefeast.

Hegapedabit,Nesryndoingthesame,astheywereledtotheirspotsatthehigh table—anhonorhewas still surprised they received.Thekhaganandhiswifewouldnotbejoiningthem,hewastoldbyDuva.Hermotherhadnotbeendoing well these last few days and wished to celebrate with her husband inprivate.

No doubt seeing those mourning banners at last coming down had beendifficult. And tonight likely wasn’t the time to press the khagan about theirallianceanyway.

Afewmoreguestspouredin,alongwithHasarandRenia,arminarmwithYrene.

WhenYrenehadlefthimatthecrossroadsofoneofthepalace’smainhalls,she’d been gleaming with sweat and dust, her cheeks rosy, her hair curlingslightlyaroundherears.Herdress,too,hadbeenwrinkledfromadayofriding,thehemcoatedindust.

Certainlynotatalllikewhatsheworenow.HefelttheattentionofhalfthemenatthetableslidetowardHasar—toward

Yrene—astheyentered,trailedbytwooftheprincess’sservantgirls.Hasarwassmirking,Reniautterlystunninginrubyred,butYrene…

Forabeautifulwomancladinthefinestclothesandjewelsanempirecouldpurchase,therewassomethingresignedabouther.Yes,hershoulderswereback,herspinestraight,butthesmilethathadhithiminthegutearlierwaslonggone.

HasarhaddressedYrene in cobalt thatbroughtout thewarmthofher skinandsetherbrownhairglimmeringasifithadindeedbeengilded.Theprincess

hadevendustedcosmeticsalongYrene’sface—orperhapsthehintofcoloronher freckled cheeks was from the fact that the gown was cut low enough torevealthelushnessofherfigure.Cutlow,andtightthroughthebodice.

Yrene’s dresses certainly didn’t hide her body, but the gown…He hadn’tquiterealizedhowslimherwaistwas,howherhipsflaredbeneathit.Howherotherassetsswelledabove.

Hewasn’ttheonlyonetakingasecondglance.SartaqandArghunhadleanedforwardintheirseatsastheirsisterledYrenetothehightable.

Yrene’shairhadbeenleftmostlydown,onlythesidessweptbackandpinnedwith combs of gold and ruby.Matching earrings dangled to brush the slendercolumnofherthroat.

“Shelooksregal,”Nesrynmurmuredtohim.Yrene indeed looked like aprincess—albeit oneheading to thegallows for

howsolemnherfacewasastheyreachedthetable.Whatevercontentmentshe’dpossessedwhenthey’dpartedwayshadsincevanisheduponthetwohoursshe’dspentwithHasar.

TheprincesstoodtogreetYrenethistime,Kashinrisingfirst.The Healer on High’s undeclared heir; a woman who would likely wield

considerable power in this realm. They seemed to realize it, the depth of thatimplication.Arghunespecially,fromtheshrewdlookhegaveYrene.Awomanofconsiderablepower—andbeauty.

HesawthewordinArghun’seyes:prize.Chaol’s jaw tightened. Yrene certainly didn’t want the attentions of the

handsomestoftheprinces—hecouldn’timagineshe’dbeinclinedtodesiretheaffectionsoftheothertwo.

ArghunopenedhismouthtospeaktoHasar,buttheprincessstroderighttoChaolandNesrynandmurmuredinNesryn’sear,“Move.”

21

NesrynblinkedatHasar.Theprincesssmiled,coldasasnake,andclarified,“Itisnotpolitetoonlysit

withyourcompanion.Weshouldhaveseparatedyoutwobeforenow.”Nesryn glanced to him. Everyonewatched. Chaol had no idea—absolutely

none—whattosay.Yreneseemedinclinedtomeltintothegreenmarblefloor.Sartaqclearedhisthroat.“Joinmehere,CaptainFaliq.”Nesrynstoodquickly, andHasarbeamedupather.Theprincesspatted the

backoftheseatNesrynhadvacatedandcroonedtoYrene,lingeringafewfeetaway,“Yousithere.Incaseyouareneeded.”

Yrene shotChaol a look thatmight have been considered pleading, but hekepthisfaceneutralandofferedaclose-lippedsmile.

NesrynfoundherseatbesideSartaq,whohadaskedavizier tomovedownthetable,andHasar,satisfiedthattheadjustmentshadbeendonetoher liking,deemedthatherownusualseatswerenottohertasteandkickedouttwoviziersdownbyArghun.ThesecondseatwasforRenia,whogaveher loveramildlydisapprovingglance,butsmiledtoherself—asifitweretypical.

Themeal resumed,andChaolslidhisattention toYrene.Thevizieronherothersidepaidhernoheed.Platterswerepassedaroundbyservants, foodanddrinkpiledandpoured.Chaolmutteredunderhisbreath,“DoIwanttoknow?”

Yrene cut into the simmered lamb and saffron rice heaped on her goldenplate.“No.”

Hewaswillingtobetwhatevershadowshadbeeninhereyesearlier today,thethingshe’dhaltedherselffromsayingtohim…Itwenthandinhandwithwhateverwasunfoldinghere.

Hepeereddown the table, towhereNesrynwatched them,half listening toSartaqastheprincespokeaboutsomethingChaolcouldnothearovertheclatterofsilverwareanddiscussion.

Heshotheranapologeticlook.Nesryn threw him a warning one in answer—directed toward Hasar. Be

careful.“Howareyourtoes?”Yrenesaid,takingtinybitesofherfood.He’dseenher

devour the box of carob sweets she’d gotten for them atop their horses. Thedaintyeatinghere—forshow.

“Active,”hesaidwithahalfsmile.Nomatterthatithadonlybeentwohourssincethey’dlastseeneachother.

“Sensation?”“Atingle.”“Good.”Herthroatbobbed,thatscarshiftingwithit.Heknewtheywerebeingwatched.Listenedto.Shedidaswell.Yrene’sknuckleswerewhiteas sheclenchedherutensils,herback ramrod

straight.Nosmile.Littlelightinherkohl-linedeyes.Had the princessmaneuvered them to sit together to talk, or tomanipulate

Kashinintosomesortofaction?Theprincewasindeedwatching,evenwhileheengagedtwogold-robedviziersinconversation.

ChaolmurmuredtoYrene,“Theroleofpawndoesn’tsuityou.”Thosegold-browneyesflickered.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Butshedid.Thewordsweren’tmeantforhim.Hescrambledfor topics toget themthrough themeal.“Whendoyoumeet

withtheladiesfortheirnextlesson?”SomeofthetensiondrainedfromYrene’sshouldersasshesaid,“Twoweeks.

Itwouldnormallybenextweek,butmanyofthemhavetheirexaminationsthen,andwillbefocusedonstudying.”

“Someexerciseandfreshairmightbehelpful.”“I’dsayso,buttothem,thesetestsarelifeanddeath.Theycertainlywereto

me.”“Doyouhaveanymoreremaining?”Sheshookherhead,herjeweledearringscatchingthelight.“Icompletedmy

finalone twoweeksago. Iamanofficialhealerof theTorre.”Abitofa self-effacinghumordancedinhereyes.

Heliftedhisgoblettoher.“Congratulations.”Ashrug,butshenoddedinthanks.“ThoughHafizathinkstotestmeonelast

time.”Ah.“SoIamindeedanexperiment.”A piss-poor attempt at making light of their argument days ago, of that

rawnessthathadrippedaholethroughhim.“No,”Yrene said quietly, quickly. “Youhavevery little to dowith it.This

last,unofficialtest…Itisaboutme.”Hewantedtoask,butthereweretoomanyeyesuponthem.“ThenIwishyou

luck,”hesaidformally.Soatoddswithhowthey’dspokenwhileridingthroughthecity.

The meal passed slowly and yet swiftly, their conversation stilted andinfrequent.

ItwasonlywhenthedessertsandkahvewereservedthatArghunclappedhishandsandcalledforentertainment.

“With our father in his chambers,” Chaol heard Sartaq confide to Nesryn,“wetendtohavemore…informalcelebrations.”

Indeed,atroupeofmusiciansinfinery,bearinginstrumentsbothfamiliarandforeign,emergedintothespacebetweenthepillarsbeyondthetable.Rumblingdrumsandflutesandhornsannouncedthearrivalofthemainevent:dancers.

A circle of eight dancers, both male and female—a holy number, SartaqexplainedtoatentativelysmilingNesryn—emergedfromthecurtainstothesideofthepillars.

Chaoltriednottochoke.Theyhadbeenpaintedingold,bedeckedwithjewelsandgauzy,beltedrobes

ofthinnestsilk,butbeneaththat…nothing.Theirbodieswerelitheandyoung,thepeakofyouthandvirility.Hipsrolled,

backsarched,handstwinedintheairabovethemastheybegantoweavearoundoneanotherincirclesandlines.

“Itoldyou,”wasallYrenemutteredtohim.“I thinkDorianwould enjoy this,” hemuttered back, andwas surprised to

findthecornersofhismouthtuggingupwardatthethought.Yrene threwhimabemused look, some lightback inher eyes.Peoplehad

twisted in their seats to better watch the dancers, their sculpted bodies andnimble,barefeet.

Perfect, precise movements, their bodies merely instruments of the music.Beautiful—etherealandyet…tangible.Aelin,herealized,wouldhaveenjoyedthis,too.Greatly.

Asthedancersperformed,servantshauledoverchairsandcouches,arrangingpillowsandtables.Bowlsofsmokingherbswerelaidatopthem,thesmellsweetandcloying.

“Don’tgettoocloseifyouwantyoursensesintact,”Yrenewarnedasamaleservantboreoneofthesmokingmetaldishestowardacarvedwoodtable.“It’samildopiate.”

“Theyreallylettheirhairdownwhentheirparentsareaway.”Someofthevizierswereleaving,butmanyleftthetabletotakeupcushioned

seats, the entirety of the great hall remade in a matter of moments toaccommodatelounging,and—

Servantsemergedfromthecurtains,wellgroomedanddressedingauzy,rich

silkaswell.Menandwomen,allbeautiful,foundtheirwaytolapsandarmrests,somecurlingatthefeetofviziersornobility.

He’dseenfairlyunleashedpartiesattheglasscastle,buttherehadstillbeenastiffness. A formality and sense that such things were hidden behind closeddoors.Dorianhadcertainlysaveditforhisownroom.Orsomeoneelse’s.OrhejustdraggedChaolintoRifthold,ordowntoBellhaven,wherethenobilityheldpartiesfarmoreuninhibitedthanthoseofQueenGeorgina.

SartaqremainedatthetablebesideNesryn,whowatchedtheskilleddancerswithwide-eyedadmiration,buttheotherroyalchildren…Duva,ahandonherbelly,bidherfarewells,herhusbandatherside,silentasalways.Thesmokewasnot good for the babe in her womb, Duva claimed, and Yrene nodded inapproval,thoughnoonelookedherway.

Arghun claimed a couch for himself around the dancing, reclining andbreathinginthesmokeripplingofftheembersinthosesmallmetalbowlsbesidethem.Courtiersandviziersviedfortheseatsnearesttheeldestprince.

Hasarandherlovertookasmallcouchforthemselves,theprincess’shandssoon tangling in her lover’s thick black hair. Her mouth found a spot on thewoman’sneckamoment later.Renia’sansweringsmilewasslowandbroad—hereyesflutteringclosedasHasarwhisperedsomethingagainstherskin.

Kashin seemed to wait for minutes as Yrene and Chaol watched theunfoldingdecadencefromtheemptyingbanquettable.

WaitingforYrene,nodoubt,torise.Colorhadstainedhercheeksasshekepthereyesfirmlyonherkahve,steam

curlingfromthesmallcup.“You’veseenthisbefore?”Chaolaskedher.“Giveitanhourortwo,andthey’llallslipawaytotheirrooms—notalone,

ofcourse.”PrinceKashin seemed tohavedraggedout his conversationwith thevizier

besidehimforaslongashecouldstomach.Heopenedhismouth,lookingright

towardYrene, andChaol read the invitation in his eyes before theman couldspeak.

Chaol had perhaps a heartbeat to decide. To see that Sartaq had invitedNesryntositwithhim—notatthetable,notononeofthecouches,butatapairof chairs to the far back of the room, where there was no smoke and thewindowswereopen,andyettheycouldstillwatch.ShegaveChaolareassuringnod,herpaceunhurriedasshewalkedwiththeprince.

SoasKashin leaned forward to inviteYrene to joinhimat a couch,Chaolturnedtothehealerandsaid,“Iwouldliketositwithyou.”

Hereyeswereslightlywide.“Where.”Kashinshuthismouth,andChaolhadthesensethattherewasatargetbeing

drawnonhischest.ButheheldYrene’sgazeandsaid,“Whereitisquieter.”Therewereonlyafewcouchesleftfree—allclosetothethickestsmokeand

dancing. But there was one half hidden in shadow near an alcove across theroom,asmallbrazierofthoseherbssmolderingonthelow-lyingtablebeforeit.“If we aremeant to be seen together tonight,” he said so quietly only Yrenecould hear, “then remaining here for a while would be better than leavingtogether.” What a message that would send, given the shift in the party’satmosphere.“AndIwouldnothaveyouwalkalone.”

Yrene rose silently, smilinggrimly. “Then letus relax,LordWestfall.”Shegesturedtowardtheshadowedcouchbeyondtheedgeofthelight.

She lethimwheelhimselfover.Kepther chinhigh, the skirtsofhergowntrailing behind her as she headed for that alcove. The back of the dress wasmostly open—revealing smooth, unblemished skin and the fine groove of herspine. It dipped low enough for him tomake out the twin indentations in herlowerback,asifsomegodhadpressedhisthumbsthere.

He felt toomany eyes upon them as she settled herself on the couch, theskirtsofherdresstwistedalongthefloorpastherankles,herarmsbareasshe

spreadonealongthebackoftheplushcushions.Chaol held her low-lidded stare as he reached the couch, faster than the

servants could approach, and eased himself from chair to cushions. A fewmovementshadhimangledtowardher—andhenoddedhisthankstotheservantwhomovedhischairaway.Fromthisvantage,theyhadanunobstructedviewofthedancers,theseatingareas,theservantsandnobilitynowstartingtorunhandsand mouths over skin and fabric, even as they watched the unparalleledentertainment.

Somethingtwisted—notunpleasantly—inhisgutatthedisplay.“Theydonotforceservantshere,”Yrenesaidquietly.“ItwasthefirstthingI

askedduringmyinitialtimeatthesegatherings.Theservantsareeagertoraisetheir positions, and the oneswho are here knowwhat privilege itmight bringthemiftheyleaveherewithsomeonetonight.”

“Butiftheyarepaid,”hecountered,“iftheyworryfortheirpositionsshouldtheydecline,thenhowcanthiseverbetrueconsent?”

“Itisn’t.Notwhenyouputitthatway.Butthekhaganatehasmadesurethatother lines are maintained. Age restrictions. Vocal consent. Punishments forthose—evenroyalty—whobreakthoserules.”She’dsaidasmuchdaysago.

A young woman and man had positioned themselves on either side ofArghun,onenibblingathisneckwhiletheothertracedcirclesalongtheprince’sthighs.Allthewhile,theprincecontinuedconversationwithavizierseatedinachairtohisleft,unfazed.

“Ithoughthehadawife,”Chaolsaid.Yrene followed his gaze. “He does. She stays at his country estate. And

servantsarenotconsideredaffairs.Theneedstheyseeto…Itmightaswellbegivingabath.”Hereyesdancedasshesaid,“I’msureyoudiscoveredthatyourfirstday.”

His face heated. “I was … surprised at the attention to detail. Andinvolvement.”

“Kadjawaslikelyselectedtopleaseyou.”“I’mnotinclinedtostray.Evenwithawillingservant.”Yrene glanced toward Nesryn, deep in conversation with Sartaq. “She is

luckytohavesuchaloyalcompanion,then.”HewaitedforatugofjealousyatseeingNesryn’ssmiletotheprince,whose

bodywas thepinnacleof relaxed,his armdrapedalong thebackof thecouchbehindher,ananklecrossedoveraknee.

PerhapshejusttrustedNesryn,butnothingstirredinhimatthesight.Chaol foundYrene watching him, her eyes like topaz in the shadows and

smoke.“Imetwithmyfriendtheotherevening,”shesaid,herlashesfluttering.No

more than awoman lulledby the smolderingopiates.Evenhis ownheadwasstarting to feel fuzzy. His body warm. Cozy. “And again this evening beforedinner.”

Hasar.“And?”HefoundhimselfstudyingtheslightcurltotheendsofYrene’slong

hair.Foundhisfingersshifting,asifimaginingthefeelofitbetweenthem.Yrene waited until a servant bearing a tray of candied fruits walked past.

“Shetoldmeyour friendisstillunaccountedfor.Andanethasbeenstretchedacrossthecenterofthetable.”

Heblinked,sortingthroughthesmokeandthewords.Armies. Perrington’s armies had been stretched across the continent. No

wonder shehadn’tdiscussed it earlier in the streets;nowonder it hadbroughtsuchshadowstohereyes.“Where?”

“Mountainsto—yourusualhaunt.”Herecalledamentalmapoftheland.FromtheFerianGaptoRifthold.Holy

gods.“Youaresureofit?”Anod.

Hefelteyesslidingtowardthemnowandthen.Yrenedid, too.Hetriednot tostartat thehandshelaidonhisarm.Asshe

lookedup at himbeneath lowered lashes, eyes sleepy—inviting. “Iwas askedtheotherday,andagaintoday,inamannerIcannotrefuse.”

Shewasthreatened.Heclenchedhisjaw.“Ineedaplace.Adirection,” shemurmured. “Forwhereyourother friend

mightgo.”Aelin.“Sheis…whereisshe?”“Theydonotknow.”Aelinwas—missing.Unaccountedforbyeventhekhaganate’sspies.“Notinherhome?”AshakeoftheheadthatmadeChaol’sheartbegintopoundwildly.Aelinand

Dorian—bothunaccountedfor.Missing.IfPerringtonweretostrike…“Idon’tknowwhereshewouldgo.Whatsheplannedtodo.”Helaidhishandoverhers.Blocked out the softness of her skin. “Her plan was to return home. Rally ahost.”

“Shehasnot.AndIdonotdoubttheclarityoftheeyeshere.Andthere.”Hasar’sspies.Andothers.AelinwasnotinTerrasen.HadneverreachedOrynth.“Wipethat lookoffyourface,”Yrenepurred,andthoughherhandbrushed

hisarm,hereyeswerehard.Hestruggled todoso,butmanaged togiveherasleepysmile.“Doesyour

friendthinktheyhavefallenintothehandsofsomeoneelse?”“Shedoesnotknow.”Yrenetrailedfingersuphisarm, lightandunhurried.

Thatsimpleringstillsatuponherhand.“Shewantsmetoaskyou.Pryitfromyou.”

“Ah.”Herslender,beautifulhandslidalonghisarm.“Hencethenewseatingarrangement.”AndwhyYrene had so often seemed on the verge of speakingtodayandthenoptedforsilence.

“Shewillmake life verydifficult if I donot appear to get you towarm tome.”

Hehaltedherhandathisbicep,findingherfingersshakingslightly.Perhapsitwasthesweet,cloyingsmokecurlingaroundthem,perhapsitwasthemusicandthedancerswiththeirbareskinandjewels,butChaolsaid,“Iwouldthinkyou’dalreadydonethat,YreneTowers.”

Hewatched thecolorbloomonher face.Watchedhowitmade thegold inhereyesbrighten.

Dangerous.Dangerousandstupidand—Heknewotherswerewatching.KnewNesrynsatwiththeprince.She’d understand that it was for show.Nesryn’s presencewith Sartaqwas

merelyanotherpartofit.Anotherdisplay.HetoldhimselfthatashecontinuedtoholdYrene’sgaze,continuedtopress

herhandagainsthisupperarm.Continuedtowatchthecolorstainhercheeks.Thetipofhertonguedartedouttomoistenherlips.

Hewatchedthat,too.Aheavy,calmingwarmthsettleddeepintohim.“Ineedaplace.Anyplace.”Ittookhimafewheartbeatstofigureoutwhatshewasasking.Thethreatthe

princessimpliedfornotgettinginformationfromhim.“Whylieatall?Iwouldhavetoldyouthetruth.”Hismouthfeltfaraway.“Afterthelessonwiththegirls,”shemurmured,“Iowedyousomething.”AndthisrevealofHasar’sinterests…“Willshebeswayedtoourcause?”Yrenestudiedtheroom,andChaolfoundhishanddriftingfromhers.Sliding

upherbareshoulder,torestalongherneck.Herskinwassoftassun-warmedvelvet.Histhumbstrokedupthesideofher

throat,sonearthatslenderscar,andshecuthereyestohim.Therewaswarningthere—warningandyet…Heknewthewarningwasnot

directed at him. But herself. Yrene breathed, “She …” He couldn’t resist a

secondstrokeofhisthumbdownthesideofherneck.Herthroatbrushedagainsthishandassheswallowedagain.“Sheisconcernedaboutthethreatoffire.”

Andfearcouldbeamotivationthateitherhelpedordestroyedanychanceofalliance.

“Shethinks…thinksyouarepotentiallybehindthelibraryattack.Assomemanipulation.”

Hesnorted,buthisthumbstilled,rightoverherflutteringpulse.“Shegivesusmorecreditthanwe’redue.”ButthatwasalarmnowflaringtolifeinYrene’seyes.“Whatdoyoubelieve,YreneTowers?”

Shelaidherhandatophisownbutmadenomovetoremovehistouchfromherneck.

“I thinkyourpresencemayhave triggeredother forces to act, but I donotbelieveyouarethesortofmanwhoplaysgames.”

Eveniftheircurrentpositionsaidotherwise.“Yougoafterwhatyouwant,”Yrenecontinued,“andyoupursueitdirectly.

Honestly.”“I used to be that sort ofman,”Chaol countered.He could not look away

fromher.“And now?”Herwordswere breathless, her pulse hammering beneath his

palm.“Andnow,”Chaolsaid,bringinghisheadclosertohers,nearenoughthather

breathbrushedhismouth,“IwonderifIshouldhavelistenedtomyfatherwhenhetriedtoteachme.”

Yrene’s eyes dropped to hismouth, and every instinct, every bit of focus,narrowedonthatmovement.Everypartofhimcametoachingattention.

And thesensationof it,ashecasuallyadjustedhis jacketoverhis lap,wasbetterthananicebath.

The smoke—the opiates. It was some sort of aphrodisiac, some lulling ofcommonsense.

Yrenewasstillwatchinghismouthasifitwereapieceoffruit,herunevenbreathliftingthoselush,highbreastswithintheconfinesofhergown.

Heforcedhimselftoremovehishandfromherneck.Forcedhimselftoleanback.

Nesrynhadtobewatching.Hadtobewonderingwhatthehellhewasdoing.Heowedherbetterthanthis.HeowedYrenebetterthanwhateverhehadjust

done,whatevermadness—“Skull’sBay,”hethrewout.“TellherfirecanbefoundatSkull’sBay.”ItwasperhapstheoneplaceAelinwouldnevergo—downtothedomainof

thePirateLord.He’dheardher story,once,ofher“misadventure”withRolfe.Asifdestroyinghiscityandwreckinghisprizedshipswerejustanotherbitoffun. Heading there would indeed be the last thing Aelin would do, with thePirateLord’spromisetoslaughterheronsight.

Yreneblinked,asifrememberingherself,thesituationthathadbroughtthemhere,tothiscouch,tobeknee-to-kneeandnearlynose-to-nose.

“Yes,” she said, pulling away, blinking furiously again.She frowned at thesmolderingemberswithintheirmetalcageonthetable.“Thatwilldo.”

She waved away an unfurling talon of smoke that tried to wend betweenthem.“Ishouldgo.”

Awild,keen-edgedpanicglintedinhereyes.Asifshe,too,hadrealized,hadfelt—

Shestood,straighteningtheskirtsofhergown.Gonewasthesultry,steadywomanwhohad struttedover to this couch.Here—herewas thegirl of abouttwo-and-twenty,aloneinaforeigncity,preytothewhimsofitsroyalchildren.“Ihope…,”shesaid,glancingtowardNesryn.Shame.Itwas—shameandguiltnow weighing her shoulders. “I hope you never learn to play those sorts ofgames.”

Nesryn remained deep in conversation with Sartaq, showing no sign ofdistress,ofknowledgeof…ofwhateverhadhappenedhere.

Hewasabastard.Agods-damnedbastard.“I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all he could think to say to Yrene. But he

blurtedasshewalkedaway,“Letmegetyouanescort.”BecauseKashinwaswatching themfromacross the room,aservantgirl in

his lap, running a hand through his hair. And that was… oh, that was coldviolenceinKashin’sfaceashenoticedChaol’sattention.

TheothersmightthinkwhathadjustgoneonbetweenhimandYrenewasanact,butKashin…Themanwasn’tasstupidlyloyalastheothersthought.No,hewaswellawareofthosearoundhim.Hecouldreadmen.Assessthem.

Andithadnotbeenthearousalthathadlettheprincerealizeitwasgenuine.ButtheguiltChaolrealizedtoolateheandYrenehadletshow.

“IwillaskHasar,”Yrenesaid,andheadedtowardwheretheprincessandherlover sat on their couch, mouths roving over each other with an unhurriedattentiontodetail.

He remained on the couch, monitoring as Yrene approached the women.Hasarblinkedupblearilyather.

But the lust fogging theprincess’s faceclearedat thecurtnodYrenegave.Mission accomplished. Yrene leaned down andwhispered intoHasar’s ear asshe kissed her cheeks in farewell. Chaol read themovement of her lips evenfromacrosstheroom.Skull’sBay.

Hasarsmiledslowly, thensnappedher fingers toawaitingguard.Themanimmediately strode for them. He watched her order the man, watched herundoubtedlythreatenhimwithdeathandworseifYrenedidnotmakeitbacktotheTorresafely.

Yrene only gave the princess an exasperated smile before bidding her andReniagoodnightandfollowingtheguardout.Sheglancedbackatthearchway.

Evenacrossthenearlyhundredfeetofpolishedmarbleandtoweringpillars,thespacebetweenthemwenttaut.

Asifthatwhitelighthe’dglimpsedinsidehimselftwodaysagowasaliving

rope.Asifshe’dsomehowplantedherselfinhimthatafternoon.Yrenedidnotsomuchasnodbeforesheleft,skirtsswirlingaroundher.WhenChaollookedtoNesrynagain,hefoundherattentionuponhim.Found her face blank—so carefully blank—as she gave him a little nod of

whatheassumedwasunderstanding.Thematchwasoverfortonight.Shewaswaitingtohearthefinalscore.

ThesmokewasstillclingingtoChaol’snostrils,hishair,hisjacketasheandNesryn entered their suite anhour later.Hehad joinedher andSartaq in theirquiet little area,watching guests peel off to their own chambers—or someoneelse’s.Yes,Dorianwouldcertainlyhavelovedthiscourt.

Sartaqescorted themto their roomandoffered themasomewhatstiffgoodnight.Morerestrainedthanhiswordsandsmilesofearlier.Chaoldidn’tblamehim.Therewerelikelyeyeseverywhere.

Eveniftheprince’sownlingeredmostlyonNesrynasshebidSartaqfarewellandsheandChaolslippedintotheirsuite.

The suitewasmostly dark, save for a colored glass lanternKadja had leftburningonthefoyertable.Theirbedroomdoorsloomedlikecavernmouths.

Thepauseinthedimfoyerwentonforaheartbeattoolong.Nesrynsilentlysteppedtowardherroom.Chaolgrabbedherhandbeforeshecouldmakeitafoot.Slowly, she looked back over her shoulder, her dark hair shifting like

midnightsilk.Eveninthedimness,heknewNesrynreadwhatlayinhiseyes.His skin tightened around his bones, his heart a thundering beat, but he

waited.Shesaidatlast,“IthinkIamneededelsewherethanthispalacerightnow.”Hemaintainedhisgriponherhand.“Weshouldn’tdiscussthisinthehall.”Nesryn’sthroatbobbed,butshenoddedonce.Shemadetopushhischair,but

he moved before she could, steering himself into his bedroom. Letting her

follow.Lettinghershutthedoorbehindthem.Moonlightleakedinthroughthegardenwindows,spillinguponthebed.Kadjahadnotlitthecandles,eitheranticipatingtheuseofthisroomafterthe

partyforpurposesother thansleepingor thathemightnotreturnatall.But inthedark,inthehummingfromthecicadasinthegardentrees…

“Ineedyouhere,”Chaolsaid.“Doyou?”Astark,honestquestion.He gave Nesryn the respect of considering her question. “I … We were

supposedtodothistogether.Everything.”She shook her head, short hair shifting. “Paths change. You know that as

muchasanyone.”Hedid.Hereallydamndid.Butitstill…“Wheredoyoumeantogo?”“Sartaqmentioned that hewishes to seek out answers amongst his people,

aboutwhethertheValgmadeittothiscontinentbefore.I…Iamtemptedtogowithhim,ifhewillletme.Toseeifthereareindeedanswerstobefound,andifImightconvincehimtoperhapsgoagainsthisfather’sorders.Oratleastspeakonourbehalf.”

“Togowithhimtowhere,though?Therukridersinthesouth?”“Perhaps.Hementionedat thepartythathe’ll leaveinafewdays.Butyou

andIhaveaslimenoughshot.MaybeIcanbetterouroddswiththeprince,findinformationofvalueamongsttherukhin.IfoneofErawan’sagentsisinAntica…Itrustthekhagan’sguardtoprotectthispalaceandtheTorre,butyouandI,wemustgatherwhat forceswecanbeforeErawancansendmoreagainstus.”Shepaused.“Andyou…youaremakinggoodprogress.Iwouldnot interferewiththat.”

Unspokenwordsranbeneathheroffer.Chaolscrubbedathisface.Forhertoleave,tosimplyacceptit,thisforkin

thepathbeforethem…Heblewoutabreath.“Let’swaituntilmorningbefore

wedecideanything.Nogoodcomesfromchoicesmadelateatnight.”Nesrynfellsilent,andhehoistedhimselfontothemattressbeforeremoving

hisjacketandboots.“Willyousitwithme?Tellmeaboutyourfamily—aboutthecelebrationtodaywiththem.”Hehadonlyreceivedthebarestofdetails,andperhapsitwasguiltthatnowfueledhim,but…

Theireyesmet in thedark,anightingale’shymnflitting through thecloseddoors.Hecouldhaveswornhesawunderstandingshineinherface,thensettle,arockdroppedintoapool.

Nesrynapproachedthebedonsilentfeet,unbuttoningherjacketandslingingit over a chair before toeing off her boots. She climbed onto the mattress, apillowsighingassheleanedagainstit.Isaw,hecouldhaveswornhereadflickeringinhergaze.Iknow.ButNesrynspokeofthedocksideceremony,howherfourlittlecousinshad

chuckedflowerwreaths into theseaand thenrunshriekingfromthegulls thatswarmedthemtostealthelittlealmondcakesoutoftheirhands.Shetoldhimofher uncle, Brahim, and her aunt, Zahida, and their beautiful house, with itsmultiplecourtyardsandcrawlingflowersandlatticescreens.

Witheveryglance,thoseunspokenwordsstillechoed.Iknow.Iknow.ChaolletNesryntalk,listeneduntilhervoicelulledhimtosleep,becausehe

knew,too.

22

Yrenedebatednotshowingupthenextday.Whathadhappenedonthecouchlastnight…She’dreturned toher roomoverheatedandfrantic,unable tosettle.Peeling

offHasar’sgownandjewels,she’dfoldedthemneatlyonherchairwithshakinghands. Then she’d pushed her trunk in front of the door, just in case thatmurdering demon had spied her inhaling ungodly amounts of that smoke andthoughttocatchheroutofherwits.

Becauseshehadbeen.Utterlyoutofhermind.Allshehadknownwas theheatandsmellandcomfortingsizeofhim—thescrapeofhiscallusesagainstherskinandhowshewantedtofeelthemelsewhere.Howshehadkeptlookingathismouthand itwasall shecoulddo tokeepfromtracing itwithher fingers.Herlips.

She hated those parties. The smoke that made one abandon any sort ofcommon sense. Inhibitions. Precisely why the nobility and wealthy loved tobringitout,but…

Yrenehadpacedher towerroom,runningherhandsoverherfaceuntilshesmudgedthecosmeticsHasarhadpersonallyapplied.

She’dwashedher face thrice.Slipped intoher lightest nightgownand thentossed and turned in bed, the fabric clinging and chafing against her sweaty,burningskin.

Counting down the hours, the minutes, until that smoke’s grip loosened.

Clearedaway.Itdidn’tletgoeasily.Anditwasonlyduringthequietest,blackesthoursof

thenightthatYrenetookmattersintoherownhands.Astrongerdosethanusualhadbeenputouttonight.Itcrawledalloverher,

running talons along her skin. And the face it summoned, the hands sheimaginedbrushingoverherskin—

Releaseleftherhollow—unsatisfied.Dawn broke, and Yrene scowled at her haggard reflection in the sliver of

mirrorabovethewashbasin.Theopiate’sgriphadvanishedwiththefewhoursofsleepshe’dmanagedto

steal,but…Somethingtwistedlowinhergut.She washed and dressed and packed Hasar’s finery and jewels in a spare

satchel. Itwasbest toget it overwith.She’d return theprincess’s clothes andjewelsafter.HasarhadbeensmugasaBaastCatattheinformationYrenehadgivenher,thelieChaolhadfedhertohandtotheprincess.

She had debated not telling him, but even before the smoke, before thatmadness…Whenhe’dofferedtositwithhertoavoidrefusingKashin,afteradayspentwanderingthecityinunhurriedease,she’ddecided.Totrusthim.Andthenlosthermindentirely.

Yrenecouldbarely looktheguards, theservants, theviziersandnobility inthefaceassheenteredthepalaceandmadeherwaytoLordWestfall’srooms.Therewasnodoubtsomehadspiedheronthecouchwithhim.Somehadn’t—thoughtheymighthaveheard.

She’dnevershownsuchbehaviorat thepalace.Sheshould tellHafiza.LettheHealeronHighhearofherbrazennessbeforeitreachedtheTorrefromotherlips.

Not thatHafizawouldscoldher,but…Yrenecouldnotescape thefeelingthatsheneededtoconfess.Tomakeitright.

She’dkeeptoday’ssessionbrief.Orasbriefastheycould,whenshelostall

senseoftimeandplaceinthatdark,raginghellofhiswound.Professional.Yreneenteredthesuite,tellingKadja,“Ginger,turmeric,andlemon,”before

walkingtoChaol’sbedroom.Kadjaseemedinclinedtoobject,butYreneignoredherandpushedopenthebedroomdoor.

Yrenehaltedsofastshenearlystumbled.Itwastherumpledsheetsandpillowsshenoticedfirst.Thenhisnakedchest,

hishipsbarelycoveredbyaswathofwhitesilk.Then a dark head, facedown on the pillow beside his. Still sleeping.

Exhausted.Chaol’seyesinstantlyflewopen,andallYrenemanagedwasasilent,“Oh.”Shockand—somethingelseflaredinhisgaze,hismouthopening.Nesrynstirredbesidehim,browsknotting,hershirtwrinkled.Chaol grabbed fistfuls of the sheet, themuscles of his chest and abdomen

shiftingasheroseuponhiselbows—Yrenesimplywalkedout.Shewaited on the gold sofa in the sitting room, her knee bouncing as she

watched the garden, the climbing flowers just beginning to open up along thepillarsoutsidetheglassdoors.

Even with the burbling fountain, it didn’t quite block out the sounds ofNesrynmurmuringassheawoke—thenthepadofsoftfeetfromhisbedroomtoherown,followedbytheshuttingofherdoor.

Amoment later, wheels groaned, and there hewas. In his shirt and pants.Hair still disheveled. As if he’d run his hands through it. Or Nesryn had.Repeatedly.

Yrenewrapped her arms around herself, the room somehow so very large.Thespacebetweenthemtooopen.Sheshouldhaveeatenbreakfast.Shouldhavedonesomethingtokeepfromthislightness.Thishollowpitinherstomach.

“Ididn’trealizeyou’dbeheresoearly,”hesaidsoftly.Shecouldhavesworn

guiltlacedhistone.“YousaidIcouldcomeatdawn,”sherepliedwithequalquiet,buthatedthe

noteofaccusationinhervoiceandquicklyadded,“Ishouldhavesentword.”“No.I—”“I can come back later,” she said, shooting to her feet. “Let you two eat

breakfast.”Together.Alone.“No,”hesaidsharply,pausinghisapproachneartheirusualcouch.“Nowis

fine.”Shecouldn’tlookathim.Couldn’tmeethiseyes.Orexplainwhy.“Yrene.”Sheignoredthecommandinhernameandwenttothedesk,seatingherself

behindit,gratefulforthewallofcarvedwoodbetweenthem.Thestabilityofitbeneathherpalmassheopeneduphersatchelfromwhereshe’dleftitalongtheedgeandbeganunpackingherthingswithcarefulprecision.Vialsofoilsshedidnotneed.Journals.

Books—theones she’d taken from the library,The Song ofBeginningwiththem.Alongwiththoseancient,preciousscrolls.Shehadnotbeenabletothinkofasaferplaceforthembeyondhere.Beyondhim.

Yrene saidveryquietly, “I canmakeupa tonic.Forher. If sucha thing isneeded.Isn’twanted,Imean.”Achild,shecouldn’tbringherself tosay.Likethefatbabeshe’dspiedhim

smilingsobroadlyatyesterday.Asifitwasablessing,ajoyheonedaymightdesire—

“AndIcanmakeupadailyoneforyou,”sheadded,everywordstumblingandtrippingoutofhermouth.

“She’salreadytakingone,”hesaid.“Sinceshewasfourteen.”Likelysinceshefirststartedbleeding.ForawomaninacitylikeRifthold,it

waswise.Especiallyifsheplannedtoenjoyherselfaswell.

“Good,”wasallYrenecouldthinktosay,stillstackingherbooks.“Smart.”Heapproachedthedeskuntilhiskneesslidbeneaththeotherend.“Yrene.”Shethumpedbookafterbookontopofeachother.“Please.”Thewordhadherliftinghergaze.Meetinghisstare—thesun-warmedsoilof

hiseyes.Anditwastheformationofthosetwowordsthatshebeheldbrewinginhis

gaze—I’msorry—thathadhershootingupfromthedeskagain.Walkingacrosstheroom.Flingingopenthegardendoors.

Therewasnothingtobesorryfor.Nothing.Theywerelovers,andshe…YrenelingeredatthegardendoorsuntilNesryn’sbedroomdooropenedand

closed.Until sheheardNesrynpokeherhead into the sitting room,murmurafarewelltoChaol,andleave.

YrenetriedtobringherselftolookoverashoulderatCaptainFaliq,toofferapolitesmile,butshepretendednot tohear thebriefencounter.Pretendedtobetoobusyexaminingthepalepurpleflowersunfurlinginthemorningsunlight.

She shoved back against the hollowness. She had not felt so small, so…insignificantforalong,longtime.YouaretheheirapparenttoHafiza,HealeronHigh.Youarenothingtothis

man and he is nothing to you. Stay the course. Remember Fenharrow—yourhome.Rememberthosewhoarethere—whoneedyourhelp.Rememberallthatyoupromisedtodo.Tobe.Herhandslidintoherpocket,curlingaroundthenotethere.Theworldneedsmorehealers.“It’snotwhatyouthink,”Chaolsaidbehindher.Yreneclosedhereyesforaheartbeat.Fight—fightforyourmiserable,useless,wastedlife.Sheturned,forcingapolitesmiletoherface.“Itisanaturalthing.Ahealthy

thing.I’mgladyou’refeeling…uptothetask.”Fromtheirethatrippledinhiseyes,thetightnessofhisjaw,Chaolperhaps

wasnot.The world needs more healers. The world needs more healers. The world

needsmorehealers.Finishwithhim,healhim,andshecouldleaveHafiza,leavetheTorre,with

her head held high. She could return home, to war and bloodshed, andmakegoodonherpromise.Makegoodonthatstranger’sgiftoffreedomthatnightinInnish.

“Shallwebegin?”Itwouldbeinheretoday.Becausetheprospectofsittingonthatrumpledbed

thatlikelystillsmelledofthem—Therewasa tightness toher throat,hervoice, that shecouldnot shake,no

matterhowmanybreathsshetook.Chaolstudiedher.Weighinghertone.Herwords.Herexpression.Hesawit—heardit.Thattightness,thatbrittleness.Iexpectednothing,shewantedtosay.I—Iamnothing.Pleasedon’task.Pleasedon’tpush.Please.Chaolseemedtoreadthat,too.Hesaidquietly,“Ididn’ttakehertobed.”Sherefrainedfrommentioningthattheevidenceseemedstackedagainsthim.Chaol went on, “We spoke long into the night and fell asleep. Nothing

happened.”Yrene ignored thewayherchestbothhollowedoutandfilledat thewords.

Didn’ttrustherselftospeakastheinformationsettled.Asifsensingherneedforabreath,Chaolbegantoturntowardthecouch,but

hisattentionsnaggedonthebooksshe’dstackedonthetable.Onthescrolls.Thecolordrainedfromhisface.“Whatisthat,”hegrowled.Yrenestrodetothedesk,pickinguptheparchmentandunrollingitcarefully

todisplaythestrangesymbols.“Nousha,theHeadLibrarian,founditformethatnightwhenIaskedherforinformationon…thethingsthathurtyou.Inallthe—upheaval,Iforgotit.ItwasshelvedneartheEyllwebooks,soshethrewitin,justincase.Ithinkit’sold.Eighthundredyearsatleast.”Shewasbabbling,butcouldn’tstop,gratefulforanysubjectbuttheonehe’dbeensoneartobreaching.“Ithinkthey’rerunes,butI’veseennonelikeit.NeitherhadNousha.”

“Theyarenotrunes,”Chaolsaidhoarsely.“They’reWyrdmarks.”Andfromwhathehadtoldher,Yreneknewtherewasmuchmore.Somuch

morehehadnotdivulged.ShestrokedahandoverthedarkcoverofTheSongofBeginning. “This book… Itmentioned a gate. And keys. And three kings towieldthem.”

Shewasn’tcertainhewasbreathing.ThenChaolsaid,voicelow,“Youreadthat.Inthatbook.”

Yreneopenedthepages,flippingtotheillustrationofthethreefiguresbeforethatotherworldlygate.Approaching,sheheldthebookopenforhimtosee.“Icouldn’treadmuchofit—it’sinanancientformofEyllwe—but…”Sheflippedtotheotherillustration,oftheyoungmanbeinginfestedbythatdarkpoweronthealtar.“Isthat…isthatwhattheytrulydo?”

His hands slackened at the sides of his chair as he stared and stared at thepanelfeaturingtheyoungman’scold,darkeyes.“Yes.”

Thewordheldmorepainandfearthanshe’dexpected.She opened her mouth, but he sliced a warning glare at her, mastering

himself.“Hideit,Yrene.Hideallofit.Now.”Herheart thundered inherchest,her limbs,butshesnatchedup thebooks.

The scrolls. He watched the doors, the windows, while she set about placingthemundercushionsandinsidesomeofthelargervases.Butthescroll…itwastooprecious.Tooancienttotreatsocallously.Evenflatteningitoutmightharmtheintegrityofthepaper,theink.

Henoticedherlookingaroundhelplessly,thescrollinherhands.“Myboots,

ifyouwill,Yrene,”hesaidcasually.“Ihaveasecondpair thatI’dratherweartoday.”

Right.Right.Yrenehurriedfromthesittingroomintohisbedroom,wincingattheaskew

bedlinens,atwhatshe’dsostupidlyassumedandseemedlikesuchanenormousfoolabout—

She strode into the small dressing room, spotted his boots, and slid theparchmentdowntheneckofone.Thentookthepairandshoveditinadrawer,coveringitwithastackoflinentowels.

Shereenteredthesittingroomamomentlater.“Icouldn’tfindthem.PerhapsKadjasentthemoutforcleaning.”

“Too bad,” he said casually, his own boots now removed. Along with hisshirt.

Herheartstillragedasheeasedontothegoldsofabutdidnotliedown.“Doyouknowhowtoread?”sheasked,kneelingbeforehimandtakinghis

barefootinherhands.TheWyrdmarks?“No.” His toes shifted as she began careful rotations of his ankle. “But I

knowsomeonewhodoes it formewhenit’s important.”Careful,veiledwordsforanyonelistening.

Yrene went about exercising his legs, stretching and bending, themotionsrepeatedoverandoverwhilehemovedhistoesasmuchashecould.“Ishouldshow you the library sometime,” she offered. “Youmight find something thatstrikesyourfancy—foryourreadertonarratetoyou.”

“Doyouhavemanysimilarlyinterestingtexts?”She lowered his left leg and started on the other. “I could ask—Nousha

knowseverything.”“Whenwe’redone.Afteryourest.It’sbeenawhilesinceIhadabookto…

intrigueme.”“It’dbemyhonor toescortyou,my lord.”Hegrimacedat the formal title,

butYreneworkedhisrightleg,goingthroughthesamemotions,beforeshebadehimtoliedownonthecouch.Theyworkedinsilencewhilesherotatedhiships,urging him to try tomove them on his own,while bending and stretching asmuchofhislegasshecould.

She said after a moment, her voice barely audible, “You only talk ofErawan.” His eyes flashed in warning at the name. “But what of Orcus andMantyx?”

“Who?”Yrenebegananothersetoftheexercisesonhislegsandhipsandlowerback.

“Theothertwokings.Theyarenamedinthatbook.”Chaol stopped wriggling his toes; she flicked them in reminder. The air

whooshedfromhimashe resumed.“Theyweredefeated in the firstwar.Sentbacktotheirrealmorslain,Ican’trecall.”

Yrene considered as she lowered his leg to the couch, nudging him to flipontohis stomach. “I’m sureyouandyour companions are adept at thiswholesaving-the-world thing,” she mused, earning a snort from him, “but I wouldmakesureyouknowforcertain.Whichoneitis.”

Shetookupaperchonthethinlipofgoldensofacushionthathisbodydidnotcover.

Chaoltwistedhisheadtowardher,themusclesinhisbackbunching.“Why?”“Because if they were merely banished to their realm, who is to say they

aren’tstillwaitingtobeletbackintoourworld?”

23

Chaol’s eyes went vacant as Yrene’s question hung between them, the coloragaindrainingfromhisface.“Shit,”hemurmured.“Shit.”

“Youcan’trememberwhathappenedtotheothertwokings?”“No—no,I’dassumedtheyweredestroyed,but…whyis therementionof

themhere,ofallplaces?”Sheshookherhead.“Wecouldsee—lookintoitmore.”Amusclefeatheredinhisjaw,andheblewoutalongbreath.“Thenwewill.”Hereachedahandtowardherinsilentdemand.Forthebit,sherealized.Yrenestudiedhis jawandcheekagain, thebrimmingangerandfear.Nota

goodstatetobeginahealingsession.Soshetried,“Whogaveyouthatscar?”Wrongquestion.Hisbackstiffened,hisfingersdiggingintothethrowpillowbeneathhischin.

“Someonewhodeservedtogiveittome.”Notananswer.“Whathappened?”Hejustextendedhishandagainforthebit.“I’mnotgivingittoyou,”shesaid,herfaceanimmovablemaskasheturned

balefuleyesonher.“AndI’mnotstartingthissessionwithyouinarage.”“WhenI’minarage,Yrene,you’llknow.”Sherolledhereyes.“Tellmewhat’swrong.”“What’swrongisthatI’mbarelyabletomovemytoesandImightnothave

oneValg king to face, but three. Ifwe fail, ifwe can’t—”He caught himself

beforehecouldvoicetherest.TheplanthatYrenehadnodoubtwassosecrethebarelydaredthinkaboutit.

“They destroy everything—everyone—they encounter,” Chaol finished,staringatthearmofthecouch.

“Did theygiveyou that scar?”She clenchedher fingers into a fist to keepfromtouchingit.

“No.”Butsheleanedforward,insteadbrushingafingerdownatinyscarjustbarely

hiddenbythehairathistemple.“Andthis?Whogaveyouthatone?”Hisfacewenthardanddistant.Buttherage,theimpatient,franticenergy…

itcalmed.Wentcoldandaloof,butitcenteredhim.Whateverthatoldangerwas,itsteadiedhimagain.

“Myfathergavethatscartome,”Chaolsaidquietly.“WhenIwasaboy.”Horrorsluicedthroughher,butitwasananswer.Itwasanadmission.Shedidn’tpressfurther.Didn’tdemandmore.No,Yrenejustsaid,“WhenI

gointothewound…”Herthroatbobbedasshestudiedhisback.“Iwilltrytofindyouagain. If it’swaiting forme, Imighthave to find someotherway toreachyou.”Sheconsidered.“Andmighthavetofindsomeotherplanofattackthananambush.Butweshallsee,Isuppose.”Andeventhoughthecornerofhermouthtuggedupinwhatheknewwasmeanttobeareassuring,healer’ssmile,sheknewhenotedthequickeningofherbreathing.

“Becareful,”wasallhesaid.Yrenejustofferedhimthatbitatlast,bringingittohislips.Hismouthbrushedherfingersasshesliditbetweenhisteeth.Forafewheartbeats,hescannedherface.“Are you ready?” she breathed as the prospect of facing that insidious

darknessagainloomed.Heliftedhishandtosqueezeherfingersinsilentanswer.ButYreneremovedherfingersfromhis,leavinghisowntodropbacktothe

cushions.Hewasstillstudyingher,thewayshetookabracingbreath,asshelaidher

handoverthemarkonhisback.

Ithad snowed thedayhe toldhis fatherhewas to leaveAnielle.ThathewasabdicatinghistitleasheirandjoiningthecastleguardinRifthold.

Hisfatherhadthrownhimout.Thrownhimrightdownthefrontstairsofthekeep.He’d crackedhis templeon thegray stone, his teethgoing throughhis lip.

Hismother’spleadingscreamshadechoedofftherockasheslidalongtheiceatthelanding.Hedidn’tfeelthepaininhishead.Onlytherazor-sharpsliceoftheiceagainsthisbarepalms,cuttingthroughhispantsandrippinghiskneesraw.

Therewasonlyherpleadingwithhisfather,andtheshriekofthewindthatnever stopped, even in summer, around themountaintop keep that overlookedtheSilverLake.

Thatwindnow toreathim, tuggingathishair—longer thanhehadkept itsince.Ithurledstraysnowflakes intohisfacefromthegrayskyabove.Hurledthemtothegrimcitybelowthatflowedtothebanksofthesprawlinglakeandcurvedarounditsshores.Tothewest,tothemightyfalls.Ortheghostofthem.Thedamhadlongsincesilencedthem,alongwiththeriverflowingrightfromtheWhiteFangs,whichendedattheirdoorstep.

ItwasalwayscoldinAnielle.Eveninsummer.Alwayscoldinthiskeepbuiltintothecurvingmountainside.“Pathetic,”hisfatherhadspat,noneofthestone-facedguardsdaringtohelp

himrise.Hisheadspunandspun, throbbing.Warmbloodleakedandfrozedownhis

face.“FindyourownwaytoRifthold,then.”

“Please,”hismotherwhispered.“Please.”ThelastChaolsawofherwashisfather’sarmgrippingherabovetheelbow

and dragging her into the keep of paintedwood and stone.Her face pale andanguished,hereyes—hiseyes—linedwithsilverasbrightasthelakefarbelow.

Hisparentspassedasmallshadowlurkingintheopendoorwaytothekeepitself.

Terrin.Hisyoungerbrotherbravedasteptowardhim.Toriskthosedangerouslyicy

stairsandhelphim.Asharp,barkedword fromhis fatherwithin thedarknessof thehallhalted

Terrin.Chaol wiped the blood from his mouth and silently shook his head at his

brother.And itwas terror—undiluted terror—onTerrin’s faceasChaol eased tohis

feet.Whetherheknewthatthetitlehadjustpassedtohim…Hecouldn’tbearit.ThatfearonTerrin’sround,youngface.So Chaol turned, clenching his jaw against the pain in his knee, already

swollenandstiff.Bloodandicemerged,leakingfromhispalms.Hemanagedtolimpacrossthelanding.Downthestairs.Oneoftheguardsatthebottomgavehimhisgraywoolcloak.Aswordand

knife.Anothergavehimahorseandabearing.Athirdgavehimasupplypackthatincludedfoodandatent,bandagesand

salves.Theydidnotsayaword.Didnothalthimmorethannecessary.Hedidnotknowtheirnames.Andhelearned,yearsandyearslater,thathis

fatherhadwatchedfromoneofthekeep’sthreetowers.Hadseenthem.His father himself told Chaol all those years later what happened to those

threemenwhohadaidedhim.

Theywere letgo. In thedeadofwinter.Banished into theFangswith theirfamilies.

Three families sent into the wilds. Only two were still heard from in thesummer.

Proof. It had been proof, he’d realized after he’d convinced himself not tomurderhisfather.Proofthathiskingdomwasrifewithcorruption,withbadmenpunishing good people for common decency. Proof that he had been right toleaveAnielle.TostickwithDorian—tokeepDoriansafe.

Toprotectthatpromiseofabetterfuture.He’d still sent out amessenger, hismost discreet, to find those remaining

families.Hedidn’tcarehowmanyyearshadpassed.Hesentthemanwithgold.Themessengerneverfoundthem,andhadreturnedtoRifthold,gold intact,

monthslater.Hehadchosen,andithadcosthim.Hehadpickedandhehadenduredthe

consequences.Abodyonabed.Adaggerpoisedabovehisheart.Aheadrollingonstone.A

collararoundaneck.AswordsinkingtothebottomoftheAvery.Thepaininhisbodywassecondary.Worthless.Useless.Anyonehehadtriedtohelp…ithadmadeitworse.Thebodyonthebed…Nehemia.Shehadlostherlife.Andperhapsshehadorchestratedit,but…Hehadnot

told Celaena—Aelin—to be alert. Had not warned Nehemia’s guards of theking’sattention.Hehadasgoodaskilledher.Aelinmighthaveforgivenhim,acceptedthathewasnottoblame,butheknew.Hecouldhavedonemore.Beenbetter.Seenbetter.

And when Nehemia had died, those slaves had risen up in defiance. ArallyingcryastheLightofEyllwewasextinguished.

Thekinghadextinguishedthemaswell.Calaculla.Endovier.Womenandmenandchildren.

Andwhenhehadacted,whenhehadchosenhisside…Bloodandblackstoneandscreamingmagic.YouknewyouknewyouknewYouwillneverbemyfriendmyfriendmyfriendThedarknessshoveditselfdownhisthroat,chokinghim,stranglinghim.Heletit.Felthimselfopenhisjawswidetoletitinfarther.Takeit,hetoldthedarkness.Yes,itpurredtohim.Yes.ItshowedhimMorathinitsunparalleledhorrors;showedhimthatdungeon

beneath the glass castle, where faces he knew pleaded for mercy that wouldnever come; showed him the young golden hands that had bestowed thoseagonies,asiftheyhadstoodsidebysidetodoit—

Heknew.Hadguessedwhohadbeenforcedtotorturehismen,tokillthem.Theybothknew.

Hefeltthedarknessswell,readyingtopounce.Tomakehimtrulyscream.Butthenitwasgone.Rippling golden fields stretched away under a cloudless blue sky. Little

sparkling streams wended through it, curling around the occasional oak tree.Straysfromthetangled,loominggreenofOakwaldForesttohisright.

Behind him, a thatched roof cottage, its gray stones crusted in green andorange lichen. An ancient well sat a few feet away, its bucket balancedprecariouslyonthestonelip.

Beyondit,attachedtothehouseitself,asmallpenwithwanderingchickens,fatandfocusedonthedirtbeforethem.

Andpastthem…Agarden.Not a formal, beautiful thing. But a garden behind a low stone wall, its

woodengateopen.

Two figureswere stooped amongst the carefully plotted rows of green.Hedriftedtowardthem.

Heknewherbythegolden-brownhair,somuchlighter inthesummersun.Herskinhadturnedalovelydeepbrown,andhereyes…

Itwasachild’sface,litwithjoy,thatlookeduponthewomankneelinginthedirt,pointing towardapalegreenplantwith slenderpurpleconesofblossomsswayinginthewarmbreeze.Thewomanasked,“Andthatone?”

“Salvia,”thechild—nomorethannine—answered.“Andwhatdoesitdo?”The girl beamed, chin rising as she recited, “Good for improvingmemory,

alertness,mood.Also assistswith fertility, digestion, and, in a salve, can helpnumbtheskin.”

“Excellent.”Thegirl’sbroadsmilerevealedthreemissingteeth.Thewoman—hermother—tookthegirl’sroundfaceinherhands.Herskin

wasdarkerthanherdaughter’s,herhairathicker,bounciercurl.Buttheirbuilds…Itwasthewoman’sbuildthatthegirlwouldgrowintooneday.Thefrecklesthatshe’dinherit.Thenoseandmouth.

“Youhavebeenstudying,mywisechild.”Thewomankissedherdaughteronhersweatybrow.Hefeltthekiss—theloveinit—evenasaghostatthegate.Foritwaslovethatshadedtheentiretyoftheworldhere,gildedit.Loveand

joy.Happiness.Thesorthehadnotknownwithhisownfamily.Oranyoneelse.Thegirlhadbeenloved.Deeply.Unconditionally.Thiswasahappymemory—oneofafew.“Andwhatisthatbush,therebythewall?”thewomanaskedthegirl.Herbrowscrunchedinconcentration.“Gooseberries?”

“Yes.Andwhatdowedowithgooseberries?”Thegirlbracedherhandsonherhips,her simpledressblowing in thedry,

warmbreeze.“We…”Shetappedherfootwithimpatience—atherownmind,fornotrecalling.Thesameirritationhe’dseenoutsidethatoldman’shouseinAntica.

Hermothercreptupbehindher,sweepingthegirlintoherarmsandkissinghercheek.“Wemakegooseberrypie.”

The girl’s squeal of delight echoed across the amber grasses and clearstreams,evenintothetangled,ancientheartofOakwald.

PerhapseventotheWhiteFangsthemselves,andthecoldcitynestledattheiredge.

Heopenedhiseyes.Andfoundhisentirefootpressingintothecouchcushions.Feltthesilkandembroideryscratchingagainstthebarearchofhisfoot.His

toes.Felt.Heboltedupright,findingYrenenotathisside.Nowherenear.Hegapedathisfeet.Belowtheankle…Heshiftedandrotatedhisfoot.Felt

themuscles.Wordsstalledinhisthroat.Hisheartthundered.“Yrene,”herasped,scanning

forher.Shewasn’tinthesuite,but—Sunlightonbrown-goldcaughthiseye.Inthegarden.Shewassittingoutthere.Alone.Quietly.Hedidn’tcarethathewashalfdressed.Chaolheavedhimselfintothechair,

marveling at the sensation of the smooth wood supports beneath his feet. He

couldhaveswornevenhislegs…aphantomtingling.Hewheeledhimselfintothesmall,squaregarden,breathlessandwide-eyed.

She’drepairedanotherfraction,another—She’d settled herself in an ornate little chair before the circular reflection

pool,herheadproppedupbyherfist.Atfirst,hethoughtshewassleepinginthesun.But he inched closer and caught the gleam of light on her face. On the

wetnessthere.Notblood—buttears.Streamingsilently,unendingly,asshestaredatthatreflectionpool,thepink

liliesandemeraldpadscoveringmostofit.Shestaredasifnotseeingit.Nothearinghim.“Yrene.”Another tear rolled down her face, dripping onto her pale purple dress.

Another.“Areyouhurt,”Chaolsaidhoarsely,hischaircrunchingoverthepalewhite

gravelofthegarden.“I’dforgotten,”shewhispered,lipswobblingasshestaredandstaredatthe

pool and did not move her head. “What she looked like. Smelled like. I’dforgotten—hervoice.”

Hischeststrainedasherfacecrumpled.Hehauledhischairbesideherownbutdidnottouchher.

Yrenesaidquietly,“Wemakeoaths—tonevertakealife.Shebrokethatoaththe day the soldiers came.Shehadhidden a dagger in her dress. She saw thesoldiergrabme,andshe…sheleapedonhim.”Sheclosedhereyes.“Shekilledhim. To buyme time to run.And I did. I left her. I ran, and I left her, and Iwatched…Iwatchedfromtheforestastheybuiltthatfire.AndIcouldhearherscreamingandscreaming—”

Herbodyshook.

“Shewasgood,”Yrenewhispered.“Shewasgoodandshewaskindandshelovedme.”Shestilldidnotwipehertears.“Andtheytookheraway.”

Themanhehadserved…hehadtakenheraway.Chaolaskedsoftly,“Wheredidyougoafterthat?”Hertremblinglessened.Shewipedathernose.“Mymotherhadacousinin

thenorthofFenharrow.Iranthere.Ittookmetwoweeks,butImadeit.”Ateleven.Fenharrowhadbeeninthemiddleofconquest,andshe’dmadeit

—ateleven.“Theyhadafarm,andIworkedthereforsixyears.Pretendedtobenormal.

Keptmyheaddown.Healedwithherbswhenitwouldn’traisesuspicions.Butitwasn’tenough.It…Therewasahole.Inme.Iwasunfinished.”

“Soyoucamehere?”“Ileft.Imeanttocomehere.IwalkedthroughFenharrow.ThroughOakwald.

Thenover…over themountains…”Hervoicebroke intoawhisper.“It tookmesixmonths,butImadeit—totheportofInnish.”

He’dneverheardofInnish.LikelyinMelisande,ifshe’dcrossed—She’dcrossedmountains.Thisdelicatewomanbesidehim…Shehad crossedmountains tobehere.

Alone.“Iranoutofmoneyforthecrossing.SoIstayed.Ifoundwork.”Heavoidedtheurgetolookatthescaronherthroat.Toaskwhatmannerof

work—“Mostgirlswereonthestreets.Innishwas—isnotagoodplace.ButIfound

aninnbythedocksandtheownerhiredme.Iworkedasabarmaidandaservantand…Istayed.Imeant toonlyworkforamonth,butIstayedforayear.Lethim take mymoney, my tips. Increase my rent. Put me in a room under thestairs.Ihadnomoneyforthecrossing,andIthought…IthoughtIwouldhavetopayformyeducationhere.Ididn’twanttogowithoutfundsfortuition,so…Istayed.”

Hestudiedherhands, nowclutching eachother tightly inher lap.Picturedthemwithabucketandmop,withragsanddirtydishes.Picturedthemrawandaching.Picturedthefilthyinnanditsinhabitants—whattheymusthaveseenandcovetedwhentheybeheldher.

“Howdidyoumakeithere?”Yrene’smouthtightened,hertearsfading.Sheloosedabreath.“It isalong

story.”“Ihavetimetolisten.”Butsheshookherheadagainandatlastlookedathim.Therewasa…clarity

toherface.Thoseeyes.Anditdidnotfalterasshesaid,“Iknowwhogaveyouthatwound.”

Chaolwentwhollystill.Themanwhohadtakenawaythemothershesodeeplyloved;themanwho

hadsentherfleeingacrosstheworld.Hemanagedtonod.“Theoldking,”Yrenebreathed,studying thepoolagain.“Hewas—hewas

possessed,too?”Thewordswerehardlymorethanawhisper,barelyaudibleeventohim.“Yes,” he managed to say. “For decades. I—I’m sorry I did not tell you.

We’vedeemedthatinformation…sensitive.”“Forwhatitmightmeanaboutthesuitabilityofyournewking.”“Yes,andopenthedoortoquestionsthatarebestkeptunasked.”Yrenerubbedatherchest,herfacehauntedandbleak.“Nowondermymagic

recoilsso.”“I’msorry,”hesaidagain.Itwasallhecouldthinktooffer.Those eyes slid to him, any lingering fog clouding themclearing away. “It

givesme further reason to fight it.Towipe away that last stain of him—of itforever.Justnow,itwaswaitingforme.Laughingatmeagain.Imanagedtogettoyou,butthenthedarknessaroundyouwastoothick.Ithadmadea…shell.I

could see it—everything it showedyou.Yourmemories, andhis.”She rubbedherface.“Iknewthen.Whatitwas—whogaveyouthewound.AndIsawwhatitwas doing to you, and all I could think to stop it, to blast it away…”Shepursedherlips,asiftheymightstarttremblingagain.

“Abitofgoodness,”hefinishedforher.“Amemoryoflightandgoodness.”Hedidn’t have thewords to conveyhisgratitude for it, forwhat itmusthavebeen like to offer up that memory of her mother against the demon that haddestroyedher.

Yreneseemedtoreadhisthoughts,andsaid,“Iamgladitwasamemoryofherthatbeatthedarknessbackalittlefurther.”

Histhroattightened,andheswallowedhard.“Isawyourmemory,”Yrenesaidquietly.“The—man.Yourfather.”“Heisabastardofthefinestcaliber.”“Itwasnotyourfault.Noneofit.”Herefrainedfromcommentingotherwise.“Youwereluckythatyoudidnotfractureyourskull,”shesaid,scanninghis

brow.Thescarjustbarelyvisible,coveredbyhishair.“I’msuremyfatherconsidersitotherwise.”Darknessflashedinhereyes.Yreneonlysaid,“Youdeservedbetter.”The words hit something sore and festering—something he had locked up

andnotexaminedforalong,longtime.“Thankyou,”hemanagedtosay.They sat in silence for long minutes. “What time is it?” he asked after a

while.“Three,”shesaid.Chaolstarted.ButYrene’seyeswentrighttohislegs.Hisfeet.Howtheyhadmovedwith

him.Hermouthopenedsilently.“Anotherbitofprogress,”hesaid.

Shesmiled—subdued,but…itwasreal.Notliketheoneshe’dplasteredonherfacehoursandhoursago.Whenshe’dwalkedintohisbedroomandfoundhimtherewithNesryn,andhe’dfelt theworldslippingout fromunderhimattheexpressiononher face.Andwhenshehad refused tomeethis stare,whenshe’dwrappedherarmsaroundherself…

Hewishedhe’dbeenabletowalk.Soshecouldseehimcrawltowardher.Hedidn’tknowwhy.Whyhefeltlikethelowestsortoflow.Whyhe’dbarely

beenabletolookatNesryn.ThoughheknewNesrynwastooobservantnottobeaware.Ithadbeentheunspokenagreementbetweenthemlastnight—silenceonthesubject.Andthatreasonalone…

Yrenepokedathisbarefoot.“Doyoufeelthis?”Chaolcurledhistoes.“Yes.”Shefrowned.“AmIpushinghardorsoft?”Shegroundherfingerin.“Hard,”hegrunted.Herfingerlightened.“Andnow?”“Soft.”Sherepeatedthetestontheotherfoot.Touchedeachofhistoes.“Ithink,”sheobserved,“I’vepusheditdown—tosomewhereinthemiddle

ofyourback.Themarkisstillthesame,butitfeelslike…”Sheshookherhead.“Ican’texplainit.”

“Youdon’tneedto.”It hadbeenher joy—theundiluted joyof thatmemory—that hadwonhim

thatbitofmovement.Whatshe’dopenedup,givenup,topushbackthestainofthatwound.

“I’m starving,”Chaol said, nudging herwith an elbow. “Will you eatwithme?”

Andtohissurprise,shesaidyes.

24

Nesrynknew.Sheknewithadn’tbeenmereinterestthathadpromptedChaoltoaskherto

talktohimlastnight,butguilt.Shewasfinewithit,shetoldherself.Shehadbeenareplacementfornotone,

but two of the women in his life. A third one… She was fine with it, sherepeatedasshereturnedfromstalkingthroughAntica’sstreets—notawhisperofValgtobefound—andenteredthepalacegrounds.

Nesrynbracedherselfasshepeeredupatthepalace,notquitereadytoreturntotheirsuitetowaitoutthebrutallateafternoonheat.

Amassivefigureatopaminaretcaughthereye,andshesmiledgrimly.Shewasoutofbreathwhenshereachedtheaerie,butmercifully,Kadarawas

theonlyonepresenttowitnessit.TherukclickedherbeakatNesryn ingreetingandwentback to rippingat

whatappearedtobeanentireslabofbeef.Ribsandall.“Iheardyouwereheadedhere,”Sartaqsaidfromthestairsbehindher.Nesrynwhirled.“I—how?”The prince gave her a knowing smile and stepped into the aerie. Kadara

puffedher featherswithexcitementanddugback intohermeal, as if eager tofinish and be in the skies. “This palace is crawlingwith spies. Some of themmine.Isthereanythingyouwanted?”

He scanned her—seeing the face that yesterday her aunt and uncle had

complained looked tired.Wornout.Unhappy.They’d crammedherwith food,theninsistedshetaketheirfourchildrenbackdowntothedockstoselectfishfortheir evening meal, then shoved more food down her throat before she’dreturned to thepalace for the feast.Stillpeaky, Zahida clucked.Your eyes areheavy.

“I …” Nesryn surveyed the view beyond, the city simmering in the lateafternoonheat.“Ijustwantedsomequiet.”

“ThenI’llletyouhaveit,”Sartaqsaid,andturnedtotheopenarchwayintothestairwell.

“No,” she blurted, reaching toward him. She halted her hand, dropping itimmediatelyas itcamewithinskimmingdistanceofhis leather jacket.Noonegrabbed aprince.Noone. “I didn’tmeanyouhad to leave. I… Idon’tmindyourcompany.”Sheaddedquickly,“YourHighness.”

Sartaq’smouthquirkedup.“It’sabit late tobe throwing inmy fancy title,isn’tit?”

Shegavehimapleadinglook.Butshe’dmeantwhatshesaid.Lastnight, talkingwithhimat theparty,even talkingwithhim in thealley

outside theTorreafewnightsbefore that…Shehadnotfeltquietoralooforstrange.Shehadnotfeltcoldordistant.He’ddoneheranhonor ingivinghersuchattention,andinescortingherandChaolbacktotheirrooms.Shedidnotmind company—quiet as she could be, she enjoyed being around others. Butsometimes…

“I spent most of yesterday with my family. They can be … tiring.Demanding.”

“Iknowhowyoufeel,”theprincesaiddrily.Asmiletuggedatherlips.“Isupposeyoudo.”“Youlovethem,though.”“Andyoudonot?”Abold,brashquestion.Sartaqshrugged.“Kadaraismyfamily.Therukhin,theyaremyfamily.My

bloodline,though…It’shardtoloveoneanother,whenwewillonedaycontendwitheachother.Lovecannotexistwithouttrust.”Hesmiledathisruk.“ItrustKadarawithmylife.Iwoulddieforher,andsheforme.CanIsaythesameofmysiblings?Myownparents?”

“It’sashame,”Nesrynadmitted.“At least Ihaveher,”hesaidof the ruk.“Andmyriders.Pitymysiblings,

whohavenoneofthoseblessings.”Hewasagoodman.Theprince…hewasagoodman.Shestrodefortheopenarchwaysoverlookingthedeadlydroptothecityfar,

farbelow.“I am going to leave soon—for the mountains of the rukhin,” Sartaq said

softly.“ToseektheanswersyouandIdiscussedtheothernightinthecity.”Nesrynpeeredoverhershoulderathim,tryingtogathertherightwords,the

nerve.Hisfaceremainedneutral,evenasheadded,“I’msureyourfamilywillhave

myheadforoffering,but…wouldyouliketoaccompanyme?”Yes,shewantedtobreathe.Butshemadeherselfask,“Forhowlong?”For timewasnotonherside.Theirside.And tohunt foranswerswhileso

manythreatsgatheredclose…“Afewweeks.Nomorethanthree.Iliketokeeptheridersinline,andifIgo

absent for too long, they pull at the leash. So the journey will serve twopurposes,Isuppose.”

“I—Iwould need to discuss.With LordWestfall.” She’d promised him asmuchlastnight.Thatthey’dconsiderthisprecisepath,weighingthepitfallsandbenefits.Theywerestillateaminthatregard,stillservedunderthesamebanner.

Sartaq nodded solemnly, as if he could read everything on her face. “Ofcourse.ThoughIleavesoon.”

Shethenheardit—thegruntofservantscominguptheaeriestairs.Bringingsupplies.

“Youleavenow,”Nesrynclarifiedasshenotedthespearleaningagainstthefarwallnear thesupplyracks.Hissulde.Therussethorsehair tiedbeneath theblade drifted in the wind weaving through the aerie, the dark wood shaftpolishedandsmooth.

Sartaq’s onyx eyes seemed to darken further as he strode to his sulde,weighing the spirit-banner in his handsbefore resting it besidehim, thewoodthunkingon the stone floor.“I…” Itwas the first she’dseenhimstumble forwords.

“Youweren’tgoingtosaygood-bye?”Shehadnorighttomakesuchdemands,expectsuchthings,tentativealliesor

no.ButSartaq leanedhissulde against thewall againandbeganbraidingback

his black hair. “After last night’s party, I had thought you would be …preoccupied.”

WithChaol.Herbrowsrose.“Allday?”Theprincegaveheraroguishsmile,finishingoffhislongbraidandpicking

uphisspearoncemore.“Icertainlywouldtakeallday.”Bysomegod’smercy,Nesrynwassavedfromreplyingbytheservantswho

appeared,pantingandred-facedwiththepacksbetweenthem.Weaponsglintedfromsomeofthem,alongwithfoodandblankets.

“Howfarisit?”“Afewhoursbeforenightfall,thenalldaytomorrow,thenanotherhalfdayof

traveltoreachthefirstoftheaeriesintheTavanMountains,”Sartaqsaidashehandedhissuldetoapassingservant,andKadarapatientlyallowedthemtoloadherwithvariouspacks.

“Youdon’tflyatnight?”“Itire.Kadaradoesn’t.Foolishridershavemadethatmistake—andtumbled

throughthecloudsintheirdreams.”Shebitherlip.“Howlonguntilyougo?”

“Anhour.”Anhourtothink…ShehadnottoldChaol.Thatshe’dseenhistoesmovelastnight.She’dseen

themcurlandflexinhissleep.Shehadcried,silenttearsofjoyslidingontothepillow.Shehadn’ttoldhim.

Andwhenhe’dawoken…Let’s have an adventure,NesrynFaliq, he’d promised her in Rifthold. She

hadcriedthen,too.Butperhaps…perhapsneitherofthemhadseen.Thepathahead.Theforks

init.Shecouldseedownonepathclearly.Honorandloyalty,stillunbroken.Evenifitstifledhim.Stifledher.Andshe

…shedidnotwanttobeaconsolationprize.Bepitiedoradistraction.But this other path, the fork that had appeared, branching away across

grasslands and jungles and rivers andmountains…This path toward answersthatmighthelpthem,mightmeannothing,mightchangethecourseofthiswar,allcarriedonaruk’sgoldenwings…

Shewouldhaveanadventure.Forherself.Thisonetime.Shewouldseeherhomeland,andsmellitandbreatheitin.Seeitfromhighabove,seeitracingasfastasthewind.

Sheowedherselfthatmuch.AndowedittoChaolaswell.Perhaps she and this dark-eyed prince might find some scrap of salvation

againstMorath.Andperhapsshemightbringanarmybackwithher.Sartaqwasstillwatching,hisfacecarefullyneutralasthelastoftheservants

bowedandvanished.Hissuldehadbeenstrappedjustbelowthesaddle,withineasyreachshouldtheprinceneedit, itsreddishhorsehairstrailinginthewind.Trailingsouthward.

Toward that distant, wild land of the TavanMountains. Beckoning, as allspirit-banners did, toward an unknown horizon. Beckoning to claimwhatever

waitedthere.Nesrynsaidquietly,“Yes.”Theprinceblinked.“Iwillgowithyou,”sheclarified.A small smile tugged on hismouth. “Good.” Sartaq jerked his chin to the

archway through which the servants had vanished down the minaret. “Packlightly,though—Kadaraisalreadynearherlimit.”

Nesryn shook her head, noting the bow and quiver stocked with arrowsalreadyatopKadara.“Ihavenothingtobringwithme.”

Sartaqwatchedherforalongmoment.“Surelyyouwouldwishtosaygood-bye—”

“Ihavenothing,”sherepeated.Hiseyesflickeredatthat,butsheadded,“I—I’llleaveanote.”

Theprincesolemnlynodded.“Icanoutfityouwithclotheswhenwearrive.Thereispaperandinkinthecabinetbythefarwall.Leavetheletterintheboxbythestairs,andoneofthemessengerswillcometocheckatnightfall.”

Herhandsshookslightlyassheobeyed.Notwithfear,but…freedom.Shewrotetwonotes.Thefirstone,toherauntanduncle,wasfullofloveand

warningandwell-wishes.Hersecondnote…itwasquick,andtothepoint:

IhavegonewithSartaqtoseetherukhin.Ishallbegonethreeweeks. Iholdyoutonopromises.AndIwillholdtononeofmyown.

Nesryn shut both notes in the box, undoubtedly checked often for anymessages fromtheskies,andchanged into the leathersshe’d left fromthe lasttimeshe’dflown.

ShefoundSartaqatopKadara,waitingforher.Theprinceextendedacallusedhandtohelpherupintothesaddle.Shedidn’thesitateasshetookhishand,hisstrongfingerswrappingaround

hers,andlethimpullherintothesaddlebeforehim.

Hestrappedandbuckled them in, checkedall of it thrice.Buthe reined inKadarawhenshewouldhavesoaredoutoftheminaret.

Sartaqwhispered inNesryn’sear,“Iwaspraying to theEternalSkyandallthirty-sixgodsthatyou’dsayyes.”

Shesmiled,evenifhecouldn’tseeit.“SowasI,”Nesrynbreathed,andtheyleapedintotheskies.

25

Yrene and Chaol hurried to the Torre library immediately after lunch. Chaolmountedhishorsewithrelativeease,Shengivinghimaheartypatonthebackinapproval.SomesmallpartofYrenehadwantedtobeamwhenshenoticedthatChaolmettheman’seyestoofferatightsmileofthanks.

Andwhen theypassed through thosewhitewalls, as themassof theTorrerose above them and the scent of lemon and lavender filled Yrene’s nose…some part of her eased in its presence. Just how it had done from the firstmomentshe’dspiedthetowerrisingabovethecitywhilehershipatlastnearedtheshore,asifitwereapalearmthrusttowardtheskyingreeting.

Asiftoproclaimtoher,Welcome,daughter.Wehavebeenwaitingforyou.TheTorre’slibrarywaslocatedinthelowerlevels,mostofitshallsramped

thankstotherollingcartsthelibrariansusedtotransportthebooksaroundandcollectanytomesthatcarelessacolyteshadforgottentoreturn.

Therewere a few stairswhereYrenehadbeen forced to grit her teeth andhaulhimup.

He’dstaredatherwhenshe’ddoneit.Andwhensheaskedwhy,he’dsaiditwasthefirsttimeshe’dtouchedhischair.Movedit.

Shesupposeditwas.Butshe’dwarnedhimnottogetusedtoit,andlethimpropelhimselfthroughthebrightlylitcorridorsoftheTorre.

A fewof thegirls fromherdefenseclass spotted themandpaused to fawnoverthelord,whoindulgedthemwithacrookedsmilethatsetthemgigglingas

theywalkedaway.Yreneherself smiledat themas theydeparted, shakingherhead.

Or perhaps the goodmoodwas from the fact that his entire foot from theankledownwas regaining feelingandmovement.She’d forcedhim to endureanothersetofexercisesbeforecominghere,sprawlinghimonthecarpetwhilesheaidedhiminmovinghisfootaroundandaround,instretchingit,rotatingit.Alldesignedtogetthebloodflowing,tohopefullyawakenmoreofhislegs.

TheprogresswasenoughtokeepYrenesmilinguntiltheyreachedNousha’sdesk, where the librarian was currently shoving a few tomes into her heavysatchel.Packingupfortheday.

Yrene glanced at the bell that had been rung only a few nights ago, butrefused to blanch. Chaol had brought a sword and dagger, and she’d beenmesmerized while he’d buckled them on with such efficiency. He had barelyneededtolook,hisfingersguidedbysheermusclememory.Shecouldpictureit—everymorningandnightthathe’dputonandremovedthatswordbelt.

Yrene leaned over the desk and said toNousha,whowas sizing upChaolwhilehealsoassessedher,“IwouldliketoseewhereyoufoundthosetextsfromEyllwe.Andthescrolls.”

Nousha’swhitebrowscrossed.“Will itbring trouble?”Hergazeslid to theswordChaolhadpositionedacrosshis lap tokeep it fromclackingagainsthischair.

“NotifIcanhelpit,”Yrenesaidquietly.Behind them, curled on an armchair in the large sitting area before the

cracklinghearth,asnow-whiteBaastCathalfslumbered,herlongtailswishinglikeapendulumasitdrapedovertheedgeofthecushion.Nodoubtlisteningtoeveryword—likelytoreporttohersisters.

Noushasighedsharply inaway thatYrenehadwitnessedahundred times,butwaved them toward themain hallway. She barked an order inHalha to anearbylibrariantomindthedeskandledtheway.

Astheyfollowed,thewhiteBaastCatcrackedopenagreeneye.Yrenemadesuretogiveherarespectfulbowofthehead.Thecatmerelywentbacktosleep,satisfied.

For long minutes, Yrene watched Chaol take in the colored lanterns, thewarm stone walls, and endless stacks. “This would give the royal library inRiftholdarunforitsmoney,”heobserved.

“Isitthatlarge?”“Yes, but this might be larger. Older, definitely.” His eyes danced with

shadows—bitsofmemorythatshewonderedifshewouldglimpsethenexttimesheworkedonhim.

Today’sencounter…Ithadleftherreelingandraw.Butthesaltofhertearshadbeencleansing.Inawayshehadnotknownshe

needed.Down and down theywent, taking themain ramp that looped through the

levels.Theypassedlibrariansshelvingbooks,acolytesinsolitaryorgroupstudyaround the tables,healersporingovermusty tomes indoorless rooms,and theoccasionalBaastCat sprawledover the topof the shelves,orpadding into theshadows,orsimplysittingatacrossroads—asifwaiting.

Stilltheywentdeeper.“Howdidyouknowtheyweredownhere?”YreneaskedNousha’sback.“Wekeepgoodrecords,”wasalltheHeadLibrariansaid.ChaolgaveYrenealookthatsaid,WehavecrankylibrariansinRifthold,too.Yrenebitherliptokeepfromgrinning.Noushacouldsniffoutlaughterand

amusementlikeabloodhoundonascent.Andshutitdownasviciously,too.Atlast,theyreachedadarkcorridorthatreekedofstoneanddust.“Second shelf down. Don’t ruin anything,” Nousha said by way of

explanationandfarewell,andleftwithoutalookback.Chaol’sbrowsliftedinbemusement,andYreneswallowedherchuckle.It stopped being an effort as they approached the shelf the librarian had

indicated.PilesofscrollslaytuckedbeneathbookswhosespinesglitteredwiththeEyllwelanguage.

Chaolletoutalowwhistlethroughhisteeth.“HowoldistheTorre,exactly?”“Fifteenhundredyears.”Hewentstill.“Thislibraryhasbeenherethatlong?”Shenodded.“Itwasallbuilt inonego.Agiftfromanancientqueentothe

healerwhosavedherchild’slife.Aplaceforthehealertostudyandlive—closetothepalace—andtoinviteotherstostudyaswell.”

“Soitpredatesthekhaganatebyagreatdeal.”“Thekhagansarethelatestinalonglineofconquerorssincethen.Themost

benevolent since that first queen, to be sure. Even her palace itself did notsurvive so well as the Torre.What you stay in now… they built it atop therubbleofthequeen’scastle.Aftertheconquerorswhocameagenerationbeforethekhaganaterazedittotheground.”

Heswore,lowandcreatively.“Healers,”Yrene said, scanning the shelves, “are in high demand,whether

you are the current ruler or the invading one. All other posts … perhapsunnecessary.Buta towerfullofwomenwhocankeepyoufromdeath,evenifyouarehangingbyathread…”

“Morevaluablethangold.”“It begs the question ofwhyAdarlan’s last king…”She almost said your

king,butthewordclangedstrangelyinherheadnow.“Whyhefelttheneedtodestroythoseofuswiththegiftinhisowncontinent.”Whythethinginhimfelttheneed,shedidn’tsay.

Chaoldidn’tmeethereyes.Andnotfromshame.Heknewsomething.Somethingelse.“What?”sheasked.Hescannedthedimstacks,thenlistenedforanyonenearby.“Hewasindeed

…taken.Invaded.”Ithadbeenashocktorealizewhosedarkpowershe’dbeenfightingagainst

withinhiswound—ashock,andyetarallyingcrytohermagic.Asifsomefoghadbeenclearedaway,someveiloffear,andallthathadbeenleftbeneathwereherblindingrageandsorrow,unfalteringasshe’dleapeduponthedarkness.But…thekingtrulyhadbeenpossessed,then.Allthistime.

Chaolpulledabookfromtheshelfandflippedthroughit,notreallyreadingthepages.Shewasfairlycertainhedidn’tknowhowtoreadEyllwe.“Heknewwhatwas happening to him.Themanwithin him fought against it as best hecould.Heknewthattheirkind…”TheValg.“Theyfoundpeoplewithgifts…enticing.”Magic-wielders.“Knewtheirkindwantedtoconquerthegiftedones.Fortheirpower.”

Infestthem,asthekinghadbeen.AsthatdrawinginTheSongofBeginninghaddepicted.

Yrene’sgutroiled.“So themanwithinwrested control long enough to give the order that the

magic-wielderswere to be put down. Executed, rather than used against him.Us.”

Turnedintohostsforthosedemonsandmadeintoweapons.Yreneleanedagainstthestackbehindthem,ahandslidinguptoherthroat.

Herpulsepoundedbeneathherfingers.“It was a choice he hated himself for. But saw as a necessary decision to

make.Alongwithawaytomakesurethoseincontrolcouldnotusemagic.Orfindthosewhohadit.Notwithoutlistsofthem.Orthosewillingtosellthemoutforcoin—tothemenheorderedtohuntthemdown.”

Magic’svanishinghadnotbeennaturalatall.“He—hefoundawaytobanish—?”

Asharpnod.“Itisalongstory,buthehaltedit.Dammeditup.Tokeepthoseconquerorsfromhavingthehoststheywanted.Andthenhuntedtherestofthem

downtomakesuretheirnumberswerefewerstill.”TheKingofAdarlanhadstoppedmagic,killeditsbearers,hadsenthisforces

to execute hermother and countless others… not just from blind hatred andignorance,butsometwistedwayoftryingtosavetheirkind?

Herheart thundered throughherbody. “Buthealers—wehavenopower touseinbattle.Nothingbeyondwhatyouseefromme.”

Chaolwasutterlystillashestaredather.“Ithinkyoumighthavesomethingtheywantverybadly.”

Thehairalongherarmsrose.“Orwanttokeepyoufromknowingtoomuchabout.”Sheswallowed,feelingthebloodleaveherface.“Like—yourwound.”Anod.Sheblewoutashakybreath,goingtothestackbeforeher.Thescrolls.Hisfingersgrazedherown.“Iwillnotletanyharmcometoyou.”Yrenefelthimwaitingforhertotellhimotherwise.Butshebelievedhim.“AndwhatIshowedyouearlier?”shesaid,incliningherheadtothescrolls.

TheWyrdmarks,he’dcalledthem.“Part of the same thing.An earlier and different sort of power.Outside of

magic.”Andhehadafriendwhocouldreadthem.Wieldthem.“We’dbetterbequick,”shesaid,stillcarefulofanypotentiallisteners.“I’m

surethevolumeIneedforyourchronictoefungusisdownheresomewhere,andI’mgrowinghungry.”

Chaolgaveheranincredulouslook.Sheofferedhimanapologeticwinceinreturn.

Butlaughterdancedinhiseyesashebeganpullingbooksintohislap.

Nesryn’s faceandearswerenumbwithcoldby the timeKadaraalightedona

rocky outcropping high atop a smallmountain range of gray stone.Her limbswerehardlybetter,despitetheleathers,andweresoreenoughthatshewincedasSartaqhelpedherdown.

Theprincegrimaced.“Iforgotthatyouaren’tusedtoridingforsolong.”Itwasn’tthestiffnessthatreallybrutalizedher,butherbladder—Clenching her legs together, Nesryn surveyed the campsite the ruk had

deemedsuitableforhermaster.Itwasprotectedonthreesidesbybouldersandpillars of gray rock, with a broad overhang against the elements, but nopossibilityofconcealment.Andaskingaprincewheretoseetoherneeds—

Sartaqmerelypointedtoaclusterofboulders.“There’sprivacythatway,ifyouneedit.”

Faceheating,Nesrynnodded, not quite able tomeet him in the eye as shehurried towherehe’d indicated,slippingbetweentwoboulders tofindanotherlittle outcropping that opened onto a sheer drop to the unforgiving rocks andstreamsfar,farbelow.Shepickedasmallboulderthatfacedawayfromthewindanddidn’twasteanytimeunbucklingherpants.

When she emerged again, still wincing, Sartaq had removed most of thepacksfromKadara,buthadlefthersaddle.Nesrynapproachedthemightybird,whoeyedherclosely,liftingahandtowardthefirstbuckle—

“Don’t,”Sartaqsaidcalmlyfromwherehe’dsetthelastofthepacksunderthe overhang, his sulde tucked against the wall behind them. “We leave thesaddlesonwhilewetravel.”

Nesrynloweredherhand,examiningthemightybird.“Why?”Sartaq removed two bedrolls and laid them out against the rocky wall,

claimingoneforhimself.“Ifwe’reambushed,ifthereissomedanger,weneedtobeabletogetintotheskies.”

Nesryn scanned the surroundingmountain range, the sky stained pink andorange as the sun set. The Asimil Mountains—a small, lonely range, if hermemory of the land served her correctly. Still far, far north from the Tavan

Mountainsoftherukhin.Theyhadn’tpassedavillageorsignofcivilizationinoveranhour,andupamongst thesedesolatepeaks: landslides, flash floods…Shesupposedthereweredangersaplenty.

Supposedthattheonlyoneswhocouldreachthemupherewereotherruks.Orwyverns.

Sartaqpulledouttinsofcuredmeatsandfruit,alongwithtwosmallloavesofbread.“Haveyouseenthem—themountsofMorath?”Hisquestionwasnearlyrippedawaybythehowlofthewindbeyondthewallofrocks.Howhe’dknownwherehermindhaddrifted,shecouldn’tguess.

Kadarasettledherselfnearoneofthethreefaces,foldinginherwingstightly.They’d stopped once earlier—to let Kadara feed and for them to see to theirneeds—sotherukwouldn’thavetoseekoutdinner in thesebarrenmountains.Bellystillfull,Kadaranowseemedcontenttodoze.

“Yes,”Nesrynadmitted,tuggingfreetheleatherstraparoundthebaseofhershort braid and finger-combing her hair. Tangles snared on her still-freezingfingersasshecoaxedthemaway,gratefulthatthetaskkeptherfromshudderingatthememoryofthewitchesandtheirmounts.“Kadaraisprobablytwo-thirdstohalfthesizeofawyvern.Maybe.Isshelargeorsmall,foraruk?”

“Ithoughtyou’dheardallthestoriesaboutme.”Nesryn snorted, shaking out her hair a final time as she approached the

bedrollandfoodhe’dlaidoutforher.“DoyouknowtheycallyoutheWingedPrince?”

Aghostofasmile.“Yes.”“Doyoulikethetitle?”Shesettledontheroll,crossingherlegsbeneathher.Sartaqpassedherthetinoffruits,beckoninghertoeat.Shedidn’tbotherto

waitforhimbeforeshedugin,thegrapescoolthankstothehoursinthecrispair.

“DoIlikethetitle?”hemused,tearingoffapieceofbreadandpassingittoher.Shetookitwithanodofthanks.“It’sstrange,Isuppose.Tobecomeastory

whileyouarestillalive.”Asidelongglanceatherwhileherippedintohisbread.“Youyourselfaresurroundedbysomelivingtales.Howdotheyfeelaboutit?”

“Aelin certainly enjoys it.” She’d nevermet another person with somanynamesandtitles—andwhoenjoyedbandyingthemaboutsomuch.“Theothers…Idon’tsupposeIknowthemwellenoughtoguess.ThoughAedionAshryver… he takes after Aelin.” She popped another grape into her mouth, her hairswaying as she leaned forward to pluck a fewmore into her palm. “They’recousins,butactmorelikesiblings.”

Aconsideringlook.“TheWolfoftheNorth.”“You’veheardofhim?”Sartaqpassedthetinofcuredmeats,lettingherpickthroughwhichslicesshe

wanted.“Itoldyou,CaptainFaliq,myspiesdotheirjobswell.”Acarefulline—nudginghimtowardapotentialalliancewasacarefullineto

walk.Looktooeager,praisehercompanionstoomuchandshe’dbetransparent,but todonothing…Itwentagainstherverynature.Evenasacityguard,herdayoffhadusuallysentherlookingforsomethingtodo,whetheritwasawalkthroughRiftholdorhelpingherfatherandsisterpreparethenextday’sgoods.Wind-seeker, her mother had once called her.Unable to keep still, always

wanderingwherethewindcallsyou.Whereshall itbeckonyouto journeyoneday,myrose?

Howfarthewindhadnowcalledher.Nesrynsaid,“ThenIhopeyourspieshavetoldyouthatAedion’sBaneisa

skilledlegion.”Avaguenod, and she knewSartaq saw right through all her plans.But he

finished off his part of the bread and asked, “Andwhat are the tales they tellaboutyou,NesrynFaliq?”

Shechewedonthesaltedpork.“Noonehasanystoriesaboutme.”It didn’t bother her. Fame, notoriety…She valued other thingsmore, she

supposed.

“Not even the story about the arrow that saved a shape-shifter’s life? Theimpossibleshotfiredfromarooftop?”

Shesnappedherheadtowardhim.Sartaqonlyswiggedfromhiswaterwithalookthatsaid,Itoldyoumyspiesweregood.

“IthoughtArghunwastheonewhodealtincovertinformation,”Nesrynsaidcarefully.

Hepassed thewaterskin.“Arghun’s theonewhoboastsabout it. I’dhardlycallitcovert.”

Nesryndrankafewmouthfulsofwaterandliftedabrow.“Butthisis?”Sartaqchuckled.“Isupposeyou’reright.”Theshadowsgrewdeeper,longer,thewindpickingup.Shestudiedtherock

aroundthem,thepacks.“Youwon’triskafire.”Ashakeofhishead,hisdarkbraidswaying.“It’dbeabeacon.”Hefrowned

at her leathers, the packs lumped around them. “I have heavy blankets—somewhereinthere.”

Theyfellintosilence,eatingwhilethesunvanishedandstarsbegantoblinkawake among the last, vibrant ribbon of blue. The moon herself appeared,bathingthecampsitewithenoughlighttoseebyastheyfinishedup,theprincesealingthetinsandtuckingthembackintothepacks.

Across the space, Kadara began to snore, a deep wheeze that rumbledthroughtherock.

Sartaqchuckled.“Apologiesifthatkeepsyouawake.”Nesrynjustshookherhead.Sharingacampsitewitharuk,inthemountains

high above the grassy plains below, theWingedPrince beside her…No, herfamilywouldnotbelieveit.

Theywatchedthestarsquietly,neithermakingamovetosleep.Onebyone,the rest of the stars emerged, brighter and clearer than she’d seen since thoseweekson the shiphere.Different stars, she realizedwith a jolt, than thoseupnorth.

Different, and yet these stars had burned for countless centuries above herancestors,aboveher fatherhimself.Had itbeenstrange forhim to leave thembehind?Hadhemissedthem?He’dneverspokenofit,whatitwasliketomovetoalandwithforeignstars—ifhe’dfeltadriftatnight.

“Neith’sArrow,”Sartaq said after uncountedminutes, leaningback againsttherock.

Nesryndraggedhergazefromthestarstofindhisfacelimnedinmoonlight,silverdancingalongthepureonyxofhisbraid.

Herestedhisforearmsonhisknees.“That’swhatmyspiescalledyou,whatIcalledyouuntilyouarrived.Neith’sArrow.”TheGoddessofArchery—andtheHunt,originallyhailing fromanancient sand-sweptkingdom to thewest,nowenfolded into the khaganate’s vast pantheon. A corner of his mouth tuggedupward.“Sodon’tbesurprisedifthere’snowastoryortwoaboutyoualreadyfindingitswayacrosstheworld.”

Nesryn observed him for a long moment, the howling mountain windblendingwithKadara’ssnoring.She’dalwaysexcelledatarchery,tookprideinherunmatchedaim,butshehadnotlearnedbecauseshecovetedrenown.She’ddoneitbecausesheenjoyedit,becauseitgaveheradirectiontoaimthatwind-seekinginclination.Andyet…

Sartaq cleared away the last of the food and did a quick check that thecampsitewassecurebeforeheadingoffbetweenthebouldershimself.

Withonlythoseforeignstarstowitness,Nesrynsmiled.

26

ChaoldinedintheTorrekitchens,wherearail-thinwomancalledonlyCookhadstuffedhimwithpan-friedfish,crustybread,roastedtomatoeswithmildcheeseand tarragon, and then managed to convince him to eat a light, flaky pastrydrippingwithhoneyandcrustedinpistachios.

Yrenehad sat beside him, hidingher smiles asCookkept pilingmore andmorefoodontohisplateuntilheliterallybeggedhertostop.

Hewasfullenoughthattheideaofmovingseemedamonumentaltask,andevenYrenehadpleadedwithCooktohavemercyuponthem.

Thewomanhadrelented,thoughshe’dturnedthatfocusupontheworkersinherkitchen—presidingover theservingof theeveningmeal to thehalla levelabovewithageneral’scommandthatChaolfoundhimselfstudying.

He and Yrene sat in companionable silence, watching the chaos unfoldaroundthemuntilthesunhadlongsincesetthroughthewidewindowsbeyondthekitchen.

He’d uttered half a mention of getting his horse saddled when Yrene andCooktoldhimhewasspendingthenightandtonotbotherarguing.

Sohedid.Hesentanotebacktothepalacethroughahealeronherwaytheretooverseeapatient in theservants’quarters, tellingNesrynwherehewasandnottowaitup.

And when he and Yrene had finally managed to get their overstuffedstomachs to settle, he followed her to a room in the complex. The Torrewas

mostlystairs,shesaidwithnopitywhatsoever,andtherewerenoguestroomsanyway.But the adjacent physicians’ complex—she’d gestured to the buildingthey’d passed through, all angles and squares where the Torre was round—alwayshadafewroomsonthegroundlevelavailableforthenight,mostlyforthelovedonesofsickpatients.

Sheopenedthedoortoaroomthatoverlookedagardencourtyard,thespacesmallbutclean,itspalewallsinvitingandwarmfromtheday.Anarrowbedlayagainstonewall,achairandsmalltablebeforethewindow.Justenoughspaceforhimtomaneuver.

“Letmeseeagain,”Yrenesaid,pointingtohisfeet.Chaolliftedhis legwithhishands,stretchingitout.Thenrolledhisankles,

gruntingagainsttheconsiderableweightofhislegs.Sheremovedhisbootsandsocksasshekneltbeforehim.“Good.We’llneed

tokeepthatup.”Heglanced to the satchel full of books and scrolls she’d pillaged from the

library,discardedbythedoorway.Hedidn’tknowwhat thehellanyof itsaid,butthey’dtakenasmanyastheycould.Ifwhoeverorwhateverhadbeeninthatlibraryhadstolensome,andperhapsnotgottenthechancetoreturnformore…Hewouldn’triskthemeventuallyreturningtoclaimtherest.

Yrenehadthought thescrollshe’dhiddeninhisroomstobeeighthundredyearsold.Butthatdeepinthelibrary,consideringtheageoftheTorre…

He didn’t tell her he thought it might be much, much older. Full ofinformationthatmightnothaveevensurvivedintheirownlands.

“Icanfindyousomeclothes,”Yrenesaid,scanningthesmallroom.“I’llbefinewithwhatIhave.”Chaoladdedwithoutlookingather,“Isleep

—withoutthem.”“Ah.”Silencefell,asshenodoubtrememberedhowshe’dfoundhimthatmorning.Thatmorning.Hadittrulybeenonlyhoursago?Shehadtobeexhausted.

Yrenegesturedtothecandleburningonthetable.“Doyouneedmorelight?”“I’mfine.”“Icangetyousomewater.”“I’mfine,”hesaid,thecornersofhismouthtwitchingupward.Shepointedtotheporcelainpotinthecorner.“Thenatleastletmebringyou

tothe—”“Icanmanagethat,too.It’sallaboutaim.”Colorstainedhercheeks.“Right.”Shechewedonherbottomlip.“Well…

goodnight,then.”Hecouldhaveswornshewas lingering.Andhewouldhave lether,except

…“It’s late,” he told her. “You should go to your roomwhile people are stillabout.”

BecausewhileNesrynhadfoundnotraceoftheValginAntica,whileithadbeendayssincethatattackintheTorrelibrary,hewouldtakenorisks.

“Yes,” Yrene said, bracing a hand on the threshold. She reached for thehandletopullthedoorshutbehindher.

“Yrene.”Shepaused,anglingherhead.Chaol held her stare, a small smile curling his mouth. “Thank you.” He

swallowed.“Forallofit.”Sheonlynoddedandbackedout,shuttingthedoorbehindher.Butasshedid

so,hecaughtaglimmerofthelightthatdancedinhereyes.

Thefollowingmorning,astern-facedwomannamedEretiaappearedathisdoorto inform him Yrene had a meeting with Hafiza and would meet him at thepalacebylunch.

SoYrene had askedEretia to escort himback to the palace—a taskChaolcouldonlywonderwhyshe’dbestowedontheoldwoman,whotappedherfoot

ashegatheredhisweapons, theheavybagofbooks,andclickedhertongueateveryminordelay.

But the ride through the steep streetswithEretiawasn’t awful; thewomanwasasurprisinglyskilledriderwhobrookednononsensefromhermount.Yetsheofferednopleasantriesandlittlemorethanagruntedfarewellbeforeshelefthiminthepalacecourtyard.

Theguardswere justchanging their shift, themorning rotation lingering tochatamongstoneanother.Herecognizedenoughofthembynowtoearnafewnodsofgreeting,andtomanagetoreturnthemashischairwasbroughtoverbyoneofthestablehands.

He’dnosoonerremovedhisfeetfromthestirrupsandpreparedhimselfforthe still-daunting process of dismounting when light footsteps jogged over tohim.HelookedovertofindShenapproaching,ahandonhisforearm—

Chaol blinked. And by the time Shen stopped before him, the guard hadtuggedtheglovebackonhishand.

Or what Chaol had assumed was his hand. Because what he’d glimpsedbeneaththegloveandthesleeveofShen’suniform,goingrightuptotheelbow…Itwasamasterwork—themetalforearmandhand.

And only now that he looked, looked long enough to actually observeanything…hecould indeedsee the raised linesbyShen’sbicepofwhere themetalarmwasstrappedtohim.

Shen noticed his stare. Noticed it right as Chaol hesitated at the arm andshoulderShenofferedtoaidhimindismounting.

The guard said in Chaol’s own tongue, “I helped you just fine before youknew,LordWestfall.”

Somethinglikeshame,perhapssomethingdeeper,crackedthroughhim.Chaolmadehimselfbraceahandontheman’sshoulder—thesameshoulder

thathousedthemetalarm.FoundthestrengthbeneathtobeunwaveringasShenassistedhimintotheawaitingchair.

AndwhenChaolwasseatedinit,staringattheguardasthestablehandsledhishorseaway,Shenexplained, “I lost it ayearandahalf ago.Therewasanattack on PrinceArghun’s lifewhen he visited a vizier’s estate, a rogue bandfromadisgruntledkingdom.Ilostitduringthefight.YreneworkedonmewhenIreturned—Iwasoneofherfirstconsiderablehealings.Shemanagedtorepairasmuchasshecouldfromhereupward.”Hepointedtorightbelowhiselbow,thenuphisshoulder.

Chaol studied the hand that was so lifelike within the glove he could notnoticethedifference,saveforthefactthatitdidnotmoveatall.

“Healerscandomanywonders,”Shensaid,“butgrowinglimbsfromthinair…”Asoftlaugh.“Thatisbeyondtheirskill—evenonesuchasYrene.”

Chaoldidn’tknowwhattosay.Apologiesfeltwrong,but…Shensmileddownathim—withnotraceofpity.“Ithastakenmealongtime

togettothisplace,”hesaidabitquietly.Chaolknewhedidn’tmeantheskilleduseofhisartificialarm.Shenadded,“ButknowthatIdidnotgetherealone.”The unspoken offer shone in the guard’s brown eyes. Unbroken, this man

before him. No less of a man for his injury, for finding a newway tomovethroughtheworld.

And—Shenhadstayedonasaguard.Asoneofthemostelitepalaceguardsintheworld.Notfromanypityoftheothers,butthroughhisownmeritandwill.

Chaolstillcouldn’tfindtherightwordstoconveywhatcoursedthroughhim.Shennoddedasifheunderstoodthat,too.Itwasalongtripbacktohissuite.Chaoldidn’tmarkthefaceshepassed,the

soundsandsmellsandstreamsofwindwendingthroughthehalls.HereturnedtotheroomstofindhisnotetoNesrynsittingonthefoyertable.

Unread.Itwasenoughtochaseanyotherthoughtsfromhismind.Heartthundering,hisfingersshookashepickeduphisunread,unseenletter.

Butthenhespottedtheletterbeneathit.Hisnamewritteninherhandwriting.Herippeditopen,readingthefewlines.Hereadittwice.Thrice.Hesetitdownonthetableandstaredatheropenbedroomdoor.Thesilence

leakingfromit.Hewasabastard.He’d dragged her here. Had nearly gotten her killed in Rifthold so many

times,hadimpliedsomuchaboutthetwoofthem,andyet—Hedidn’tlethimselffinishthethought.Heshouldhavebeenbetter.Treated

herbetter.Nowondershe’dflownoff totherukaeries tohelpSartaqfindanysortofinformationontheValghistoryinthisland—ortheirown.

Shit.Shit.Shemightnotholdhimtoanypromises,buthe…Heheldhimselftothem.Andhehadletthisthingbetweenthemgoon,hadusedherlikesomecrutch

—Chaolblewoutabreath,crumplingNesryn’sletterandhisowninhisfist.

Perhaps he had not sleptwell in that tiny room at the physicians’ compound,accustomed to far larger and finer accommodations, Yrene told herself thatafternoon.Itwouldexplainhisfewwords.Thelackofsmiling.

She’d had one on her face when she’d entered Chaol’s suite after lunch.She’dexplainedherprogresstoHafiza,whohadbeenverypleasedindeed.EvengivingYreneakissonherbrowbeforesheleft.Practicallyskippinghere.

Untilsheenteredandfounditquiet.Foundhimquiet.“Are you feeling well?” Yrene asked casually as she hid the books he’d

broughtbackwithhimthatmorning.“Yes.”

SheleanedagainstthedesktostudywhereChaolsatonthegoldcouch.“Youhavenotexercised ina fewdays.”Sheangledherhead.“The restof

yourbody,Imean.Weshoulddoitnow.”Forpeople accustomed tophysical activity everyday,goingwithout for so

longcouldfeellikerippinganaddictoffadrug.Disoriented,restless.He’dkeptuptheexercisesforhislegs,buttherest…perhapsitwaswhatclawedathim.

“Allright.”Hiseyeswereglazed,distant.“Here, or one of the guards’ training facilities?”She braced herself for the

shutdown.ButChaoljustsaidflatly,“Hereisfine.”Shetriedagain.“Perhapsbeingaroundtheotherguardswillbebeneficialto

—”“Hereisfine.”Thenhemovedhimselfontothefloor,slidinghisbodyaway

fromthecouchandlow-lyingtableandtotheopencarpet.“Ineedyoutobracemyfeet.”

Yrenecheckedherirritationatthetone,theoutrightrefusal.Butshestillsaidasshekneltbeforehim,“Havewereallygonebacktothatplace?”

He ignored her question and launched into a series of upward curls, hispowerfulbodysurgingup,thendown.One,two,three…Shelostcountaroundsixty.

Hedidn’tmeetherstareeachtimeheroseupoverhisbentknees.Itwasnatural,fortheemotionalhealingtobeasdifficultasthephysical.For

theretobeharddays—hardweeks,even.Buthe’dbeensmilingwhenshe’dlefthimlastnight,and—

“Tellmewhathappened.Somethinghappenedtoday.”Hertonewasperhapsnotquiteasgentleasahealer’soughttobe.

“Nothinghappened.”Thewordswereapushofairashekeptmoving,sweatslidingdownthecolumnofhisneckandintothewhiteshirtbeneath.

Yrene clenched her jaw, counting quietly in her head. Snapping would do

neitherofthemanygood.Chaoleventuallyturnedontohisstomachandbegananothersetthatrequired

hertoholdhisfeetinapositionthatwouldkeephimslightlyaloft.Upanddown,downandup.Thesleekmusclesofhisbackandarmsbunched

andrippled.Hewentthroughsixotherexercises,thenstartedtheentiresetagain.Yrenesupportedandheldandwatchedinsimmeringsilence.Lethimhavehisspace.Lethimthinkthroughit,ifthat’swhathewants.Damnwhathewants.Chaolfinishedaset,hisbreathingragged,chestheavingashestaredupatthe

ceiling.Somethingsharpanddrivingflickeredacrosshisface,asifinsilentanswer

tosomething.Helurchedupwardtobeginthenextset—“That’senough.”Hiseyesflashed,meetinghersatlast.Yrenedidn’tbotherlookingpleasantorunderstanding.“You’lldoyourselfan

injury.”Heglaredtowardwhereshehadstabilizedhisbentkneesandcurledupward

again.“Iknowmylimits.”“AndsodoI,”shesnapped,jerkingherchintowardhislegs.“Youmighthurt

yourbackifyoukeepthisup.”Hebaredhisteeth—thetemperviciousenoughthatsheletgoofhisfeet.His

armsshotouttobracehimasheslidbackward,butshelunged,grabbingforhisshoulderstokeephimfromslammingtotheground.

Hissweat-drenchedshirtsoakedintoherfingers,hisbreathingraspinginherearassheconfirmedhewasn’tabouttofall.“I’vegotit,”hegrowledinherear.

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” she snipped, assessing forherself that he indeed could support himself before she withdrew and settledherselfafewfeetawayonthecarpet.

Insilence, theyglaredateachother.“Exercisingyourbodyisvital,”Yrenesaid, her words clipped, “but you will do more harm than good if you pushyourselftoohard.”

“I’mfine.”“YouthinkIdon’tknowwhatyou’redoing?”Chaol’sfacewasahardmask,sweatslidingdownhistemple.“Thiswasyoursanctuary,”shesaid,gesturing tohishonedbody, thesweat

onhim.“Whenthingsgothard,whentheywentwrong,whenyouwereupsetorangryorsad,youwouldloseyourselfinthetraining.Insweatinguntilitburnedyour eyes, in practicing until yourmuscles were shaking and begging you tostop.Andnowyoucan’t—notasyouoncedid.”

Ireboiledinhisfaceatthat.Shekeptherownfacecoolandhardassheasked,“Howdoesthatmakeyou

feel?”Hisnostrilsflared.“Don’tthinkyoucanprovokemeintotalking.”“Howdoesitfeel,LordWestfall?”“Youknowhowitfeels,Yrene.”“Tellme.”Whenhe refused toanswer, shehummed toherself. “Well, sinceyouseem

determinedtogetacompleteexerciseroutinein,Imightaswellworkyourlegsabit.”

Hisstarewasabrand.Shewonderedifhecouldsensethetightnessthatnowclampeddownonherchest, thepit thatopenedinherstomachasheremainedquiet.

ButYrene rose up on her knees andmoved down his body, beginning theseriesofexercisesdesignedtotriggerpathwaysbetweenhismindandspine.Theankleandfootrotations,hecoulddoonhisown,thoughhecertainlygrittedhisteethafterthetenthset.

But Yrene pushed him through it. Ignored his bubbling anger, keeping a

saccharinesmileonherfacewhileshecoaxedhislegsthroughthemovements.ItwasonlywhenshereachedforhisupperthighsthatChaolhaltedherwitha

handonherarm.Hemetherstare—thenlookedaway,jawtight,ashesaid,“I’mtired.It’slate.

Let’smeettomorrowmorning.”“I don’tmind starting nowwith the healing.” Perhapswith the exercising,

thosewreckedpathwaysmightbefiringupmorethanusual.“Iwantsomerest.”Itwasa lie.Despitehis exercising,hehadgoodcolor inhis face,his eyes

werestillbrightwithanger.She weighed his expression, the request. “Resting doesn’t seem at all like

yourstyle.”Hislipstightened.“Getout.”Yrene snorted at the order. “You may command men and servants, Lord

Westfall,butIdon’tanswertoyou.”Still,sheuncoiledtoherfeet,havinghadquiteenoughofhisattitude.Bracingherhandsonherhips,shestaredatwhereheremainedsprawledonthecarpet.“I’llhavefoodsentin.Thingstohelppackonthemuscle.”

“Iknowwhattoeat.”Ofcoursehedid.He’dbeenhoningthatmagnificentbodyforyearsnow.But

sheonlybrushedout theskirtsofherdress.“Yes,butI’veactuallystudiedthesubject.”

Chaol bristled but said nothing. Returned to staring at the swirls and florawovenintothecarpet.

Yrene gave him another honey-sweet smile. “I’ll see you bright and earlytomorrow,Lord—”

“Don’tcallmethat.”Sheshrugged.“IthinkI’llcallyouwhateverIwant.”Hisheadsnappedup,hisfacelivid.Shebracedherselffortheverbalattack,

butheseemedtocheckhimself,shouldersstiffeningasheonlysaidoncemore,“Getout.”

Hepointedtothedoorwithalongarmashesaidso.“I should kick that gods-damned finger you’re pointing,” Yrene snapped,

stridingtothedoor.“Butabrokenhandwouldonlykeepyouherelonger.”Chaolagainbaredhisteeth,irepouringoffhiminwavesnow,thatscardown

hischeekstarkagainsthisflushedskin.“Getout.”Yrenejustflashedanothersicklysweetsmileathimandshutthedoorbehind

her.Shestrodethroughthepalaceataclip,fingerscurlingathersides,reiningin

herroar.Patientshadbaddays.Theywereentitledtothem.Itwasnatural,andapart

oftheprocess.But…theyhadworkedthroughsomuchof that.Hehadstarted to tellher

things, and she’d told him things so few knew, and she’d enjoyed herselfyesterday—

Shemulledovereverywordexchangedthenightbefore.Perhapshe’dbeenangryatsomethingEretiahadsaidontheirridehere.Thewomanwasn’tknownfor her bedside manner. Yrene was honestly surprised the woman toleratedanyone,letalonefeltinclinedtohelphumanbeings.Shecouldhaveupsethim.Insultedhim.

Or maybe he’d come to depend on Yrene’s constant presence, and theinterruption of that routine had been disorienting. She’d heard of patients andtheirhealersinsuchsituations.

Buthe’dshownnotraitsofdependency.No,theoppositewentthroughhim,astreakofindependenceandpridethathurtasmuchasithelpedhim.

Breathing uneven, his behavior dragging claws down her temper, YrenesoughtoutHasar.

Theprincesswasjustcomingfromswordplaylessonsofherown.Reniawas

outshoppinginthecity,Hasarsaidassheloopedhersweat-damparmthroughYrene’sandledhertowardherchambers.

“Everyone is busy-busy-busy today,” Hasar groused, flicking her sweatybraidoverashoulder.“EvenKashinisoffwithmyfatheratsomemeetingabouthistroops.”

“Isthereanyreasonwhy?”Acarefulquestion.Hasarshrugged.“Hedidn’ttellme.Thoughheprobablyfeltinclinedtodoit,

sinceSartaqshowedusallupbyflyingofftohisnestinthemountainsforafewweeks.”

“Heleft?”“And he took Captain Faliq with him.” A wry smile. “I’m surprised you

aren’tconsolingLordWestfall.”Oh.Oh.“Whendidtheyleave?”“Yesterdayafternoon.Apparently,shesaidnowordaboutit.Didn’ttakeher

things. Just left a note and vanished into the sunset with him. I didn’t thinkSartaqhaditinhimtobesuchacharmer.”

Yrenedidn’treturnthesmile.She’dbetgoodmoneythatChaolhadreturnedthismorningtofindthatnote.TofindNesryngone.

“Howdidyoulearnshe’dleftanote?”“Oh,themessengertoldeveryone.Didn’tknowwhatwasinsideit,butanote

withLordWestfall’snameonit,leftattheaerie.Alongwithonetoherfamilyinthecity.Theonlytraceofher.”

Yrenemadeamentalmarktoneversendcorrespondencetothepalaceagain.Atleastnotlettersthatmattered.

NowonderChaolhadbeen restless andangry, ifNesrynhadvanished likethat.

“Doyoususpectfoulplay?”“FromSartaq?”Hasarcackled.Thequestionwasanswerenough.They reached the princess’s doors, servants silently opening them and

steppingaside.Littlemorethanshadowsmadeflesh.ButYrenepausedinthedoorway,digginginherheelsasHasartriedtolead

herin.“Iforgottogethimhistea,”shelied,disentanglingherarmfromHasar’s.The princess only gave her a knowing smile. “If you hear any interesting

tidbits,youknowwheretofindme.”Yrenemanagedanodandturnedonherheel.Shedidn’tgotohisrooms.ShedoubtedChaol’smoodhadimprovedinthe

tenminutesshe’dbeenstormingthroughthepalacehalls.Andifshesawhim,she knew she wouldn’t be able to refrain from asking about Nesryn. Frompushing him until that control shattered. And she couldn’t guess where thatwouldleavethem.Perhapsaplaceneitherofthemwasreadyfor.

Butshehadagift.Andarelentless,driving thrumnowroaredinherbloodthankstohim.

Shecouldnotsitstill.Didnotwant togoback to theTorre toreadorhelpanyoftheotherswiththeirwork.

YreneleftthepalaceandheadeddownthedustystreetsofAntica.Sheknewtheway.Theslumsnevermoved.Onlygreworshrank,depending

ontheruler.In the bright sun, therewas little to fear. Theywere not bad people.Only

poor—somedesperate.Manyforgottenanddisheartened.Soshedidasshehadalwaysdone,eveninInnish.Yrenefollowedthesoundofcoughing.

27

Yrenehealedsixpeoplebythetimethesunset,andonlythendidsheleavetheslums.

Onewomanhadadangerousgrowthonherlungsthatwouldhavekilledher.She’dbeentoobusywithworktoseeahealerorphysician.Threechildrenhadbeenburningupwithfeverinatoo-crampedhouse,theirmotherweepingwithpanic. And then with gratitude as Yrene’s magic soothed and settled andpurified.Onemanhadbrokenhis leg theweekbefore andvisited a piss-poorphysicianintheslumsbecausehecouldnotaffordacarriagetocarryhimuptotheTorre.Andthesixthone…

Thegirlwasnomorethansixteen.Yrenehadnoticedherfirstbecauseoftheblackeye.Thenthecutlip.

Hermagichadbeenwobbling,herkneeswithit,butYrenehadledthegirlinto a doorway and healed her eye. The lip. The cracked ribs. Healed theenormoushandprint-shapedbruisesonherforearm.

Yrene asked no questions. She read every answer in the girl’s fearful eyesanyway.Sawthegirlconsiderwhetheritwouldlandherwithworseinjuriestoreturnhomehealed.

SoYrenehadleftthecoloring.Lefttheappearanceofbruisesbuthealedallbeneath.Leavingonlytheupperlayerofskin,perhapsalittletender,toconcealtherepaireddamage.

Yrenedidnottrytotellhertoleave.Whetheritwasherfamilyoraloveror

something else entirely, Yrene knew that no one but the girl would decidewhether towalkout thatdoor.Allshedidwasinformherthatshouldsheeverneedit,thedoortotheTorrewouldalwaysbeopen.Noquestionsasked.Nofeedemanded.Andtheywouldmakesurethatnoonewasallowedtotakeheroutagainunlessshewishedit.

The girl had kissed Yrene’s knuckles in thanks and scurried home in thefallingdark.

Yreneherselfhadhurried, followingtheglimmeringpillarof theTorre,herbeaconhome.

Herstomachwasgrumbling,herheadthrobbingwithfatigueandhunger.Drained.Itfeltgoodtobedrained.Tohelp.Andyet…Thathounding,restlessenergystillthrummed.Stillpushed.More

moremore.Sheknewwhy.Whatwasleftunsettled.Stillraging.Soshechangedcourse,spearingfortheglowingmassofthepalace.Shepausedatafavoritefoodstall,indulginginamealofslow-roastedlamb

that shedevoured ina fewminutes. Itwas rare that shegot to eatbeyond theconfinesof thepalaceor theTorre, thanks toherbusyschedule,butwhenshedid…Yrene was rubbing her satisfied belly as shemade her way up to thepalace.But thenspottedanopenkahve shopandmanaged to findroominherstomachforacupofit.Andahoney-dippedpastry.

Dawdling.Restlessandangryandstupid.Disgusted with herself, Yrene stomped up to the palace at last. With the

summer sun setting so late, it was well past eleven by the time she headedthroughthedarkhalls.

Perhapshe’dbeasleep.Maybeitwouldbeablessing.Shedidn’tknowwhyshe’dbotheredtocome.Bitingoffhisheadcouldhavewaiteduntiltomorrow.

Hewaslikelyasleep.Hopefully asleep. It’d probably be better if his healer didn’t barge into his

roomandshakehimsilly. Itdefinitelywasn’tbehaviorapprovedby theTorre.ByHafiza.

Andyet she keptwalking, her pace increasing, steps near-clomping on themarble floors. Ifhewanted to takeastepbackon theirprogress, thatwas justfine.Butshecertainlydidn’thavetolethimdoit—notwithouttrying.

Yrenestormeddownalong,dimcorridor.Shewasn’tacoward;shewouldn’tbackdownfromthisfight.She’dleftthatgirlinthatalleyinInnish.AndifhewasinclinedtosulkaboutNesryn,thenhewasentitledtodoso.Buttocallofftheirsessionbecauseofit—

Unacceptable.She’dsimplytellhimthatandleave.Calmly.Rationally.Yrene scowled with each step, muttering the word under her breath.

Unacceptable.Andshehadlethimkickherout,nomatterwhatshemighthavetriedtotell

herself.Thatwasevenmoreunacceptable.Stupidfool.Shemutteredthat,too.Loudenoughthatshenearlymissedthesound.Thefootstep—thescrapeofshoesonstone—justbehindher.Thislate,servantswerelikelyheadingbacktotheirmasters’rooms,but—Thereitwas.Thatsense,prickingagain.Onlyshadowsandshaftsofmoonlightfilledthepillar-linedhallway.Yrenehurriedherpace.Shehearditagain—thestepsbehind.Acasual,stalkinggait.Hermouthwentdry,herheart thundering.Shehadnosatchel,notevenher

littleknife.Nothinginherpocketsbeyondthatnote.Hurry,asmall,gentlevoicemurmuredinherear.Inherhead.She had never heard that voice before, but she sometimes felt its warmth.

Coursing throughherashermagic flowedout. Itwasas familiar toherasher

ownvoice,herownheartbeat.Hurry,girl.Urgencylacedeachword.Yreneincreasedherpace,nearingarun.Therewasacornerahead—sheneedonlyroundit,makeitthirtyfeetdown

thathall,andshe’dbeathissuite.Wastherealockonthedoor?Woulditbelockedagainsther—orbeableto

keepwhoeveritwasout?Run,Yrene!Andthatvoice…Itwashermother’svoicethatbellowedinherhead,herheart.Shedidn’tstoptothink.Towonder.Yrenelaunchedintoasprint.Hershoesslippedalong themarble,and theperson, the thingbehindher—

thosefootstepsbrokeintoarun,too.Yreneturnedthecornerandslid,skiddingintotheoppositewallsohardher

shoulderbarked inpain.Feetscrambling,shefought to regainmomentum,notdaringtolookback—Faster!Yrenecouldseehisdoor.Couldseethelightleakingoutfrombeneathit.Asobbrokefromherthroat.Thoserushingstepsbehindherclosedin.Shedidn’tdareriskherbalanceby

looking.Twentyfeet.Ten.Five.Yrene hurled for the handle, gripping itwith all her strength to keep from

slidingpastassheshovedagainstit.The door opened, and she whirled in, legs slipping beneath her as she

slammedherentirebodyintothedoorandfumbledforthelock.Thereweretwo.Shefinishedthefirstwhenthepersonontheothersidebarreledintothedoor.

Theentirethingshuddered.Her fingers shook, her breath escaping in sharp sobs as she fought for the

second,heavierlock.Sheflippeditclosedjustasthedoorbuckledagain.“Whatinhell—”“Getinsideyourroom,”shebreathedtoChaol,notdaringtotakehereyesoff

thedoorasitshuddered.Asthehandlerattled.“Getin—now.”Yrenelookedthentofindhiminthethresholdofhisbedroom,swordinhis

hand.Eyesonthedoor.“Whothehellisthat.”“Getinside,”shesaid,hervoicebreaking.“Please.”Hereadtheterrorinherface.Readandunderstood.Heshovedback into the room,holding thedoor forherand thensealing it

behindher.The frontdoor cracked.Chaol lockedhisbedroomdoorwith a click.Only

onelock.“Thechest,”hesaid,hisvoiceunfaltering.“Canyoumoveit?”Yrenewhirledtothechestofdrawersbesidethedoor.Shedidn’treplyasshe

threwherselfagainstit,shoesagainslippingonthepolishedmarble—She kicked off her shoes, bare skin finding better grip on the stone as she

heavedandgruntedandshoved—Thechestslidinfrontofthebedroomdoor.“Thegardendoors,”Chaolordered,finishinglockingthem.Theyweresolidglass.Dreadandpaniccurledinhergut,rippingthebreathfromherthroat.“Yrene,”Chaolsaidevenly.Calmly.Heheldhergaze.Steadyingher.“How

faristhenearestentrancetothegardenfromtheouterhall?”“Atwo-minutewalk,”sherepliedautomatically.Itwasonlyaccessiblefrom

theinteriorrooms,andasmostofthesewereoccupied…They’dhavetotake

thehalltotheveryend.Orriskrunningthroughthebedroomsnextdoor,which…“Orone.”

“Makeitcount.”Shescannedthebedroomforanything.Therewasanarmoirebesidetheglass

doors,toweringhighabove.Toohigh,tooenormouslyheavy—Butthemovablescreentothebathroom…Yrene hurtled across the room, Chaol lunging for a set of daggers on his

nightstand.Shegrabbedtheheavywoodenscreenandhauledandshovedit,cursingasit

snaggedontherug.Butitmoved—itgotthere.Sheflungopenthearmoiredoorsandwedgedthescreenbetweenitandthewall,shakingitafewtimesforgoodmeasure.Itheld.

She rushed to the desk, throwing books and vases off it. They shatteredacrossthefloor.Staycalm;stayfocused.Yrenehauledthedesktothewoodscreenandflippeditontoitssidewitha

clatteringcrash.Sheshoveditagainstthebarricadeshe’dmade.Butthewindow—Therewasoneacrosstheroom.Highandsmall,but—“Leave it,” Chaol ordered, sliding into place in front of the glass doors.

Swordangledanddaggerinhisotherhand.“Iftheytrythatroute,thesmallsizewillforcethemtobeslow.”

Longenoughforhimtokillit—whoeveritwas.“Getoverhere,”hesaidquietly.Shedidso,eyesdartingbetweenthebedroomdoorandthegardendoors.“Deep breaths,” he told her. “Center yourself. Fear will get you killed as

easilyasaweapon.”Yreneobeyed.“Takethedaggeronthebed.”

Yrenebalkedattheweapon.“Doit.”Shegrabbedthedagger,themetalcoolandheavyinherhand.Unwieldy.Hisbreathingwassteady.Hisfocusunrelentingashemonitoredbothdoors.

Thewindow.“Thebathroom,”shewhispered.“Thewindowsaretoohighandnarrow.”“Whatifit’snotinahumanbody?”Thewordsrippedfromherinahoarsewhisper.Theillustrationsshe’dseen

inthatbook—“ThenI’llkeepitoccupiedwhileyourun.”Withthefurnitureinfrontoftheexits—Hiswordssankin.“Youwilldonosuch—”Thebedroomdoorshudderedbeneathablow.Thenanother.Thehandleshookandshook.Oh,gods.They hadn’t bothered with the garden. They’d simply gotten in the front

doors.Anotherbangthathadherflinchingaway.Another.“Steady,”Chaolmurmured.Yrene’sdaggertrembledasheangledhimselftothebedroomdoor,hisblades

unwavering.Anotherbang,furiousandraging.Then—avoice.Softandhissing,neithermalenorfemale.“Yrene,”itwhisperedthroughthecrackinthedoor.Shecouldhearthesmile

initsvoice.“Yrene.”Herbloodwentcold.Itwasnotahumanvoice.

“Whatisityouwant,”Chaolsaid,hisownvoicelikesteel.“Yrene.”Her knees buckled so wildly she could barely stand. Every moment of

trainingshe’ddoneslitheredrightoutofherhead.“Getout,”Chaolsnarledtowardthedoor.“Beforeyouregretit.”“Yrene,”ithissed,laughingabit.“Yrene.”Valg.Onehadindeedbeenhuntingherthatnight,andhadcomeforheragain

tonight—Clappingherfreehandoverhermouth,Yrenesankontotheedgeofthebed.“Don’tyouwasteoneheartbeatbeingafraidofacowardwhohuntswomen

inthedarkness,”Chaolsnappedather.The thing on the other side of the door growled. The doorknob rattled.

“Yrene,”itrepeated.Chaolonlyheldherstare.“Yourfeargrantsitpoweroveryou.”“Yrene.”He approached her, lowering his dagger and sword into his lap. Yrene

flinched,abouttowarnhimnottolowerhisweapons.ButChaolstoppedbeforeher.Tookherfaceinhishands,hisbackwhollytothedoornow.Eventhoughsheknewhemonitoredeverysoundandmovementbehindit.“Iamnotafraid,”hesaidsoftly,butnotweakly.“Andneithershouldyoube.”

“Yrene,”thethingsnappedontheothersideofthedoor,slammingintoit.Shecringedaway,butChaolheldherfacetightly.Didnotbreakhergaze.“Wewillfacethis,”hesaid.“Together.”Together.Liveordiehere—together.Herbreathingcalmed,theirfacessoclosehisownbreathbrushedhermouth.Together.Shehadn’t thought tousesuchaword, to feelwhat itmeant…Shehadn’t

feltitsince—Together.

Yrenenodded.Once.Twice.Chaolsearchedhereyes,hisbreathfanninghermouth.He lifted her hand, still clutched around the dagger, and adjusted her grip.

“Angleitup,notstraightin.Youknowwhereitis.”Heputahandonhischest.Overhisheart.“Theotherplaces.”

Brain.Through the eye socket.Throat, slashing tounleash the life’s blood.Allthevariousarteriesthatcouldbestrucktoensureaswiftbleed-out.

Thingsshehadlearnedtosave.Not—end.Butthisthing…“Beheadingworksbest,buttrytogetitdownfirst.Longenoughtoseverthe

head.”He’d done this before, she realized. He’d killed these things. Triumphed

against them.Had taken themonwithnomagicbut his own indomitablewillandcourage.

Andshe…shehadcrossedmountainsandseas.Shehaddoneitonherown.Herhandstoppedshaking.Herbreathingevenedout.Chaol’s fingers squeezedaroundherown, thehilt’s finemetalpushing into

thepalmofherhand.“Together,”hesaidonelasttime,andreleasedhertopluckuphisownweaponsagain.

Tofacethedoor.Therewasonlysilence.Hewaited,calculating.Sensing.Apredatorpoisedtostrike.Yrene’sdaggerheldsteadyassherosetoherfeetbehindhim.Acrashsoundedthroughthefoyer—followedbyshouting.Shestarted,butChaolloosedabreath.Oneofshudderingrelief.Herecognizedthesoundsbeforeshedid.Theshoutsofguards.They spoke in Halha—cries through the bedroom door about their status.

Safe?Hurt?

Yrene replied in her own shoddy use of the language that they wereunharmed.Theguardssaid theservantgirlhadseen thebrokensuitedoorandcomerunningtofetchthem.

Therewasnooneelseinthesuite.

28

Prince Kashin arrived swiftly, summoned by the guards at Yrene’s request—beforesheorChaolevendaredtoremovethefurniturebarringthedoor.Anyoftheotherroyalsrequiredtoomuchexplaining,butKashin…Heunderstoodthethreat.

Chaol knew the prince’s voice well enough by that point—Yrene knew itwellherself—thatas it filled thesuitefoyer,hegaveher thenod tohaulawaythefurnitureblockingthedoor.

Chaolwasgrateful,justforaheartbeat,thatheremainedinthischair.Reliefmighthavebuckledhislegs.

Hehadn’tbeenabletodiscernaviablepathoutofit.Notforher.Inthechair,againstaValgminion,hewasasgoodascarrion,thoughhe’dcalculatedthatawell-timedthrowofhisdaggerandswordmightsave them.Thathadbeenhisbestoption:throwing.

Hehadn’tcared—notreally.Notaboutwhatitmeantforhim.Butabouthowmuchtimethatthrowmightbuyher.

Someone had hunted her. Meant to kill her. Terrorize and torment her.Perhapsworse, if itwas indeedaValg-infestedagentofMorath.Which ithadsureashellsoundedlike.

Hehadn’tbeenabletomakeoutthevoice.Maleorfemale.Justoneofthem,though.

Yrene remained calm as she opened the door at last to reveal awild-eyed

Kashin,pantingheavily.Theprincescannedherfromheadtotoe,gaveChaolabriefglance,thenreturnedhisfocustothehealer.“Whathappened?”

YrenelingeredbehindChaol’schairasshesaidwithsurprisingcalm,“IwaswalkingbackheretomakesureLordWestfalltookatonic.”

Liar. Smooth, pretty liar. She’d likely been coming back to give him thesecondearfulChaolhadbeenwaitingforallevening.

Yrenecamearoundthechairtostandbesidehim,closeenoughthattheheatof her warmed his shoulder. “And I was nearly here when I sensed someonebehindme.”Yrene thenexplained therest,observing theroomeverynowandthen,asifwhoeverithadbeenwouldleapoutoftheshadows.AndwhenKashinaskedifshesuspectedwhysomeonemightdoherharm,YreneglancedatChaol,asilentconversationpassingbetweenthem:ithadlikelybeentospookherfromhelping him, forwhateverwicked purpose ofMorath.But she’d only told theprinceshedidn’tknow.

Kashin’s face tightenedwithfuryashestudied thecrackeddoor toChaol’sbedroom.Hesaidoverhisshouldertotheguardscombingthroughthesuite,“Iwantfourofyououtsidethissuite.Anotherfourattheendofthehall.Adozenofyouinthegarden.Sixmoreatthevarioushallcrossroadsthatleadhere.”

Yreneletoutabreathofwhatmightverywellhavebeenrelief.Kashinheardit,puttingahandonthehiltofhisswordashesaid,“Thecastle

isalreadybeingsearched.Iplantojointhem.”Chaolknewitwasn’tforYrenealone.Knewthattheprincehadgoodreason

to join the hunt, that there was likely still a white banner hanging from hiswindows.

Gallant and dedicated. Perhaps how all princes should be. And perhaps agoodfriendforDoriantohave.Ifeverythingwentintheirfavor.

Kashin seemed to take a bracing breath. Then he asked Yrene quietly,“BeforeIgo…whydon’tIescortyoubacktotheTorre?Withanarmedguard,ofcourse.”

Therewasenoughconcernandhopeintheprince’seyesthatChaolmadeapointtobusyhimselfbymonitoringtheguardsstillexaminingeveryinchoftherooms.

YetYrenewrappedherarmsaroundherselfandsaid,“Ifeelsaferhere.”Chaoltriednottoblinkather.Atthewords.Withhim.Shefeltsaferherewithhim.Heavoidedtheurgetoremindherthathewasinthischair.Kashin’s gaze now shifted to him, as if remembering hewas there.And it

wasdisappointment that nowhardenedhis gaze—disappointment andwarningashemetChaol’sstare.

ChaolclampeddownonhiswarningtoKashintostopgivinghimthatlookandgosearchthepalace.

He’d keep his hands to himself. He’d been unable to stop thinking aboutNesryn’s letter all day.Whenhewasn’tmullingover all thatShenhad shownhim—whatithaddonetohimtoseewhatlaybeneaththatproudguard’ssleeve.

But theprince justbowedhishead,ahandonhischest.“Sendwordifyouneedanything.”

YrenebarelymanagedanodinKashin’sdirection.ItwasdismissiveenoughthatChaolalmostfeltbadfortheman.

TheprincemovedoutwithalingeringglanceatYrene,someguardstrailinghim, the others remainingbehind.Chaolwatched through the gardendoors astheysettledintoplacejustoutside.

“Nesryn’sbedroomisempty,”hesaidwhentheywerealoneinhischamberatlast.

Hewaited for thequestionaboutwhy—but realized shehadn’t somuch asmentionedNesrynwhenshe’dfledinhere.Hadn’ttriedtorouseher.She’dgonerighttohim.

SoitwasnosurprisewhenYrenejustsaid,“Iknowitis.”Palace spiesor gossip, hedidn’t care.Not asYrene said, “I—can I stay in

here?I’llsleeponthefloor—”“Youcansleepinthebed.IdoubtI’llgetanyresttonight.”Evenwith theguardsoutside…He’dseenwhatoneValgcoulddoagainst

multiplemen.He’dseenAelinmove,oneassassinthroughafieldofmen.Andcutthemdowninheartbeats.

No,hewouldnotbesleepingtonight.“Youcan’tsitinthatchairallnight—”Chaolgaveheralookthatsaidotherwise.Yrene swallowed and excused herself to the bathing room.As she quickly

washed up, he assessed the guards outside, the integrity of the bedroom lock.Sheemergedstillinherdress,necklinewet,facewanagain.Shehesitatedbeforethebed.

“Theychangedthesheets,”Chaolsaidsoftly.Shedidn’tlookathimassheclimbedin.Eachmovementsmallerthanusual

—brittle.Terrorstillgrippedher.Thoughshe’ddonebeautifully.Hewasn’tsureifhe

wouldhavebeenable tomovethatchestofdrawers,butpure terrorhadgivenher adoseof strength.He’dheard storiesofmothers liftingentirewagonsofftheirchildrencrushedbeneath.

Yreneslidbeneaththecovers,butmadenomovetonestleherheadontothepillow.“Whatisitlike—tokillsomeone?”

Cain’sfaceflashedinhismind.“I—I’mnewtoit,”Chaoladmitted.Sheangledherhead.“Itookmyfirstlife…justafterYulemaslastyear.”Herbrowsnarrowed.“But—you—”“Itrainedforit.Hadfoughtbefore.Butneverkilledsomeone.”“YouweretheCaptainoftheGuard.”“Itoldyou,”hesaidwithabittersmile,“itwascomplicated.”

Yrenenestleddownatlast.“Butyouhavedoneitsince.”“Yes. But not enough to grow used to it. Against the Valg, yes, but the

humans they infest…Someare lost forever.Someare still there, beneath thedemon.Figuringoutwhotokill,whocanbespared—Istilldon’tknowwherethebadchoiceslie.Thedeaddonotspeak.”

Herheadslidagainst thepillow.“I tookanoathbeforemymother.WhenIwasseven.Nevertokillahumanbeing.Somehealings…shetoldmeofferingdeathcouldbeamercy.Butthatitwasdifferentfromslaughter.”

“Itis.”“Ithink—Imighthavetriedtokillwhoeveritwastonight.Iwasthat…”He

waitedforhertosayfrightened.Frightened,withmyonlydefenderinachair.“Iwasthatdecidedagainstrunning.Youtoldmeyou’dbuymetime,but…Ican’tdoit.Notagain.”

Hischesttightened.“Iunderstand.”“I’mgladIdidn’tdoit.But—whoeveritisgotaway.PerhapsIshouldnotbe

sorelieved.”“Kashinmaybeluckyinhissearch.”“Idoubtit.Theyweregonebeforetheguardsarrived.”He fell quiet.After amoment, he said, “I hopeyounever have touse that

dagger—oranyother,Yrene.Evenasamercy.”The sorrow inher eyeswas enough toknock thebreath fromhim. “Thank

you,”shesaidsoftly.“Forbeingwillingtotakethatdeathuponyourself.”Noonehadeversaidsucha thing.EvenDorian.But ithadbeenexpected.

Celaena—Aelinhadbeengratefulwhenhe’dkilledCaintosaveher,butshehadexpectedhimtoonedaymakeakill.

Aelinhadmademorethanhecouldcountbythatpoint,andhisownlackofithadbeen…embarrassing.Asifsuchathingwerepossible.

He had killed plenty since then. In Rifthold.With those rebels against theValg.ButYrene…shemade thatnumber smaller.Hehadn’t lookedat it that

way.Withpride.Relief.“I’msorryNesrynleft,”Yrenemurmuredintothedimlight.Iholdyoutonopromises.AndIwillholdtononeofmyown.“Ipromisedheranadventure,”Chaoladmitted.“Shedeservedtogoonone.”Yrene was quiet enough that he turned from the garden doors. She had

snuggleddeepintohisbed,herattentionfixedwhollyonhim.“Whataboutyou?Whatdoyoudeserve?”

“Nothing.Ideservenothing.”Yrenestudiedhim.“Idon’tagreeatall,”shemurmured,eyelidsdrooping.He monitored the exits again. After a fewminutes, he said, “I was given

enoughandsquanderedit.”Chaol looked over at her, but Yrene’s face was softened with sleep, her

breathingsteady.Hewatchedherforalongwhile.

Yrenewasstillsleepingwhendawnbroke.Chaolhaddozedforafewminutesatatime,asmuchashe’dallowhimself.Butasthesuncreptacrossthebedroomfloor,hefoundhimselfwashinghis

face.Scrubbingthesleepfromhiseyes.Yrenedidn’tstirashemovedoutof thesuiteand into thehall.Theguards

were preciselywhereKashin had ordered them to remain.And they told himpreciselywhereheneededtogowhenhemetthemeachintheeyeandaskedfordirections.

And thenhe informed them that ifYrenewereharmedwhilehewasgone,he’dshattereveryboneintheirbodies.

Minutes later, he found the training courtyard Yrene had mentionedyesterday.

Itwas already full ofguards, someofwhomeyedhimand someofwhom

ignoredhimfully.SomeofwhomherecognizedfromShen’sshift,andgavehimanod.

Oneoftheguardshedidnotknowapproachedhim,olderandgrayerthantherest.

LikeBrullo,hisformerinstructorandWeaponsMaster.Dead—hangingfromthosegates.Chaolpushedawaytheimage.Replaceditwiththehealerstillasleepinhis

bed.Howshehadlookedwhenshe’ddeclaredtotheprince,theworld,thatshefeltsaferthere.Withhim.

He replaced thepain that rippled throughhimat thesightof theexercisingguards, the sight of this private training space, so similar to the one inwhichhe’dspentsomanyhoursofhislife,withtheimageofShen’sartificialarm,theunwavering, quiet strength he’d felt supporting him while he’d mounted hishorse.Nolessamanwithoutthatarm—nolessaguard.

“LordWestfall,”saidthegray-hairedguard,usinghislanguage.“WhatcanIdo foryouat thishour?”Themanseemedastuteenough toknow if therehadbeen something related to theattack, thiswouldnotbe theplace todiscuss it.No, the man knew Chaol had come here for a different reason, and read thetensioninhisbodyasnotasourceofalarm,butintrigue.

“I trained for years with men from my continent,” Chaol said, lifting theswordanddaggerhe’dbroughtwithhim.“Learnedasmuchastheyknow.”

Theolderguard’sbrowsflickedup.Chaolheldtheman’sstare.“Iwouldliketolearnwhatyouknow.”

Theagingguard—Hashim—workedhimuntilChaolcouldbarelybreathe.Eveninthechair.Andoutofit.

Hashim, who was a rank below captain and oversaw the guards’ training,foundwaysforChaoltodotheirexerciseseitherwithsomeonebracinghisfeet

ormodifiedversionsfromthechair.He had indeed worked with Shen a year ago—many of the guards had.

They’d banded together, assisting Shen in any way they could with thereorienting of his body, his way of fighting, during those long months ofrecovery.

Sonotoneofthemstaredorlaughed.Notoneofthemwhispered.Theywerealltoobusy,tootired,tobotheranyway.Thesunroseoverthecourtyard,andstilltheyworked.StillHashimshowed

himnewwaystostrikewithablade.Howtodisarmanopponent.Adifferentwayofthinking,ofkilling.Ofdefending.Adifferentlanguageof

death.Theybrokeatbreakfast,allofthemnear-tremblingwithexhaustion.Evenwinded,Chaolcouldhavekeptgoing.Notforanyreserveofstrength,

butbecausehewantedto.Yrenewaswaitingwhenhereturnedtothesuiteandbathed.Sixhours,theythenspentlostinthatdarkness.Attheendofit,thepainhad

wrecked him, Yrene was shaking with exhaustion, but a precise sort ofawareness had awoken within his feet. Crept up past his ankles. As if thenumbnesswerearecedingtide.

YrenereturnedtotheTorrethatnightunderheavyguard,andhefellintothedeepestsleepofhislife.

ChaolwaswaitingforHashiminthetrainingringbeforedawn.Andthenextdawn.Andthenext.

PARTTWOMOUNTAINSANDSEAS

29

Storms waylaid Nesryn and Sartaq on their way out of the northern AsimilMountains.

Upon awakening, the prince had taken one look at the bruised clouds andordered Nesryn to secure everything she could on their rocky outcropping.Kadarashiftedfromclawedfoottoclawedfoot,rustlingherwingsashergoldeneyesmonitoredthestormgallopingin.

Thathighup,thecrackofthunderechoedoffeveryrockandcrevice,andasNesryn and Sartaq sat pressed against the stone wall beneath the overhang,winds lashing them, she could have sworn even the mountain beneathshuddered. ButKadara held fast against the storm, settling herself in front ofthem,averitablewallofwhiteandgoldenfeathers.

Still the icyrainmanagedtofind them,freezingNesryndowntoherbonesevenwiththethickrukleathersandheavywoolblanketSartaqinsistedshewraparoundherself.Her teethchatteredviolentlyenoughtomakeher jawhurt,andherhandsweresonumbandrawthatshekeptthemtuckedbeneathherarmpitsjusttosavoranyscrapofwarmth.

Evenbeforemagichadvanished,Nesrynhadneverlongedformagicalgifts.And aftermagic had disappeared, after the decrees banning it and the terriblehuntsforthosewhohadoncewieldedit,Nesrynhadn’tdaredtoeventhinkaboutmagic.She’dbeencontenttopracticeherarchery,tolearnhowtowieldknivesand swords, tomasterherbodyuntil it, too,was aweapon.Magichad failed,

she’dtoldherfatherandsisterwhenevertheyasked.Goodsteelwouldnot.Yet sitting on that cliff, whipped by the wind and rain until she couldn’t

rememberwhatwarmth felt like,Nesryn found herselfwishing for a spark offlame in her veins. Or at least for a certain Fire-Bringer to come swaggeringaroundthecorneroftheclifftowarmthem.

But Aelin was far away—unaccounted for, if Hasar’s report was to bebelieved,whichNesryndid.ThetruequestionwaswhetherAelinandhercourt’svanishingwereduetosomeawfulplaybyMorath,orsomeschemeofthequeenherself.

HavingseenwhatAelinwascapableofinRifthold,theplansshe’dlaidoutandenactedwithoutanyofthemknowing…Nesryn’smoneywasonAelin.Thequeenwouldshowupwhenandwhereshewished—atpreciselythemomentsheintended.Nesrynsupposedthatwaswhyshelikedthequeen:therewereplanssolonginthemakingthatforsomeonewholettheworlddeemheruncheckedandbrash,Aelinshowedagreatdealofrestraintinkeepingitallhidden.

And as that storm raged aroundNesryn andSartaq, shewondered ifAelinGalathyniusmightyethavesomecarduphersleeve thatevenhercourtmightnotknowabout.SheprayedAelindid.Foralltheirsakes.

Butmagic had failed before,Nesryn reminded herself as her teeth clackedagainst each other. And she’d do everything she could to find a way to fightMorathwithoutit.

Itwashoursbeforethestormatlast lumberedofftoterrorizeotherpartsofthe world, Sartaq only easing to his feet when Kadara fanned her feathers,shakingofftherain.Sprayingthemintheprocess,butNesrynwasinnopositiontocomplain,whentherukhadtakenthebruntofthestorm’swrathforthem.

Of course, it also left the saddle damp, which in turn led to a fairlyuncomfortable ride as they soared down the brisk, clean winds from themountainsandintothesprawlinggrasslandsbelow.

With the delay, theywere forced to camp for another night, this time in a

copseoftrees,againwithnotsomuchasanembertowarmthem.Nesrynkepthermouth shutabout it—thecold that lingeredalongherbones, the roots thatdugintoherbackthroughthebedroll,theemptypitinherstomachthatfruitanddriedmeatandday-oldbreadcouldn’tfill.

Sartaq,tohiscredit,gaveherhisblanketsandaskedifshewantedachangeofhisclothes.Butshebarelyknewhim,sherealized.Thismanshe’dflownoffwith,thisprincewithhissuldeandsharp-eyedruk…Hewaslittlemorethanastranger.

Suchthingsdidn’tusuallybotherher.Workingforthecityguard,she’ddealtwith strangers everyday, invarious statesof awfulnessorpanic.Thepleasantencounters had been few and far between, particularly in the past sixmonths,whendarknesshadcreptoverthecityandhuntedbeneathit.

ButwithSartaq…AsNesrynshiveredallnightlong,shewonderedifshe’dperhapsbeenatadhastyincominghere,possibleallianceorno.

Her limbs ached and eyes burned when the gray light of dawn trickledthroughtheslimpines.Kadarawasalreadystirring,eagertobeoff,andNesrynandSartaqexchangedlessthanahalf-dozensentencesbeforetheywereairborneforthelastlegoftheirjourney.

They’dbeenflyingfortwohours,thewindsgrowingcrisperthefarthersouththeysailed,whenSartaqsaidinherear,“Thatway.”Hepointeddueeast.“Flyhalfadayinthatdirection,andyouwillreachthenorthernedgesofthesteppes.TheheartlandoftheDarghan.”

“Doyouvisitoften?”Apause.Hesaidoverthewind,“Kashinholdstheirloyalty.And—Tumelun.”

Theway he spoke his sister’s name implied enough. “But the rukhin and theDarghanwereonceoneandthesame.WechaseddowntheruksatopourMuniqihorses, tracked them deep into the Tavan Mountains.” He pointed to thesoutheast as Kadara shifted, aiming for the towering, jagged mountains thatclawedatthesky.Theywerepepperedwithforests,somepeakscappedinsnow.

“Andwhenwetamedtheruks,someofthehorse-lordschosenottoreturndowntothesteppes.”

“Which is why so many of your traditions remain the same,” Nesrynobserved,glancingdownat the sulde strapped to the saddle.The drop far, farbelowloomed,driedgrassesswayinglikeagoldensea,carvedbythin,twiningrivers.

Shequicklylookedaheadtowardthemountains.Thoughshe’dgrownmostlyaccustomedtotheideaofhowverylittlestoodbetweenheranddeathatopthisruk,remindingherselfofitdidnothingtosettleherstomach.

“Yes,”Sartaqsaid.“ItisalsowhyourridersoftenbandwiththeDarghaninwar.Ourfightingtechniquesdiffer,butwemostlyknowhowtoworktogether.”

“A cavalry below and aerial coverage above,” Nesryn said, trying not tosoundtoointerested.“Haveyouevergonetowar?”

Theprincewasquietforaminute.Thenhesaid,“Notonthescaleofwhatisbeingunleashed inyour land.Our fatherensures that the territorieswithinourempirearewellawarethatloyaltyisrewarded.Andresistanceisansweredwithdeath.”

Iceskittereddownherspine.Sartaq went on, “So I have been dispatched twice now to remind certain

restlessterritoriesofthatcoldtruth.”Ahotbreathatherear.“Thentherearetheclans within the rukhin themselves. Ancient rivalries that I have learned tonavigate,andconflictsIhavehadtosmoothover.”

Thehardway,hedidn’tadd.Heinsteadsaid,“Asacityguard,youmusthavedealtwithsuchthings.”

Shesnortedatthethought.“Iwasmostlyonpatrol—rarelypromoted.”“Consideringyourskillwithabow,Iwouldhavethoughtyourantheentire

place.”Nesryn smiled.Charmer.Beneath that unfailingly sure exterior, Sartaqwas

certainlyashamelessflirt.Butsheconsideredhisimpliedquestion,thoughshe

hadknown the answer for years. “Adarlan is not as…open as thekhaganatewhen it comes to embracing the role of women in the ranks of its guards orarmies,” sheadmitted. “While Imightbe skilled,menusuallywerepromoted.So I was left to rot on patrol duty at the walls or busy streets. Handling theunderworld or nobility was left for more important guards. And ones whosefamilieshailedfromAdarlan.”

Hersisterhadragedanytimeithappened,butNesrynhadknownthatifshe’dexploded to her superiors, if she’d challenged them…Theywere the sort ofmenwhowouldtellhertobegratefultobeadmittedatall,thendemandsheturninherswordanduniform.Soshe’dfigureditwasbettertoremain,tobepassedover,notformerepay,butforthefactthatthereweresofewotherguardslikeher,helpingthosewhoneededitmost.Itwasfor themshestayedon,keptherheaddownwhilelessermenwereappointed.

“Ah.”Another beat of quiet from the prince. “I’ve heard theywere not sowelcomingtowardpeoplefromotherlands.”

“Tosaytheleast.”Thewordswerecolderthanshe’dmeant.Andyetthatwaswhere her father had insisted they live, thinking it offered some sort of betterlife.EvenwhenAdarlanhadlauncheditswarstoconquerthenortherncontinent,he’dstayed—thoughhermotherhad tried toconvincehimtoreturn toAntica,the city of her heart. Yet for whatever reason, perhaps stubbornness, perhapsdefianceagainstthepeoplewhowantedtothrowhimoutagain,he’dstayed.

AndNesryn triednot to fault him for it, she really did.Her sister couldn’tunderstand it—Nesryn’s occasional, simmering anger on the topic.No,Delarahadalways lovedRifthold, loved thebustleof thecityand thrivedonwinningover its hard-edged people. It had been no surprise that she’dmarried amanbornandraisedinthecityitself.AtruechildofAdarlan—that’swhathersisterwas.Atleast,ofwhatAdarlanhadoncebeenandmightonedayagainbecome.

Kadaracaughtaswiftwindandcoastedalongit,theworldbelowpassinginabluras those toweringmountainsgrewcloser andcloser.Sartaqaskedquietly,

“Wereyouever—”“It’snotworth talkingabout.”Notwhenshecouldsometimesstill feel that

rock as it collided with her head, hear the taunts of those children. Sheswallowedandadded,“YourHighness.”

Alowlaugh.“Somytitlemakesanappearanceagain.”Buthedidn’tpressfurther. He only said, “I’m going to beg you not to call me Prince or YourHighnessaroundtheotherriders.”

“You’regoingtobegme,oryouare?”His arms tightened around her in mock warning. “It tookme years to get

themtostopasking if Ineededmysilkslippersorservants tobrushmyhair.”Nesrynchuckled.“Amongstthem,IamsimplySartaq.”Headded,“OrCaptain.”

“Captain?”“AnotherthingyouandIhaveincommon,itseems.”Shamelessflirtindeed.“Butyouruleallsixrukclans.Theyanswertoyou.”“Theydo,andwhenweallgather,IamPrince.Butamongstmyfamily’sown

clan,theEridun,Icaptaintheirforces.Andobeythewordofmyhearth-mother.”Hesqueezedheragainforemphasis.“WhichI’dadviseyoudoingaswell,ifyoudon’twanttobestrippedandtiedtoaclifffaceinthemiddleofastorm.”

“Holygods.”“Indeed.”“Didshe—”“Yes.Andasyousaid,it’snotworthtalkingabout.”ButNesrynchuckledagain,surprisedtofindherfaceachingfromsmilingso

oftenthesepastfewminutes.“Iappreciatethewarning,Captain.”TheTavanMountainsturnedmammoth,awallofdarkgraystonehigherthan

anyshe’deverbeheldinherownlands.Notthatshe’dseenmanymountainsupclose. Her family had rarely ventured inland into Adarlan or its surroundingkingdoms—mostlybecauseher fatherhadbeenbusy,butpartiallybecause therural people in those areas did not take sowell to outsiders. Evenwhen their

children had been born on Adarlanian soil, with an Adarlanian mother.Sometimesthatlatterfacthadbeenmoreenragingtothem.

Nesrynonlyprayedthattherukhinwouldbemorewelcoming.

Inallher father’sstories, thedescriptionsof theaeriesof therukhinsomehowstilldidnotconveythesheerimpossibilityofwhathadbeenbuiltintothesidesandatopthreetoweringpeaksclusteredintheheartoftheTavanMountains.

Itwasnoassortmentofgir—framed,widetents—thatthehorse-clansmovedaboutthesteppes.No,theEridunaeriehadbeenhewnintothestone,housesandhallsandchambers,manyofthemoriginallynestsfortheruksthemselves.

Someofthosenestsremained,usuallyneararuk’sriderandtheirfamily,sothebirds couldbe summoned at amoment’s notice.Either through awhistledcommand or by someone climbing the countless rope ladders anchored to thestone itself, allowing movement between various homes and caves—thoughinternal stairwells had also been builtwithin the peaks themselves,mostly fortheelderlyandchildren.

Thehomesthemselveseachcameequippedwithabroadcavemouthfortheruks to land, the livingquartershewnbehind them.Afewwindowsdotted therockfacehereandthere,markersofroomshiddenbehindthestone,anddrawingfreshairtothechamberswithin.

Notthattheyneededmuchmorefreshairhere.Thewindwasariverbetweenthethreeclose-knitpeaksthathousedSartaq’shearth-clan,fullofruksofvarioussizessoaringorflappingordiving.Nesryntriedandfailedtocountthedwellingscarvedintothemountains.Therehadtobehundredshere.Andperhapsmorelaywithinthemountainsthemselves.

“This—thisisonlyoneclan?”Herfirstwordsinhours.Kadara soared up the face of the centermost peak.Nesryn slid back in the

saddle,Sartaq’sbodyawarmwallbehindherasheleanedforward,guidingher

todosoaswell.His thighsbracketedhers, themuscles shiftingbeneathashekepttheirbalancewiththestirrups.“TheEridunisoneofthelargest—theoldest,ifwe’retobebelieved.”

“You’renot?”Theaeriearoundthemhadindeedseemedtohaveexistedforuntoldages.

“Every clan claims it is the oldest and first among riders.” A laugh thatrumbled into her body. “When there is aGathering, you should only hear theargumentsaboutit.You’rebetteroff toinsultamanabouthiswifethantotellhimtohisfacethatyourclanistheeldest.”

Nesryn smiled, even as she squeezed her eyes shut against the sheer dropbehindher.Kadaraaimed,swiftandunfaltering,forthebroadestofoverhangs—averanda,sherealizedastherukbankedtowardit.Peoplewerealreadystandingjustbeneaththeenormousarchofthecavemouth,armsraisedingreeting.

ShefeltSartaq’ssmileatherear.“ThereliestheMountain-HallofAltun,thehomeofmyhearth-motherandmyfamily.”Altun—Windhaven,was theroughtranslation. Itwas indeed larger thananyotherdwellingamid the threepeaks:theDorgos,orThreeSingers,theywerecalled—thecaveitselfatleastfortyfeettall and thrice as wide. Far within, she could just make out pillars and whatindeedseemedtobeamassivehall.

“Thereceptioncourt—wherewehostourmeetingsandcelebrations,”Sartaqexplained, his arms tightening around her just as Kadara back-flapped.Squeezinghereyesshutagaininfrontoftheawaitingpeoplewouldcertainlynotwinheranyadmiration,but—

Nesryngripped thesaddlehornwithonehand, theotherclenchingSartaq’sknee,bracedbehindhers.Hardenoughtobruise.

Theprinceonlylaughedquietly.“Sothefamedarcherdoeshaveaweakness,then.”

“I’ll find out yours soon enough,” Nesryn countered, earning another softlaughinreply.

Therukmercifullymadeasmoothlandingonthepolisheddarkstoneofthealmost-balcony, those waiting at the entrance bracing themselves against thewindoffherwings.

Then theywere still, andNesryn quickly straightened, releasing her death-griponbothsaddleandprincetobeholdahallfullofpillarsofcarved,paintedwood.Thebraziersburningthroughoutcastthegoldpaintglintingamongstthegreenandred,and thickcarpets inbold,strikingpatternscoveredmuchof thestonefloor,interruptedonlybyaroundtableandwhatseemedtobeasmalldaisagainstoneofthefarwalls.Andbeyondit,thegloombrightenedbybracketedtorches,ahallwayflowedintothemountainitself.Linedwithdoors.

ButintheverycenteroftheMountain-HallofAltun:afire.Thepithadbeencarvedintothefloor,sodeepandwidethatlayersofbroad

steps leddown to it.Likea small amphitheater—themainentertainmentnotastagebuttheflameitself.Thehearth.

ItwasindeedadomainfitfortheWingedPrince.Nesryn squared her shoulders as people young and old pressed forward,

smiling broadly. Some were clad in familiar riding leathers, some worebeautifullycolored,heavywoolcoatsthatflowedtotheirknees.MostpossessedSartaq’ssilkenonyxhairandwind-chapped,golden-brownskin.

“Well,well,”drawledayoungwomaninacobalt-and-rubycoat,tappingherbooted footon thesmooth rock flooras shepeeredupat them.Nesryn forcedherself to keep still, to endure that sweeping stare. The young woman’s twinbraids,tiedwithbandsofredleather,fellwellpastherbreasts,andshebrushedoneoverashoulderasshesaid,“Lookwhodecidedtogiveuphisfurmuffandoiledbathstojoinusoncemore.”

Nesrynschooledherfaceintocarefulcalm.ButSartaqjustdroppedKadara’sreins,theprincegivingNesrynadistinctItoldyousolookbeforehesaiddownto thegirl,“Don’tpretend thatyouhaven’tbeenprayingIbringbackmoreofthoseprettysilkslippersforyou,Borte.”

Nesrynbitherliptokeepfromsmiling, thoughtheotherscertainlyshowednosuchrestraintastheirchucklesrumbledoffthedarkstones.

Borte crossed her arms. “I suppose you’d knowwhere to buy them, sinceyou’resofondofwearingthemyourself.”

Sartaqlaughed,thesoundrichandmerry.Itwasaneffortnottogawk.Hehadnotmadesuchalaugh,notonce,atthe

palace.Andwhenhad she lastmade such abright sound?Evenwithher aunt and

uncle,herlaughterhadbeenrestrained,asifsomeinvisibledamperlayoverher.Perhapslongbeforethat,stretchingbacktodayswhenshewasonlyacityguardwithnoideawhatcrawledthroughthesewersofRifthold.

SartaqsmoothlydismountedKadaraandofferedahandtohelpNesryndown.It was the hand he lifted thatmade the dozen or so gathered notice her—

studyher.NonemorecloselythanBorte.Anothershrewd,weighinglook.Seeingtheleathers,butnoneofthefeatures

thatmarkedherasoneofthem.She’d dealt with the judgment of strangers long before now—this was

nothing new.Even if she now stood in the gilded halls ofAltun, amongst therukhin.

IgnoringSartaq’sofferedhand,Nesrynforcedherstiffbodytosmoothlyslideonelegoverthesaddleanddismountedherself.Herkneespoppedattheimpact,butshemanagedtolandlightly,anddidn’tletherselftouchherhair—whichshewascertainwasarat’snestdespitehershortbraid.

AfaintgleamofapprovalenteredBorte’sdarkeyesjustbeforethegirljerkedherchin towardNesryn.“ABalruhniwoman in the leathersofa rukhin.Now,there’sasight.”

Sartaqdidn’t answer.Heonlyglanced inNesryn’s direction.An invitation.Andchallenge.

SoNesryn slippedherhands into thepocketsofher close-fittingpants and

saunteredtotheprince’sside.“WillitbeimprovedifItellyouIcaughtSartaqfilinghisnailsthismorning?”

BortestaredatNesryn,blinkingonce.Thenshetippedbackherheadandhowled.Sartaq threw an approving yet beleaguered glance in Nesryn’s direction

before saying, “Meet my hearth-sister, Borte. Granddaughter and heir of myhearth-mother,Houlun.”HereachedbetweenthemtotugoneofBorte’sbraids.Shebattedhishandaway.“Borte,meetCaptainNesrynFaliq.”Hepausedforabreath,thenadded,“OftheRoyalGuardofAdarlan.”

Silence.Borte’sarcheddarkbrowsrose.Anagingmaninrukhinleatherspressedforward.“Butwhatismoreunusual:

thataBalruhniwomanistheircaptain,orthatacaptainofAdarlanhasventuredsofar?”

Bortewavedthemanoff.“Alwaystheidlechatterandquestionswithyou,”she scoldedhim.And toNesryn’s shock, themanwincedand shuthismouth.“Therealquestion is…”AslygrinatSartaq.“Doesshecomeasemissaryorbride?”

Anyattemptatasteady,cool,calmappearancevanishedasNesryngapedatthegirl.RightasSartaqsnapped,“Borte.”

Bortegaveadownrightwickedgrin.“Sartaqneverbringssuchprettyladieshome—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges,CaptainFaliq,orsomeofthegirlsheremightgiveyouashove.”

“Willyoubeoneof them?”Nesryn’svoice remainedunruffled,even ifherfacehadheated.

Bortescowled.“Ishouldthinknot.”Someoftheotherslaughedagain.“Asmyhearth-sister,”Sartaqexplained,leadingNesryntowardtheclusterof

low-backedchairsnearthelipofthefirepit,“IconsiderBorteabloodrelative.Likemyownsister.”

Borte’sdevilishgrinfadedasshefellintostepalongsideSartaq.“Howfares

yourfamily?”Sartaq’s facewas unreadable, save for the faint flicker in those dark eyes.

“Busy,”wasallhesaid.Anonanswer.ButBortenodded,asifsheknewhismoodsandinclinationswell,andkept

quietwhileSartaqescortedNesrynintoacarvedandpaintedwoodenchair.Theheatfromtheblazingfirewasdelicious,andshenearlygroanedasshestretchedoutherfrozenfeettowardit.

Borte hissed. “You couldn’t get your sweetheart a proper pair of boots,Sartaq?”

Sartaqgrowledinwarning,butNesrynfrownedathersupple leatherboots.They’dbeenmoreexpensivethananyshe’deverdaredpurchaseforherself,butDorianHavilliardhadinsisted.Partoftheuniform,he’dtoldherwithawink.

Shewonderedifhestillsmiledsofreely,orspentasgenerously,whereverhewas.

ButsheglancedtowardBorte,whosebootswere leather,yet thicker—linedwithwhat seemed to be thickest sheepskin. Definitely better-equipped for thechillyaltitudes.

“I’msureyoucandigupapairsomewhere,”Sartaqsaidtohishearth-sister,andNesryntwistedinherchairwhilethetwoofthemdriftedbacktowardwhereKadarawaited.

ThepeoplepressedinaroundSartaq,murmuringtoosoftlyforNesryntohearfrom across the hall. But the prince spokewith easy smiles, talkingwhile heunloaded their packs, handing them off to whoever was closest, and thenunsaddledKadara.

Hegave thegolden ruka strokedownherneck, thena solid thumponherside—and then Kadara was gone, flapping into the open air beyond the cavemouth.

Nesryndebatedgoingovertothem,offeringtohelpwiththepacksthatwerenowbeinghauledthroughthechamberandintothehallwaybeyond,buttheheat

creepingupherbodyhadsappedthestrengthfromherlegs.SartaqandBorteappeared, theothersdispersing, justasNesrynnoticedthe

mansittingnearabrazier across thehall.Acupcurlingwith steamsaton thesmall, wooden table beside his chair, and though there seemed to be an openscrollinhislap,hiseyesremainedfixedonher.

She didn’t knowwhat to remark upon: thatwhile his skinwas tan, itwasclearthathedidnothailfromthesoutherncontinent;thathisshortbrownhairwasfarfromthelong,silkenbraidsoftherukriders;orthathisclothesseemedmoreakintoAdarlan’sjacketsandpants.

Onlyadaggerhungathisside,andwhilehewasbroad-shoulderedandfit,hedidn’tpossesstheself-assuredswagger,thepitilesssuretyofawarrior.Hewasperhapsinhislateforties,palewhitelinesetchedatthecornerofhiseyes,wherehe’dsquintedinthesunorwind.

BorteledSartaqaroundthefirepit,pastthevariouspillars,andrighttotheman,whogot tohis feet andbowed.He stood roughlyatSartaq’sheight, andeven from across the hall, with the crackling fire and groaning wind, NesryncouldmakeouthisshoddyHalha:“Itisanhonor,Prince.”

Bortesnorted.Sartaq just gave a curt nod and replied in the northern language, “I’m told

youhavebeenaguestofourhearth-motherforthepastfewweeks.”“She was gracious enough to welcome me here, yes.” The man sounded

slightly relieved to be using his native tongue. A glance toward Nesryn. Shedidn’tbothertopretendshewasn’tlistening.“Icouldn’thelpbutoverhearwhatIthoughtwasmentionofacaptainfromAdarlan.”

“CaptainFaliqoverseestheroyalguard.”Themandidn’ttakehiseyesoffNesrynashemurmured,“Doesshe,now.”Nesryn only held his stare from across the room.Goahead.Gawkall you

like.Sartaqaskedsharply,“Andyourname?”

Themandraggedhisgazebacktotheprince.“FalkanEnnar.”BortesaidtoSartaqinHalha,“Heisamerchant.”Andifhe’dcomefromthenortherncontinent…Nesrynslidtoherfeet,her

stepsnear-silentassheapproached.Shemadesuretheywere,asFalkanwatchedher the entireway, running an eye over her from foot to head.Made sure henotedthatthegracewithwhichshemovedwasnotsomefemininegift,butfromtrainingthathadtaughtherhowtocreepuponothersundetected.

Falkanstiffenedasifhefinallyrealizedit.Andunderstoodthatthedaggerathis side would be of little use against her, if he was stupid enough to pullsomething.

Good.ItmadehimsmarterthanagreatnumberofmeninRifthold.Stoppingacasualdistanceaway,Nesrynaskedthemerchant,“Haveyouanynews?”

Upclose, theeyesshe’dmistaken fordarkwereamidnight sapphire.He’dlikelybeenmoderatelyhandsomeinhisyouth.“Newsofwhat?”

“OfAdarlan.Of…anything.”Falkan stoodwith remarkable stillness—amanperhapsused toholdinghis

groundinabargain.“IwishthatIcouldofferyouany,Captain,butIhavebeeninthesoutherncontinentforovertwoyearsnow.YouprobablyhavemorenewsthanIdo.”Asubtlerequest.

Andonethatwouldgounanswered.Shewasnotabouttoblabherkingdom’sbusinessforalltohear.SoNesrynjustshruggedandturnedbacktowardthefirepitacrossthehall.

“Before I left the northern continent,” Falkan said as she strode away, “ayoungman namedWestfallwas theCaptain of theRoyalGuard.Are you hisreplacement?”

Careful.Sheindeedhadtobeso,socarefulnottorevealtoomuch.Tohim,toanyone.“LordWestfallisnowHandtoKingDorianHavilliard.”

Shockslackenedthemerchant’sface.Shemarkedit—everytickandflicker.No joy or relief, but no anger, either. Just… surprise. Honest, bald surprise.

“DorianHavilliardisking?”AtNesryn’sraisedbrows,Falkanexplained,“Ihavebeenin thedeepwilds

formonthsnow.Newsdoesnotcomeswiftly.Oroften.”“An odd place to be selling your goods,” Sartaq murmured. Nesryn was

inclinedtoagree.Falkanmerelygavetheprinceatightsmile.Amanwithsecretsofhisown,

then.“Ithasbeenalongjourney,”Bortecutin,loopingherarmthroughNesryn’s

and turning her toward the dim hallway beyond. “Captain Faliq needsrefreshment.Andabath.”

Nesrynwasn’tcertainwhethertothanktheyoungwomanorbegrudgeherforinterrupting, but…Her stomachwas indeed an achingpit.And it hadbeen alongwhilesinceshe’dbathed.

NeitherSartaqnorFalkanstoppedthem,thoughtheirmurmuringresumedasBorte escorted her into the hallway that shot straight into themountain itself.Wooden doors lined it, some open to reveal small bedchambers—even a littlelibrary.

“He is a strange man,” Borte said in Halha. “My grandmother refuses tospeakofwhyhecamehere—whatheseeks.”

Nesrynliftedabrow.“Trade,perhaps?”Borteshookherhead,openingadoorhalfwaydownthehall.Theroomwas

small,anarrowbedtuckedagainstonewall,theotheroccupiedbyatrunkandawoodenchair.Thefarwallheldawashbasinandewer,alongwithapileofsoft-looking cloths. “We have no goods to sell.We are usually the merchants—ferryinggoodsacrossthecontinent.Ourclanhere,notsomuch,butsomeoftheothers…Their aeries are full of treasures from every territory.” She toed thericketybedandfrowned.“Notthisoldjunk.”

Nesrynchuckled.“Perhapshewishestoassistyouinexpanding,then.”Borte turned, braids swaying. “No.He doesn’tmeetwith anyone, or seem

interestedinthat.”Ashrug.“Itmatterslittle.Onlythatheishere.”Nesryn folded away the tidbits of information.He didn’t seem like one of

Morath’sagents,butwhoknewhowfarthearmofErawannowstretched?IfithadreachedAntica,thenitwaspossibleithaddelvedintothecontinent.She’dbeonherguard—hadnodoubtSartaqalreadywas.

Bortetwirledtheendofabraidaroundafinger.“Isawthewayyousizedhimup.Youdon’tthinkhe’shereforbusiness,either.”

Nesrynweighedthemeritsofadmittingthetruth,andoptedfor,“Thesearestrange days for all of us—I have learned not to takemen on their word. Orappearance.”

Bortedroppedherbraid.“NowonderSartaqbroughtyouhome.Yousoundjustlikehim.”

Nesrynhidhersmile,notbotheringtosaythatshefoundsuchathingtobeacompliment.

Borte sniffed,waving to the room.“Notas fineas thekhagan’spalace,butbetterthansleepingononeofSartaq’sshittybedrolls.”

Nesrynsmiled.“Anybedisbetterthanthat,Isuppose.”Bortesmirked.“ImeantwhatIsaid.Youneedabath.Andacomb.”Nesrynat last raisedahand toherhairandwinced.Tanglesandknotsand

moretangles.Justgettingitoutofthebraidwouldbeanightmare.“EvenSartaqbraidsbetterthanthat,”Borteteased.Nesryn sighed. “Despite my sister’s best efforts to teach me, I’m useless

whenitcomestosuchthings.”Sheofferedthegirlawink.“WhydoyouthinkIkeepmyhairsoshort?”

Indeed,her sisterhadpractically faintedwhenNesrynhadcomehomeoneafternoonatagefifteenwithhaircuttohercollarbone.She’dkeptthehairthatlength ever since—in part to piss off Delara, who still pouted about it, andpartiallybecauseitwasfareasiertodealwith.Wieldingbladesandarrowswasonething,butstylinghair…Shewashopeless.Andshowingupattheguards’

barrackswithaprettyhairstylewouldnothavebeenwellreceived.BorteonlygaveNesrynacurtnod—asifsheseemedtorealizethat.“Before

youflythenexttime,I’llbraiditproperlyforyou.”Thenshepointeddownthehall,toasetofnarrowstairsthatledintothegloom.“Bathsarethisway.”

Nesrynsniffedherselfandcringed.“Oh,that’sawful.”Borte snickered as Nesryn entered the hall. “I’m surprised Sartaq’s eyes

weren’twatering.”Nesrynchuckledasshefollowedhertowardwhatsheprayedwasaboiling-

hotbath.SheagainfeltBorte’ssharp,assessinggazeandasked,“What?”“YougrewupinAdarlan,didn’tyou?”Nesrynconsideredthequestion,whyitmightbeasked.“Yes.Iwasbornand

raisedinRifthold,thoughmyfather’sfamilycomesfromAntica.”Bortewasquietforafewsteps.Butastheyreachedthenarrowstairwelland

stepped into the dim interior, Borte smiled over a shoulder at Nesryn. “Thenwelcomehome.”

Nesryn wondered if those words might be the most beautiful she’d everheard.

The baths were ancient copper tubs that had to be filled kettle by kettle, butNesryndidn’tobjectasshefinallyslidintoone.

Anhourlater,hairfinallydetangledandbrushedout,shefoundherselfseatedatthemassiveroundtableinthegreathall,shovelingroastrabbitintohermouth,nestled in thick, warm clothes that had been donated by Borte herself. Theflashes of embroidered cobalt and daffodil on the sleeves snared Nesryn’sattentionasmuchas theplattersof roastmeatsbeforeher.Beautifulclothes—layeredandtoastyagainstthechill thatpermeatedthehall,evenwiththefires.Andhertoes…Bortehadindeedfoundapairofthosefleece-linedbootsforher.

SartaqsatbesideNesrynattheemptytable,equallysilentandeatingwithas

much enthusiasm. He had yet to bathe, though his windblown hair had beenrebraided,thelongplaitfallingdownthecenterofhismuscledback.

As her belly began to fill and her fingers slowed their picking, Nesrynglanced toward the prince. She found him smiling faintly. “Better than grapesandsaltedpork?”

Shejerkedherchintowardtheboneslitteringherplateinsilentanswer,thentothegreaseonherfingers.Woulditbeuncouthtolickitoff?Theseasoningshadbeenexquisite.

“Myhearth-mother,”hesaid,thatsmilefading,“isnothere.”Nesryn paused her eating. They’d come here to seek the counsel of this

woman—“AccordingtoBorte,shewillbereturningtomorroworthedayafter.”Shewaitedformore.Silencecouldbejustaseffectiveasspokenquestions.Sartaqpushedbackhis plate andbracedhis armson the table. “I’maware

that you’re pressed for time. If I could, I’d go look for hermyself, but evenBortewasn’tsurewhereshe’dgoneoffto.Houlunis…adriftlikethat.Seeshersuldewavinginthewindandtakesherrukout tochaseit.Andwillwhackuswithitifwetrytostopher.”Agesturetowardtherackofspearsnearthecavemouth,Sartaq’sownsuldeamongthem.

Nesrynsmiledatthat.“Shesoundslikeaninterestingwoman.”“Sheis.Insomeways,I’mclosertoherthan…”Thewordstrailedoff,and

heshookhishead.Thanhisownmother. Indeed,Nesrynhadn’twitnessedhimbeingnearlysoopen,soteasingwithhisownsiblings,ashewaswithBorte.

“I can wait,” Nesryn said at last, trying not to wince. “LordWestfall stillneedstimetoheal,andItoldhimI’dbegonethreeweeks.Icanwaitadayortwomore.”Andplease,gods,notanothermomentafterit.

Sartaqnodded, tappinga fingeron theancientwoodof the table.“Tonight,wewill rest,but tomorrow…”Ahintofasmile.“Howwouldyou likea tourtomorrow?”

“Itwouldbeanhonor.”Sartaq’ssmilegrew.“Perhapswecouldalsodoabitofarcherypractice.”He

lookedheroverwithafranknessthatmadehershift inherseat.“I’mcertainlykeen tomatchmyself againstNeith’sArrow, and I’m sure the youngwarriorsare,too.”

Nesrynpushedbackherownplate,browslifting.“They’veheardofme?”Sartaqgrinned.“Imighthave toldastoryor twothe last timeIcamehere.

Whydoyouthinkthereweresomanypeoplegatheredwhenwearrived?Theycertainlydon’tusuallybothertodragthemselvesheretoseeme.”

“ButBorteseemedlikeshe’dnever—”“DoesBorteseemlikeapersonwhogivesanyoneaneasytime?”Something deeper in herwarmed. “No.But how could they have known I

wascoming?”His answering grinwas the portrait of princely arrogance. “Because I sent

wordadaybeforethatyouwerelikelytojoinme.”Nesryngapedathim,unabletomaintainthatmaskofcalm.Rising,Sartaqscoopeduptheirplates.“I toldyouthatIwasprayingyou’d

joinme,NesrynFaliq.IfI’dshownupempty-handed,Bortewouldhaveneverletmeheartheendofit.”

30

Withintheinteriorchamberofthehall,Nesrynhadnowayoftellinghowlongshe’dsleptorwhathourofthemorningitwas.She’ddozedfitfully,awakeningtocombthroughthesoundsbeyondherdoor,todetectifanyonewasastir.ShedoubtedSartaqwasthetypetoscoldherforsleepingin,butiftherukhinindeedteased the prince about his courtly life, then lazing about all morning wasperhapsnotthebestwaytowinthemover.

Soshe’dtossedandturned,catchingafewminutesofsleephereandthere,andgaveupentirelywhen shenoticed shadows interrupting the light crackingbeneaththedoor.Someone,atleast,wasawakeintheHallofAltun.

She’ddressed,pausingonly towashher face.The roomwaswarmenoughthat thewater in the ewerwasn’t icy, though she certainly could have used afreezingsplashonhergrittyeyes.

Thirty minutes later, seated in the saddle before Sartaq, she regretted thatwish.

He’dindeedbeenawakeandsaddlingKadarawhenshe’demergedinto thestill-quietgreathall.Thefirepitburnedbrightly,as ifsomeonetendedto itallnight,butsavefortheprinceandhisruk,thepillar-filledhallwasempty.Itwasstill emptywhenhehauledherup into thesaddleandKadara leaped from thecavemouth.

Freezingairslammedintoherface,whippingathercheeksastheydove.Afewotherrukswerealoft.Likelyoutfor theirbreakfasts,Sartaqtoldher,

hisvoicesoftintheemergingdawn.AnditwasinpursuitofKadara’sownmealthattheywent,sailingoutofthethreepeaksoftheEridun’saerieanddeepintothefir-crustedmountainsbeyond.

ItwasonlyafterKadarahadsnatchedhalfadozenfatsilversalmonfromarushingturquoiseriver,hurlingthemeachintheairbeforeswallowingtheminaslicingbite,thatSartaqsteeredthemtowardaclusterofsmallerpeaks.

“The training run,” he said, pointing. The rocks were smoother, the dropsbetween peaks less sharp—more like smooth, rounded gullies. “Where thenoviceslearntoride.”

Thoughlessbrutalthanthethreebrother-peaksoftheDorgos,itdidn’tseemanysafer.“YousaidyouraisedKadarafromahatchling.Isthathowitisdoneforallriders?”

“Notwhenwearefirstlearningtoride.Childrentakeouttheseasoned,moredocile ruks, ones tooold tomake long flights.We learn on themuntilwe arethirteen,fourteen,andthenfindourhatchlingtoraiseandtrainourselves.”

“Thirteen—”“Wetakeourfirstridesatfour.Ortheothersdo.Iwas,asyouknow,afew

yearslate.”Nesrynpointedtothetrainingrun.“Youletfour-year-oldsridealonethrough

that?”“Familymembersorhearth-kinusuallygoonthefirstseveralrides.”Nesrynblinkedatthelittlemountainrange,tryingandfailingtoimagineher

various nieces and nephews, who were still prone to running naked andshrieking through thehouseat themerewhisperof thewordbath, responsiblefornotonlycommandingoneofthebeastsbeneathher,butstayinginthesaddle.

“The horse-clans on the steppes have the same training,”Sartaq explained.“Mostcanstandatop thehorsesbysix,andbegin learning towieldbowsandspearsassoonastheirfeetcanreachthestirrups.Asidefromthestanding”—achuckle at the thought—“our children have an identical process.” The sun

peekedout,warmingtheskinshe’dleftexposedtothebitingwind.“Itwashowthefirstkhaganconquered thecontinent.Ourpeoplewerealreadywell trainedas a cavalry, disciplined and used to carrying their own supplies. The otherarmiestheyfaced…Thosekingdomsdidnotanticipatefoeswhoknewhowtorideacrossthickwintericetheybelievedwouldguardtheircitiesduringthecoldmonths. And they did not anticipate an army that traveled light, engineersamongst them to craft weapons from any materials they found when theyreached their destinations. To this day, the Academy of Engineers in Balruhnremainsthemostprestigiousinthekhaganate.”

Nesryn knew that—her father stillmentioned theAcademy every now andthen.Adistantcousinhadattendedandgoneontoearnasmalldegreeoffameforinventingsomeharvestingmachine.

SartaqsteeredKadarasouthward,soaringhighabovethesnowcappedpeaks.“Thosekingdomsalsodidn’tanticipateanarmythatconqueredfrombehind,bytakingroutesthatfewwouldrisk.”Hepointedtothewest, towardapalebandalong thehorizon.“TheKyzultumDesert lies thatway.Forcenturies, itwasabarrier between the steppes and the greener lands. To attempt to conquer thesouthern territories, everyonehadalways taken the longwayaround it, givingplentyoftimeforthedefenderstorallyahost.Sowhenthosekingdomsheardthekhaganandhishundredthousandwarriorswereonthemove,theypositionedtheirarmiestointerceptthem.”Pridelimnedhiseveryword.“Onlytodiscoverthat thekhaganandhis armieshaddirectlycrossed theKyzultum,befriendinglocalnomadslongsneeredatbythesouthernkingdomstoguidethem.Allowingthekhagantocreeprightbehindthemandsacktheirunguardedcities.”

Shefelthissmileatherearandfoundherselfsettlingalittlefartherintohim.“Whathappenedthen?”She’donlyheardfragmentsofthestories—neversuchasweeping account, and certainly not from the lips of oneborn to this gloriousbloodline.“Wasitopenwar?”

“No,”Sartaqsaid.“Heavoidedoutrightcombatwheneverhecould,actually.

Madeabrutalexampleofafewkeyleaders,sothatterrorwouldspread,andbythe timehe reachedmanyof thosecitiesorarmies,most laiddown theirarmsandacceptedhistermsofsurrenderinexchangeforprotection.Heusedfearasaweapon,justasmuchashewieldedhissulde.”

“Iheardhehadtwo—sulde,Imean.”“Hedid.Andmyfatherstilldoes.TheEbonyandtheIvory,wecallthem.A

sulde with white horsehair to carry in times of peace and one with blackhorsehairtowieldinwar.”

“IassumehebroughttheEbonywithhimonthosecampaigns.”“Oh,hecertainlydid.Andbythetimehe’dcrossedtheKyzultumandsacked

thatfirstcity,wordofwhatawaitedresistance,wordthathewasindeedcarryingthe Ebony sulde, spread so quick and so far thatwhen he arrived at the nextkingdom, theydidn’tevenbother to raiseanarmy.They just surrendered.Thekhaganrewardedthemhandsomelyforit—andmadesureotherterritoriesheardofthat,too.”Hewasquietforamoment.“Adarlan’skingwasnotsocleverormerciful,washe?”

“No,”Nesryn said, swallowing. “Hewasnot.”Themanhaddestroyedandpillagedandenslaved.Nottheman—thedemonwithinhim.

Sheadded,“ThearmythatErawanhasrallied…Hebeganamassingitlongbefore Dorian and Aelin matured and claimed their birthrights. Chaol—LordWestfalltoldmeoftunnelsandchambersbeneaththepalaceinRiftholdthathadbeenthereforyears.PlaceswherehumanandValghadbeenexperimentedupon.Rightunderthefeetofmindlesscourtiers.”

“Whichraisesthequestionofwhy,”Sartaqmused.“Ifhe’dconqueredmostof the northern continent, why gather such a force? He thought AelinGalathynius was dead—I assume he did not anticipate that Dorian Havilliardwouldturnrebel,too.”

She hadn’t told him of the Wyrdkeys—and still couldn’t bring herself todivulgethem.“We’vealwaysbelievedthatErawanwashell-bentonconquering

thisworld.Itseemedmotiveenough.”“Butyousounddoubtfulnow.”Nesryn considered. “I just don’t understand why.Why all this effort, why

want to conquer more when he’d secretly controlled the northern continentanyway. Erawan got awaywith plenty of horrors. Is it only that hewishes toplungeourworldintofurtherdarkness?Doeshewishtocallhimselfmasteroftheearth?”

“Perhaps things likemotives and reasonare foreign todemons.Perhapsheonlyhasthedrivetodestroy.”

Nesrynshookherhead,squintingagainst thesunas it rosehigher, the lightturningblinding.

SartaqreturnedtotheEridunaerie, leftKadarainthegreathall,andcontinuedNesryn’stour.Hesparedhertheembarrassmentofbeggingnottousetheropeladders along the cliff face and led her through the internal stairwells andpassagewaysofthemountain.Togettotheothertwopeaks,heclaimed,they’dneedtoeitherflyacrossortakeoneofthetwobridgesstrungbetweenthem.Oneglanceat theropeandwoodandNesrynannouncedshecouldwaitforanotherdaytotry.

Riding on Kadara was one thing. Nesryn trusted the bird, and trusted herrider.Buttheswayingbridge,howeverwellbuilt…Shemightneedadrinkortwobeforetryingtocross.

But there was plenty to see within the mountain itself—Rokhal, theWhisperer,hewascalled.Theothertwobrother-peaksthatmadeuptheDorgoswereArik, theLilter; andTorke, theRoarer—all threenamed for theway thewinditselfsangasitpassedoverandaroundthem.

Rokhalwasthebiggestofthem,themostdelved,hiscrownjewelbeingtheHallofAltunnearthetop.ButeveninthechambersbelowAltun,Nesrynhardly

knewwheretolookastheprinceshowedherthroughthewindingcorridorsandspaces.

The various kitchens and small gathering halls; the ruk riders’ houses andworkshops;thenestsofvariousruks,whorangedincolorfromKadara’sgoldtodark brown; the smithieswhere armorwas forged from oreminedwithin themountain;thetannerieswherethesaddlesweremeticulouslycrafted;thetradingpostswhereonemightbarterforhouseholdgoodsandsmalltrinkets.Andlastly,atopRokhalhimself,thetrainingrings.

Therewas nowall or fence along the broad, flat-topped summit.Only thesmall,roundbuildingthatprovidedareprievefromthewindandcold,aswellasaccesstothestairwellbeneath.

Nesrynwas out of breath by the time they opened thewoodendoor to theraspingwind—and the sight that stretched before her certainly snatched awayanyremainingairinherlungs.

Even flyingaboveandamongst themountains felt somehowdifferent fromthis.

Snowcapped, dominating peaks surrounded them, ancient as the earth,untouched and slumbering.Nearby, a long lake sparkled between twin ridges,ruksmereshadowsoverthetealsurface.

She’d never seen anything so great and unforgiving, so vast and beautiful.Andeventhoughshewasasinsignificantasamayflycomparedwiththesizeofthemountainsaroundthem,somepieceofherfeltkeenlyapartofit,bornfromit.

Sartaq stood at her side, following where her attention drifted, as if theirgazes were bound together. And when Nesryn’s stare landed upon a lonely,broadmountainontheotherendofthelake,hedrewinaswiftbreath.Notreesgrewonitsdarksides;onlysnowprovidedacapeoveritsuppermostcragsandsummit.

“ThatisArundin,”Sartaqsaidsoftly,asiffearfulofeventhewindhearing.

“ThefourthSingeramidthesepeaks.”Thewindindeedseemedtoflowfromthemountain,coldandswift.“TheSilentOne,wecallhim.”

Indeed, a heavy sort of quiet seemed to ripple around that peak. In theturquoisewatersofthelakeathisfeet layaperfectmirrorimage,soclearthatNesrynwonderedifonemightdivebeneaththesurfaceandfindanotherworld,ashadow-world,beneath.“Why?”

Sartaqturned,asifthesightofArundinwasnotonetobeenduredforlong.“Itisuponhisslopesthattherukhinburyourdead.Ifweflycloser,you’llseesuldecoveringhissides—theonlymarkersofthefallen.”

Itwasanentirelyinappropriateandmorbidquestion,butNesrynasked,“Willyouonedaybelaidthere,oroutinthesacredlandofthesteppeswiththerestofyourfamily?”

Sartaqtoedthesmoothrockbeneaththem.“Thatchoiceremainsbeforeme.Thetwopartsofmyheartshalllikelyhavealongwaroverit.”

Shecertainlyunderstoodit—thattugbetweentwoplaces.Shouts and clanging metal drew her attention from the beckoning, eternal

silence of Arundin to the real purpose of the space atop Rokhal: the trainingrings.

Menandwomeninridingleathersstoodatvariouscirclesandstations.Somefired arrows at targets with impressive accuracy, some hurled spears, somesparredswordtosword.Olderridersbarkedordersorcorrectedaimandposture,stalkingamongstthewarriors.

AfewturnedinSartaq’sdirectionasheandNesrynapproachedthetrainingringatthefarendofthespace.Thearcherycircuit.

With thewind, the cold…Nesryn found herself calculating those factors.Admiringthearchers’skillallthemore.AndshewassomehownotsurprisedtofindBorteamongthe threearchersaimingatstuffeddummies,her longbraidssnappinginthewind.

“Heretohaveyourasshandedtoyouagain,brother?”Borte’ssmirkwasfull

ofthatwickeddelight.Sartaq let out his rich, pleasant laugh again, taking up a longbow and

shouldering a quiver from the stand nearby.He nudged his hearth-sister asidewithabumpofthehip,nockinganarrowwithease.Heaimed,fired,andNesrynsmiledasthearrowfounditsmark,rightintheneckofthedummy.

“Impressive,foraprinceling,”Bortedrawled.SheturnedtoNesryn,herdarkbrowshigh.“Andyou?”

Well, then.Swallowinghersmile,Nesrynshruggedoutof theheavierwoolovercoat,gaveBorteaninclineofherhead,andapproachedtherackofarrowsand bows. The mountain wind was bracing with only her riding leathers forwarmth,but sheblockedoutRokhal’swhisperingas she ranher fingersdownthecarvedwood.Yew,ash…Shepluckeduponeoftheyewbows,testingitsweight,itsflexibilityandresistance.Asolid,deadlyweapon.

Yetfamiliar.Asfamiliarasanoldfriend.Shehadnotpickedupabowuntilher mother’s death, and during those initial years of grief and numbness, thephysicaltraining,theconcentrationandstrengthrequired,hadbeenasanctuary,andareprieve,andforge.

ShewonderedifanyofheroldtutorshadsurvivedtheattackonRifthold.Ifanyoftheirarrowshadbroughtdownwyverns.Orslowedthemenoughtosavelives.

Nesrynletthethoughtsettleasshemovedtothequivers,pullingoutarrows.Themetaltipswereheavierthanthoseshe’dusedinAdarlan,theshaftslightlythicker.Designedtocutthroughbrutalwindsatracingspeeds.Perhaps,iftheywerelucky,takeoutawyvernortwo.

Sheselectedarrowsfromvariousquivers, setting themintoherownbeforeshestrappeditacrossherbackandapproachedthelinewhereBorte,Sartaq,andafewothersweresilentlywatching.

“Pickamark,”NesryntoldBorte.Thewoman smirked. “Neck,heart, head.”Shepointed to eachof the three

dummies,adifferentmarkforeachone.Windrattledthem,theaimandstrengthneededtohiteachutterlydifferent.Borteknewit—allthewarriorsheredid.

Nesryn lifted an arm behind her head, dragging her fingers along thefletching,thefeathersripplingagainstherskinasshescannedthethreetargets.ListenedtothemurmurofthewindsracingpastRokhal,thatwildsummonssheheardechoedinherownheart.Wind-seeker,hermotherhadcalledher.

Oneafteranother,Nesrynwithdrewanarrowandfired.Again,andagain,andagain.Again,andagain,andagain.Again,andagain,andagain.Andwhenshefinished,onlythehowlingwindanswered—thewindofTorke,

theRoarer.Everytrainingringhadstopped.Staringatwhatshe’ddone.Instead of three arrows distributed amongst the three dummies, she’d fired

nine.Threerowsofperfectlyalignedshotsoneach:heart,neck,andhead.Notan

inchofdifference.Evenwiththesingingwinds.Sartaqwasgrinningwhenshe turned tohim,his longbraiddriftingbehind

him,asifitwereasuldeitself.ButBorteelbowedpasthim,andbreathedtoNesryn,“Showme.”

Forhours,NesrynstoodatoptheRokhaltrainingringandexplainedhowshe’ddoneit,howshecalculatedwindandweightandair.Andasmuchassheshowedthe various rotations that came through, they also demonstrated their owntechniques.Thewaytheytwistedintheirsaddlestofirebackward,whichbowstheywieldedforhuntingorwarfare.

Nesryn’scheekswerewind-chapped,herhandsnumb,butshewassmiling—wideandunfailingly—whenSartaqwasapproachedbyabreathlessmessengerwhohadburstfromthestairwellentrance.

Hishearth-motherhadreturnedtotheaerieatlast.Sartaq’sfacerevealednothing,thoughanodfromhimhadBorteorderingall

theonlookerstogobacktotheirvariousstations.TheydidsowithafewgrinsofthanksandwelcometoNesryn,whichshereturnedwithaninclineofherhead.

Sartaq set his quiver and bow on the wooden rack, extending a hand forNesryn’s.Shepassedhimboth,flexingherfingersafterhoursofgrippingbowandstring.

“She’llbetired,”Bortewarnedhim,ashortswordinherhand.Hertraining,apparently,wasnotoverfortheday.“Don’tpesterhertoomuch.”

SartaqthrewanincredulouslookatBorte.“YouthinkIwanttogetsmackedwithaspoonagain?”

Nesryn choked at that, but shrugged into the embroidered cobalt-and-goldwoolcoat,belting it tightly.She trailed theprinceasheheaded into thewarminterior,straighteningherwind-tossedhairastheydescendedthedimstairwell.

“EventhoughBorteistoonedayleadtheEridun,shetrainswiththeothers?”“Yes,” Sartaq saidwithout glancing over his shoulder. “Hearth-mothers all

knowhowtofight,howtoattackanddefend.ButBorte’strainingincludesotherthings.”

“Like learning thedifferent tonguesof theworld.”Her useof thenorthernlanguagewasasimpeccableasSartaq’s.

“Likethat.Andhistory,and…more.ThingsevenIamnottoldofbyeitherBorteorhergrandmother.”

Thewordsechoedoff the stonesaround them.Nesryndaredask, “Where’sBorte’smother?”

Sartaq’sshoulderstensed.“HersuldestandsonArundin’sslopes.”Justthewayhespokeit,thecoldcutofhisvoice…“I’msorry.”“SoamI,”wasallSartaqsaid.“Herfather?”“Amanhermothermetindistantlands,andwhomshedidnotcaretohold

ontoforlongerthananight.”Nesryn considered the fierce,wicked youngwomanwho’d foughtwith no

small skill in the training rings. “I’m glad she has you, then. And hergrandmother.”

Sartaqshrugged.Dangerous,strangeterritory—she’dsomehowwadedintoaplacewhereshehadnorighttopry.

ButthenSartaqsaid,“You’reagoodteacher.”“Thankyou.” Itwasall shecould think to say.He’dkept close toher side

while shewalked the others through her various positions and techniques, buthad said little.A leaderwho did not need to constantly be filling the airwithtalkingandboasting.

Heblewoutabreath,shouldersloosening.“AndI’mrelievedtoseethattherealitylivesuptothelegend.”

Nesrynchuckled,gratefultobebackonsaferground.“Youhaddoubts?”Theyreachedthelandingthatwouldtakethemtothegreathall.Sartaqlether

fallintostepbesidehim.“Thereportsleftoutsomekeyinformation.Itmademedoubttheiraccuracy.”

It was the sly gleam in his eye that made Nesryn angle her head. “What,exactly,didtheyfailtomention?”

They reached the great hall, empty save for a cloaked figure just barelyvisibleontheothersideofthefirepit—andsomeonesittingbesideher.

But Sartaq turned to her, examining her from head to toe and back again.Therewaslittlethathemissed.“Theydidn’tmentionthatyou’rebeautiful.”

Nesryn opened and closed her mouth in what she was sure was anunflatteringimpressionofafishondryland.

Withawink,Sartaqstrodeahead,calling,“Ej.”Therukhin’stermformother,he’dtoldherthismorning.Nesrynhurriedafterhim.Theyroundedthemassivefirepit,thefiguresittingatoptheuppermoststairpullingbackherhood.

She’dexpectedanancientcrone,bentwithageandtoothless.

Instead, a straight-backed woman with braided, silver-streaked onyx hairsmiledgrimlyatSartaq.Andthoughagehadindeedtouchedherfeatures…itwasBorte’sface.OrBorte’sfaceinfortyyears.

The hearth-mother wore a rider’s leathers, though her dark blue cloak—actuallyajacketshe’dlefthangingoverhershoulders—coveredmuchofthem.

Butather side…Falkan.His faceequallygrave, thosedarksapphireeyesscanning them. Sartaq checked his pace at the sight of the merchant, eitherirritated that he hadn’t been first to claim her attention or simply that themerchantwaspresentforthisreunion.

Manners or self-preserving instincts kicked in, and Sartaq continued hisapproach,hoppingdownonto the first ledgeof thepit to stride the restof theway.

Houlunrosewhenhewasnear,enfoldinghiminaswift,hardembrace.Shecupped his shoulders when she was done, the woman nearly as tall as him,shoulders strong and thighswellmuscled, and surveyedSartaqwith a shrewdeye.

“Sorrowweighsheavilyonyou still,” sheobserved, runninga scar-fleckedhandoverSartaq’shighcheekbone.“Andworry.”

Sartaq’seyesshutteredbeforeheduckedhishead.“Ihavemissedyou,Ej.”“Sweet-talker,”Houlunchided,pattinghischeek.ToNesryn’sdelight,shecouldhavesworntheprinceblushed.ThefirelightcastthefewstrandsofsilverinHoulun’shairwithredandgold

asshepeeredaroundSartaq’sbroadshoulderstowhereNesrynstoodatopthelipofthepit.“Andthearcherfromthenortharrivesatlast.”Aninclineofherhead.“IamHoulun,daughterofDochin,butyoumaycallmeEj,astheothersdo.”

Oneglanceintothewoman’sbrowneyesandNesrynknewHoulunwasnotonewhomissedmuch.Nesrynbowedherhead.“Itisanhonor.”

The hearth-mother stared at her for a longmoment. Nesrynmet her gaze,remainingasstillasshecould.Lettingthewomanseewhatshewanted.

Atlast,Houlun’seyesslidtowardSartaq.“Wehavematterstodiscuss.”Absent that fierce gaze,Nesryn loosed a breath but kept her spine ramrod

straight.Sartaq nodded, something like relief on his face. But he glanced toward

Falkan,watchingallfromhisseat.“Theyarethingsthatshouldbetoldprivately,Ej.”

Notrude,butcertainlynotwarm.Nesrynrefrainedfromechoingtheprince’ssentiment.

Houlunwavedahand.“Thentheymaywait.”Shepointedtothestonebench.“Sit.”“Ej—”Falkanshifted,asifhe’ddothemallafavorandgo.ButHoulunpointedtohiminsilentwarningtoremain.“Iwouldhaveyouall

listen.”Sartaqdroppedontothebench,theonlysignofhisdiscontentbeingthefoot

he tappedon thefloor.Nesrynsatbesidehim, thesternwomanreclaimingherperchbetweenthemandFalkan.

“Anancientmalice is stirringdeep in thesemountains,”Houlunsaid.“It iswhyIhavebeengonethesepastfewdays—toseekitout.”“Ej.”Warningandfearcoatedtheprince’svoice.“I amnot soold that I cannotwieldmysulde, boy.”Sheglowered at him.

Indeed,nothingaboutthiswomanseemedoldatall.Sartaqasked,frowning,“Whatdidyougoinpursuitof?”Houlun glanced around the hall for any stray ears. “Ruk nests have been

pillaged.Eggsstoleninthenight,hatchlingsvanishing.”Sartaq swore, filthy and low. Nesryn blinked at it, even as her stomach

tightened.“Poachershavenotdared tread in thesemountains fordecades,” theprincesaid.“Butyoushouldnothavepursuedthemalone,Ej.”

“ItwasnotpoachersIsought.Butsomethingworse.”

Shadows lined the woman’s face, and Nesryn swallowed. If the Valg hadcomehere—

“Myownejcalledthemthekharankui.”“Itmeansshadow—darkness,”SartaqmurmuredtoNesryn,dreadtightening

hisface.Herheartthundered.ShouldtheValgbeherealready—“Butinyourlands,”Houlunwenton,glancingbetweenNesrynandFalkan,

“theycallthemsomethingdifferent,don’tthey?”Nesryn sized up Falkan as he swallowed, wondering herself how to lie or

deflectrevealinganythingabouttheValg—But Falkan nodded.And he replied, voice barely audible above the flame,

“Wecallthemthestygianspiders.”

31

“The stygian spiders are little more than myths,” Nesryn managed to say toHoulun.“Spidersilkissoraresomeevendoubtitexists.Youmightbechasingghosts.”

But it was Falkan who replied with a grim smile, “I would beg to differ,CaptainFaliq.”Hereachedintothebreastofhisjacket,andNesryntensed,handshootingforthedaggeratherwaist—

Itwasnoweaponhepulledout.Thewhitefabricglittered,theiridescencelikestarfireasFalkanshifteditin

hishand.EvenSartaqwhistledatthehandkerchief-sizedpieceofcloth.“Spidersilk,” Falkan said, tucking the piece back into his jacket. “Straight

fromthesource.”AsNesryn’smouthpoppedopen,Sartaqsaid,“Youhaveseentheseterrorsup

close.”Notquiteaquestion.“I barteredwith their kin in the northern continent,” Falkan corrected, that

grim smile remaining.Alongwith shadows. Somany shadows. “Nearly threeyears ago. Some might deem it a fool’s bargain, but I walked away with ahundredyardsofSpidersilk.”

Thehandkerchiefinhisjacketalonecouldfetchaking’sransom.Ahundredyardsofit…“Youmustbewealthyasthekhagan,”sheblurted.

Ashrug.“Ihavelearnedthattruewealthisnotallglitteringgoldandjewels.”Sartaq asked quietly, “What was the cost, then?” For the stygian spiders

tradednotinmaterialgoods,butdreamsandwishesand—“Twenty years. Twenty years of my life. Taken not from the end, but the

prime.”Nesrynscannedtheman,hisfacejustbeginningtoshowthesignsofage,the

hairstillwithoutgray—“Iamtwenty-seven,”Falkansaidtoher.“AndyetInowappeartobeaman

ofnearlyfifty.”Holygods.“Whatareyoudoingattheaerie,then?”Nesryndemanded.“Do

thespidershereproducethesilk,too?”“Theyarenotsocivilizedastheirsistersinthenorth,”Houlunsaid,clicking

hertongue.“Thekharankuidonotcreate—onlydestroy.LonghavetheydwelledintheircavesandpassesoftheDagulFells,inthefarsouthofthesemountains.Andlonghavewemaintainedarespectfuldistance.”

“Whydoyouthinktheynowcometostealoureggs?”Sartaqglancedtothefewrukslingeringatthecavemouth,waitingfortheirriders.Heleanedforward,bracinghisforearmsonhisthighs.

“Whoelse?” thehearth-mothercountered.“Nopoachershavebeenspotted.Whoelsemightsneakuponaruk’snest,sohighintheworld?Iflewovertheirdomain thesepast fewdays.Thewebs indeedhavegrownfrom thepeaksandpassesoftheFellsdowntothepineforestsintheravines,chokingoffalllife.”AglancetowardFalkan.“Idonotbelieveitmerecoincidencethat thekharankuihaveagainbegunpreyingupontheworldatthesametimeamerchantseeksoutouraerieforanswersregardingtheirnorthernkin.”

FalkanraisedhishandsatSartaq’ssharp look.“Ihavenotsought themoutnor provoked them. I heard whispers of your hearth-mother’s trove ofknowledgeandthoughttoseekhercounselbeforeIdaredanything.”

“Whatdoyouwantwiththem?”Nesrynasked,anglingherhead.Falkanexaminedhishands,flexingthefingersasiftheywerestiff.“Iwant

myyouthback.”

Houlun said to Sartaq, “He sold his hundred yards but still thinks he canreclaimthetime.”

“Ican reclaim it,”Falkan insisted,earningawarningglare fromHoulunathistone.Hecheckedhimself,andclarified,“Thereare…thingsthatIstillhavelefttodo.Ishouldliketoaccomplishthembeforeoldageinterferes.Iwastoldthatslayingthespiderwhoatemytwentyyearswastheonlywaytoreturnthoselostyearstome.”

Nesryn’s brows narrowed. “Why not go hunt that spider back home, then?Whycomehere?”

Falkandidn’tanswer.Houlunsaid,“Becausehewasalso told thatonlyagreatwarriorcanslaya

kharankui. The greatest in the land. He heard of our close proximity to theterrorsandthoughttotryhisluckherefirst—tolearnwhatweknowaboutthespiders;perhapshowtokillthem.”Afaintlybemusedlook.“Perhapsalsotofindsomebackdoorwayofreclaiminghisyears,analternateroutehere,tosparehimtheconfrontationthere.”

Asoundenoughplanforamaninsaneenoughtobarterawayhislifeinthefirstplace.

“Whatdoesanyofthishavetodowiththestoleneggsandhatchlings,Ej?”Sartaq,too,apparentlypossessedlittlesympathyforthemerchantwho’dtradedhis youth for kinglywealth. Falkan turned his face toward the fire, as ifwellawareofthat.

“Iwantyoutofindthem,”Houlunsaid.“Theyhavelikelyalreadydied,Ej.”“Thosehorrorscankeep theirpreyalive longenough in theircocoons.But

youareright—theyhave likelyalreadybeenconsumed.”Rageflickered in thewoman’s face, a vision of thewarrior beneath; thewarrior her granddaughterwasbecomingaswell.“WhichiswhyIwantyoutofindthemthenexttimeithappens.And remind thoseunholypilesof filth thatwedonot takekindly to

theftofouryoung.”ShejerkedherchintoFalkan.“Whentheygo,youwillgo,too.Seeiftheanswersyouseekarethere.”

“Why not go now?” Nesryn asked. “Why not seek them out and punishthem?”

“Because we have no proof still,” Sartaq answered. “And if we attackunprovoked…”

“Thekharankui have long been the enemies of the ruks,”Houlun finished.“Theywarredonce, longago.Before the ridersclimbedup from the steppes.”She shook her head, chasing away the shadow of memory, and declared toSartaq, “Which iswhywe shall keep this quiet.The last thingweneed is forridersandrukstoflyoutthereinarage,orfillthisplacewithpanic.Tellthemtobeontheirguardatthenests,butdonotsaywhy.”

Sartaqnodded.“Asyouwillit,Ej.”Thehearth-motherturnedtoFalkan.“Iwouldhaveawordwithmycaptain.”Falkan understood the dismissal and rose. “I am at your disposal, Prince

Sartaq.”Withagracefulbow,hestrodeoffintothehall.WhenFalkan’sstepshadfaded,Houlunmurmured,“Itisstartinganew,isn’t

it?”ThosedarkeyesslidtoNesryn,thefiregildingthewhites.“TheOneWhoSleepshasawoken.”

“Erawan,”Nesrynbreathed.She couldhave sworn thegreat fire banked inanswer.

“You know of him, Ej?” Sartaq moved to sit on the woman’s other side,allowingNesryntoscootcloserdownthestonebench.

But the hearth-mother swept her sharp stare overNesryn. “Youhave facedthem.Hisbeastsofshadow.”

Nesrynclampeddownonthememoriesthatsurfaced.“Ihave.He’sbuiltanarmyofterrorsonthenortherncontinent.InMorath.”

HoulunturnedtowardSartaq.“Doesyourfatherknow?”“Bitsandpieces.Hisgrief…”Sartaqwatchedthefire.Houlunplacedahand

ontheprince’sknee.“TherewasanattackinAntica.OnahealeroftheTorre.”Houlunswore,asfilthilyasherhearth-son.“WethinkoneofErawan’sagentsmightbebehindit,”Sartaqwenton.“And

rather thanwaste timeconvincingmyfather to listentohalf-formedtheories,Irememberedyourtales,Ej,andthoughttoseeifyoumightknowanything.”

“AndifItoldyou?”Asearching,sharplook—fierceasaruk’sgaze.“IfItoldyouwhat Iknowof the threat,wouldyouemptyeveryaerieandnest?WouldyouflyacrosstheNarrowSeatofacethem—toneverreturn?”

Sartaq’s throat bobbed.AndNesryn realized that hehadnot comehere foranswers.

Perhaps Sartaq already knew enough about the Valg to decide for himselfabout how to face the threat.He had come here towin over his people—thiswoman.Hemightcommandtheruksintheeyesofhisfather,theempire.Butinthesemountains,Houlun’swordwaslaw.

Andin that fourthpeak,onArundin’ssilentslopes…Herdaughter’ssuldestood in the wind. A woman who understood the cost of life—deeply. Whomight not be so eager to let her granddaughter ride with the legion. If sheallowedtheEridunrukhintoleaveatall.

“If thekharankuiarestirring, ifErawanhas risen in thenorth,”Sartaqsaidcarefully,“it isa threatforall toface.”Hebowedhishead.“ButIwouldhearwhatyouknow,Ej.What perhaps even thekingdoms in thenorthmight havelosttotimeanddestruction.Whyitisthatourpeople,tuckedawayinthisland,knowsuchstorieswhentheancientdemonwarsneverreachedtheseshores.”

Houlun surveyed them, her long, thick braid swaying. Then she braced ahandonthestoneandrose,groaning.“Imusteatfirst,andrestawhile.ThenIshalltellyou.”Shefrownedtowardthecavemouth,thesilverysheenofsunlightstaining thewalls. “A storm is coming. I outran it on the flight back.Tell theotherstoprepare.”

With that, thehearth-motherstrode fromthewarmthof thepitand into the

hall beyond.Her stepswere stiff, but her backwas straight.Awarrior’s pace,clippedandunfaltering.

But insteadofaimingfor the round tableor thekitchens,HoulunenteredadoorthatNesrynhadmarkedasleadingintothesmalllibrary.

“She is our StoryKeeper,” Sartaq explained, followingNesryn’s attention.“Beingaroundthetextshelpstotunnelintohermemory.”

Not just ahearth-motherwhoknew the rukhin’shistory,buta sacredStoryKeeper—araregiftforrememberingandtellingthelegendsandhistoriesoftheworld.

Sartaq rose, groaning himself as he stretched. “She’s neverwrong about astorm.Weshould spread theword.”Hepointed to thehallbehind them.“Youtaketheinterior.I’llgototheotherpeaksandletthemknow.”

Before Nesryn could ask who, exactly, she should approach, the princestalkedforKadara.

Shefrowned.Well,itwouldseemthatshe’donlyhaveherownthoughtsforcompany.Amerchanthuntingforspidersthatmighthelphimreclaimhisyouth,or at least learn how he might take it back from their northern kin. And thespidersthemselves…Nesrynshudderedtothinkofthosethingscrawlinghere,ofallplaces,tofeedonthemostvulnerable.Monstersoutoflegend.

PerhapsErawanwassummoningallthedark,wickedthingsofthisworldtohisbanner.

Rubbingherhandsasifshecouldimplanttheheatoftheflameintoherskin,Nesrynheadedintotheaerieproper.

Astormwascoming,shewastotellanywhocrossedherpath.Butsheknewonewasalreadyhere.

Thestormstruckjustafternightfall.Greatclawsoflightningrippedatthesky,andthundershudderedthrougheveryhallandfloor.

Seatedaroundthefirepit,Nesrynglancedto thedistantcavemouth,wheremightycurtainshadbeendrawnacross thespace.Theybillowedandpuffedinthe wind, but remained anchored to the floor, parting only slightly to allowglimpsesoftherain-lashednight.

Justinsidethem,threerukssatcurledinwhatseemedtobenestsofstrawandcloth:Kadara,afiercebrownrukthatNesrynhadbeentoldbelongedtoHoulun,andasmallerrukwithareddish-duncoloring.ThetiniestrukbelongedtoBorte—averitablerunt, thegirlhadcalledheratdinner,evenasshe’dbeamedwithpride.

Nesrynstretchedoutherachinglegs,gratefulfortheheatofthefireandtheblanketSartaqhaddroppedinherlap.She’dspenthoursgoingupanddowntheaerie stairs, telling whoever she encountered that Houlun had said a stormapproached.

Somehadgivenherthankfulnodsandhurriedoff;othershadofferedhotteaandsmallsamplingsofwhatevertheywerecookingintheirhearths.SomeaskedwhereNesrynhadcomefrom,whyshewashere.Andwheneversheexplainedthat she had come fromAdarlan but that her people hailed from the southerncontinent,theirreplieswereallthesame:Welcomehome.

The trekupanddown thevarious stairsandslopedhallshad taken its toll,alongwith thehoursof training thatmorning.Andby the timeHoulunsettledherself on the bench between Nesryn and Sartaq—Falkan and Borte havingdriftedofftotheirownroomsafterdinner—Nesrynwasnearnoddingoff.

Lightningcrackedoutside,limningthehallwithsilver.Forlongminutes,asHoulunstaredintothefire,therewasonlythegrumbleofthunderandthehowlofthewindandthepatteroftherain,onlythecrackleofthefireandrustlingofruk’swings.

“StormynightsarethedomainofStoryKeepers,”HoulunintonedinHalha.“Wecanhearoneapproachingfromahundredmilesaway,smellthechargeinthe air like ahoundon a scent.They tell us toprepare, to ready for them.To

gatherourkincloseandlistencarefully.”ThehaironNesryn’sarmsrosebeneaththewarmthofherwoolcoat.“Longago,”Houluncontinued,“beforethekhaganate,beforethehorse-lords

onthesteppesandtheTorrebythesea,beforeanymortalruledtheselands…Aripappearedintheworld.Intheseverymountains.”

Sartaq’s face was unreadable as his hearth-mother spoke, but Nesrynswallowed.

Aripintheworld—anopenWyrdgate.Here.“Itopenedandclosedswiftly,nomorethanaflashoflightning.”Asifinanswer,veinsofforkedlightninglittheskybeyond.“But thatwas all thatwasneeded.For thehorrors to enter.Thekharankui,

andotherbeastsofshadow.”ThewordsechoedthroughNesryn.Thekharankui—the stygian spiders…andother infiltrators.Noneof them

ordinarybeastsatall.ButValg.Nesrynwasgratefulshewasalreadysitting.“TheValgwerehere?”Hervoice

wastooloud,tooordinaryinthestorm-filledsilence.Sartaq gaveNesryn awarning look, butHoulun only nodded, a jab of the

chin.“MostoftheValgleft,summonednorthwardwhenmorehordesappearedthere.Butthisplace…perhapstheValgthatarrivedherewereavanguard,whoassessedthislandanddidnotfindwhattheywereseeking.Sotheymovedout.But thekharankui remained in themountainpasses, servants to a dark crown.Theydidnotleave.Thespiderslearnedthetonguesofmenastheyatethefoolsstupidenoughtoventureintotheirbarrenrealm.Somewhomadeitoutclaimedthey remained because the Fells reminded them of their own, blasted world.Otherssaidthespiderslingeredtoguardthewayback—towaitforthatdoortoopenupagain.Andtogohome.

“Warwagedintheeast,intheancientFaerealms.Threedemonkingsagainst

aFaeQueenandherarmies.Demonsthatpassedthroughadoorbetweenworldstoconquerourown.”

And so she went on, describing the story Nesryn knew well. She let thehearth-mothernarrateashermindspun.

Thestygianspiders—actuallyValghidinginplainsightallthistime.Houlun went on, and Nesryn reeled herself back together until, “And yet,

evenwhentheValgwerebanishedtotheirrealm,evenwhenthefinalremainingdemon king slithered into the dark places of theworld to hide, the Fae camehere.Tothesemountains.Theytaughttherukstofightthekharankui,taughttheruks the languages of Fae and men. They built watchtowers along thesemountains, erected warning beacons throughout the land.Were they a distantguardagainstthekharankui?OrweretheFae,too,likethespiders,waitingforthatripintheworldtoopenagain?Bythetimeanyonethoughttoaskwhy,theyhadleftthosewatchtowersandfadedintomemory.”

Houlunpaused,andSartaqasked,“Isthere…isthereanythingonhowtheValgmightbedefeated—beyondmerebattle?AnypowertohelpusfightthesenewhordesErawanhasbuilt?”

Houlun slid her gaze to Nesryn. “Ask her,” she said to the prince. “Shealreadyknows.”

Sartaqbarelyhidhisrippleofshockasheleanedforward.Nesrynbreathed,“Icannottellyou.Anyofyou.IfMorathhearsawhisperof

it,thesliverofhopewehaveisgone.”TheWyrdkeys…shecouldn’trisksayingit.Eventothem.

“Youbroughtmedownhereonafool’serrand,then.”Sharp,coldwords.“No,”Nesryninsisted.“Thereismuchwestilldon’tknow.Thatthesespiders

hail from theValg’sworld, that theywerepart of theValg army and have anoutpost here as well as in the RuhnnMountains in the northern continent…Perhapsitistied,somehow.Perhapsthereissomethingwehavenotyetlearned,some weakness amongst the Valg we might exploit.” She studied the hall,

calmingherthunderingheart.Fearhelpednoone.Houlunglancedbetweenthem.“Mostof theFaewatchtowersaregone,but

some still stand in partial ruin.The closest is perhaps half a day’s flight fromhere.Beginthere—seeifanythingremains.Perhapsyoumightfindananswerortwo,NesrynFaliq.”

“Noonehaseverlooked?”“The Fae set them with traps to keep the spiders at bay. When they

abandoned the towers, they left them intact. Some tried to enter—to loot, tolearn.Nonereturned.”

“Isitworththerisk?”Acoolquestionfromacaptaintothehearth-motherofhisaerie.

Houlun’s jawclenched.“IhavetoldyouwhatIcan—andeventhis ismerescrapsofknowledgethathavepassedbeyondmostmemoriesinthisland.Butifthe kharankui are stirring again … Someone should go to that watchtower.Maybe you will discover something of use. Learn how the Fae fought theseterrors,howtheykeptthematbay.”Along,assessinglookatNesrynasthunderrattledthecavesagain.“Perhapsitwillmakethatsliverofhopejustabitlarger.”

“Orgetuskilled,”Sartaqsaid,frowningtowardtherukshalfasleepintheirnests.

“Nothing valuable comeswithout a cost, boy,”Houlun countered. “But donotlingerinthewatchtowerafterdark.”

32

“Good,” saidYrene, theheavy, solidweight ofChaol’s legbraced against hershoulderwhilesheslowlyrotatedit.

Spreadbelowherontheflooroftheworkroominthephysicians’compoundof the Torre several days later, Chaol watched her in silence. The day wasalreadyburningenoughthatYrenewasdrenchedinsweat;orwouldhavebeen,ifthearidclimatedidn’tdryupthesweatbeforeitcouldreallysoakherclothes.She could feel it, though, on her face—see it gleaming on Chaol’s own, hisfeaturestightwithconcentrationwhileshekneltoverhim.

“Yourlegsarerespondingwelltothetraining,”sheobserved,fingersdiggingintothepowerfulmuscleofhisthighs.

Yrenehadn’taskedwhathadchanged.Whyhe’dstartedgoingtotheguards’courtyardatthepalace.Hehadn’texplained,either.

“Theyare,”Chaolmerelyanswered,scrubbinghisjaw.Hehadn’tshavedthatmorning.Whenshe’denteredhis suiteafterhe’d returned fromthismorning’spractice with the guard, he’d said he wanted to go for a ride—and to get achangeinsceneryfortheday.

Thathewassoeager,sowillingtoseethecity,toadapttohissurroundings…Yrenehadn’tbeenable tosayno.So they’dcomehere,afterameanderingridethroughAntica,toworkinoneofthequietroomsdownthishall.Theroomswereallthesame,eachoccupiedbyadesk,cot,andwallofcabinets,andeachadornedwithasolitarywindowthatoverlookedtheneatrowsofthesprawling

herb garden. Indeed, despite the heat, the scents of rosemary, mint, and sagefilledthechamber.

ChaolgruntedasYreneloweredhisleftlegtothecoolstonefloorandstartedon his right. Her magic was a low thrum flowing through her and into him,careful to avoid theblack stain that slowly—so, so slowly—recededdownhisspine.

Theyfoughtagainst iteveryday.Thememoriesdevouredhim,fedonhim,andYreneshovedbackagainstthem,chippingawayatthedarknessthatpushedintotormenthim.

Sometimes, she glimpsed what he endured in that whirling black pit. Thepain,therageandguiltandsorrow.Butonlyflickers,asiftheyweretendrilsofsmoke drifting past her. And though he did not discuss what he saw, Yrenemanagedtopushbackagainstthatdarkwave.Solittleatatime,merechipsofstoneoffaboulder,but…betterthannothing.

Closinghereyes,Yreneletherpowerseepintohislegslikeaswarmofwhitefireflies, finding those damaged pathways and congregating, surrounding thefrayedbitsthatwentsilentduringtheseexercises,whentheyshouldhavebeenlitupliketherestofhim.

“I’vebeenresearching,”shesaid,openinghereyesassherotatedhisleginhishipsocket.“Thingsancienthealersdidforpeoplewithspinalinjuries.Therewasonewoman,Linqin—shewasable tomakeamagicalbrace for theentirebody.Aninvisiblesortofexoskeletonthatallowedthepersontowalk,untiltheycouldreachahealer,orifthehealingwassomehowunsuccessful.”

Chaolcockedabrow.“I’massumingyoudon’thaveone?”Yrene shook her head, lowering his leg and again picking up the other to

beginthenextset.“Linqinonlymadeaboutten,allconnectedtotalismansthatthe user could wear. They’ve been lost to time, along with her method ofcreatingthem.Andtherewasanotherhealer,Saanvi,wholegendsayswasableto bypass the healing entirely by planting some sort of tiny,magical shard of

stoneinthebrain—”Hecringed.“Iwasn’tsuggestingIexperimentonyou,”shesaid,slappinghisthigh.“Or

needto.”Ahalfsmiletuggedonhismouth.“Sohowdidthisknowledgebecomelost?

Ithoughtthelibraryherecontainedallyourrecords.”Yrene frowned.“Bothwerehealersworkingatoutposts far from theTorre.

Therearefourthroughoutthecontinent—smallcentersforTorrehealerstoliveandwork.Tohelp thepeoplewhocan’tmakethe triphere.LinqinandSaanviwere so isolated that by the time anyone remembered to fetch their records,they’dbeenlost.Allwehavenowisrumorandmyth.”

“Doyoukeeprecords?Ofallthis?”Hegesturedbetweenthem.Yrene’sfaceheated.“Partsofit.Notwhenyou’reactinglikeastubbornass.”Again,thatsmiletuggedonhisface,butYrenesetdownhislegandpulled

back,thoughsheremainedkneelingonthetiles.“Mypoint,”shesaid,steeringconversationfromthejournalsinherroomlevelsandlevelsabove,“isthatithasbeen done. I know it’s taking us a longwhile, and I know you’re anxious toreturn—”

“Iam.ButI’mnotrushingyou,Yrene.”Hesatupinasmoothmovement.Onthe floor like this, he towered over her, the sheer size of him nearlyoverwhelming.He rotatedhis foot slowly—fighting for eachmovementas themusclesintherestofhislegsobjected.

Chaol lifted his head, meeting her stare. Reading it easily. “Whoever ishunting you won’t get the chance to hurt you—whether you and I finishtomorrow,orinsixmonths.”

“Iknow,”shebreathed.Kashinandhisguardshadn’tcaughtorfoundtracesofwhoeverhadtriedtoattackher.Andthoughithadbeenquiettheselastfewnights,she’dbarelyslept,eveninthesafetyoftheTorre.OnlyexhaustionfromhealingChaolgrantedheranymeasureofreprieve.

She sighed. “I thinkwe should seeNoushaagain.Takeanothervisit to thelibrary.”

Hisgazeturnedwary.“Why?”Yrene frowned at the open window behind them, the bright gardens and

lavenderbushesswayingintheseabreeze,thebeesbobbingamongstthemall.Nosignofanyonelisteningnearby.“Becausewestillhaven’taskedhow thosebooksandscrollswounduphere.”

“There are no records for acquisitions dating that far back,” Nousha said inYrene and Chaol’s own tongue, her mouth a tight line of disapproval as shegazedatthemoverherdesk.

Around them, the librarywas a dim hive of activity, healers and assistantsflowinginandout,somewhisperinghellotoYreneandNoushaastheypassed.Today, an orange Baast Cat lounged by the massive hearth, her beryl eyestrackingthemfromherspotdrapedovertherolledarmofasofa.

YreneofferedNoushaherbestattemptatasmile.“Butmaybethere’ssomerecordofwhythosebookswereevenneededhere?”

Noushabracedherdarkforearmsonthedesk.“Somepeoplemightbewaryof what knowledge they’re seeking if they’re being hunted—which startedaroundthetimeyoubeganpokingintothetopic.”

Chaolleanedforwardinhischair,teethflashing.“Isthatathreat?”Yrene waved him off. Overprotective man. “I know it is dangerous—and

likelytiedtoit.Butitisbecauseofthat,Nousha,thatanyadditionalinformationabout the material here, where it came from, who acquired it… It could bevital.”

“Forgettinghimtowalkagain.”Adry,disbelievingstatement.Yrenedidn’tdareglanceatChaol.“Youcanseethatourprogressisslow,”Chaolansweredtightly.“Perhapsthe

ancientshavesomesortofadviceforhowtomakeitgofaster.”Noushagavethembothalookthatsaidshewasn’tbuyingitforaminute,but

sighedat theceiling.“AsIsaid, therearenorecordsheredatingthatfarback.But,”sheaddedwhenChaolopenedhismouth,“therearerumorsthatoutinthedesert, caves exist with such information—caves this information came from.Mosthavebeenlost,buttherewasoneintheAksaraOasis…”Nousha’slookturnedknowingasYrenewinced.“Perhapsyoushouldstartthere.”

Yrenechewedonher lip as theywalked from the library,Chaolkeepingpacebesideher.

WhentheywereclosetotheTorre’smainhallway,tothecourtyardandhorsethatwouldtakehimhomefortheevening,heasked,“Whyareyoucringing?”

Yrenecrossedherarms,scanningthehallsaroundthem.Quietatthistimeofday,rightbeforethedinnerrush.“Thatoasis,Aksara.It’snotexactly…easytogetto.”

“Far?”“No, not that. It’s owned by the royals.No one is allowed there. It’s their

privaterefuge.”“Ah.” He scratched at the shadow of stubble on his jaw. “And asking to

accessitoutrightwillleadtotoomanyquestions.”“Exactly.”Hestudiedher,eyesnarrowing.“Don’tyoudaresuggestIuseKashin,”shehissed.Chaol liftedhishands,eyesdancing.“Iwouldn’tdare.Thoughhecertainly

ranthemomentyousnappedyourfingerstheothernight.He’sagoodman.”Yrenebracedherhandsonherhips.“Whydon’tyouinvitehimtoaromantic

interludeinthedesert,then.”Chaolchuckled, trailingherasshestartedfor thecourtyardagain.“I’mnot

versedincourtintrigue,butyoudohaveanotherpalaceconnection.”Yrenegrimaced.“Hasar.”Shetoyedwithacurlattheendofherhair.“She

hasn’taskedmetoplayspyrecently.I’mnotsureifIwantto…openthatdooragain.”

“Perhapsyoucouldconvinceherthatatriptothedesert—anouting—wouldbe…fun?”

“Youwantmetomanipulateherlikethat?”Hisgazewassteady.“Wecanfindanotherway,ifyou’reuncomfortable.”“No—no,itmightwork.It’sjustHasarwasbornintothissortofthing.She

might see right through me. And she’s powerful enough that … Is it worthrisking her entanglement, her anger, ifwe’re just going on a suggestion fromNousha?”

Heconsideredherwords.InawaythatonlyHafizareallydid.“We’ll thinkonit.WithHasar,we’llneedtoproceedcarefully.”

Yrene stepped into the courtyard, motioning to one of the awaiting Torreguardsthatthelordneededhishorsebroughtaroundfromthestables.“I’mnotavery good accomplice in intrigue,” she admitted to Chaol with an apologeticsmile.

Heonlybrushedhishandagainsthers.“Ifinditrefreshing.”Andfromthelookinhiseyes…shebelievedhim.Enoughthathercheeks

heated,justabit.YreneturnedtowardtheTorre loomingover them,just tobuyherselfsome

breathingroom.Lookedup,up,uptowhereherownlittlewindowgazedtowardthesea.Towardhome.

SheloweredhergazefromtheTorretofindhisfacegrim.“I’msorrytohavebroughtallthisuponyou—allofyou,”Chaolsaidquietly.

“Don’tbe.Perhaps that’swhat itwants.Touse fearandguilt toend this—stopus.”Shestudiedhim,theproudliftofhischin,thestrengthheradiatedinevery breath. “Though … I do worry that time is not on our side.” Yrene

amended,“Takeallthetimeyouneedtoheal.Yet…”Sherubbedatherchest.“Ihaveafeelingwehavenotseenthelastofthathunter.”

Chaolnodded,hisjawtight.“We’lldealwithit.”Andthatwasthat.Together—they’ddealwithittogether.Yrenesmiledslightlyathimasthelightstepsofhishorseapproachedonthe

palegravel.And the thought of climbing back to her room, the thought of hours spent

fretting…Maybe itmadeherpathetic,butYreneblurted,“Wouldyou like tostayfor

dinner?Cookwillmopethatyoudidn’tsayhello.”Sheknewitwasnotmerefearthatspurredher.Knewthatshejustwantedto

spendafewmoreminuteswithhim.Talktohiminawaythatshesorarelydidwithanyoneelse.

Foralongmoment,Chaolonlywatchedher.Asifsheweretheonlypersonin theworld.Shebracedherself for therefusal, thedistance.Knewsheshouldhavejustlethimrideoffintothenight.

“Whatifweventuredoutfordinnerinstead?”“Youmean—inthecity?”Shepointedtowardtheopengates.“Unlessyouthinkthechairinthestreets—”“The walkways are even.” Her heart hammered. “Do you have any

preferenceforwhattoeat?”A border—thiswas some strange border that theywere crossing. To leave

their neutral territories and emerge into the world beyond, not as healer andpatient,butwomanandman—

“I’lltryanything,”Chaolsaid,andsheknewhemeantit.AndfromthewayhelookedtotheopengatesoftheTorre,tothecityjuststartingtoglowbeyond…Sheknewhewantedtotryanything;wasaseagerforadistractionfromthatshadowloomingoverthemassheherselfwas.

SoYrene signaled to the guards that they didn’t need his horse.Not for a

whileyet.“Iknowjusttheplace.”

Somepeoplestared;someweretoobusygoingabouttheirbusinessorjourneyshometoremarkonChaolashewheeledhischairalongsideYrene.

Shehadtostepinonlyafewtimes,tohelphimoverthebumpofacurve,ordown one of the steep streets. She led him to a place five blocks away, theestablishment like nothing he’d seen in Rifthold. He’d visited a few privatediningroomswithDorian,yes,butthosehadbeenfortheelite,formembersandtheirguests.

Thisplace…itwasakintothoseprivateclubs,inthatitwasonlyforeating,fullof tables andcarvedwoodenchairs, but thiswasopen to anyone, like thepublic rooms at an inn or tavern. The front of the pale-stoned building hadseveralsetsofdoorsthatwereopentothenight,leadingoutontoapatiofullofmoretablesandchairsunder thestars, thespacejuttinginto thestreet itselfsothatdinerscouldwatch thepassingcitybustle,evenglimpsedowntheslopingstreettothedarkseasparklingunderthemoonlight.

And the enticing smells coming from within: garlic, something tangy,somethingsmoky…

Yrenemurmured to thewomanwho came to greet them,whichmust haveamountedtoatablefortwoandwithoutonechair,becausewithinamoment,hewasbeingledtothestreet-patio,whereaservantdiscreetlyremovedoneofthechairsatasmalltableforhimtopulluptotheedge.

Yreneclaimedaseatoppositehim,morethanafewheadsturningtheirway.Nottogawkathim,buther.

TheTorrehealer.Shedidn’t seemtonotice.Theservant returned to rattleoffwhathad tobe

themenu,andYreneorderedinherhaltingHalha.Shebitherlowerlip,glancingtothetable,thepublicdiningroom.“Isthisall

right?”Chaoltookintheopenskyabovethem,thecolorbleedingtoasapphireblue,

thestarsbeginningtoblinkawake.Whenhadhelastrelaxed?Eatenamealnottokeephisbodyhealthyandalive,buttoenjoyit?

Hegrappledforthewords.Grappledtosettleintotheease.“I’veneverdoneanythinglikethis,”heatlastadmitted.

Hisbirthdaythispastwinter,inthatgreenhouse—eventhen,withAelin,he’dbeen half there, half focused on the palace he’d left behind, on rememberingwhowasinchargeandwhereDorianwassupposedtobe.Butnow…

“What—eatenameal?”“HadamealwhenIwasn’t…HadamealwhenIwasjust…Chaol.”Hewasn’tsureifhe’dexplaineditright,ifhecouldarticulateit—Yreneangledherhead,hermassofhairslidingoverashoulder.“Why?”“BecauseIwaseitheralord’ssonandheir,orCaptainoftheGuard,ornow

HandtotheKing.”Hergazewasunflinchingashefumbledtoexplain.“Noonerecognizesmehere.NoonehaseverevenheardofAnielle.Andit’s…”

“Liberating?”“Refreshing,” he countered, giving Yrene a small smile at the echo to his

earlierwords.Sheblushedprettily in thegolden light from the lanternswithin thedining

roombehindthem.“Well…good.”“Andyou?Doyougooutwithfriendsoften—leavethehealerbehind?”Yrene watched the people streaming by. “I don’t havemany friends,” she

admitted.“NotbecauseIdon’twantthem,”sheblurted,andhesmiled.“Ijust—attheTorre,we’reallbusy.Sometimes,afewofuswillgoforamealordrink,butourschedulesrarelyalign,andit’seasiertoeatatthemesshall,so…we’renotreallyalivelybunch.WhichwaswhyKashinandHasarbecamemyfriends—when they’re inAntica.But I’venever reallyhad thechance todomuchofthis.”

Healmostasked,Goouttodinnerwithmen?Butsaid,“Youhadyourfocuselsewhere.”

Shenodded.“Andmaybeoneday—maybeI’llhave the timetogooutandenjoymyself,but…therearepeoplewhoneedmyhelp.Itfeelsselfishtotaketimeformyself,evennow.”

“Youshouldn’tfeelthatway.”“Andyou’reanybetter?”Chaolchuckled,leaningbackastheservantcame,bearingapitcherofchilled

minttea.Hewaiteduntilthemanleftbeforesaying,“MaybeyouandIwillhavetolearnhowtolive—ifwesurvivethiswar.”

It was a sharp, cold knife between them. But Yrene straightened hershoulders,hersmilesmallandyetdefiantasshe liftedherpewterglassof tea.“Toliving,LordChaol.”

Heclinkedhisglassagainsthers.“TobeingChaolandYrene—evenjustforanight.”

Chaolateuntilhecouldbarelymove,thespiceslikesmallrevelationswitheverybite.

Theytalkedas theydined,Yreneexplainingher initialmonthsat theTorre,andhowdemandinghertraininghadbeen.Thenshe’daskedabouthistrainingascaptain,andhe’dbalked—balkedattalkingofBrulloandtheothers,andyet…Hecouldn’trefuseherjoy,hercuriosity.

Andsomehow,talkingaboutBrullo,themanwhohadbeenabetterfathertohimthanhisown…Itdidnothurt,notasmuch.Alower,quieterache,butonehecouldwithstand.

One hewas glad toweather, if itmeant honoring a goodman’s legacy bytellinghisstory.

So they talked, and ate, and when they finished, he escorted her to the

glowingwhitewallsof theTorre.Yreneherselfseemedglowingasshesmiledwhentheystoppedwithinthegateswhilehishorsewasreadied.

“Thankyou,”shesaid,hercheeksflushedandgleaming.“Forthemeal—andcompany.”

“Itwasmypleasure,”Chaolsaid,andmeantit.“I’llseeyoutomorrowmorning—atthepalace?”Anunnecessaryquestion,buthenodded.Yreneshiftedfromonefoot toanother,still smiling,still shining.As ifshe

werethelast,vibrantrayofthesun,stainingtheskylongafterithadvanishedoverthehorizon.

“What?”sheasked,andherealizedhe’dbeenstaring.“Thankyoufortonight,”Chaolsaid,stiflingwhattriedtoleapoffhistongue:

Ican’ttakemyeyesoffyou.She bit her lip again, the crunch of hooves on gravel approaching. “Good

night,”shemurmured,andtookastepaway.Chaolreachedout.Justtobrushhisfingersoverhers.Yrene paused, her fingers curling, as if they were the petals of some shy

flower.“Goodnight,”hemerelysaid.And asChaol rodeback to the illuminatedpalace across the city, he could

haveswornthatsomeweightinhischest,onhisshoulders,hadvanished.Asifhe’dlivedwithithisentirelife,unaware,andnow,evenwithall thatgatheredaroundhim,aroundAdarlanandthosehecaredfor…Howstrangeitfelt.

Thatlightness.

33

The Watchtower of Eidolon jutted up from the mist-shrouded pines like theshard of a broken sword. It had been situated atop a low-lying peak thatoverlooked a solid wall of gargantuan mountains, and as Nesryn and Sartaqswept near the tower, sailing along the tree-crustedhills, she had the sense ofracingtowardatidalwaveofhardstone.

Foraheartbeat,awaveoflethalglasssweptforherinstead.Sheblinked,anditwasgone.

“There,”Sartaqwhispered,asiffearfulthatanymighthearwhilehepointedtowardtheenormousmountainslurkingbeyond.“Overthatlip,thatisthestartof kharankui territory, the Dagul Fells. Those in the watchtower would havebeen able to see anyone coming down from thosemountains, especially withtheirFaesight.”

Fae sight or not,Nesryn scanned the barren slopes of the Fells—awall ofbouldersandshardsofrock.Notrees,nostreams.Asif lifehadfled.“Houlunflewoverthat?”

“Believeme,”Sartaqgrumbled,“Iamnotpleased.Bortegotanearfulaboutitthismorning.”

“I’msurprisedyourkneecapsstillfunction.”“Didn’tyounoticemylimpearlier?”Despite the nearingwatchtower, despite thewall ofmountain that rose up

beyond it, Nesryn chuckled. She could have sworn Sartaq leaned closer, his

broadchestpushingintothequiverandbowshehadstrappedacrossherback,alongwiththetwinlongknivescourtesyofBorte.

Theyhadn’ttoldanyonewheretheyweregoingorwhattheysought,whichhadearnednoshortageofglaresfromBorteoverbreakfast,andcuriousglancesfromFalkanacrosstheroundtable.Buttheyhadagreedlastnight,whenSartaqleftNesrynatherbedroomdoor,thatsecrecywasvital—fornow.

So they’d departed an hour after dawn, armed and bearing a few packs ofsupplies. Even though they planned to be headed home well before sunset,Nesryn had insisted on bringing their gear. Should the worst happen, shouldanythinghappen,itwasbettertobeprepared.

Borte,despiteherireatbeingleftinthedark,hadbraidedNesryn’shairafterbreakfast—atight,elegantplaitstartingatthecrownofherheadandlandingjustwherehercapefelltocoverherflyingleathers.ThebraidwastightenoughthatNesrynhadavoidedtheurgetoloosenitthesehoursthatthey’dflown,butnowthatthetowerwasinsightandherhairhadbarelyshifted,Nesrynsupposedthebraidcouldstay.

Kadaracircledthewatchtowertwice,droppinglowerwitheachpass.“No signs ofwebs,”Nesryn observed.The upper levels of thewatchtower

hadbeendestroyedbyweatherorsomelong-agopassingarmy,leavingonlytwofloors above the ground. Both were exposed to the elements, the windingstairwellinthecentercoatedinpineneedlesanddirt.Brokenbeamsandblocksof stonealso littered it, butno indicationsof life.Or any sortofmiraculouslypreservedlibrary.

WithKadara’ssize,therukhadtofindaclearingnearbytoland,sinceSartaqdidn’ttrustthewatchtowerwallstoholdher.Thebirdleapedintotheairassoonasthey’dbeguntheclimbupthesmallinclinetothewatchtowerproper.She’dcircleoverheaduntilSartaqwhistledforher,apparently.

Another trick of the rukhin and theDarghan on the steppes: thewhistling,along with their whistling arrows. They had long allowed both peoples to

communicate in a way that few noticed or bothered to comprehend, passingmessagesthroughenemyterritoryordownarmylines.Theridershadtrainedtherukstounderstandthewhistles,too—toknowacallforhelpfromawarningtoflee.

Nesryn prayed with each grueling step through the thick pine trees andgranitebouldersthattheywouldonlyneedthewhistletosummonthebird.Shewasnogreattracker,butSartaq,itseemed,wasdeftlyreadingthesignsaroundthem.

A shake of the prince’s head told Nesryn enough: no hint of a presence,arachnidorotherwise.Shetriednot to looktoorelieved.Despite the tall trees,theFellswereasolid,loomingpresencetoherright,drawingtheeyeevenasitrepelledeveryinstinct.

Blocksofstonegreetedthemfirst.Great,rectangularchunks,halfburiedinthepineneedlesandsoil.Thefullweightofsummerlayupontheland,yettheairwascool,theshadebeneaththetreesoutrightchilly.

“Idon’tblamethemforabandoningitifit’sthiscoldinthesummer,”Nesrynmuttered.“Imagineitinwinter.”

Sartaqsmiledbutpresseda finger tohis lipsas theycleared the lastof thetrees. Blushing that he’d needed to remind her, Nesryn unslung her bow andnockedanarrow,lettingithanglimplywhiletheytippedbacktheirheadstotakeinthetower.

Itmusthavebeenenormous,thousandsofyearsago,iftheruinswereenoughtomakeherfeelsmall.Anybarracksorlivingquartershadlongsincetumbledaway or rotted, but the stone archway into the tower itself remained intact,flankedbytwinstatuesofsomesortofweather-wornbird.

Sartaq approached, his long knife gleaming like quicksilver in the waterylightashestudiedthestatues.“Ruks?”Thequestionwasamerebreath.

Nesryn squinted. “No—look at the face.Thebeak.They’re…owls.”Tall,slenderowls,theirwingstuckedintight.ThesymbolofSilba,oftheTorre.

Sartaq’sthroatbobbed.“Let’sbeswift.Idon’tthinkit’swisetolinger.”Nesryn nodded, one eye behind them as they slipped through the open

archway. Itwas a familiarposition, the rearguard—inRifthold’s sewers, she’doften let Chaol stalk ahead while she covered behind, arrow aimed into thedarknessattheirbacks.SoherbodyactedonpuremusclememorywhileSartaqtookthefirststepsthroughthearchwayandshetwistedback,arrowaimedatthepineforest,scanningthetrees.

Nothing.Notabirdorrustleofwindthroughthepines.She turned a heartbeat later, assessing efficiently, as she had always done,

evenbeforeher training:markingexits,pitfalls,possiblesanctuaries.But therewasn’tmuchtonoteintheruin.

The tower floor was well lit thanks to the vanished ceiling above, thecrumblingstaircase leading into thegraysky.Slits in thestonerevealedwherearchers might have once positioned themselves—or watched from within thewarmthofatoweronafreezingday.“Nothingup,”Nesrynobservedperhapsabituselessly,facingSartaqjustashetookasteptowardanopenarchwayleadingdownintoadarkstairwell.Shegrabbedhiselbow.“Don’t.”

Hegaveheranincredulouslookoverhisshoulder.Nesryn kept her own face like stone. “Your ej said these towerswere laid

withtraps.Justbecausewehaveyettoseeonedoesnotmeantheyarenotstillhere.” She pointed with her arrow toward the open archway to the levelsbelowground.“Wekeepquiet,treadcarefully.Igofirst.”

Tohellwithbeingtherearguard,ifhewaspronetoplungingintodanger.Theprince’seyesflared,butshedidn’t lethimobject.“Ifacedsomeof the

horrors of Morath this spring and summer. I know how to mark them—andwheretostrike.”

Sartaqlookedheroveragain.“Youreallyshouldhavebeenpromoted.”Nesryn smiled, releasing his muscled bicep. Wincing as she realized the

libertiesshe’dtakenbygrabbinghim,touchingaprincewithoutpermission—

“Twocaptains,remember?”hesaid,notingthecringeshefailedtohide.Indeed.Nesryninclinedherheadandsteppedinfrontofhim—andintothe

archwayofthestairsleadingbelow.Her arm strained as she pulled the bowstring taut, scanning the darkness

immediately beyond the stairwell entrance. When nothing leaped out, sheslackened the bow, placed her arrow back in the quiver, and plucked up ahandful of rocks from the ground, shards and chips from the felled blocks ofstonearoundthem.

Astepbehind,Sartaqdidthesame,fillinghispocketswiththem.Listening carefully, Nesryn rolled one of the rocks down the spiral stairs,

lettingitbounceandcrackand—A faint click, and Nesryn hurled herself back, slamming into Sartaq and

sendingthembothsprawlingtotheground.Athudsoundedwithinthestairwellbelow,thenanother.

In thequiet that followed,herheavybreathing theonlysound, she listenedagain. “Hidden bolts,” she observed,wincing as she foundSartaq’s facemereinches away.His eyeswereupon the stairwell, evenashekept ahandonherback,theotheranglinghislongknifetowardthearchway.

“SeemsIoweyoumylife,Captain,”Sartaqsaid,andNesrynquicklypeeledback,offeringahandtohelphimrise.Heclaspedit,hishandwarmaroundhersasshehauledhimtohisfeet.

“Don’t worry,” Nesryn said drily. “I won’t tell Borte.” She plucked upanotherhandfulofrocksandsentthemrollingandscatteringdownthegloomofthestairs.Afewmoreclicksandthumps—thensilence.

“Wegoslow,”shesaid,allamusementfading,anddidn’twaitforhisnodassheproddedthefirststepdownwiththetipofherbow.

She tapped and pushed along the stair, watching the walls, the ceiling.Nothing. She did it to the second, third, and fourth steps—as far as her bowcould reach.Andonlywhenshewassatisfied thatnosurpriseswaiteddidshe

allowthemtostepontothestairs.Nesrynrepeated itwith thenext foursteps, findingnothing.Butwhen they

reached the first turn of the spiral stairs…“I really owe youmy life,” Sartaqbreathedastheybeheldwhathadbeenfiredfromaslit inthewallattheninthstep.

Barbed iron spikes.Designed to slam into flesh and stay there—unless thevictim wanted to rip out more of their skin or organs on the curved, vicioushooksonthewayout.

The spike had been fired so hard that it had sunk deep into the mortarbetweenthestones.“Rememberthatthesetrapswerenotforhumanassailants,”shebreathed.

Butforspidersaslargeashorses.Whocouldspeak,andplan,andremember.Shetappedthestepsahead,thewoodofherbowahollowechothroughthe

dark chamber, prodding the slitwhere the bolt hadbeen fired. “TheFaemusthavememorizedwhat stairs to avoidwhile living here,” she observed as theyclearedanotherfewfeet.“Idon’t think theywerestupidenoughtodoaneasypattern,though.”

Indeed,thenextbolthademergedthreestepsdown.Theoneafterthat,fiveapart. But after that…Sartaq reached into his pocket and pulled out anotherhandfulofstones.Theybothsquattedasherolledafewdownthestairs.Click.Nesrynwassofocusedonthewallaheadthatshedidn’tconsiderwherethe

clickhadcomefrom.Notinfront,butbelow.Oneheartbeat,shewascrouchedonastep.Thenext,ithadslidawaybeneathherfeet,ablackpityawningopenbeneath

—Stronghandswrappedaroundhershoulder,hercollar,abladeclatteringon

stone—NesrynscrabbledforthelipoftheneareststairasSartaqheldher,gruntingat

herweight,hislongknifetumblingintotheblacknessbeneath.Metal hit metal. Bounced off it again and again, the clanking filling the

stairwell.Spikes.Likelyafieldofmetalspikes—Sartaq hauled her up, and her nails cracked on stone as she grappled for

purchaseon the smooth step.But then shewasup,half sprawledon the stairsbetweenSartaq’slegs,bothofthempantingastheypeeredtothegapbeyond.

“Ithinkwe’reeven,”Nesrynsaid,fightingandfailingtomasterhershaking.Theprinceclaspedhershoulder,whilehisotherhandbrusheddowntheback

ofherhead.Acomforting,casualtouch.“Whoeverbuiltthisplacehadnomercyforthekharankui.”

Ittookheranotherminutetostoptrembling.Sartaqpatientlywaited,strokingherhair,fingersripplingovertheridgesofBorte’sbraid.Shelethim,leanedintothe touch while she studied the gap they’d now have to jump, the stairs stillbeyond.

When she could at last stand without her knees clacking together, theycarefully jumped thehole—andmade it severalmorestepsbeforeanotheroneappeared, this time accompanied by a bolt. But they kept going, the minutesdrippingby,untiltheyatlastreachedthelevelbelow.

Shaftsofpalelightshonefromcarefullyhiddenholesinthegroundabove,orperhaps through somemirror contraption in the passageways high above. Shedidn’tcare,solongasthelightwasbrightenoughtoseeby.

Andseetheydid.Thebottomlevelwasadungeon.Fivecellslayopen,thedoorsrippedoff,prisonersandguardslonggone.A

rectangularstonetablelayinthecenter.“Anyone who thinks the Fae are prancing creatures given to poetry and

singingneedsahistorylesson,”Sartaqmurmuredastheylingeredonthebottomstep, not daring to touch the floor. “That stone tablewas not used forwriting

reportsordining.”Indeed,darkstains stillmarred thesurface.Butaworktable layagainst the

nearbywall,scatteredwithanassortmentofweapons.Anypapershadlongagomeltedawayinthesnowandrain,andanyleather-boundbooks…alsogone.

“Doweriskit,orleave?”Sartaqmused.“We’vecomethisfar,”Nesrynsaid.Shesquintedtowardthefarwall.“There

—there is some writing there.” Near the floor, in dark lettering—a tangle ofscript.

Theprincejustreachedintohispockets,castingmorestonesthroughoutthespace. No clicks or groans answered. He chucked a few at the ceiling, at thewalls.Nothing.

“Goodenoughforme,”Nesrynsaid.Sartaqnodded,thoughtheybothtestedeachblockofstonewiththetipofthe

boworhis fine, thinsword.Theymade itpast thestone table,andNesryndidnotbothertoexaminethevariousinstrumentsthathadbeendiscarded.

She’dseenChaol’smenhangingfromthecastlegates.Hadseen themarksontheirbodies.

Sartaqpausedattheworktable,sortingthroughtheweaponsthere.“Someofthesearestill sharp,”heobserved,andNesrynapproachedashepulleda longdaggerfromitssheath.Thewaterysunlightcaught in theblade,dancingalongthemarkingscarveddownthecenter.

Nesryn reached for a short-sword, the leather scabbard nearly crumblingbeneath her hand. She brushed away the ancient dirt from the hilt, revealingshiningdarkmetalinlaidwithswirlsofgold,thecross-guardcurvingslightlyatitsends.

Thescabbardwas indeedsoold that it fellapartasshelifted thesword, itsweight light despite its size, the balance perfect. More markings had beenengraveddownthefulleroftheblade.Anameoraprayer,perhaps.

“OnlyFaebladescouldremainthissharpafterathousandyears,”saidSartaq,

settingdowntheknifehe’dbeeninspecting.“LikelyforgedbytheFaesmithsinAsterion, to theeastofDoranelle—perhapsevenbefore the firstof thedemonwars.”

Aprincewhohadstudiednotonlyhisownempire’shistory,butthatofmanyothers.

Historywascertainlynotherstrongestsubject,sosheasked,“Asterion—likethehorses?”

“One and the same.Great smiths and horse-breeders.Or so it oncewas—beforebordersclosedandtheworlddarkened.”

Nesrynstudied the short-sword inherhand, themetal shiningas if imbuedwithstarlight,interruptedonlybythecarvingsdownthefuller.“Iwonderwhatthemarkingssay.”

Sartaqexaminedanotherblade, shardsof lightbouncingover theplanesofhishandsomeface.“Likelyspellsagainstenemies;perhapsevenagainstthe—”Hehaltedattheword.

Nesrynnoddedallthesame.TheValg.“Halfofmehopesweneverhavetofindout.”LeavingSartaqtopickoneforhimself,shefastenedtheshort-swordtoherbeltassheapproachedthefarwallandthescribbleddarkwritingalongthebottom.

Shetestedeachblockofstoneonthefloor,butfoundnothing.Atlast,shepeeredatthescriptinflakingblackletters.Notblack,but—“Blood,”Sartaqsaid,comingupbesideher,anAsterionknifenowathisside.Nosignofabody,oranylingeringeffectsofwhoeverhadwrittenit,perhaps

whiletheylaydying.“It’s in the Fae tongue,” Nesryn said. “I don’t suppose your fancy tutors

taughtyoutheOldLanguageduringyourhistorylessons?”Ashakeofthehead.Shesighed.“Weshouldfindawaytowriteitdown.Unlessyourmemoryis

thesortthat—”

“It’snot.”Heswore,turningtowardthestairs.“IhavesomepaperandinkinKadara’ssaddlebags.Icould—”

Itwasn’thiscut-offwordsthatmadeherwhirl.Butthewayhewentutterlystill.

NesrynslidthatFaebladefreefromwhereshe’dtiedit.“Thereisnoneedtotranslateit,”saidalightfemalevoiceinHalha.“Itsays,

Lookup.Pityyoudidn’theedit.”Nesrynindeedlookedupatwhatemergedfromthestairwell,crawlingalong

theceilingtowardthem,andswallowedherscream.

34

ItwasworsethanNesrynhadeverdreamed.The kharankui that slid from the ceiling and onto the floor was so much

worse.Biggerthanahorse.Herskinwasblackandgray,mottledwithsplotchesof

white,hermultipleeyesdepthlesspoolsofobsidian.Anddespiteherbulk,shewasslenderandsleek—moreblackwidowthanwolfspider.

“ThoseFaemorselsforgottolookupwhentheybuiltthisplace,”thespidersaid,hervoicesolovelydespiteheruttermonstrosity.Herlongfrontlegsclickedagainsttheancientstone.“Torememberwhotheylaidthesetrapsfor.”

Nesrynsizedupthestairwellbehindthespider,thelightshafts,foranyexits.Foundnone.

And thiswatchtowerhadnowbecomeaveritableweb.Fool; utter fool forlingering—

Theclawsatthetopsofthespider’slegsscrapedovertherock.Nesrynsheathedherswordagain.“Good,” the spider purred. “Good that you know how useless that Fae

rubbishwillbe.”Nesryndrewherbow,nockinganarrow.Thespiderlaughed.“IfFaearchersdidnothaltmelongago,human,youwill

notnow.”Besideher,Sartaq’sswordliftedafraction.

Dyinghere,now,hadnotoccurredtoheratbreakfastwhileBortebraidedherhair.

Buttherewasnothingtodoasthespideradvanced,fangsslippingfromherjaws.

“WhenIamdonewithyou,rider,Ishallmakeyourbirdscream.”Dropsofliquidploppedfromthosefangs.Venom.

Thenthespiderlunged.Nesrynfiredanarrow,anotheraimedbeforeherfirstfounditsmark.Butthe

spidermovedsoswiftly that theblowintendedforaneyehit thehardshellofherabdomen,barelyembedding.Thespiderslammedintothestonetorturetable,asifshe’dleapofftopounceonthem—

Sartaqstruck,abrutalslashtowardthenearestclawedleg.The spider shrieked, black blood spurting, and they hurtled for that distant

doorway—Thekharankuiinterceptedthemfirst.Slammedherlegsbetweenthewalland

the stone table, blocking their path. So close, the reek of death leaking fromthosefangs—

“Humanfilth,”thespiderspat,venomsprayingontothestonesattheirfeet.Fromthecornerofhereye,NesrynsawSartaq flinganarm inherpath, to

shoveheraway,toleapinfrontofthosedeadlyjaws—Shedidn’tknowwhathappenedatfirst.Whattheblurofmotionwas,whatmadethekharankuiscream.Oneheartbeat,she’dbeenreadytofightpastSartaq’sself-sacrificingidiocy,

thenext…thespiderwascrashingthroughtheroom,tumblingoverandover.NotKadara,butsomethinglarge,armedwithclawsandfangs—Agraywolf.Aslargeasapony,andutterlyferocious.Sartaqwastednotime,andneitherdidNesryn.Theysprintedforthearchway

andstairsbeyond,notcaringhowmanyboltsorarrowsshotfromthewallsasthey outraced even the traps. Tearing up the stairs, leaping the gaps between

them,theydidnotstopatthecrashingandscreechingbelow—Acanineyelpsounded,thensilence.NesrynandSartaqhit the topof thestairs, runningfor the treesbeyondthe

opendoorway.Theprincehadahandonherback, shovingheralong,bothofthemhalfturnedtowardthetower.

Thespiderexplodedfromthegloom,aimingnotforthetrees,buttheupperstairsofthewatchtower.Asifshe’dclimbuptoambushthewolfwhenitchasedafterher.

Andexactlyasshe’dplanned, thewolfflewfromthestairwell,headingfortheopenarchwaytothewoods,notevenlookingbehind.

Thespiderleaped.Goldflashedfromtheskies.Kadara’swar cry sent the pines trembling, her claws ripping right into the

abdomenofthekharankuiandsendinghertopplingoffthestairs.ThewolfdartedawayasSartaq’sroarofwarningtohisrukwasswallowed

bythescreamingofbirdandspider.Thekharankuilandedonherback,preciselywhereKadarawantedher.

Leaving her underbelly exposed to the ruk’s talons. And her blade-sharpbeak.

Afewviciousslashes,blackbloodsprayingandsleek limbsflailing,and—silence.

Nesryn’s bowdangled fromher shakinghands asKadaradismembered thetwitchingspider.Shewhirled toSartaq,buthiseyeswere turnedaway.To thewolf.

Sheknew.Rightasthewolflimpedtowardthem,adeepgashinitsside,andshebehelditsdarksapphireeyes.

Knewwhatitwas,whoitwas,astheedgesofhisgraycoatshimmered,hisentirebodyfillingwithlightthatshrankandflowed.

And when Falkan waved on his feet before them, a hand pressed to thebloodywoundinhisribs,Nesrynbreathed,“You’reashape-shifter.”

35

Falkan dropped to his knees, pine needles scattering, blood dribbling betweenhistanfingers.

Nesrynmadetorushtohim,butSartaqblockedherwithanarm.“Don’t,”hewarned.

Nesrynshovedhisarmoutofherwayandrantotheinjuredman,kneelingbeforehim.“Youfollowedushere.”

Falkan lifted his head, pain lining his eyes. “I listened last night. At yourfire.”

Sartaqsnarled,“Nodoubtassomeratorinsect.”SomethinglikeshameindeedfilledFalkan’sface.“Iflewhereasafalcon—

sawyougo in.Thensawher creepup thehillafteryou.”HeshudderedasheglancedtowhereKadarahadfinishedrippingapartthespiderandnowsatatopthetower,studyinghimasifhewerehernextmeal.

Nesrynwaved toward the bird to hop downwith their saddlebags. Kadarapointedlyignoredher.“Heneedshelp,”shehissedtoSartaq.“Bandages.”

“Doesmyejknow?”wasalltheprincedemanded.Falkan tried and failed to remove his blood-soaked hand from his side,

pantingthroughhisteeth.“Yes,”hemanagedtosay.“Itoldhereverything.”“Andwhatcourtpaidyoutocomehere?”“Sartaq.”She’dneverheardhimspeakthatway,neverseenhimsofurious.

Shegrabbed theprince’s arm.“He savedour lives.Nowwe return the favor.”

Shepointedtotheruk.“Bandages.”Sartaqturnedthoselivideyesonher.“Hiskindareassassinsandspies,”he

snarled.“Bettertolethimdie.”“I am neither,” Falkan panted. “I amwhat I said: amerchant. InAdarlan,

growingup,Ididn’tevenknowIhadthegift.It—itraninmyfamily,butbythetimemagicvanished,I’dassumedIhadn’tgottenit.Wasgladforit.ButImustnothavematuredenough,becausewhenIsetfootintheselandsasaman,asthis…”Agesturetohisbody.Tothetwentyyearshe’dgivenup.Hewincedagainstwhatthemovementdidtohiswound.“Icoulduseit.Icouldchange.Badly,andnot often, but I canmanage it, if I concentrate.” He said to the prince, “It isnothing to me, this heritage. It was my brother’s gift, my father’s—I neverwantedit.Istilldon’t.”

“Yetyoucanchangefrombirdtowolftomanaseasilyasifyoutrained.”“Trustme,it’smorethanI’vedoneinmy—”Falkangroaned,swaying.Nesryncaughthimbeforehecouldeatdirt, andsnappedatSartaq, “Ifyou

don’tgethimbandagesandsuppliesrightnow,I’llgiveyouawoundtomatch.”Theprinceblinkedather,mouthfallingopen.Then he whistled through his teeth, sharp and swift, while he strode for

Kadara,hisstepsclipped.Therukhoppedfromthetowertolandupononeoftheowlstatuesanchored

intothearchwaywalls,stonecrackingbeneathher.“Iamnoassassin,”Falkaninsisted,stillshaking.“I’vemetafew,butI’mnot

one.”“I believe you,” Nesryn said, and meant it. Sartaq hauled the packs off

Kadara, searching through them. “The left one,” she barked.The prince threwheranotherlookoverhisshoulder,butobeyed.

“Iwantedtokillhermyself,”Falkanpanted,hiseyesglazing,nodoubtfrombloodloss.“Toseeif…thatmightreturntheyears.Even…evenifsheisnottheonewho tookmyyouth, I thoughtmaybe therewas some… joint system

betweenthem,evenacrossoceans.Aweb,as itwere,ofall that theirkindhastaken.”Abitter,strainedlaugh.“Butitseemsmydeathblowwastaken,too.”

“IthinkwecanallforgiveKadarafordoingitinstead,”Nesrynsaid,notingtheblackbloodsplatteredovertheruk’sbeakandfeathers.

Anotherpainedlaugh.“Youarenotscared—ofwhatIam.”Sartaqstrodeoverwiththebandagesandsalve.Andwhatseemedtobeajar

of a honey-like substance, to likely seal the wound until they could reach ahealer.Good.

“Oneofmyfriendsisashifter,”Nesrynadmitted—justasFalkanfaintedinherarms.

They were airborne within minutes of Nesryn cleaning out the gash downFalkan’sribsandSartaqindeedpackingthewoundwithwhatseemedtobesomesortofleavesandacoatingofhoney.Tokeepinfectionawayandstavethebloodlossastheyswiftlysoaredbacktotheaerie.

Sheand theprincebarelyspoke, thoughwithFalkanproppedbehind them,theridedidn’taffordmuchopportunity.Itwasa tight,perilousflight,Falkan’sdeadweightoccasionallylistingfarenoughtothesidethatSartaqhadtogruntatholdinghiminthesaddle.Therewereonlytwosetsofbuckles,he’dtoldNesrynwhentheyclimbedontothesaddle.Hewasn’twastingeitheroftheirlivesonashifter,lifedebtorno.

Buttheymadeit,justasthesunwassettingandthethreepeaksoftheDorgoswereaglowwithcountlessfires,likethemountainswerecrustedinfireflies.

Kadara loosed a shrill scream as they neared theMountain-Hall of Altun.Somesortofsignal,apparently,becausebythetimetheylanded,Borte,Houlun,andcountlessothersweregathered,armedwithsupplies.

NooneaskedwhathappenedtoFalkan.Noonewonderedhowhe’dgottenoutthere.EitherunderorderfromHoulunnottopesterthemorsimplyfromthe

chaosofgettinghimofftherukandintoahealer’scare.Noone,exceptBorte.Sartaqwas still fuming enough that he led hisej to a corner of the hall to

begindemandinganswersabout theshifter.Or that’swhat itseemedlike,withhissetjawandcrossedarms.

Houlunonlysquaredoffagainsthim,feetbracedonthefloor,herjawastightashis.

AlonewithKadara,NesrynsettounbucklingthepackswhileBorteobservedfromafewfeetaway,“Thathehas theballs to lectureher tellsmesomethingwentverywrong.Andthatsheisallowinghimtodosotellsmeshefeelsjustasmidgeguilty.”

Nesryndidn’tanswer,gruntingasshehauleddownaparticularlyheavypack.BortestrodearoundKadara,lookingthebirdover.Carefully.“Blackbloodonhertalons,herbeak,andchest.Lotsofblackblood.”Nesryndumpedthepackagainstthewall.“Andyourbackiscrustedinredblood.”FromwhereFalkanhadleanedagainstherduringtheride.“And that is a new blade. A Fae blade,” Borte breathed, stepping up to

examinethenakedbladedanglingfromherswordbelt.Nesrynbackedupastep.Borte’smouthtightened.“Whateveryouknow,Iwanttoknowit.”“It’snotmycall.”Theyglanced towardSartaq,whowas still seething,Houlun simply letting

himvent.Borte began rattling off items on her fingers. “Ej sails off on her own for

days.Thenyougo,returningwithamanwhodidnot leavewithyouandwhotook no ruk. And poor Kadara returns covered in this … foulness.” A snifftowardtheblackblood.Therukclickedherbeakinanswer.

“It’smud,”Nesrynlied.Bortelaughed.“AndI’maFaePrincess.EitherIcanstartaskingaround,or

—”

Nesryndraggedhertothewallwiththepacks.“EvenifItellyou,youarenottobreatheawordofittoanyone.Orbeinvolvedinanyway.”

Borteputahandonherheart.“Iswearit.”Nesrynsighedtowardthedistant,rockyceiling,Kadaragivingherawarning

look as if to ask her to reconsider her judgment. But Nesryn told Borteeverything.

SheshouldhavelistenedtoKadara.Borte,tohercredit,didnottellanyoneelse.Other than Sartaq, who at last stalked over from Houlun, only to receive anearfulandasmackontheshoulderfornotinforminghishearth-sisterwherehewasgoing.Andworse,fornotinvitingheralong.

SartaqhadglaredatNesrynwhenherealizedwho’dtoldBorte,butshewastoo tired to care. Instead she only strode for her room, weaving between thepillars.SheknewSartaqwasonherheels thanks toBorte’sshouted,“Youwillbringmenexttime,youstubbornass!”

And justbeforeNesrynreached thedoor toher room, to thesanctuaryofasoftbed,theprincegrippedherelbow.“Iwouldhavewordswithyou.”

Nesrynjustshovedintotheroom,Sartaqstalkinginbehindher.Shuttingthedoorandleaningagainstit.Hecrossedhisarmsatthesamemomentshedid.

“Borte threatened to ask pointed questions around the aerie if I didn’t tellher.”

“Idon’tcare.”Nesrynblinked.“Thenwhat—”“WhohastheWyrdkeys?”Thequestionechoedbetweenthem.Nesrynswallowed.“What’saWyrdkey?”Sartaqpushedoffthedoor.“Liar,”hebreathed.“Whileweweregone,myej

recalled some of the other stories, dragged them up fromwhatever collectivememoryshepossessesasStoryKeeper.TalesofaWyrdgate that theValgand

their kings passed through—could open atwillwith three keyswhenwieldedtogether.Remembered that those keyswentmissing, afterMaeve herself stolethemand used them to send theValg back.Hidden, she says.Throughout theworld.”

Nesrynonlyliftedabrow.“Andwhatofit?”A cold snort. “It is howErawan has raised an army so quickly, why even

Aelin of theWildfire cannot take himonwithout assistance.Hemust have atleastone.Notall,orwe’dbecallingErawanourmasteralready.Butatleastone,maybetwo.Sowhereisthethird?”

She honestly had not a clue. Whether Aelin and the others possessed aninkling, they’d never told her. Only that their ultimate path, beyond war anddeath,wastoretrievetheonesErawanheld.Buteventellinghimthat…

“Perhapsnowyouunderstand,”Nesrynsaidwithequalcold,“whywearesodesperateforyourfather’sarmies.”

“Tobeslaughtered.”“WhenErawanisdoneslaughteringus,hewillcometoyourdoorstepnext.”Sartaqswore.“What I saw today, that thing…”He scrubbedhis facewith

shakinghands. “TheValgonceused those spiders as foot soldiers.Legionsofthem.”Heloweredhishands.“Houlunhaslearnedofthreeotherwatchtowersinruin—tothesouth.We’llflytothefirstassoonastheshifterishealed.”

“We’retakingFalkan?”Sartaqyankedopenthedoor,hardenoughthatshewassurprisedhedidn’trip

itcleanoffitshinges.“Aspiss-poorofashifterasheclaimstobe,amanwhocanchangeintoawolfthatbigistoogoodaweaponnottobringintodanger.”Asharpglare.“Herideswithme.”

“AndwherewillIbe?”Sartaqgaveherahumorlesssmilebeforeenteringthehall.“You’llbeflying

withBorte.”

36

Theatrophyinginhislegs…Itwasreversing.Three weeks later, Yrene marveled at it. They’d regained movement up

throughhis knee, but not higher.Chaol could bend his legs now, but couldn’tmovehisthighs.Couldn’tstandonthem.

But the morning workouts with the guards, the afternoons spent healing,tangledindarknessandmemoryandpain…

Thatwasmuscle,packingbackontohislegs.Fillingoutthosealready-broadshouldersandthat impressivechest.Thankstotraininginthemorningsun,histanhaddeepenedtoarichbrown,thecolorlyingwelloverarmsripplingwithmuscle.

Theyworkedeverydayineasyrhythm,settlingintoaroutinethatbecameasmuchapartofYreneaswashingherfaceandcleaningherteethandcravingacupofkahvewhenshewoke.

He’d joined her again at the defense lessons, the youngest acolytes stillhopelesslygigglyaroundhim,butatleastthey’dneveroncebeenlatesincehe’darrived. He’d even taught Yrene herself new maneuvers regarding taking onlarger assailants. And while there were often smiles aplenty in the Torrecourtyard,heandYreneweregraveashewalkedherthroughthosemethods,astheyconsideredwhenshemightneedthem.

Buttherehadbeennowhisperofwhoeverhadattackedher—noconfirmationthatitwasindeedoneoftheValg.Asmallmercy,Yrenesupposed.

Butstillshepaidattentioninhislessons,andstillChaolcarefullytrainedher.Theroyalsiblingshadcomeandgoneandcomebackagain,andshehadseen

nothingofKashinbeyondthedinnerwhereshe’dsoughthimouttothankhimforhishelpandgenerositythenightoftheattack.He’dsaiditwasunnecessary,butshehadtouchedhisshoulderinthanksanyway.BeforetakingherseatatthesafetyofChaol’sside.

Chaol’sown,separatecausewiththekhagan…ChaolandYrenedidn’trisktalkingabout thewar—theneedforarmies.And theAksaraOasisandwellofknowledge,whichmightbehiddenawaybeneaththepalms,regardingwhythisplacehadsuchinformationontheValg…Neitherofthemhadcomeupwithaway to manipulate Hasar into bringing them without raising her suspicions.Withoutrisking theprincessbecomingawareof thosescrollsYreneandChaolstillhadhiddeninhisroom.

ButYreneknew timepressedonhim.Sawhowhiseyes sometimes turneddistant,asifstaringtowardafar-offland.Rememberingthefriendswhofoughtthere. For their people.He’d always push himself harder after that—and eachinchofmovementgainedinhislegswasasmuchduetohimselfasitwastoherownmagic.

ButYrenepushedherself,too.Wonderedifthebattleshadbegun;wonderedifshe’devermakeitintimetoevenhelp.Wonderedwhatmightbeleftforhertoreturnto.

Thedarknesstheyencounteredwhenshedidhealhim,fromthedemonthathaddwelled inside themanwhohaddestroyedsomuchof theworld…Theyworkedthroughthat,too.Shehadnotbeendraggedintohismemoriesasshehadbefore, had not been forced to witness the horrors of Morath or endure theattentions of the thing that lingered in him, but hermagic still shoved againstthatwound,swarmingitlikeathousanddotsofwhitelight,eatingandgobblingandclawingatit.

He endured the pain,wading throughwhatever that darkness showed him.

Never recoiling from it, day after day. Only stopping when her own strengthflaggedandheinsistedYrenebreakforfoodoranaponthegoldcouchorjustsomeconversationoverchilledtea.

Yrenesupposedthattheirsteadypacehadtoendatsomepoint.Shethoughtit’dlikelybeduetoanargumentbetweenthem.Notnewsfrom

afar.Thekhaganreturnedtothenightlyformaldinner,aftertwoweeksawayata

seaside estate to escape the summer heat, ensconced with his still-mourningwife.Amerrygathering—orsoithadseemedfromafar.WithnofurtherattacksinthepalaceorTorre,thehushedwatchfulnesshadliftedconsiderablytheselastfewweeks.

But as Yrene and Chaol entered the great hall, as she read the simmeringtension along those seated at the high table, she debated telling him to leave.Viziersshiftedintheirseats.Arghun,whohadcertainlynotbeenmissedwhilehe’djoinedhisparentsattheseaside,smirked.

HasarsmiledbroadlyatYrene—knowingly.Notgood.They got perhaps fifteenminutes into dinner before the princess pounced.

Hasar leaned forward and said to Chaol, “Youmust be pleased tonight, LordWestfall.”

Yrenekeptperfectlystraightinherchair,herforkunfalteringassheliftedabiteoflemon-kissedseabasstohermouthandforcedherselftoswallow.

Chaol countered smoothly, drinking from his goblet of water, “And whymightthatbe,YourHighness?”

Hasar’ssmilescouldbeawful.Deadly.AndtheonesheworewhenshespokenextmadeYrenewonderwhy she had ever bothered to answer the princess’ssummons.“Well,ifonedoesthecalculations,CaptainFaliqshouldbereturningwithmybrothertomorrow.”

Yrene’shandtightenedaroundherforkasshetalliedthedays.Threeweeks.IthadbeenthreeweekssinceNesrynandSartaqhadleftforthe

TavanMountains.Nesryn would return tomorrow. And though nothing—nothing—had

happenedbetweenYreneandChaol…Yrenecouldnotstop thesensationofherchestcaving in.Couldn’thalt the

sensethattherewasabouttobeadoorverypermanentlyslammedinherface.They hadn’t spoken ofNesryn. Ofwhateverwas between them.And he’d

nevertouchedYrenemorethanwasnecessary,neverlookedatherashehadthatnightoftheparty.

Becauseofcourse—ofcoursehewaswaitingforNesryn.Thewomanhe…hewasloyalto.

Yrene made herself eat another bite, even as the fish turned sour in hermouth.

Fool.Shewasafool,and—“Didn’t you hear the news?” Chaol drawled, just as irreverently as the

princess. He set down his goblet, his knuckles brushing Yrene’s where she’drestedherhandonthetable.

Toany,itmighthavebeenanaccidentalbrush,butwithChaol…Hiseverymovementwascontrolled.Focused.Thebrushofhisskinagainsthers,awhisperofreassurance,asifhecouldsensethatthewallswereindeedclosinginaroundher—

HasarshotYreneadispleasedlook.Whydidyounotinformmeofthis?Yrenegaveheraninnocentwinceback.Ididnotknow.Itwasthetruth.“Isupposeyoushalltellus?”Hasarrepliedcoollytothelord.Chaolshrugged.“Ireceivedwordtoday—fromCaptainFaliq.Sheandyour

brotherhavedecidedtoextendtheirtripbyanotherthreeweeks.Itturnsout,herskillwithabowandarrowwasinhighdemandamongsthisrukhin.Theyhavebeggedtokeepherforawhilelonger.Sheobligedthem.”

Yrene schooled her face into neutrality. Even as relief and shame washedthroughher.

Agoodwoman—abravewoman.Thatwaswhoshewassorelievedtohearwasnotreturning.Not…interrupting.

“Our brother is wise,” Arghun said from down the table, “to keep such askilledwarriorforaslongaspossible.”

Thebarbwasthere,burieddeep.Chaolagainshrugged.“Heiswiseindeed,toknowhowspecialsheis.”The

wordswerespokenwithtruth,yet…Shewasinventingthings.Readingintoit,assuminghistonehadnoaffection

beyondpride.ArghunleanedforwardtosaytoHasar,“Well,thenthere’sthematterofthe

othernews,sister.WhichIassumeLordWestfallhasalsoheard.”A few places down, the khagan’s conversation with his closest viziers

faltered.“Oh, yes,”Hasar said, swirlingherwine as she sprawled in her chair. “I’d

forgotten.”Yrene tried to catch Renia’s eye, to get the princess’s lover to reveal

somethingaboutwhatshenowfeltbuilding,thewaveabouttocrash.Thereasontheroomwassocharged.ButReniaonlywatchedHasar,ahandonherarmasiftosay,Caution.

Notforwhatshewastoreveal,buthowHasarwastorevealit.Chaol glanced betweenArghun andHasar. From the prince and princess’s

smirking,itwasclearenoughtheywereawarehehadn’theard.ButChaolstillseemedtobedebatingthemeritsofappearingknowledgeable,oradmittingthetruth—

Yrenesparedhimfromthechoice.“Ihavenotheardit,”shesaid.“Whathashappened?”

Underthetable,Chaol’skneebrushedhersinthanks.Shetoldherselfitwasmerely pleasure at the fact he couldmove that knee that coursed throughher.Evenasdreadcoiledinhergut.

“Well,” Hasar began, the opening chords to a dance she and Arghun hadcoordinated before thismeal, “there have been some… developments on theneighboringcontinent,itseems.”

Yrene nowpressedher knee intoChaol’s, a silent solidarity.Together, shetriedtosaythroughtouchalone.

Arghun said to Yrene, to Chaol, and then down to his father, “So manydevelopments up north. Royals gonemissing, now revealing themselves oncemore.BothDorianHavilliardandtheTerrasenQueen.Thelatterdidit insuchdramaticfashion,too.”

“Where,”Yrenewhispered,becauseChaolcouldnot.Indeed,thebreathhadgoneoutofhimatthementionofhisownking.

HasarsmiledatYrene—thatpleasedsmileshe’dgivenheruponarrival.“Skull’sBay.”Thelie,theguessthatChaolhadgivenhertofeedtotheprincess…Ithad

provedtrue.ShefeltChaoltense,thoughhisfacerevealednothingbutblandinterest.“A

pirateport in thesouth,GreatKhagan,”Chaolexplained toUrus,seateddownthe table, as if he were indeed aware of this news—and a part of thisconversation.“Inthemiddleofalargearchipelago.”

Thekhaganglancedtohisvisiblydispleasedviziers,andfrownedwiththem.“AndwhywouldtheyappearinSkull’sBay?”

Chaol had no answer, but Arghun was more than happy to supply it.“Because Aelin Galathynius thought to go head-to-head against the armyPerringtonhadcampedattheedgeofthearchipelago.”

Yrene slid her hand off the table—to grip Chaol’s knee. Tension radiatedthrougheveryhardlineofhisbody.

Duva asked, a hand on her growing belly, “Was the win in her favor, orPerrington’s?”Asifitwereasportingmatch.Herhusbandwasindeedpeeringdownthetabletoseetheheadsswivel.

“Oh, in hers,”Hasar said. “Wehad eyes in the town already, so theywereable to dispatch a full report.” That smug, secret smile again in Yrene’sdirection. Spies she had sent using Yrene’s information. “Her power isconsiderable,”sheaddedtoherfather.“Oursourcessayitburnedtheskyitself.Andthenwipedoutmostofthefleetassembledagainsther.Inasingleblow.”

Holygods.Theviziersshifted,andthekhagan’sfacehardened.“Therumorsoftheglass

castle’sdestructionwerenotexaggerated,then.”“No,”Arghun saidmildly. “Andherpowershavegrown since then.Along

withherallies.DorianHavilliardtravelswithhercourt.AndSkull’sBayanditsPirateLordnowkneelbeforeher.”

Conqueror.“Theyfightwithher,”Chaolcutin.“AgainstPerrington’sforces.”“Do they?” Hasar took up the assault, parrying with ease. “For it is not

Perrington who is now sailing down Eyllwe’s coast, burning villages as hepleases.”

“Thatisalie,”Chaolsaidtoosoftly.“Isit?”Arghunshrugged,thenfacedhisfather,theportraitoftheconcerned

son.“Noonehasseenher,ofcourse,butentirevillageshavebeenleftinashandruin. They say she sails forBanjali, intent on strong-arming theYtger familyintomusteringanarmyforher.”

“Thatisalie,”Chaolsnapped.Histeethflashed,vizierstitteredandgasped,buthesaidtothekhagan,“IknowAelinGalathynius,GreatKhagan.It’snotherstyle,notinhernature.TheYtgerfamily…”Hestalled.Isimportanttoher.Yrenefeltthewordsonhistongue,asiftheywereonher

own.TheprincessandArghunleanedforward,waitingforconfirmation.ProofofAelinGalathynius’spotentialweakness.

Not in magic, but in who was vital to her. And Eyllwe, lying betweenPerrington’s forces and the khaganate…She could see thewheels turning in

theirheads.“TheYtger familywould be better used as an ally from the south,”Chaol

corrected,shouldersstiff.“Aeliniscleverenoughtoknowthis.”“AndI’dsupposeyouknow,”Hasarsaid,“sinceyouwereherloveratsome

point.OrwasthatKingDorian?Orboth?Thespieswereneveraccurateonwhowasinherbedandwhen.”

Yreneswallowedhersurprise.Chaol—andAelinGalathynius?“Iknowherwell,yes,”Chaolsaidtightly.Hiskneepressedintoherown,asiftosay,Later.Iwillexplainlater.“Butthisiswar,”Arghuncountered.“Warmakespeopledothingstheymight

notordinarilyconsider.”ThecondescensionandmockerywereenoughtomakeYrenegrindherteeth.

Thiswasaplannedattack,atemporaryalliancebetweentwosiblings.Kashincut in,“Doesshesether sightson theseshores?” Itwasa soldier’s

question.Meanttoassessthethreattohisland,hisking.Hasarpickedathernails.“Whoknows?Withsuchpower…Perhapswe’re

allhersforthetaking.”“Aelin has one war to fight already,” Chaol ground out. “And she is no

conqueror.”“Skull’sBayandEyllwewouldsuggestotherwise.”Avizierwhisperedin thekhagan’sear.Another leanedin to listen.Already

calculating.ChaolsaidtoUrus,“GreatKhagan,Iknowsomemightspinthesetidingsto

appeartoAelin’sdisadvantage,butIsweartoyoutheQueenofTerrasenmeansonlytoliberateourland.Mykingwouldnotallywithherifitwereotherwise.”

“Wouldyouswearit,though?”Hasarmused.“SwearonYrene’slife?”Chaolblinkedattheprincess.“From all you have seen,” Hasar went on, “all you’ve witnessed of her

character…wouldyouswearituponYreneTowers’slifethatAelinGalathynius

mightnotusesuchtactics?Mightnottrytotakearmies,ratherthanraisethem?Includingourown?”Sayyes.Sayyes.Chaoldidn’tsomuchaslookatYreneashestareddownHasar,thenArghun.

Thekhaganandhisvizierspulledapart.Chaolsaidnothing.Sworenothing.Hasar’ssmallsmilewasnothingshortoftriumphant.“Ithoughtso.”Yrene’sstomachturned.ThekhagantookChaol’smeasure.“IfPerringtonandAelinGalathyniusare

rallyingarmies,perhapsthey’lldestroyeachotherandsparemethetrouble.”AmuscleflickeredinChaol’sjaw.“Perhaps ifshe’ssopowerful,”Arghunmused,“shecan takeonPerrington

byherself.”“Don’tforgetKingDorian,”Hasarchimedin.“Why,I’dbetthetwoofthem

couldhandlePerringtonandwhateverarmyhe’sbuiltwithoutmuchassistance.Bettertoletthemdealwithit,thanwasteourbloodonforeignsoil.”

Yrenewasshaking.Tremblingwith—withrageatthecarefulplayofwords,thegameHasarandherbrotherhadconstructedtokeepfromsailingtowar.

“But,”Kashincountered,seemingtonoteYrene’sexpression,“itmightalsobesaidthatifwedoassistsuchpowerfulroyals,thebenefitsinyearsofpeacemightbefarworththerisksnow.”Hetwistedtothekhagan.“Ifwegototheiraid,Father,shouldweeverfacesuchathreat,imaginethatpowerturnedagainstourenemies.”

“Orturnedagainstus,ifshefindsiteasiertobreakheroaths,”Arghuncutin.The khagan studied Arghun, his eldest son now frowning with distaste at

Kashin. Duva, a hand still on her pregnant belly, onlywatched. Unnoted andunaskedfor,evenbyherhusband.

Arghun turned back to his father. “Our people’s magic is minimal. TheEternal Sky and the thirty-six gods blessed our healers mostly.” A frown at

Yrene. “Against such power,what is steel andwood?AelinGalathynius tookRifthold, then tookSkull’sBay,andnowseemspoised to takeEyllwe.Awiserulerwouldhavegonenorth,fortifiedherkingdom,thenpushedsouthfromtheborders. Yet she stretches her forces thin, dividing them between north andsouth.Ifsheisnotafool,thenheradvisorsare.”

“Theyarewell-trainedwarriors,whohaveseenmorewarandbattlethanyoueverwill,”Chaolsaidcoldly.

Theeldestprincestiffened.Hasarlaughedquietly.Thekhaganagainweighedthewordsaroundhim.“Thisremainsamatterto

discuss in council rooms, not dinner tables,” he said, though there was noreassuranceinit.NotforChaol,notforYrene.“ThoughIaminclinedtoagreewithwhatthebarefactsoffer.”

Tohiscredit,Chaoldidnotarguefurther.Didnot flinchorscowl.Heonlynoddedonce.“Ithankyouforthehonorofyourcontinuedconsideration,GreatKhagan.”

ArghunandHasar swappedsneering looks.But thekhagan just returned tohismeal.

NeitherYrenenorChaoltouchedtherestoftheirfood.

Bitch.Theprincesswasabitch,andArghunwasasfineabastardasanyChaolhadeverencountered.

Therewas some truth to their reluctance—their fear ofAelin’s powers andthethreatshemightpose.Buthereadthem.KnewHasarsimplydidnotwanttoleavethecomfortsofherhome,herlover’sarms,tosailtowar.Didnotwantthemessinessofit.

AndArghun…Themandealtinpower,inknowledge.ChaolhadnodoubtArghun’sarguingagainsthimwasmoretoforceChaolintoaspotwherehe’dbedesperate.

Evenmorethanhewas.Willingtoofferanythingupfortheiraid.Kashinwoulddowhateverhisfathertoldhim.Andasforthekhagan…Hourslater,Chaolwasstillgrindinghisteethashelayinbedandstaredat

theceiling.Yrenehadlefthimwithasqueezetohisshoulder,promisingtoseehimthenextday.

Chaolhadbarelybeenabletoreply.Heshouldhavelied.ShouldhaveswornhetrustedAelinwithhislife.BecauseHasarhadknownthatifsheaskedhimtoswearuponYrene’slife…Eveniftheirthirty-sixgodsdidnotcareabouthim,hecouldn’triskit.HehadseenAelindoterriblethings.HestilldreamedofherguttingArcherFinn incoldblood.Stilldreamedof

whatshe’dleftofGrave’sbodyinthatalley.Stilldreamedofherbutcheringmenlikecattle,inRiftholdandinEndovier,andknewjusthowunfeelingandbrutalshe could turn. He had quarreled with her earlier this summer about it—thechecksonherpower.Thelackofthem.

Rowanwasagoodmale.UtterlyunafraidofAelin,hermagic.Butwouldshelistentohiscounsel?AedionandAelinwereaslikelytocometoblowsastheywere to agree, andLysandra…Chaol didn’t know the shifterwell enough tojudgewhethershe’dkeepAelininline.

Aelinhadindeedchanged—grownintoaqueen.Wasstillgrowingintoone.Butheknew that therewereno restraints,no innerones,onhow farAelin

wouldgotoprotectthosesheloved.Protectherkingdom.Andifsomeonestoodinherway,barredherfromprotectingthem…NolinesexistedtocrosswithinAelininregardtothat.Nolinesatall.

Sohehadnotbeenable toswear it,onYrene’s life, thathebelievedAelinmightbeabovethosesortsofmethods.WithherfraughthistorywithRolfe,shelikelyhadusedthemightofhermagictointimidatehimintojoiningtheircause.

ButwithEyllwe…Hadtheygivensomesignofresistance,toprompthertoterrorize them? He couldn’t imagine it, that Aelin would consider hurting

innocentpeople,letalonethepeopleofherbelovedfriend.Andyetsheknewtherisks thatPerrington—Erawanposed.Whathe’ddo to themall, if shedidnotbandthemtogether.Bywhatevermeansnecessary.

Chaolrubbedhisface.IfAelinhadkeptherselfincheck,ifshe’dplayedthepartofdistressedqueen…Itwouldhavemadehistaskfareasier.

PerhapsAelinhadcostthemthiswar.Thisoneshotatafuture.AtleastDorianwasaccountedfor—undoubtedlyassafeascouldbeexpected

withAelin’scourtforcompanions.Chaolsentasilentprayerofthanksintothenightforthatsmallmercy.Asoftknockhadhimshootingup.Notfromthefoyer,buttheglassdoorsto

thegarden.His legs twitched, bending slightly at the knee—more reaction than

controlledmovement.He andYrene had been going through the grueling legroutinestwiceaday,thevarioustherapiesbuyinghimmovementinchbyinch.Alongwiththemagicshepouredintohisbodywhileheenduredthedarkness’shordeofmemories.Henevertoldherwhathesaw,whatlefthimscreaming.

Therewasnopoint.AndtellingYrenehowbadlyhe’dfailed,howwronglyhe’d judged, itmadehim justasnauseated.Butwhatstood in thenight-veiledgarden…Notamemory.

Chaol squinted into the dark at the tallmale figure standing there, a handraised in quiet greeting—Chaol’s own hand drifting to the knife beneath hispillow.But thefiguresteppedcloser to the lantern light,andChaolblewoutabreathandwavedtheprincein.

Withaflickofasmallknife,Kashinunlockedthegardendoorandslippedin.“Lock-pickingisn’taskillI’dexpectaprincetopossess,”Chaolsaidbyway

ofgreeting.Kashinlingeredjustinsidethedoorway,thelanternfromoutsideilluminating

enough of his face for Chaol to make out a half smile. “Learned more forsneakinginandoutofladies’bedroomsthanstealing,I’mafraid.”

“Ithoughtyourcourtwasabitmoreopeninregardtothatsortofthingthanmyown.”

That smile grew. “Perhaps, but cranky old husbands remain the same oneithercontinent.”

Chaolchuckled,shakinghishead.“WhatcanIdoforyou,Prince?”Kashin studied the door to the suite, Chaol doing the same—searching for

any flickeringshadowson theother side.When theyboth foundnone,Kashinsaid,“IassumeyouhavediscoverednothingwithinmycourtaboutwhomightbetormentingYrene.”

“IwishIcouldsayotherwise.”ButwithNesryngone,he’dhadlittlechancetohuntthroughAnticaforanysignsofawould-beValgagent.Andthingshadindeedbeenquietenough these threeweeks thatpartofhimhadhoped they’djust…left.Aconsiderablycalmeratmospherehadsettledover thepalaceandTorresincethen,asiftheshadowswereindeedbehindthemall.

Kashinnodded.“IknowSartaqdepartedwithyourcaptain toseekanswersregardingthisthreat.”

Chaoldidn’tdareconfirmordeny.Hewasn’t entirelycertainwhereSartaqhadleftthingswithhisfamily,ifhe’dreceivedhisfather’sblessingtogo.

Kashinwenton,“Thatmightjustbewhymysiblingsmountedsuchaunifiedfrontagainstyoutonight.IfSartaqhimselftakesthisthreatseriously,theyknowtheymighthavealimitedwindowtoconvinceourfathernottojointhiscause.”

“Butifthethreatisreal,”Chaolsaid,“ifitmightspillintotheselands,whynotfight?Whynotstopitbeforeitcanreachtheseshores?”

“Becauseitiswar,”Kashinsaid,andthewayhespoke,thewayhestood,itsomehowmadeChaolfeelyoungindeed.“Andthoughthemannerinwhichmysiblings presented their argumentwas unpleasant, I suspectArghun andHasarare aware of the costs that joining your cause requires. Never before has theentiremight of the khaganate’s armies been sent to a foreign land.Oh, somelegions, whether it be the rukhin or the armada or my own horse-lords.

Sometimes united, but never all, neverwhat you require.The cost of life, thesheer drain on our coffers … it will be great. Don’t make the mistake ofbelievingmysiblingsdon’tunderstandthatvery,verywell.”

“AndtheirfearofAelin?”Kashinsnorted.“Icannotspeaktothat.Perhapsitiswellfounded.Perhapsit

isnot.”“Soyousnuckintomyroomtotellme?”Heshouldspeakwithmorerespect,

but—“Icametotellyouonemorepieceofinformation,whichArghunchosenotto

mention.”Chaolwaited,wishingheweren’tsittinginbed,barefromthewaistup.Kashin said, “We received a report from our vizier of foreign trade that a

large,lucrativeorderhadbeenplacedforarelativelynewweapon.”Chaol’sbreathingsnagged.IfMorathhadfoundsomeway—“It is called a firelance,” Kashin said. “Our finest engineers made it by

combiningvariousweaponsfromacrossourcontinent.”Oh,gods.IfMorathhaditinitsarsenal—“CaptainRolfeorderedthemforhisfleet.Monthsago.”Rolfe—“AndwhennewsarrivedofSkull’sBayfallingtoAelinGalathynius,

italsocamewithanorderforevenmorefirelancestobeshippednorthward.”Chaol sorted through the information. “Why wouldn’t Arghun say this at

dinner?”“Becausethefirelancesarevery,veryexpensive.”“Surelythat’sgoodforyoureconomy.”“Itis.”AndnotgoodforArghun’sattempttoavoidthiswar.Chaolfellsilentforaheartbeat.“Andyou,Prince?Doyouwishtojointhis

war?”Kashindidn’tanswerimmediately.Hescannedtheroom,theceiling,thebed,

andfinallyChaolhimself.“Thiswillbethegreatwarofourtime,”Kashinsaid

quietly. “Whenwe are dead,when even our grandchildren’s grandchildren aredead, theywill still be talking about thiswar. Theywillwhisper of it aroundfires, sing of it in the great halls.Who lived and died, who fought and whocowered.”His throatbobbed.“Mysulde blowsnorthward—dayandnight, thehorsehairs blow north. So perhaps I will find my destiny on the plains ofFenharrow.OrbeforethewhitewallsofOrynth.ButitisnorthwardthatIshallgo—ifmyfatherwillorderme.”

Chaolmulleditover.Lookedtothetrunksagainstthewallnearthebathingchamber.

KashinhadturnedtoleavewhenChaolasked,“Whendoesyourfathernextmeetwithhisforeigntradevizier?”

37

Nesrynhadrunoutoftime.Falkanrequired tendays to recover,whichhad leftherandSartaqwith too

little time to visit the other watchtower ruins to the south. She’d tried toconvincetheprincetogowithouttheshape-shifter,buthe’drefused.EvenwithBortenowintentonjoiningthem,hewastakingnorisks.

But Sartaq found otherways to fill their time.He’d takenNesryn to otheraeriestothenorthandwest,wherehemetwiththereigninghearth-mothersandthecaptains,bothmaleandfemale,wholedtheirforces.

Somewerewelcoming,greetingSartaqwithfeastsandrevelsthatlastedlongintothenight.

Some, like the Berlad, were aloof, their hearth-mothers and other variousleadersnotinvitingthemtostayforlongerthannecessary.Certainlynotbringingout jugs of the fermented goat’s milk that they drank—and that was strongenough to put hair onNesryn’s chest, face, and teeth. She’d nearly choked todeaththefirsttimeshe’dtriedit,earningheartyclapsonthebackandatoastinherhonor.

Itwas thewarmwelcome that still surprised her. The smiles of the rukhinwho asked, some shyly, some boldly, for demonstrations with her bow andarrow.Butforallsheshowedthem,she,too,learned.WentsoaringwithSartaqthroughthemountainpasses, theprincecallingout targetsandNesrynstrikingthem,learninghowtofireintothewind,asthewind.

Heeven let her rideKadara alone—just once, and enough for her to againwonderhowtheyletfour-year-oldsdoit,but…she’dneverfeltsounleashed.

Sounburdenedandunbridledandyetsettledinherself.Sotheywent,clantoclan,hearthtohearth.Sartaqcheckingupontheriders

and their training, stopping to visit new babes and ailing old folk. Nesrynremainedhisshadow—ortriedto.

Anytimeshelingeredastepback,Sartaqnudgedherforward.Anytimetherewasatasktobedonewiththeothers,heaskedhertodoit.Thewashing-upafterameal,thereturningofarrowsfromtargetpractice,thecleaning-outoftherukdroppingsfromhallsandnests.

Thelasttask,atleast,theprincejoinedherin.Nomatterhisrank,nomatterhis statusascaptain,hedideverychorewithout awordof complaint.Noonewasabovework,hetoldherwhenshe’daskedonenight.

Andwhethershewasscrapingcrusteddroppingsfromthegroundorteachingyoungwarriorshowtostringabow,somethingrestlessinherhadsettled.

Shecouldno longerpicture it—thequietmeetingsat thepalace inRiftholdwhereshehadgivensolemnguardstheirordersandthenpartedwaysamongstmarble floors and finery. Could not remember the city barracks, where she’dlurked in the backof a crowded room, gottenher orders, and then stoodon astreetcornerforhours,watchingpeoplebuyandeatandargueandwalkabout.

Anotherlifetime,anotherworld.Hereinthedeepmountains,breathinginthecrispair,seatedaroundthefire

pit tohearHoulunnarrate talesof rukhinand thehorse-lords, talesof thefirstkhaganandhisbelovedwife,whomBortehadbeennamedafter…Shecouldnotrememberthatlifebefore.

Anddidnotwanttogobacktoit.Itwas at one such fire,Nesryn combing out the tight braid thatBorte had

taughthertoplait,thatshesurprisedevenherself.Houlunhadsettledin,awhetstoneinhandasshehonedadagger,preparing

toworkwhileshetalkedtothesmallgathering—Sartaq,Borte,agray-facedandlimpingFalkan,andsixotherswhoNesrynhadlearnedwereBorte’scousinsofsorts. The hearth-mother scanned their faces, golden and flickering with theflame,andasked,“WhatofatalefromAdarlaninstead?”

AlleyeshadturnedtoNesrynandFalkan.Theshape-shifterwinced.“I’mafraidmineareratherdull.”Heconsidered.“I

didhaveaninterestingvisittotheRedDesertonce,but…”HegesturedasmuchashecouldtoNesryn.“Ishouldliketohearoneofyourstoriesfirst,Captain.”

Nesryntriednottofidgetundertheweightofsomanystares.“ThestoriesIgrew upwith,” she admitted, “weremostly of you all, of these lands.”Broadsmilesatthat.Sartaqonlywinked.Nesrynduckedherhead,faceheating.

“Tell a story of the Fae, if you know them,”Borte suggested. “Of the FaePrinceyoumet.”

Nesrynshookherhead.“Idon’thaveanyofthose—andIdonotknowhimthatwell.”AsBortefrowned,Nesrynadded,“ButIcansingforyou.”

Silence.Houlunsetdownherwhetstone.“Asongwouldbeappreciated.”Ascowlat

Borte andSartaq. “Sinceneitherofmychildren can carry a tune to save theirlives.”Borterolledhereyesatherhearth-mother,butSartaqbowedhisheadinapology,acrookedgrinnowonhismouth.

Nesryn smiled, even as her heart pounded at her bold offer. She’d neverreallyperformedforanyone,butthis…Itwasnotperforming,asmuchasitwassharing.Shelistenedtothewindwhisperingoutsidethecavemouthforalongmoment,theothersfallingquiet.

“This is a song of Adarlan,” she said at last. “From the foothills north ofRifthold, wheremymotherwas born.”An old, familiar ache filled her chest.“Sheusedtosingthistome—beforeshedied.”

AglimmerofsympathyinHoulun’ssteelygaze.ButNesrynglancedtoBorteasshespoke,findingtheyoungwoman’sfaceunusuallysoft—staringatNesryn

as if shehadnot seenherbefore.Nesryngaveher a small, subtlenod. It is aweightwebothbear.

Borteofferedasmall,quietsmileinreturn.Nesryn listened to thewind again.Let herself drift back to her pretty little

bedroominRifthold,letherselffeelhermother’ssilkenhandsstrokingherface,herhair.Shehadbeensotakenwithherfather’sstoriesofhisfar-offhomeland,oftheruksandhorse-lords,thatshehadrarelyaskedforanythingaboutAdarlanitself,despitebeingachildofbothlands.

Andthissongofhermother’s…Oneofthefewstoriesshehad,intheformshelovedbest.Ofherhomelandinbetterdays.Andshewantedtoshareitwiththem—thatglimpseintowhatherlandmightagainbecome.

Nesrynclearedherthroat.Tookabracingbreath.Andthensheopenedhermouthandsang.The crackle of the fire her only drum,Nesryn’s voice filled theMountain-

HallofAltun,wendingthroughtheancientpillars,bouncingoffthecarvedrock.She had the sense of Sartaq going very still, had the sense that there was

nothinghardorlaughingonhisface.Butshe focusedon thesong,on those long-agowords, that storyofdistant

wintersandspecklesofbloodonsnow;thatstoryofmothersandtheirdaughters,howtheylovedandfoughtandtendedtoeachother.

Hervoicesoaredandfell,boldandgracefulasaruk,andNesryncouldhaveswornthateventhehowlingwindspausedtolisten.

Andwhenshefinished,agilded,highnoteofthespringsunbreakingacrosscoldlands,whensilenceandthecracklingfirefilledtheworldoncemore…

Bortewascrying.Silenttearsstreamingdownherprettyface.Houlun’shandwas tightly wrapped around her granddaughter’s, the whetstone set aside. Awoundstillhealing—forbothofthem.

And perhaps Sartaq, too—for grief limned his face. Grief, and awe, andperhapssomethinginfinitelymoretenderashesaid,“Anothertaletospreadof

Neith’sArrow.”Sheduckedherheadagain,accepting thepraiseof theotherswitha smile.

Falkanclappedasbesthecouldmanageandcalledforanothersong.Nesryn, to her surprise, obliged them. A merry, bright mountain song her

fatherhadtaughther,ofrushingstreamsamidbloomingfieldsofwildflowers.Butevenasthenightmovedon,asNesrynsanginthatbeautifulmountain-

hall,shefeltSartaq’sstare.Differentfromanyhe’dgivenbefore.Andthoughshetoldherselfsheshould,Nesryndidnotlookaway.

Afewdayslater,whenFalkanhadatlasthealed,theydaredventuredowntothethreeotherwatchtowersHoulunhaddiscovered.

Theyfoundnothingatthefirsttwo,bothfarenoughtorequireseparatetrips.Houlunhadforbiddenthemfromcampinginthewilds—soratherthanriskherwrath,theyreturnedeachnight,thenstayedafewdaystoletKadaraandArcas,Borte’ssweetruk,restfrombeingpushedsohard.

Sartaq warmed only a fraction to the shape-shifter. He watched Falkan ascarefully asKadara did, but at least attempted tomake conversation now andthen.

Borte, on the other hand, peppered Falkan with an endless stream ofquestions while they combed through ruins that were little more than rubble.What does it feel like to be a duck, paddling beneath water but gliding sosmoothlyoverthesurface?Whenyoueatasananimal,doesthemeatallfitinyourhumanstomach?Doyouhave towait between eatingas ananimal and shiftingback intoa

humanbecauseofit?Doyoudefecateasananimal?The lastoneearneda sharp laugh fromSartaqat least.Even ifFalkanhad

goneredandavoidedansweringthequestion.

Butaftervisitingtwowatchtowers,theyhadfoundnothingonwhytheyhadbeen built and who those long-ago guardians had battled—or how they haddefeatedthem.

Andwithonetowerleft…NesrynhaddoneatallyofthedaysandrealizedthatthethreeweeksshehadpromisedChaolwereover.

Sartaq had known, too.Had sought her out as she stood in one of the ruknests,admiringthebirdsrestingorpreeningorsailingout.Sheoftencamehereduringquieterafternoons,justtoobservethebirds:theirsharp-eyedintelligence,theirlovingbonds.

She was leaning against the wall beside the door when he emerged. Forseveralminutes,theystoodwatchingamatedpairnuzzleeachotherbeforeonehoppedtotheedgeofthemassivecavemouthanddroppedintothevoidbelow.

“Thatoneoverthere,”theprincesaidatlast,pointingtoareddish-brownruksittingbytheoppositewall.She’dseentherukoften—mostlynotingthathewasalone,nevervisitedbyarider,unlikesomeoftheothers.“Hisriderdiedafewmonthsback.Clutchedathischestinamealanddied.Theriderwasold,buttheruk…”Sartaqsmiledsadlyatthebird.“He’syoung—notyetfour.”

“Whathappenstotheoneswhoseridersdie?”“We offer them freedom. Some fly off to thewilds. Some remain.” Sartaq

crossedhisarms.“Heremained.”“Dotheyevergetnewriders?”“Somedo.Iftheyacceptthem.Itistheruk’schoice.”Nesrynheardtheinvitationinhisvoice.Readitintheprince’seyes.Herthroattightened.“Ourthreeweeksareup.”“Indeedtheyare.”She faced the prince fully, tilting her head back to see his face. “We need

moretime.”“Sowhatdidyousay?”Asimplequestion.

But she’d taken hours to figure out how toword her letter to Chaol, thengivenittoSartaq’sfastestmessenger.“Iaskedforanotherthreeweeks.”

He angled his head, watching her with that unrelenting intensity. “A greatdealcanhappeninthreeweeks.”

Nesrynmadeherselfkeephershoulderssquared,chinhigh.“Evenso,attheendofit,ImustreturntoAntica.”

Sartaq nodded, though something like disappointment guttered his eyes.“ThenIsupposetherukintheaeriewillhavetowaitforanotherridertocomealong.”

Thathadbeenadayago.Theconversation that left herunable to look toolongintheprince’sdirection.

Andduring thehours-longflight thismorning,she’dsnuckaglanceor twoovertowhereKadarasailed,SartaqandFalkanonherback.

NowKadaraswungwide,spyingthefinaltowerfarbelow,locatedonarareplainamidthehillsandpeaksoftheTavanMountains.Thislateinthesummer,it was awashwith emerald grasses and sapphire streams—the ruin littlemorethanaheapofstone.

BortesteeredArcaswithawhistle throughher teethanda tugonthereins,the ruk banking left before leveling out. She was a skilled rider, bolder thanSartaq,mostly thanks toher ruk’s smaller sizeandagility.She’dwon thepastthree annual racing contests between all the clans—competitions of agility,speed,andquickthinking.

“DidyoupickArcas,”Nesrynaskedoverthewind,“ordidshepickyou?”Borteleanedforwardtopattheruk’sneck.“Itwasmutual.Isawthatfuzzy

head pop out of the nest, and Iwas done. Everyone toldme to pick a biggerchick;mymotherherselfscoldedme.”Asadsmileat that.“But IknewArcaswasmine.Isawher,andIknew.”

Nesrynfellsilentwhiletheyaimedfortheprettyplainandruin,thesunlightdancingonKadara’swings.

“You should take that ruk in the aerie for a flight sometime,” Borte said,lettingArcasdescendintoasmoothlanding.“Testhimout.”

“I’mleavingsoon.Itwouldn’tbefairtoeitherofus.”“Iknow.Butperhapsyoushould,anyway.”

BortelovedfindingthetrapshiddenbytheFae.WhichwasfinebyNesryn,sincethegirlwasfarbetteratsussingthemout.Thistower,toBorte’sdisappointment,hadsufferedacollapseatsomepoint,

blocking the lower levels. And above them, only a chamber open to the skyremained.

WhichwaswhereFalkancamein.As the shifter’s formblendedand shrank,Sartaqdidnotbother tohidehis

shudder.AndheshudderedoncemorewhenthefallenblockofstoneFalkanhadbeensittingonnowrevealedamillipede.Whopromptlystoodupandwavedtothemwithitscountlesslittlelegs.

Nesryncringedwithdistaste,evenasBortelaughedandwavedback.ButoffFalkanwent,slitheringbetweenthefallenstones,togleanwhatmight

remainbelow.“I don’t know why it bothers you so,” Borte said to Sartaq, clicking her

tongue.“Ithinkit’sdelightful.”“It’s not what he is,” Sartaq admitted, watching the pile of rock for the

millipede’sreturn.“It’stheideaofbonemelting,fleshflowinglikewater…”Heshivered and turned to Nesryn. “Your friend—the shifter. It never botheredyou?”

“No,” Nesryn answered plainly. “I didn’t even see her shift until that dayyourscoutsreportedon.”

“TheImpossibleShot,”Sartaqmurmured.“Soittrulywasashifterthatyousaved.”

Nesrynnodded.“HernameisLysandra.”BortenudgedSartaqwithanelbow.“Don’tyouwishtogonorth,brother?To

meetallthesepeopleNesryntalksof?Shiftersandfire-breathingqueensandFaePrinces…”

“I’m beginning to think your obsession with anything related to the Faemightbeunhealthy,”Sartaqgrumbled.

“Ionlytookadaggerortwo,”Borteinsisted.“Youcarriedsomanybackfromthe lastwatchtower thatpoorArcascould

barelygetofftheground.”“It’sformytradingbusiness,”Bortehuffed.“Wheneverourpeoplegettheir

headsoutoftheirassesandrememberthatwecanhaveaprofitableone.”“Nowonderyou’vetakensomuchtoFalkan,”Nesrynsaid,earningajabin

theribsfromBorte.Nesrynbattedheraway,chuckling.Borteputherhandsonherhips.“Iwillhaveyoubothknow—”Thewordswerecutoffbyascream.NotfromFalkanbelow.Butfromoutside.FromKadara.Nesrynhadanarrowdrawnandaimedbeforetheyrushedoutontothefield.Onlytofinditfilledwithruks.Andgrim-facedriders.Sartaq sighed, shoulders slumping. But Borte shoved past them, cursing

filthily as she kept her sword out—indeed an Asterion-forged blade from thearsenalatthelastwatchtower.

AyoungmanofaroundNesryn’sagehaddismountedfromhisruk,thebirdabrownsodarkitwasnearlyblack,andhenowswaggeredtowardthem,asmirkon his handsome face. Itwas to him thatBorte stormed, practically stompingthroughthehighgrasses.

Theunitofrukhinlookedon,imperiousandcold.NonebowedtoSartaq.“Whatinhellareyoudoinghere?”Bortedemanded,ahandonherhipasshe

stoppedahealthydistancefromtheyoungman.

Heworeleatherslikehers,butthecolorsofthebandaroundhisarm…TheBerlad.Theleastwelcomingofalltheaeriesthey’dvisited,andoneofthemorepowerful. Its riders had been meticulously trained, their caves immaculatelyclean.

Theyoungman ignoredBorte and called toSartaq, “We spottedyour rukswhileflyingoverhead.Youarefarfromyouraerie,Captain.”

Carefulquestions.Bortehissed,“Begone,Yeran.Nooneinvitedyouhere.”Yeranliftedacoolbrow.“Stillyapping,Isee.”Bortespatathisfeet.Theotherriderstensed,butsheglaredatthem.Theyallloweredtheirstares.Behindthem,stonecrunched,andYeran’seyesflared,hiskneesbendingasif

he’dlungeforBorte—tohurlherbehindhimasFalkanemergedfromtheruin.Inwolfform.ButBortesteppedoutofYeran’sreachanddeclaredsweetly,“Mynewpet.”YerangapedbetweengirlandwolfasFalkansatbesideNesryn.Shecouldn’t

resistscratchinghisfuzzyears.Tohiscredit,theshape-shifterlether,eventurninghisheadintoherpalm.“Strangecompanyyoukeep thesedays,Captain,”Yeranmanaged tosay to

Sartaq.Bortesnappedherfingersinhisface.“Youcannotaddressme?”Yerangaveheralazysmile.“Doyoufinallyhavesomethingworthhearing?”Bortebristled.ButSartaq,smilingfaintly,strolledtohishearth-sister’sside.

“Wehavebusinessinthesepartsandstoppedforrefreshment.Whatbringsyousofarsouth?”

Yeran wrapped a hand around the hilt of a long knife at his side. “Threehatchlingswentmissing.Wethoughttotrackthem,buthavefoundnothing.”

Nesryn’s stomach tightened, imagining those spiders scuttling through theaeries,betweentheruks,tothefuzzychickssofiercelyguarded.Tothehuman

familiessleepingsocloseby.“Whenweretheytaken?”Sartaq’sfacewashardasstone.“Twonightsago.”Yeranrubbedhis jaw.“Wesuspectedpoachers,but there

wasnohumanscent,notracksorcamp.”Lookup.ThebloodywarningattheWatchtowerofEidolonrangthroughher

mind.ThroughSartaq’s,ifthetighteningofhisjawwasanyindication.“Gobacktoyouraerie,Captain,”SartaqsaidtoYeran,pointingtothewallof

mountainsbeyondtheplain,thegrayrocksobarecomparedtothelifehummingaroundthem.Always—theDagulFellsalwaysseemedtobewatching.Waiting.“Donottrackanyfartherthanhere.”

Wariness flooded Yeran’s brown eyes as he glanced between Borte andSartaq,thenovertoNesrynandFalkan.“Thekharankui.”

Theridersstirred.Even theruksrustled theirwingsat thename,as if they,too,knewit.

ButBortedeclared,loudforalltohear,“Youheardmybrother.Crawlbacktoyouraerie.”

Yerangaveheramockingbow.“Gobacktoyours,andIwillreturntomine,Borte.”

Shebaredherteethathim.But Yeran mounted his ruk with easy, powerful grace, the others flapping

away at a jerk of his chin. Hewaited until they had all soared into the skiesbeforesayingtoSartaq,“Ifthekharankuihavebeguntostir,weneedtomusterahosttodrivethemback.Beforeitistoolate.”

AwindtuggedatSartaq’sbraid,blowingittowardthosemountains.Nesrynwishedshecouldseehisface,whatmightbeonitatthementionofahost.

“Itwill be dealtwith,” Sartaq said. “Be on your guard.Keep children andhatchlingsclose.”

Yeran nodded gravely, a soldier receiving an order from a commander—a

captainorderedbyhisprince.ThenhelookedovertoBorte.Shegavehimavulgargesture.Yeranonlywinkedatherbeforehewhistledtohisrukandshotintotheskies,

leavingamightybreezebehindthatsetBorte’sbraidsswinging.BortewatchedYeranuntilhewassailingtowardthemassoftheothers,then

spatonthegroundwherehisrukhadstood.“Bastard,”shehissed,andwhirled,stormingtoNesrynandFalkan.

The shifter changed, swaying as his human form returned. “Nothing downbelowworth seeing,”heannouncedasSartaqprowledover towhere theyhadgathered.

Nesryn frowned at theFells. “I think it’s timewe craft a different strategyanyway.”

Sartaqfollowedhergaze,comingcloseenoughtohersidethattheheatfromhisbodyleaked intohers.Together, theystared toward thatwallofmountains.Whatwaitedbeyond.

“That young captain,Yeran,”Falkan said carefully toBorte. “You seem toknowhimwell.”

Bortescowled.“He’smybetrothed.”

38

ThoughKashinmighthavebeenloathtopushhisfatherinpublicorprivate,hecertainly was not without his resources. And as Chaol approached the sealeddoorstothekhagan’strademeeting,hehidhisgrinwhenhediscoveredHashim,Shen,andtwootherguardshe’dtrainedwithstationedoutside.Shenwinkedathim,hisarmorglintinginthewaterymorningsunlight,andswiftlyknockedwithhisartificialhandbeforeopeningthedoor.

Chaoldidn’tdaregiveShen,Hashim,ortheotherguardssomuchasanodofgratitudeoracknowledgment.Notashewheeledhischairintothesun-drenchedcouncilroomandfoundthekhaganandthreegolden-robedviziersaroundalongtableofblackpolishedwood.

Theyall staredathim insilence.ButChaolkeptapproaching the table,hisheadhigh,facesetinapleasant,subduedsmile.“IhopeI’mnotinterrupting,butthereisamatterIshouldliketodiscuss.”

Thekhagan’s lipspressed intoa tight line.Heworea lightgreen tunicanddarktrousers,cutcloseenoughtorevealthewarrior’sbodystilllurkingbeneaththeagedexterior.“Ihavetoldyoutimeandagain,LordWestfall,thatyoushouldspeaktomyChiefVizier”—anodto thesour-facedmanacrossfromhim—“ifyouwishtoarrangeameeting.”

Chaolhaltedbeforethetable,flexingandshiftinghisfeet.He’dgonethroughasmuchofhislegexercisesashecouldthismorningafterhisworkoutwiththepalace guard, and though he’d regained movement up to his knees, placing

weightonthem,standing…Hecastthethoughtfromhismind.Standingorsittinghadnothingtodowith

it—thismoment.Hecouldstillspeakwithdignityandcommandwhetherhestoodonhisfeet

orwas laid flat on his back. The chairwas no prison, nothing thatmade himlesser.

So Chaol bowed his head, smiling faintly. “With all due respect, GreatKhagan,Iamnotheretomeetwithyou.”

Urusblinked,hisonlyshowofsurpriseasChaolinclinedhisheadtothemanin sky-blue robes whom Kashin had described. “I am here to speak to yourforeigntradevizier.”

ThevizierglancedbetweenhiskhaganandChaol,asifreadytoproclaimhisinnocence, even as interest gleamed in his brown eyes. But he did not darespeak.

Chaolheldthekhagan’sstareforlongseconds.Hedidn’tremindhimselfthathehadinterruptedaprivatemeetingofperhaps

themostpowerfulmanintheworld.Didn’tremindhimselfthathewasaguestinaforeigncourtandthefateofhisfriendsandcountrymendependedonwhathe accomplished here. He just stared at the khagan, man to man, warrior towarrior.

Hehadfoughtakingbeforeandlivedtotell.Thekhaganatlastjerkedhischintoanemptyspotatthetable.Notaringing

welcome,butbetterthannothing.Chaolnoddedhis thanksandapproached,keepinghisbreathingevenwhile

he looked all four men in the eye and said to the vizier of foreign trade, “Ireceivedword that two largeordersof firelanceshavebeenplacedbyCaptainRolfe’sarmada,oneprior toAelinGalathynius’sarrival inSkull’sBay,andanevenlargeroneafterward.”

Thekhagan’swhitebrowsflickedup.Theforeigntradeviziershiftedinhis

seat,butnodded.“Yes,”hesaidinChaol’stongue.“Thatistrue.”“Howmuch,exactly,wouldyousayeachfirelancecosts?”Theviziersglancedamongoneanother,anditwasanotherman,whomChaol

presumedtobethedomestictradevizier,thatnamedthesum.Chaolonlywaited.Kashinhadtoldhimtheastronomicalnumberlastnight.

And,justashe’dgambled,thekhaganwhippedhisheadtothevizieratthatcost.Chaol asked, “And how many are now being sent to Rolfe—and thus to

Terrasen?”Anothernumber.Chaolletthekhagandothemath.Watchedfromthecorner

ofhiseyeasthekhagan’sbrowsroseevenhigher.The Chief Vizier braced his forearms on the table. “Are you trying to

convinceusofAelinGalathynius’sgoodorillintentions,LordWestfall?”Chaolignoredthebarb.Hesimplysaidtotheforeigntradevizier,“Iwould

liketoplaceanotherorder.IwouldliketodoubletheQueenofTerrasen’sorder,actually.”

Silence.Theforeigntradevizierlookedlikehe’dflipoverinhischair.ButtheChiefViziersneered,“Withwhatmoney?”Chaol turned a lazy grin on the man. “I came here with four trunks of

pricelesstreasure.”Akingdom’sransom,asitwere.“Ithinkitshouldcoverthecost.”

Utterquietoncemore.Untilthekhaganaskedhisforeigntradevizier,“Andwillitcoverthecost?”“Thetreasurewouldhavetobeassessedandweighed—”“It isalreadybeingdone,”Chaolsaid, leaningback inhischair.“Youshall

havethenumberbythisafternoon.”Anotherbeatofsilence.ThenthekhaganmurmuredinHalhatotheforeign

tradevizier,whogathereduphispapersandscurriedoutoftheroomwithawaryglance at Chaol. A flat word from the khagan to his Chief Vizier and the

domestictradevizier,andbothmenalsoleft, theformerthrowinganothercoldsneerChaol’swaybeforedeparting.

Alonewiththekhagan,Chaolwaitedinsilence.Urusrosefromhischair,stalking to thewallofwindowsthatoverlookeda

blooming,shadedgarden.“Isupposeyouthinkyouareveryclever,tousethistogetanaudiencewithme.”

“I spoke true,”Chaol said. “Iwished to discuss the dealwith your foreigntradevizier.Even if your armieswill not joinus, I don’t seehowanyone canobjecttoourpurchaseofyourweapons.”

“And no doubt, thiswasmeant tomakeme realize how lucrative thiswarmightbe,ifyoursideiswillingtoinvestinourresources.”

Chaolremainedsilent.Thekhaganturnedfromthegardenview,thesunlightmakinghiswhitehair

glow.“Idonotappreciatebeingmanipulatedintothiswar,LordWestfall.”Chaolheldtheman’sstare,evenashegrippedthearmsofhischair.Thekhaganaskedquietly,“Doyouevenknowwhatwarfareis?”Chaolclenchedhisjaw.“IsupposeI’mabouttofindout,aren’tI.”Thekhagandidn’tsomuchassmile.“Itisnotmerebattlesandsuppliesand

strategy.Warfareistheabsolutededicationofonearmyagainsttheirenemies.”Along,weighinglook.“Thatiswhatyoustandagainst—Morath’srallied,solidfront.Theirconvictionindecimatingyouintodust.”

“Iknowthatwell.”“Do you?Do you understandwhatMorath is doing to you already? They

buildandplanandstrike,andyoucanbarelykeepup.Youareplayingby therulesPerringtonsets—andyouwilllosebecauseofit.”

Hisbreakfastturnedoverinhisstomach.“Wemightstilltriumph.”The khagan shook his head once. “To do that, your triumph must be

complete.Everylastbitofresistancesquashed.”His legs itched—and he shifted his feet just barely.Stand, hewilled them.

Stand.Hepushedhisfeetdown,musclesbarkinginprotest.“Which iswhy,”Chaol snarled as his legs refused to obey, “we need your

armiestoaidus.”The khagan glanced toward Chaol’s straining feet, as if he could see the

strugglewaginginhisbody.“Idonotappreciatebeinghuntedlikesomeprizestaginawood.Itoldyoutowait;Itoldyoutograntmetherespectofgrievingformydaughter—”

“AndwhatifItoldyouthatyourdaughtermighthavebeenmurdered?”Silence,horribleandhollow,filledthespacebetweenthem.Chaolsnapped,“WhatifItoldyouthatagentsofPerringtonmightbehere,

andmightalreadybehuntingyou,manipulatingyouintooroutofthis?”Thekhagan’sfacetightened.Chaolbracedhimselffor theroaring,forUrus

toperhapsdrawthelong,jeweledknifeathissideandslamitintohischest.Butthekhaganonlysaidquietly,“Youaredismissed.”

Asiftheguardshadlistenedtoeveryword,thedoorscrackedopen,agrim-facedHashimbeckoningChaoltowardthewall.

Chaoldidn’tmove.Footstepsapproachedfrombehind.Tophysicallyremovehim.

He slammed his feet into the pedals of his chair, pushing and straining,grittinghis teeth.Likehell they’dhaulhimoutofhere; likehellhe’dlet themdraghimaway—

“I came to not only savemypeople, butall peoples of thisworld,”Chaolgrowledatthekhagan.

Someone—Shen—grippedthehandlesofhischairandbegantoturnhim.Chaoltwisted,teethbaredattheguard.“Don’ttouchit.”ButShendidn’t release thehandles,evenasapologyshone inhiseyes.He

knew—Chaolrealizedtheguardknewjusthowitfelttohavethechairtouched,moved, without being asked. Just as Chaol knew what defying the khagan’s

ordertoescorthimfromtheroommightmeanforShen.SoChaolagainfixedhisstareonthekhagan.“YourcityisthegreatestIhave

ever laid eyes upon, your empire the standard by which all others should bemeasured.WhenMorathcomestolaywastetoit,whowillstandwithyouifweareallcarrion?”

Thekhagan’seyesburnedlikecoals.Shenkeptpushinghischairtowardthatdoor.Chaol’sarmsshookwiththeefforttokeepfromshovingtheguardaway,his

legstremblingashetriedandtriedtorise.Chaollookedoverhisshoulderandgrowled,“Istoodonthewrongsideofthelinefortoodamnlong,anditcostmeeverything.DonotmakethesamemistakesthatI—”

“Donotpresumetotellakhaganwhathemustdo,”Urussaid,hiseyeslikechipsof ice.He jerkedhischin to theguardsshiftingon their feetat thedoor.“EscortLordWestfall back to his rooms.Donot allowhim intomymeetingsagain.”

The threat laybeneath thecalm,coldwords.Urushadnoneed to raisehisvoice,toroartomakehispromiseofpunishmentclearenoughtotheguards.

Chaol pushed and pushed against his chair, arms straining as he fought tostand,toevenriseslightly.

ButthenShenhadhischairthroughthedoors,anddownthegleamingbrighthallways.

Stillhisbodydidnotobey.Didnotanswer.The doors to the khagan’s council chamber shut with a soft click that

reverberated throughChaol’severyboneandmuscle, thesoundmoredamningthananywordthekhaganhaduttered.

YrenehadleftChaoltohisthoughtsthenightbefore.LeftthemasshestormedbacktotheTorreanddecidedthatHasar…Oh,she

did not mind manipulating the princess one bit. And realized precisely howshe’dgettheprincesstoinvitehertothatdamnedoasis.

Butitseemedthatevenamorninginthetrainingringwiththeguardshadnotsoothedthe jaggededge inChaol’sowntemper.The temperstillsimmeringashewaitedinthesittingroomwhileYrenesentKadjaoffonanotherfool’serrand—twine,goat’smilk,andvinegar—andatlastreadiedtoworkonhim.

Summer was boiling toward a steamy close, the wild winds of autumnbeginning to lash at the waters of the turquoise bay. It was always warm inAntica,buttheNarrowSeaturnedroughandunwieldyfromYulemastoBeltane.Ifanarmadadidnotsailfromthesoutherncontinentbeforethen…Well,Yrenesupposedthatafterlastnight,onewouldn’tsailanyway.

Sittingneartheirusualgoldcouch,Chaoldidn’tgreetherwithmorethanacursoryglance.Notatalllikehisusualgrimsmile.Andtheshadowsunderhiseyes…Any thought of rushing in here to tell him of her plan flowed out ofYrene’sheadassheasked,“Wereyouupallnight?”

“Forpartsofit,”hesaid,hisvoicelow.Yreneapproachedthecouchbutdidnotsit.Instead,shesimplywatchedhim,

foldingherarmsacrossher abdomen.“Perhaps thekhaganwill consider.He’sawareofhowhischildrenscheme.He’stoosmartnottohaveseenArghunandHasarworkingintandem—foronce—andtonotbesuspicious.”

“Andyouknowthekhagansowell?”Acold,bitingquestion.“No,butI’vecertainlylivedhereagooddeallongerthanyouhave.”His brown eyes flashed. “I don’t have two years to spare. To play their

games.”Andshedid,apparently.Yrenestifledherirritation.“Well,broodingaboutitwon’tfixanything.”Hisnostrilsflared.“Indeed.”Shehadn’tseenhimlikethisinweeks.Had it been so long already?Her birthdaywas in a fortnight. Sooner than

she’drealized.It wasn’t the time to mention it, or the plan she’d hatched. It was

inconsequential,really,giveneverythingswarmingaroundthem.Theburdenshebore.Thefrustrationanddespairshenowsawpushingonthoseshoulders.

“Tell me what happened.” Something had—something had shifted sincethey’dpartedwayslastnight.

A cutting glance her way. She braced herself for his refusal as his jawtightened.

Butthenhesaid,“Iwenttoseethekhaganthismorning.”“Yougotanaudience?”“Notquite.”Hislipsthinned.“Whathappened?”Yrenebracedahandonthearmofthesofa.“Hehadmehauledoutoftheroom.”Cold,flatwords.“Icouldn’teventryto

getaroundtheguards.Trytomakehimlisten.”“Ifyou’dbeenstanding,they’dhavehauledyouawayallthesame.”Likely

hurthimintheprocess.Heglared.“Ididn’twanttofightthem.Iwantedtobeghim.AndIcouldn’t

evengetontomykneestodoit.”Herheartstrainedashelookedtowardthegardenwindow.Rageandsorrow

andfearallcrossedoverhisface.“You’vemaderemarkableprogressalready.”“Iwanttobeabletofightalongsidemymenagain,”Chaolsaidquietly.“To

diebesidethem.”Thewordswereanicysliceoffearthroughher,butYrenesaidstiffly,“You

candothatfromahorse.”“Iwanttodoitshoulder-to-shoulder,”hesnarled.“Iwanttofightinthemud,

onakillingfield.”“So you’d heal here only so you can go die somewhere else?” Thewords

snappedfromher.“Yes.”

Acold,hardanswer.Hisfaceequallyso.Thisstormbrewinginhim…Shewouldn’tseetheirprogressruinedbyit.Andwarwastrulybreakingacrosstheirhome.Regardlessofwhathewished

todowithhimself,hedidnot—theydidnothavetime.HerpeopleinFenharrowdidnothavetime.

SoYrenesteppeduptohim,grippedhimunderashoulder,andsaid,“Thengetup.”

Chaolwasinashitmood,andheknewit.Themorehe’d thoughtabout it, themoreherealizedhoweasily theprince

andprincesshadplayedhim,toyedwithhimlastnight…Itdidn’tmatterwhatmoveAelinhadmade.Anythingshehaddone,theywouldhaveturnedagainsther.Against him.HadAelin played the damsel, theywould have called her aweakanduncertainally.Therewasnowaytowin.

Themeetingwiththekhaganhadbeenfolly.PerhapsKashinhadplayedhim,too.Forifthekhaganhadbeenwillingtohearhimoutbefore,hecertainlywasnotgoing tonow.Andeven ifNesrynreturnedwithSartaq’s rukhin in tow…Hernoteyesterdayhadbeencarefullyworded.

The rukhin are deft archers. They find my own skills intriguing, too. Ishould like tokeep instructing.And learning.They fly freehere. I’ll seeyouinthreeweeks.

Hedidn’tknowwhattomakeofit.Thepenultimateline.Wasitaninsulttohim,oracodedmessagethattherukhinandSartaqmightdisobeythecommandsoftheirkhaganifherefusedtoletthemleave?WouldSartaqtrulyrisktreasontoaidthem?Chaoldidn’tdareleavethemessageunburned.Fly free. He had never known such a feeling. It would never be his to

discover.TheseweekswithYrene,dininginthecityunderthestars, talkingto

herabouteverythingandnothing…Ithadcomeclose,perhaps.Butitdidnotchangewhatlayahead.

No—theywerestillverymuchaloneinthiswar.Andthelongerhelingered,withhisfriendsnowincombat,nowonthemove…

Hewasstillhere.Inthischair.Withnoarmy,noallies.“Getup.”HeslowlyfacedYreneassherepeatedhercommand,ahandtightlygripped

underhisshoulder,herfacefulloffierychallenge.Chaolblinkedather.“What.”Notquiteaquestion.“Get.Up.”Hermouthtightened.“Youwanttodieinthiswarsobadly,then

getup.”Shewas in amood, too.Good.He’d been aching for a fight—the clashes

withtheguardsstillunsatisfactoryinthisgods-damnedchair.ButYrene…Hehadn’tallowedhimselftotouchhertheseweeks.Hadmadehimselfkeep

a distance, despite her unintentional moments of contact, the times when herheaddippedclosetohisandallhecoulddowaswatchhermouth.

Yethe’dseenthetensioninheratdinnerlastnight,whenHasarhadtauntedaboutNesryn’s return.Thedisappointment she’d tried sohard tokeephidden,thenthereliefwhenhe’drevealedNesryn’sextendedtrip.

Hewasachampionbastard.Evenifhe’dmanagedtoconvincethekhagantosave theirasses in thiswar…Hewould leavehere.Emptyhandedorwithanarmy, he’d leave. And despite Yrene’s plans to return to their continent, hewasn’tcertainwhenhe’dseeheragain.Ifever.

Noneofthemmightmakeitanyway.And thisone task, thisone task thathis friendshadgivenhim, thatDorian

hadgivenhim…He’dfailed.Evenwithallhe’dendured,allhe’dlearned…Itwasnotenough.Chaolgaveapointedlooktohislegs.“How?”They’dmademoreprogress

thanhecouldhavedreamed,yetthis—Hergriptightenedtothepointofpain.“Yousaidityourself:youdon’thave

twoyears. I’ve repaired enough now that you should be able to stand. So getup.”Sheevenwentsofarastotugonhim.

Hestaredatherbeneathloweredbrows,lettinghistemperslipitsleashbyafewnotches.“Letgo.”

“Orwhat?”Oh,shewaspissed.“Whoknowswhatthespieswillfeedtotheroyals?”Cold,hardwords.Yrene’smouthtightened.“Ihavenothingtofearfromtheirreports.”“Don’t you? You didn’t seem to mind the privileges that came when you

snapped your fingers and Kashin ran here. Perhaps he’ll grow tired of youstringinghimalong.”

“Thatisnonsenseandyouknowit.”Shetuggedonhisarm.“Getup.”He did no such thing. “So a prince is not good enough for you, but the

disownedsonofalordis?”He’dneverevenvoicedthethought.Eventohimself.“Justbecauseyou’repissedoff thatHasarandArghunoutmaneuveredyou,

thatthekhaganstillwon’tlistentoyou,doesn’tgiveyoutherighttotrytodragmeintoafight.”Herlipscurledbackfromherteeth.“Nowgetup,sinceyou’resoeagertorushoffintobattle.”

Heyankedhisshoulderoutofhergrip.“Youdidn’tanswerthequestion.”“I’mnotgoingtoanswerthequestion.”Yrenedidn’tgrabhisshoulderagain,

butslidherentirearmunderhimandgrunted,asifshe’dlifthimherself,whenhewasnearlydoubleherweight.

Chaolgrittedhisteeth,andjusttoavoidherinjuringherself,heshookheroffagainandsethisfeetonthefloor.Bracedhishandsonthearmsofthechairandhauledhimselfforwardasfarashecouldmanage.“And?”

Hecouldmovehiskneesandbelow,andhisthighshadbeentinglingthispastweekeverynowandthen,yet…

“Andyourememberhowtostand,don’tyou?”Heonlyshotback,“WhydidyoulooksorelievedwhenIsaidNesrynwould

bedelayedafewmoreweeks?”Colorbloomedonherfreckledskin,butshereachedforhimagain, looping

herarmsthroughhis.“Ididn’twantittodistractyoufromourprogress.”“Liar.”Herscentwrappedaroundhimasshetugged,thechairgroaningashe

begantopushdownonthearms.AndthenYreneparriedandwentontheoffensive,sleekasasnake.“Ithink

youwererelieved,”sheseethed,herbreathhotagainsthisear.“Ithinkyouweregladforhertoremainaway,soyoucanpretendthatyouarehonor-boundtoherandletthatbeawall.Sothatwhenyouarehere,withme,youdon’tneedtoseeherwatching,don’tneedtothinkaboutwhatsheistoyou.Withheraway,sheisamemory,adistantideal,butwhensheishere,andyoulookather,whatdoyousee?Whatdoyoufeel?”

“Ihadherinmybed,soIthinkthatsaysenoughaboutmyfeelings.”Hehatedthewords,evenasthetemper,thesharpness…itwasarelief,too.Yrenesucked inabreath,butdidn’tbackdown.“Yes,youhadher inyour

bed,butIthinkshewaslikelyadistraction,andwassickofit.Perhapssickofbeingaconsolationprize.”

His arms strained, the chairwobbling as he pushed and pushed upward, ifonlysohecouldstandlongenoughtoglareintoherface.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”ShehadnotmentionedAelinatall,hadn’taskedafterlastnight’sdinner.Until—

“Did she pick Dorian, then? The queen. I’m surprised she could stomacheitherofyou,givenyourhistory.Whatyourkingdomdidtohers.”

Roaringfilledhisearsashebeganshiftinghisweightontohisfeet,willinghisspinetoholdwhilehespatather,“Youdidn’tseemtominditonebit,thatnightat theparty.Ihadyoupracticallybeggingme.”Hedidn’tknowwhatthehellwascomingoutofhismouth.

Hernailsdugintohisback.“You’dbesurprisedthepeoplethatopiatemakesyouconsider.Whoyou’llfindyourselfwillingtosullyyourselfwith.”

“Right.A sonofAdarlan.Anoath-breaking, faithless traitor.That’swhat Iam,isn’tit?”

“Iwouldn’tknow—yourarelyevenattempttotalkaboutit.”“Andyouaresogoodatit,Isuppose?”“Thisisaboutyou,notme.”“YetyouwereassignedtomebecauseyourHealeronHighsawotherwise.

Sawthatnomatterhowhighyouclimbedinthattower,you’restillthatgirlinFenharrow.”A laughcameoutofhim, icyandbitter. “Iknewanotherwomanwholostasmuchasyou.Anddoyouknowwhatshedidwithit—thatloss?”Hecouldbarelystopthewordsfrompouringout,couldbarelythinkovertheroarinhishead.“Shehunteddownthepeopleresponsibleforitandobliterated them.Whatthehellhaveyoubotheredtodotheseyears?”

Chaolfeltthewordshittheirmark.Feltthestillnessshudderthroughherbody.Rightashepushedup—rightashisweightadjustedandkneesbent,andhe

foundhimselfstanding.Too far. He’d gone too far. He’d never once believed those things. Even

thoughtthem.NotaboutYrene.Herchestroseinajaggedbreaththatbrushedagainsthis,andsheblinkedup

athim,mouthclosing.Andwith themovement,hecouldseeawall risingup.Sealing.

Neveragain.She’dneveragainforgivehim,smileathim,forwhathe’dsaid.Neverforgetit.Standingorno.“Yrene,”herasped,butsheslidherarmsfromhimandbackedawayastep,

shaking her head. Leaving him standing—alone. Alone and exposed as sheretreated another step and the sunlight caught in the silver starting to line her

eyes.Itrippedhischestwideopen.Chaolputahandonit,asifhecouldfeelthecavingwithin,evenashislegs

waveredbeneathhim.“Iamnoonetoevenmentionsuchthings.Iamnothing,anditwasmyselfthatI—”

“Imightnothavebattledkingsandshatteredcastles,”shesaidcoldly,voiceshakingwithangerasshecontinuedher retreat,“but Iamtheheirapparent tothe Healer on High. Throughmy ownwork and suffering and sacrifice. Andyou’restandingrightnowbecauseofthat.Peoplearealivebecauseofthat.SoImaynotbeawarriorwavingaswordabout,maynotbeworthyofyourglorioustales,butatleastIsavelives—notendthem.”

“Iknow,”hesaid,fightingtheurgetogripthearmsofthechairnowseemingsofarbelowhimashisbalancewavered.“Yrene,Iknow.”Toofar.Hehadgonetoo far, and he had never hated himselfmore, forwanting to pick a fight andbeingsogods-damnedstupid,whenhe’dreallybeentalkingabouthimself—

Yrenebackedawayanotherstep.“Please,”hesaid.Butshewasheadingforthedoor.Andifsheleft…Hehad let them all go.Hadwalked out himself, too, butwithAelin,with

Dorian,withNesryn,hehadletthemgo,andhehadnotgoneafterthem.Butthatwomanbackingtowardthedoor,tryingtokeepthetearsfromfalling

—tearsfromthehurthe’dcausedher,tearsoftheangerhesorightfullydeserved—

Shereachedthehandle.Fumbledblindlyforit.Andifsheleft,ifheletherwalkout…Yrenepusheddownonthehandle.AndChaoltookasteptowardher.

39

Chaoldidnotthink.He did notmarvel at the sensation of being so high. At theweight of his

body,theswayofitashetookthatstaggeringstep.TherewasonlyYrene, andher handon thedoorknob, and the tears in her

furious,lovelyeyes.Themostbeautifulhe’deverseen.Theywidenedashetookthatsteptowardher.Ashelurchedandswayed.Buthemanagedanother.Yrenestumbledtowardhim,studyinghimfromheadtotoe,ahandrisingto

coverheropenmouth.Shestoppedafewfeetaway.Hehadn’trealizedhowmuchsmallershewas.Howdelicate.How—howtheworldlookedandseemedandtastedthisway.“Don’tgo,”hebreathed.“I’msorry.”Yrenesurveyedhimagain,fromhisfeettohisface.Tearsslippeddownher

cheeksasshetippedherheadback.“I’msorry,”Chaolsaidagain.Stillshedidnotspeak.Tearsonlyrolledandrolled.“Imeantnoneofit,”herasped,hiskneesbeginningtoacheandbuckle,his

thighs trembling. “I was spoiling for a fight and—Imeant none of it, Yrene.Noneofit.AndI’msorry.”

“Akernelofitmusthavebeeninyou,though,”shewhispered.Chaolshookhishead,themotionmakinghimsway.Hegrippedthebackofa

stuffedarmchairtostayupright.“Imeantitaboutmyself.Whatyouhavedone,Yrene,whatyouarewillingtostilldo…Youdidthis—allthisnotforgloryorambition,butbecauseyoubelieveitistherightthingtodo.Yourbravery,yourcleverness,yourunfalteringwill…Idonothavewordsforit,Yrene.”

Herfacedidnotchange.“Please,Yrene.”Hereachedforher,riskingastaggering,wobblingstep.Shetookastepback.Chaol’shandscurledaroundemptyair.He clenchedhis jawashe fought to remainupright, his body swaying and

strange.“Perhaps it makes you feel better about yourself to associate with meek,

patheticlittlepeoplelikeme.”“I do not …” He ground his teeth, and lurched another step toward her,

needing to just touchher, to takeherhandand squeeze it, to justshowherhewasn’t like that.Didn’t think like that.Heswayed left, throwingoutahand tobalancehimashebitout,“YouknowIdidn’tmeanit.”

Yrenebackedaway,keepingoutofreach.“DoI?”Hepushedforwardanotherstep.Another.Shedodgedhimeachtime.“Youknowit,damnyou,”hegrowled.Heforcedhislegsintoanotherjerking

step.Yrenesidledoutoftheway.Heblinked,pausing.Readingthelightinhereyes.Thetone.Thewitchwastrickinghimintowalking.Coaxinghimtomove.Tofollow.Shepaused,meetinghisstare,notatraceofthathurtinthem,asiftosay,It

tookyoulongenoughtofigureitout.Alittlesmilebloomedonhermouth.Hewasstanding.Hewas…walking.

Walking.Andthiswomanbeforehim…Chaolmadeitanotherstep.Yreneretreated.Notahunt,butadance.He did not remove his eyes from hers as he staggered another step, and

another,hisbodyaching, trembling.Buthegritted through it.Fought foreachinchtowardher.Eachstepthathadherbackinguptothewall.

Herbreathcame inshallowpants, thosegoldeneyessowideashe trackedheracrosstheroom.Assheledhimonefootafteranother.

Untilherbackhitthewall,thesconceonitrattling.Asifshe’dlosttrackofwhereshewas.

Chaolwasinstantlyuponher.Hebracedonehanduponthewall,thewallpapersmoothbeneathhispalmas

heput hisweight upon it.Tokeephis bodyupright as his thighs shook, backstraining.

Theyweresmaller,secondaryconcerns.Hisotherhand…Yrene’seyeswerestillbrightwiththosetearshe’dcaused.Onestillclungtohercheek.Chaolwipeditaway.Anotheronehefounddownbyherjaw.Hedidn’tunderstand—howshecouldbesodelicate,sosmall,whenshehad

overturnedhislifeentirely.Workedmiracleswiththosehandsandthatsoul,thiswomanwhohadcrossedmountainsandseas.

Shewastrembling.Notwithfear,notasshelookedupathim.AnditwasonlywhenYrenesettledherhandonhischest,not topushhim

awaybuttofeeltheraging,thunderousheartbeatbeneath,thatChaolloweredhisheadandkissedher.

Hewasstanding.Hewaswalking.Andhewaskissingher.Yrene could barely breathe, barely keep inside her skin, as Chaol’smouth

settledoverhers.Itwaslikewakinguporbeingbornorfallingoutofthesky.Itwasananswer

andasong,andshecouldnotthinkorfeelfastenough.Her hands curled into his shirt, fingers wrapping around fistfuls of fabric,

tugginghimcloser.Hislipscaressedhersinpatient,unhurriedmovements,asiftracingthefeel

ofher.Andwhenhisteethgrazedherlowerlip…Sheopenedhermouthtohim.Heswept in,pressingher farther into thewall.Shebarely felt themolding

digging into her spine, the sleekness of thewallpaper against her back as histongueslidintohermouth.

Yrenemoaned,notcaringwhoheard,whomightbelistening.Theycouldallgotohellforallshecared.Shewasburning,glowing—

Chaollaidahandagainstherjaw,anglingherfacetobetterclaimhermouth.Shearched,silentlybegginghimtotake—

Sheknewhehadn’tmeantwhathesaid,knewithadbeenhimselfhe’dbeenraging at. She’d goaded him into that fight, and even if it had hurt… She’dknown themomenthe stood,whenherheart had stoppeddead, thathehadn’tmeantit.

Thathewouldhavecrawled.Thisman,thisnobleandselflessandremarkableman…Yrenedraggedherhandsaroundhisshoulders,fingersslippingintohissilken

brownhair.More,more,more—Buthiskisswasthorough.Asifhewantedtolearneverytaste,everyangleof

her.Shebrushedhertongueagainsthis,andhisgrowlhadhertoescurlinginher

slippers—

Shefeltthetremorgothroughhimbeforesheregisteredwhatitwas.Thestrain.Stillhekissedher,seemedintenttodoso,evenifitbroughthimcrashingto

thefloor.Smallsteps.Smallmeasures.Yrenebrokeaway,puttingahandonhis chestwhenhemade to claimher

mouthagain.“Youshouldsit.”Hiseyeswerewhollyblack.“I—letme—please,Yrene.”Eachwordwasabrokenrasp.Asifhe’dfreedsometetheronhimself.Shefoughttokeepherbreathingsteady.Togatherherwits.Toolongonhis

feetandhemightstrainhisback.Andbeforeshecouldencouragethewalkingand—more, she needed to go into his wound to look around. Perhaps it hadrecededenoughonitsown.

Chaolbrushedhismouthagainsthers, the silkenheatofhis lipsenough tomakeherwillingtoignorecommonsense.

Butsheshovedbackagainstit.Gentlyslidoutofhisreach.“NowI’llhavewaystorewardyou,”shesaid,tryingforhumor.

Hedidn’tsmileback.Didn’tdoanythingbutwatchherwithnear-predatoryintentasshebackedawayastepandofferedherarmtohim.Towalkbacktothechair.

Towalk.Hewaswalking—Hedidso.Pushedoffthewall,andswayed—Yrenecaughthim,steadiedhim.“Ithoughtyouneversteppedintohelpme,”hesaiddrily,raisingabrow.“Inthechair,yes.Youhavemuchfarthertofallnow.”Chaolhuffedalaugh,thenleanedintowhisperinherear,“Willitbethebed

orthecouchnow,Yrene?”Sheswallowed,daringasidelonglookupathim.Hiseyeswerestilldark,his

faceflushedandlipsswollen.Fromher.Yrene’s blood heated, her core near-molten. How the hell would she have

himnearlynakedbeforehernow?“Youarestillmypatient,”shemanagedtosayprimly,andguidedhiminto

his chair. Nearly shoved him onto it—and nearly leaped atop him, too. “Andwhile there is no official vow about such things, I plan to keep thingsprofessional.”

Chaol’s answering smile was anything but. So was the way he growled,“Comehere.”

Yrene’sheartbeatpoundedthrougheveryinchofherassheclosedthefootofspacebetweenthem.Assheheldhisburninggazeandsettledintohislap.

Hishandslidbeneathherhairtocupthebackofherneck,drawingherfaceto his as he brushed a kiss over the corner of hermouth.Then the other. Shegrippedhisshoulder,fingersdiggingintothehardmusclebeneath,herbreathingturningjaggedashenippedatherbottomlip,ashisotherhandbegantoexploreuphertorso—

Adooropenedinthehallway,andYrenewasinstantlyup,stridingacrossthesittingroomforthedesk—tothevialsofoilthere.JustasKadjaslippedthroughthedoor,atrayinherhands.

The servant girl had found the “ingredients” Yrene needed. Twine, goat’smilk,andvinegar.

Yrenecouldbarely rememberwords to thank theservantas thegirl set thetrayonthedesk.

Whether Kadja saw their faces, their hair and clothes, and could read thewhite-hot lineof tensionbetween them, she saidnothing.Yrenehadnodoubtshemight suspect,wouldnodoubt report it towhoeverheldher leash,but…Yrenefoundherselfnotcaringassheleanedagainstthedesk,Kadjadepartingassilentlyasshehadcome.

FoundChaolstillwatchingher,chestheaving.

“Whatdowedonow?”Yreneaskedquietly.Forshedidn’tknow—howtogoback—Chaoldidn’treply.Hejuststretchedoutonelegwhollyinfrontofhim.Then

theother.Diditagain,marveling.“We don’t look back,” he said, meeting her stare. “It helps no one and

nothingtolookback.”Thewayhesaidit…Itseemedasifitmeantsomethingmore.Tohim,atleast.

ButChaol’ssmilegrew,hiseyeslightingasheadded,“Wecanonlygoon.”Yrenewenttohim,unabletostopherself,asif thatsmilewereabeaconin

thedark.AndwhenChaolwheeledhimselftothecouchandpeeledoffhisshirt,when

helaydownandshesetherhandsonhiswarm,strongback…Yrenesmiledaswell.

40

Standingandwalkingafewstepswasn’tthesameasbeingbacktofullcapacity.Thenextweekprovedit.YrenestillbattledwithwhateverlurkedinChaol’s

spine, still clinging—down to the very base, she explained—and still keepinghimfromfullmotion.Running,mostjumping,kicking:outofthequestion.Butthankstothesturdywoodencanesheprocuredforhim,hecouldstand,andhecouldwalk.

Anditwasagods-damnedmiracle.Hebroughtthecaneandthechair tohismorningtrainingwithHashimand

the guards, for the moments when he pushed himself too hard and couldn’tmanagethereturntriptohisrooms.Yrenejoinedhimduringtheearlylessons,instructingHashimonwhere to focus inhis legs.To rebuildmoremuscle.Tostabilizehimfurther.She’ddone thesameforShen,Hashimhadconfidedonemorning—had come to supervisemost of his initial training sessions after hisinjury.

SoYrene had been there,watching from the sidelines, that first dayChaolhadtakenupaswordagainstHashimanddueled.Ordiditasbesthecouldwiththecaneinonehand.

Hisbalancewasshit,hislegsunreliable,buthemanagedtogetinafewgoodhitsagainsttheman.Andacane…notabadweapon,ifthefightcalledforit.

Yrene’s eyes had been wide as saucers when they stopped and Chaolapproached her spot on the wall, leaning heavily on the cane as his body

trembled.Thecoloronherface,herealizedwithnosmallamountofmalesatisfaction,

was from far more than the heat. And when they’d eventually left, walkingslowly into the cool shadows of the halls, Yrene had tugged him into acurtained-offalcoveandkissedhim.

Leaningagainstasupplyshelfforsupport,hishandshadrovedalloverher,thegenerous curves and smallwaist, tangling intoher long, heavyhair.She’dkissedandkissedhim,breathlessandpanting,andthenlicked—actually lickedthesweatfromhisneck.

Chaol had groaned so loudly that it was no surprise a servant appeared aheartbeatlater,rippingthecurtainaway,asiftochidetwoworkersforshirkingtheirduties.

Yrene had blanched as she’d righted herself and asked the bowing andscrapingmaleservantnottosayanything.Heassuredherthathewouldn’t,butYrenehadbeenshaken.She’dkeptherdistancefortherestofthewalkback.

Andmaintainediteverydaysince.Itwasdrivinghimmad.Butheunderstood.Withherposition,bothintheTorreandwithinthepalace,

theyshouldbesmarter.Morecareful.AndwithKadjaalwaysinhisrooms…Chaolkepthishandstohimself.EvenwhenYrenelaidherownhandsupon

hisbackandhealedhim,pushedandpushedherself,tobreakthroughthatfinalwallofdarkness.

He wanted to tell her, debated telling her, that it was already enough. Hewouldgladlylivewiththecanefortherestofhislife.Shehadgivenhimmorethanhecouldeverhopefor.

Forhesawtheguardseverymorning.Theweaponsandshields.And he thought of that war, unleashing itself at last upon his friends. His

homeland.Evenifhedidnotbringanarmywithhimwhenhereturned,he’dfindsome

way to stand on those battlefields. Riding, at least, was now a viable optionwhilefightingalongsidethem.

Fightingfor—her.Hewasthinkingofitastheywalkedtodinneronenight,overaweeklater.

With the cane, it took him longer than usual, but he did not mind any extramomentspentinhercompany.

Shewaswearingherpurplegown—hisfavorite—herhairhalfupandcurlingsoftlyfromtheunusuallyhumidday.Butshewasjumpy,unsettled.

“Whatisit?”The royalshadn’t cared the first nighthe’dwalkedonhisown two legs to

dinner.Anothereverydaymiracleof theTorre, though thekhaganhimselfhadcommendedYrene.She’dbeamedatthepraise.EvenasthekhaganhadignoredChaol—ashehaddonesincethatill-fatedmeeting.

Yrenerubbedatthescaronherneckasifitached.Hehadn’taskedaboutit—didn’twanttoknow.Onlybecauseifhedid…Evenwithawaruponthem,hemightverywelltakethetimetohuntdownwhoeverhaddoneitandburythem.

“IconvincedHasartothrowmeaparty,”Yrenesaidquietly.Hewaiteduntilthey’dpassedaclusterofservantsbeforeasking,“Forwhat

reason?”Sheblewoutabreath.“It’smybirthday.Inthreedays.”“Yourbirthday?”“Youknow,thecelebrationofthedayofyourbirth—”Henudgedherwithanelbow,thoughhisspineslippedandshiftedwith the

movement.Thecanegroanedashepressedhisweightupon it. “Ihadno ideathatshe-devilsactuallyhadthem.”

Shestuckouthertongue.“Yes,evenmykindhasthem.”Chaolgrinned.“Soyouaskedher to throwoneforyou?”Consideringhow

the last party had gone…Hemight very well wind up one of those peopleslipping away into a darkened bedroom. Especially if Yrene wore that dress

again.“Notexactly,”Yrenesaidwryly.“Imentionedthatmybirthdaywascoming

up,andhowdullyourplansforitwere…”Hechuckled.“Presumptuousofyou.”Shebattedhereyelashes.“AndImighthavementionedthatinallmyyears

here,I’veneverbeentothedesertandwasdebatingatripofmyown,butthatI’dbesadtonotcelebratewithher…”

“AndI’mguessingthatshesuggestedanoasisownedbyherfamilyinstead?”Yrenehummed.“AlittleovernightexcursiontoAksara—halfaday’srideto

theeast,totheirpermanenttentedcampwithintheoasis.”Sothehealercouldschemeafterall.But—“It’llbeboilinginthisheat.”“Theprincesswantsapartyinthedesert.Sosheshallhaveone.”Shechewed

onherlip,thoseshadowsdancingagain.“Ialsomanagedtoaskheraboutit—Aksara.Thehistory.”Chaolbracedhimself.“Hasargrewboredbeforeshetoldmemuch,butshesaidthatshe’donceheardthattheoasisgrewatopacityofthedead.Thattheruinsnowthereweremerelythegatewayinside.Theydon’tliketoriskdisturbingthedead,sotheyneverleavethespringitself—toventureintothejunglearoundit.”

Nowondershe’dseemedconcerned.“Notonlycavestobefound,then.”“Perhaps Nousha means something different; perhaps there are also caves

therewithinformation.”Sheblewoutabreath.“Isupposewe’llsee.ImadesuretoyawnwhileHasartoldme,enoughthatIdoubtshe’llwonderwhyIaskedatall.”

Chaolkissedher temple,a swiftbrushofhismouth thatnoonemight see.“Clever,Yrene.”

“Imeant to tellyoutheotherweek,but thenyoustood,andIforgot.SomecourtschemerIam.”

Hecaressedhisfreehanddownthelengthofherspine.Abitlower.“We’vebeen otherwise engaged.” Her face flushed a beautiful shade of pink, but a

thoughtsettledintohim.“Whatdoyoureallywantforyourbirthday?Andwhichoneisit?”

“Twenty-two.AndIdon’tknow.Ifitwasn’tforthis,Iwouldn’thavebroughtitupatall.”

“Youweren’tgoingtotellme?”Shegavehimaguiltyfrown.“Ifiguredthatwitheverythingpressingonyou,

birthdays were inconsequential.” Her hand slid into her pocket—to hold thatthinghe’dneverinquiredabout.

They neared the clamor of dinner in the great hall.He brushed his fingersagainst hers. She halted at the silent request, the hall spreading away beforethem,servantsandviziersstridingpast.

Chaol leaned on his cane while they rested, letting it stabilize his weight.“AmIinvitedtothisdesertparty,atleast?”

“Oh, yes. You, and all my other favorite people: Arghun, Kashin, and ahandfulofdelightfulviziers.”

“I’mgladImadethecut,consideringthatHasarhatesme.”“No.”Yrene’s eyes darkened. “If Hasar hated you, I don’t think you’d be

aliverightnow.”Godsabove.Thiswasthewomanshe’dbefriended.Yrenewenton,“At leastReniawillbe there,butDuvashouldn’tbe in the

heat inherconditionandherhusbandwon’t leaveherside. I’msure thatoncewegetthere,informationorno,I’llprobablywishIcouldhavemadeasimilarexcuse.”

“We’vegotafewdays.Wecould,technically,makethesameoneifweneedtoleave.”

The words settled in. The invitation and implication. Yrene’s face wentdelightfullyred,andshesmackedhisarm.“Rogue.”

Chaol chuckled, and eyed the hallway for a shadowed corner. But Yrenebreathed,“Wecan’t.”

Notabouthissorryjoke,butaboutthewantshenodoubtsawbuildinginhiseyes.Thewanthebeheldsimmeringinhers.

Headjustedhisjacket.“Well,I’llattempttofindyouasuitablepresentthatcancomparetoanentiredesertretreat,butdon’tholdmetoit.”

Yrene looped her arm through Chaol’s free one, no more than a healerescortingherpatienttothetable.“IhaveeverythingIneed,”wasallshesaid.

41

Ittookoveraweektoplanit.OveraweekaloneforSartaqandHouluntodigupancientmapsoftheDagul

Fells.Mostwerevagueanduseless.Whatridershadassessedfromtheairbutnot

daredgettooclosetodetail.Thekharankui’sterritorywassmall,buthadgrownlarger,boldertheselastfewyears.

Anditwasintothedarkheartoftheirterritorythattheywouldgo.ThehardestpartwasconvincingBortetoremainbehind.ButNesrynandSartaqleftthatuptoHoulun.Andonesharpwordfromthe

hearth-motherhad thegirl falling in line.EvenasBorte’seyes simmeredwithoutrage,shebowedtohergrandmother’swishes.Asheir,Houlunhadsnapped,Borte’sfirstobligationwastotheirpeople.Thebloodlineendedwithher.ShouldBorteheadintothedimtangleofDagul,shemightaswellspituponwherehermother’ssuldestoodontheslopesofArundin.

Bortehadinsistedthatifshe,asHoulun’sheir,wastostay,thenSartaq,asthekhagan’spotentialsuccessor,shouldremainaswell.

To that, Sartaq hadmerely stalked off into the interior hallways of Altun,saying that if being his father’s successor meant sitting idly by while othersfoughtforhim,thenhissiblingscouldhavethedamncrown.

So only the three of themwould go,Nesryn and Sartaq flying onKadara,FalkantuckedawayasafieldmouseinNesryn’spocket.

Therehadbeena finaldebate lastnightaboutbringinga legion.Bortehadarguedforit,Sartaqagainstit.Theydidnotknowhowmanykharankuidwelledin the barren peaks and forested vales between them. They could not riskneedlessly losingmany lives, and did not have the time towaste on thoroughreconnaissance. Three could sneak in—but an army of rukswould be spottedlongbeforetheyarrived.

Theargumenthadragedoverthefirepit,butHoulunhadsettledit:thesmallcompanywouldgo.Andiftheydidnotreturnwithinfourdays,anarmywouldfollow.Halfadaytoflydown,adaytosurveythearea,adaytogoin,andthenreturnwith the stolen hatchlings. Perhaps even learnwhat the Fae had fearedfromthespiders,howthey’dfoughtthem.Iftheywerelucky.

They’dbeenflyingforhoursnow,thehighwalloftheFellsgrowingcloserwitheveryflapofKadara’swings.Soon,now,they’dcrossthatfirstridgeofthegraymountainsandenterintothespiders’territory.Nesryn’sbreakfastsatheavyinherstomachwitheachmilecloser,hermouthasdryasparchment.

Behindher,Sartaqhadbeensilentformostoftheride.Falkandozedinherbreastpocket,emergingonlynowandthentopokeouthiswhiskeredsnout,sniffattheair,andthenduckbackinside.Conservinghisstrengthwhilehecould.

The shifter was still sleepingwhenNesryn said to Sartaq, “Did youmeanwhatyousaidlastnight—aboutrefusingthecrownifitmeantnotfighting?”

Sartaq’sbodywasawarmwallatherback.“Myfatherhasgonetowar—allkhaganshave.HepossessestheEbonyandIvorysuldepreciselyforthat.ButifitsomehowbecamethecasethatIwouldbedeniedsuchthingsinfavorofthebloodlinesurviving…Yes.AlifeconfinedtothatcourtisnotwhatIwant.”

“Andyetyouarefavoredtobecomekhaganoneday.”“Sotherumorssay.Butmyfatherhasneversuggestedorspokenofit.Forall

Iknow,hecouldcrownDuvainstead.Thegodsknowshe’dcertainlybeakindruler.Andistheonlyoneofustohaveproducedoffspring.”

Nesrynchewedher lip. “Why—why is it thatyouhaven’tmarried?”She’d

neverhad thenerve toask.Thoughshe’dcertainly foundherselfwondering itduringtheseweeks.

Sartaq’shandsflexedonthereinsbeforeheanswered.“I’vebeen toobusy.Andthewomenwhohavebeenpresentedaspotentialbrides…Theywerenotforme.”

Shehadnorighttopry,butsheasked,“Why?”“BecausewheneverIshowedthemKadara,theyeithercowered,orpretended

tobeinterestedinher,oraskedjusthowmuchtimeI’dbespendingaway.”“Hopingforfrequentabsences,orbecausethey’dmissyou?”Sartaq chuckled. “I couldn’t tell. The question itself felt like enough of a

leashthatIknewtheywerenotforme.”“So your father allows you to wed where you will?” Dangerous, strange

territory.Shewaitedforhimtoteaseheraboutit,butSartaqfellquiet.“Yes.EvenDuva’sarrangedmarriage…Shewasall for it.Saidshedidn’t

want to have to sort through a court of snakes to findonegoodman and stillprayhehadn’tdeceivedher.Iwonderifthere’ssomethingtobesaidforit.Sheluckedout,anyway—quietashe is,herhusbandadoresher. Isawhisface themomenttheymet.Sawhers,too.Relief,and…somethingmore.”

And what would become of them—of their child—if another Heir werechosen for the throne?Nesryn asked carefully, “Why not end this tradition ofcompetingwitheachother?”

Sartaq was silent for a long minute. “Perhaps one day, whoever takes thethronewillendit.Lovetheirsiblingsmorethantheyhonorthetradition.Iliketobelievewehavemovedpastwhowewerecenturiesago—whentheempirewasstillfledgling.Butperhapsnow,theseyearsofrelativepeace,perhapsthisisthedangeroustime.”Heshrugged,hisbodyshiftingagainsthers.“Perhapswarwillsortthematterofsuccessionforus.”

Andmaybeitwasbecausetheyweresohighabovetheworld,becausethatdimlandsweptevercloser,butNesrynasked,“Thereisnothingthatwouldkeep

youfromwarifitcalled,then?”“Yousoundasifyouarereconsideringthisgoalofyourstodragusintothe

north.”Shestiffened.“Iwilladmit that theseweekshere…Itwaseasierbeforeto

askforyouraid.Whentherukhinwereanameless,facelesslegion.WhenIdidnotknowtheirnames,theirfamilies.WhenIdidnotknowHoulun,orBorte.OrthatBorteisbetrothed.”

A low laugh at that. Borte had refused—outright refused—to answerNesryn’squestionsaboutYeran.Shesaiditwasn’tevenworthtalkingabout.

“I’msureBortewouldbegladtogotowar,ifonlytocompetewithYeranforgloryonthebattlefield.”

“Atruelovematch,then.”Sartaqsmiledatherear.“Youhavenoidea.”Hesighed.“Itbeganthreeyears

ago—thiscompetitionbetweenthem.Rightafterhermotherdied.”His pause was heavy enough that Nesryn asked, “You knew her mother

well?”Ittookhimamomenttoanswer.“ImentionedtoyouoncethatI’vebeensent

to other kingdoms to sort out disputes ormurmurings ofmalcontent. The lasttimemyfathersentme,Ibroughtasmallunitofrukhinalong,Borte’smotherwiththem.”

Again,thatheavyquiet.Nesrynslowly,carefullylaidherhandonhisforearmthatencircledher.Thestrongmusclesbeneaththeleathershifted—thensettled.

“Itisalongstory,andahardone,buttherewasviolencebetweentherukhinandthegroupthatsoughttobringdownourempire.Borte’smother…Oneofthemgot inacoward’s shot frombehind.Apoisonedarrow throughherneck,rightwhenwewereabouttoallowthemtosurrender.”Thewindhowledaroundthem.“Ididn’tletanyofthemwalkawayafterthat.”

Thehollow,coldwordssaidenough.“Icarriedherbodybackmyself,”Sartaqsaid,thewordsrippedawaybythe

wind. “I can still hearBorte’s screamingwhen I landed inAltun.Still seeherkneelingaloneontheslopesofArundinaftertheburial,clingingtohermother’ssuldewhereithadbeenplantedintheground.”

Nesryn tightened her grip on his arm. Sartaq placed his own gloved handuponhersandsqueezedgentlyasheblewoutalongbreath.

“Six months later,” he went on, “Borte competed in the Gathering—theannualthreedaysofcontestsandracesamongalltheclans.Shewasseventeen,andYeranwastwenty,andtheywereneckandneckforthefinal,greatrace.Asthey neared the finish, Yeran pulled a maneuver that might be consideredcheating,butBortesawitcomingamileoffandbeathimanyway.Andthenbeathimsoundlywhentheylanded.Literally.Heleapedoffhisrukandshetackledhim to the ground, pounding his face for the shit he’d pulled that nearly gotArcaskilled.”Helaughedtohimself.“Idon’tknowtheparticularsofwhatwentonlateratthecelebration,butIsawhimattempttotalktoheratonepoint,andsawher laugh inhis facebeforewalking away.He scowleduntil they left thenextmorning,andasfarasIknow,theydidn’tseeeachotherforayear.UntilthenextGathering.”

“WhichBortewonagain,”Nesrynguessed.“She did indeed. Barely. She pulled the questionable maneuver this time,

gettingherselfbangedupintheprocess,butshetechnicallywon.IthinkYeranwas secretly more terrified of how close she’d come to permanent injury ordeath, sohe letherhave thevictory.Shenever toldme theparticularsof thatcelebration,butshewasshakenforafewdaysafter.Weallassumeditwasfromherinjuries,butsuchthingshadneverbotheredherbefore.”

“Andthisyear?”“Thisyear,aweekbeforetheGathering,YeranappearedatAltun.Didn’tsee

Houlun,orme.JustwentrighttowhereverBortewasinthehall.Nooneknowswhat happened, but he stayed for less than thirty minutes from landing toleaving.Aweek later,Bortewon the race again.Andwhen shewas crowned

victor,Yeran’sfathersteppeduptodeclareherengagementtohisson.”“Asurprise?”“Considering that whenever Borte and Yeran are together, they’re at each

other’sthroats,yes.ButalsoasurprisetoBorte.Sheplayeditoff,butIsawthemarguing in the hall later.Whether or not she even knew about it, orwanted itrevealed that way, she still won’t say. But she has not disputed the betrothal.Thoughshehasn’tembracedit,either.Nodayhasbeenclaimedforthewedding,eventhoughtheunionwouldcertainlyeaseour…strainedtiestotheBerlad.”

Nesrynsmiledabit.“Ihopetheysortitout.”“Perhapsthiswarwilldothatforthem,too.”KadarasweptcloserandclosertothewalloftheFells,thelightturningthin

andcoldascloudspassedoverthesun.Theyclearedthetoweringlipofthefirstpeaks,soaringonanupdrafthighaboveasallofDagulspreadbeforethem.

“Holygods,”Nesrynwhispered.

Darkgraypeaksofbarrenrock.Thinpine treescrusting thevalesdeepbelow.Nolakes,noriverssavefortheoccasionaltricklingstream.

Barelyvisiblethroughtheshroudofwebbingoverallofit.Somewebswere thick andwhite, choking the life from trees. Somewere

sparklingnetsbetweenpeaks,asiftheysoughttocatchthewinditself.No life. No hum of insect or cry of beast. No sighing leaves or fluttering

wings.Falkan poked his head out of her pocket as they surveyed the dead land

belowandletoutasqueak.Nesrynnearlydidthesame.“Houlun was not exaggerating,” Sartaq murmured. “They have grown

strong.”“Wheredoweeven land?”Nesrynasked.“There’sbarelyasafespot tobe

seen.Theycouldhavetakenthehatchlingsandeggsanywhere.”

Shecombedthepeaksandvalleysforanysignofmovement,anyflickerofthosesleekblackbodiesscuttlingabout.Butsawnothing.

“We’ll make a pass around the territory,” Sartaq said. “Get a sense of thelayout.Perhapsfigureoutathingortworegardingtheirfeedinghabits.”

Godsabove.“KeepKadarahigh.Flycasual.Ifwelooklikewe’rehuntingforsomething,theymightemergeinforce.”

SartaqwhistledsharplytoKadara,whoindeedsoaredhigher,fasterthanherusualascent.Asifgladtorisealittlefartherfromtheshroudedterritorybelow.

“Stayhidden,friend,”NesrynsaidtoFalkan,herhandsshakingasshepattedherbreastpocket.“Iftheywatchusfrombelow,we’dbestkeepyousecretuntiltheyleastexpectit.”

Falkan’stinypawstappedinunderstanding,andheslidbackintoherpocket.They flew in idle circles for a time, Kadara occasionally diving as if in

pursuitofsomeeagleorfalcon.Onthehuntforlunch,perhaps.“Thatclusterofpeaks,”Sartaqsaidafterawhile,pointingtowardthehighest

pointoftheFells.Likehornsspearingtowardthesky,twosister-peaksjuttedupsoclose toeachother theymighthaveverywelloncebeenasinglemountain.Betweentheirclawedsummits,ashale-filledpasswendedawayintoalabyrinthofstone.“Kadarakeepslookingtowardit.”

“Circleit,butkeepyourdistance.”BeforeSartaqcouldgivetheorder,Kadaraobeyed.“Somethingismovinginthepass,”Nesrynbreathed,squinting.Kadara flappedcloser,nearer to thepeaks thanwaswise. “Kadara,”Sartaq

warned.Buttherukpumpedherwings,frantic.Rushing.Justasthethinginthepassbecameclear.Racingovertheshale,bobbingandflappingfuzz-linedwings…Ahatchling.Sartaqswore.“Faster,Kadara.Faster.”Therukneedednoencouragement.

Thehatchlingwassquawking, those too-smallwings flailingas it triedandfailedtoliftfromtheground.Ithadbrokenfromthepinetreesthatflowedrighttotheedgeofthepass,andnowaimedforthecenterofthemazeofrock.

Nesrynunslungher bowandnocked an arrow into place, Sartaq doing thesamebehindher.“Notasound,Kadara,”Sartaqwarned,justastherukopenedherbeak.“Youwillalertthem.”

Butthehatchlingwasscreeching,itsterrorpalpableevenfromthedistance.Kadaracaughtawindandflew.“Comeon,”Nesrynbreathed,arrowaimedatthewoods,atwhateverhorrors

thehatchlinghadescaped,undoubtedlybarrelingafterit.Thebabyruknearedthebroadestpartofthepassmouth,balkingatthewall

ofstoneahead.Asifitknewthatmorewaitedwithin.Trapped.“Sweep in,cut through thepass,andsailout,”Sartaqordered the ruk,who

bankedright,sosteeplyNesryn’sabdomenstrainedwiththeefforttokeepinthesaddle.

Kadaraleveledout,droppingfootbyfoottowardthehatchlingnowtwistingabout,screamingtowardtheskyasitbeheldtherukrushingin.

“Steady,”Sartaqcommanded.“Steady,Kadara.”Nesrynkeptherarrowtrainedonthelabyrinthofrockahead,Sartaqtwisting

to cover the forest behind.Kadara sailed closer and closer to the shale-coatedpass, to the grayish fuzzy hatchling now holding so still, waiting for thesalvationoftheclawsthatKadaraunfurled.

Thirtyfeet.Twenty.Nesryn’sarmstrainedtokeepthearrowdrawn.A wind shoved at Kadara, knocking her sideways, the world tilting, light

shimmering.Just asKadara leveled out, just as her talons openedwide to scoop up the

hatchling, Nesryn realized what the shimmering was.What the shift in angle

revealedahead.“Lookout!”Thescreamshatteredfromherthroat,buttoolate.Kadara’stalonsclosedaroundthehatchling,pluckingitupfromtheground

rightasshesweptupthroughthepasspeaks.Rightintothemammothwebwovenbetweenthem.

42

Thehatchlinghadbeenatrap.ItwasthelastthoughtNesrynhadasKadaracrashedintotheweb—thenet

wovenbetweenthetwopeaks.Builtnottocatchthewind,butruks.SheonlyhadthesenseofSartaqthrowinghisbodyintohers,anchoringher

intothesaddleandholdingtightasKadarascreamed.Snappingandshimmeringandrock;shaleandgrayskyandgoldenfeathers.

Windhowling,thehatchling’spiercingcry,andSartaq’sbellow.Thentwisting,slammingintostonesohardtheimpactsangthroughherteeth,

herbones.Thenfalling,tumbling,Kadara’srestrainedbodycurving,curvingasSartaqwas curledoverNesryn, shielding that hatchling inher talons from thefinalimpact.

Thentheboom.Andthebounce—thebouncethatsnappedtheleatherstrapson the saddle. Still tied to it, they were still tied together as they soared offKadara’sbody,Nesryn’sbowscatteringfromherhand,herfingersclaspingonopenair—

Sartaq pivoted them, his body a solidwall around hers asNesryn realizedwheretheskywas,wherethepassfloorwas—

He roared as they struck the shale, ashekepther atophim, taking the fullbruntoftheimpact.

Foraheartbeat,therewasonlytheskitteringtrickleofshiftingshaleandthethud of crumbling rock off the pass walls. For a heartbeat, she could not

rememberwhereherbodywas,herbreathwas—Thenascrapeofwingonshale.Nesryn’seyessnappedopen,andshewasmovingbeforeshehadthewords

tonamehermotions.A cut slashed downherwrist, cakedwith small rocks and dust. She didn’t

feel it, barely noticed the blood as she blindly fumbled for the straps to thesaddle,snappingthemfree,pantingthroughherteethasshemanagedtoliftherhead,todaretolook—

Hewasdazed.Blinkingupatthegraysky.Butalive,breathing,bloodslidingdownhistemple,hischeek,hismouth…

Shesobbedthroughherteeth,herlegsatlastcomingfree,allowinghertorollovertogettohisown,tothetangledbitsofleathershreddedbetweenthem.

Sartaqwashalfburiedinshale.Hishandsslicedup,buthislegs—“Notbroken,”herasped.“Notbroken.”Itwasmoretohimselfthanher.But

Nesrynmanagedtokeepherfingerssteadyasshefreedthebuckles.Thethickridingleathershadsavedhislife,savedhisskinfrombeingflayedoffhisbones.He’dtakentheimpactforher,movedhersothathe’dhititfirst—

Sheclawedattheshalecoveringhisshouldersandhisupperarms,sharprockcuttingintoherfingers.Theleatherstrapattheendofherbraidhadcomefreeinthe impact,andherhairnowfellaboutherface,halfblockingherviewof theforestbehindandrockaroundthem.“Getup,”shepanted.“Getup.”

Hetookabreath,blinkingfuriously.“Getup,”shebeggedhim.Shaleshiftedahead,andalow,painedcryechoedofftherock.Sartaqsnappedupright.“Kadara—”Nesryn twistedonherknees, scanning forherbowevenas she took in the

ruk.Lying thirty feet ahead, Kadara was coated in the near-invisible silk. A

phantomnet,herwingspinned,herheadtuckedin—Sartaqscrambledupright,swaying,slippingonthelooseshaleashedrewhis

Asterionknife.Nesrynmanagedtorise,herlegsshaking,headspinningasshescannedand

scannedthepassforherbow—There.Nearthepasswall.Intact.ShehurtledforitwhileSartaqrantotheruk,reachingherweaponjustashe

slicedthefirstofthewebbingfree.“You’llbefine,”hewassayingtoKadara,bloodcoatinghishands,hisneck.

“I’llgetyouout—”Nesrynshoulderedherbow,pressingahandtoherpocket.Falkan—Alittlelegpushedagainstherinanswer.Alive.Shewastednotimerushingtotheruk,drawingherownFaebladefromthe

sheathBortehad found forherand slicingat the thick strands. It clung toherfingers, rippingawayskin,but she severedandsliced,workingherwaydownthewingasSartaqhackedhiswaydowntheother.

TheyreachedKadara’slegsatthesametime.Sawthathertalonswereempty.Nesryn’sheadsnappedup,scanningthepass,thepilesofdisturbedshale—The hatchling had been thrown during the collision. As if even Kadara’s

talonscouldn’tkeepshutagainst thepainof impact.Thebabyruknowlayonthe ground near the lip of the pass, struggling to rise, low chirps of distressechoingofftherock.

“Up,Kadara,”Sartaqcommanded,hisvoicebreaking.“Getup.”Greatwingsshifted,shaleclackingastheruktriedtoobey.Nesrynstaggered

towardthehatchling,bloodunmistakableonitsfluffygrayhead, its largedarkeyeswidewithterrorandpleading—

IthappenedsofastNesryndidn’thavetimetoshout.Oneheartbeat,thehatchlinghadopeneditsbeaktocryforhelp.Thenextitscreamed,eyesflaringasalongebonylegemergedfrombehinda

pillarofrockandslammedthroughitsspine.

Bone crunched and blood sprayed. And Nesryn threw herself into a stop,swayingsohardsheteeteredbackwardontoherass,awordlesscryonherlipsasthehatchlingwashauledaroundtherock,flailingandshrieking—

Itwentsilent.Andshehadseenhorrificthings,thingsthathadmadehersickandkepther

from sleep, and yet that baby ruk, terrified and pleading, in pain and draggedaway,goingsilent—

Nesrynwhirled, feetslippingon theshaleasshescrambled towardKadara,toward Sartaq,who beheld the hatchling being snatched behind that rock andscreamedatKadaratofly—

Themightyruktriedandfailedtorise.“FLY,”Sartaqbellowed.Slowly, so slowly the ruk lumbered to her legs, her scraped beak dragging

throughthelooserock.Shewasn’tgoing tomake it.Wasn’tgoing togetairborne in time.For just

beyondtheweb-shroudedtreeline…Shadowswrithed.Scuttledcloser.Nesrynsheathedherswordanddrewherbow,arrowshakingassheaimedit

towardtherockthehatchlinghadbeenhauledbehind,thenthetreesahundredyardsoff.

“Go,Kadara,”Sartaqbegged.“Getup!”Thebirdwasbarelyinshapetofly,letalonecarryriders—Rockclackedandskitteredbehindher.Fromthelabyrinthofrockwithinthe

pass.Trapped.Theyweretrapped—Falkanshiftedinherpocket,tryingtowrigglefree.Nesryncoveredhimwith

herforearm,pressinghard.“Notyet,”shebreathed.“Notyet.”HispowerswerenotLysandra’s.Hehad triedand failed to shift intoa ruk

thisweek.But the largewolfwasasbigashecouldmanage.Anything largerwasbeyondhismagic.

“Kadara—”The first of the spidersbroke from the tree line.Asblack and sleek asher

fallensister.Nesrynletherarrowfly.The spider fell back, screaming—an unholy sound that shook the rocks as

thatarrowsankintoaneye.Nesryninstantlyhadanotherarrowdrawn,backingtowardKadara,whowasjustnowbeginningtoflapherwings—

Therukstumbled.Sartaqscreamed,“FLY!”Wind stirred Nesryn’s hair, sending shards of shale skittering. The ground

rumbledbehind,butNesryndidnotdaretakehereyesoffthesecondspiderthatemergedfromthetrees.Shefiredagain,thesongofherarrowdrownedoutbytheflapofKadara’swings.Aheavy,painedbeat,butitheldsteady—

Nesrynglancedbehindforabreath.Justone,justtoseeKadarabobbingandwaving,fightingforeverywingbeatupwardthroughthenarrowpass,bloodandshaledrippingfromher.Rightasakharankuiemergedfromoneoftheshadowsof the rockshighup thepeak, legsbendingas if itwould leapupon the ruk’sback—

Nesrynfired,asecondarrowonitstail.Sartaq’s.Both found their marks. One through an eye, the other through the open

mouthofthespider.It shrieked, tumblingdownfromitsperch.Kadaraswungwide tododge it,

narrowly avoiding the jagged face of the peak. The spider’s splat thuddedthroughthemazeofrockahead.

ButthenKadarawasup,intothegraysky,flappinglikehell.SartaqwhirledtowardNesrynjustasshelookedbackatthepineforest.Towherehalfadozenkharankuinowemerged,hissing.Blood coated the prince, his every breath ragged, but hemanaged to grab

Nesryn’sarmandbreathe,“Run.”

Sotheydid.Nottowardthepinesbehind.Butintothegloomofthewindingpassahead.

43

Without the brace, Chaol was given a blackmare, Farasha, whose namewasabout as ill-fitting as they came. It meant butterfly, Yrene told him as theygatheredinthepalacecourtyardthreedayslater.

Farashawasanythingbut.Yanking at the bit, stomping her hooves and tossing her head, Farasha

savored testing his limits long before the desert-bound company finishedgathering.Servantshadgoneaheadthedaybeforetopreparethecamp.

He’dknowntheroyalswouldgivehimtheirfiercesthorse.Notastallion,butone close enough tomatch it in fury. Farasha had been born furious, he waswillingtobet.

Andhe’dbedamnedifhe let thoseroyalsmakehimaskforanotherhorse.Onethatwouldnotstrainhisbackandlegssomuch.

Yrene was frowning at Farasha, at him, as she stroked a hand down herchestnutmare’snight-blackmane.

Both beautiful horses, though neither compared to the stunning AsterionstallionDorianhadgiftedChaolforhisbirthdaylastwinter.

Anotherbirthdaycelebration.Anothertime—anotherlife.Hewonderedwhathadhappenedtothatbeautifulhorse,whomhehadnever

named. As if he’d known, deep down, how fleeting those few happy weekswere. He wondered if it was still in the royal stables. Or if the witches hadpillagedhim—orlettheirhorriblemountsusehimtofilltheirbellies.

PerhapsthatwaswhyFarasharesentedhisverypresence.Perhapsshesensedthat he had forgotten that noble-hearted stallion in the north. And wanted tomakehimpayforit.

ThebreedwasanoffshootoftheAsterions,Hasarhadtitteredasshe’dtrottedpastonherwhitestallion,circlinghim twice.The refined,wedge-shapedheadand high tails were twin markers of their Fae ancestry. But these horses, theMuniqi,hadbeenbredforthedesertclimesofthisland.Forthesandstheyweretocrosstoday,andthesteppesthathadoncebeenthekhagan’shomeland.Theprincesshadevenpointedtoaslightbulgebetweenthehorses’eyes—thejibbah—themarkerofthelargersinuscapacitythatallowedtheMuniqitothriveinthedry,unyieldingdesertsofthiscontinent.

And then therewas theMuniqi’s speed.Not as fast,Hasar admitted, as anAsterion.Butclose.

Yrene hadwatched the princess’s little lesson, face carefully neutral, usingthe time to adjust where she’d strapped Chaol’s cane behind her saddle, thenfiddlewiththeclothesshewore.

WhileChaolwasinhisusualtealjacketandbrownpants,Yrenehadforgoneadress.

They’dswathedherinwhiteandgoldagainstthesun,herlongtunicflowingtoherknees to reveal loose,gauzypants tucked intohighbrownboots.Abeltcinchedherslimwaist,andaglintingbandolierofgoldandsilverbeadingslicedbetween her breasts. Her hair, she’d left in her usual half-up fashion, butsomeonehadwovenbitsofgoldthreadthroughit.

Beautiful.Aslovelyasasunrise.Therewereperhapsthirtyofthemintotal,nonepeopleYrenereallyknew,as

HasarhadnotbotheredtoinviteanyofthehealersfromtheTorre.Swift-leggedhoundspacedinthecourtyard,weavingunderthehoovesofthedozenguards’horses. Definitely notMuniqi, those horses. Fine indeed for guards—hismenhadreceivedbeastsnowhereneartheirquality—butwithoutthatawarenessthe

Muniqipossessed,asiftheylistenedtoeverywordspoken.HasarsignaledtoShen,standingproudatthegate,whoblewahorn—Andthentheywereoff.Forawomanwhocommandedships,Hasarseemedfarmoreinterestedinthe

equineheritageofherfamily’speople.AndseemedmorethaneagertounleashherskillsasaDarghanrider.Theprincesscursedandscowledasthecitystreetsslowed them. Evenwith word givenwell in advance to clear the path out ofAntica,thenarrowandsteepstreetscheckedtheirspeedconsiderably.

And then there was the brutal heat. Already sweating, Chaol rode besideYrene,keepingatightleashonFarasha,whotriedtotakeabiteoutofnotonebuttwovendorsgawkingfromthesidewalks.Butterflyindeed.

Hekeptoneeyeuponthemareandtheotheruponthecitypassingby.Andastheyrodefor theeasterngates intothearid,scrub-coveredhillsbeyond,Yrenepointedoutlandmarksandtidbitsofinformation.

Water ran through aqueducts wending between the buildings, feeding thehouses and public fountains and countless gardens and parks scatteredthroughout.Aconquerormighthavetakenthiscitythreecenturiesago,butthatsameconquerorhadloveditwell.Treateditwellandnourishedit.

Theycleared theeasterngate, thenpasseddowna long,dustyroad thatcutthrough the sprawl beyond the city proper. Hasar didn’t bother to wait, andlaunchedherstallionintoagallopthatleftthemwavingawayherdust.

Kashin,claiminghedidn’twant toeatherdust theentireway to theoasis,followedsuitaftergivingasmallsmiletowardYreneandawhistledcommandto his horse. Then most of the nobles and viziers, apparently having alreadytakenbets,launchedintovariousracesatbreakneckspeedthroughtownsclearedwellinadvance.Asifthiskingdomweretheirplayground.

Birthdaypartyindeed.Theprincesshadlikelybeenboredanddidn’twanttolooktooirresponsibletoherfather.ThoughhewassurprisedtofindthatArghunhadjoinedthem.Surelywithmostofhissiblingsaway,hewouldhaveseizedthe

chancetohatchsomeplot.ButtherewasArghun,gallopingclosetoKashinastheyblendedintothehorizon.

SomeofthenobilityremainedbackwithChaolandYrene,lettingtheothersputsomemilesbetweenthem.Theyclearedthelastoftheoutlyingtowns,theirhorsessweat-soakedandpantingastheyascendedalarge,rockyhill.Thedunesbegan juston itsother side,Yrenehad toldhim.Theywouldwater thehorseshere—thenmakethelastlegofthetrekacrossthesands.

Shewassmilingfaintlyathimastheyascendedthecrag,takingadeerpaththrough the scrub.Horseshad trampled throughhere;busheswerebrokenandshattered under careless riders. A few bushes even bore speckles of blood,alreadydriedinthebrutalsun.

Someoneshouldflaytheriderwho’dbeensorecklesswiththeirmount.Othershadreachedthetopofthecrag,wateredtheirhorses,andmovedon.

Allhesawofthemwerebodiesandhorsefleshdisappearingintothesky—asiftheysimplywalkedofftheedgeofthecliffandintothinair.

Farasha stomped and surged her way up the hill, and his back and thighsstrainedtokeepseatedwithoutthebracetosteadyhim.Hedidn’tdarelethergetawhiffofdiscomfort.

Yrene reached the summit first, her white clothes like a beacon in thecloudlessbluedayaroundthem,herhairshiningbrightasdarkgold.Shewaitedfor him, the chestnutmare beneath her panting heavily, its rich coat gleamingwithhuesofdeepestruby.

ShedismountedasheurgedFarashaupthelastofthehill,andthen—Itknockedthebreathfromhim.Thedesert.It was a barren, hissing sea of golden sand. Hills and waves and ravines,

rippling on forever, empty and yet humming. Not a tree or bush or gleam ofwatertobeseen.

Theunforgivinghandof a godhad shaped this place.Still blewhis breath

acrossit,shiftingthedunesgrainbygrain.Hehadneverseensuchasight.Suchawonder.Itwasanewworldentirely.Perhapsitwasanunexpectedboonthattheinformationtheysoughtdwelled

outhere.ChaoldraggedhisattentiontoYrene,whowasreadinghisface.Hisreaction.“Itsbeautyisnotforeveryone,”shesaid.“Butitsingstome,somehow.”Thisseawherenoshipswouldeversail,somemenwouldlookuponitand

seeonlyburningdeath.Hesawonlyquiet—andclean.Andslow,creepinglife.Untamed,savagebeauty.

“Iknowwhatyoumean,”hesaid,carefullydismountingfromFarasha.Yrenemonitored,yetdidnothingbutholdoutthecane,lettinghimfindthebestwaytoswing his leg over, back groaning and wobbling, and then slide down to thesandyrock.Thecanewasinstantlyinhishand,thoughYrenemadenomovetosteadyhimwhilehefinallyreleasedthesaddleandreachedforFarasha’sreins.

The horse tensed, as if considering lunging for him, but he gave her a no-nonsenseglare,thecanegroaningashedugitintotherockbeneathhim.

Farasha’sdarkeyesglowedasifshe’dbeenforgedinHellas’sburningrealm,butChaolstoodtall—astallashecould.Didn’tbreakherstare.

Finally, thehorsehuffed, anddeigned to let himhaul her toward the sand-crusted trough thatwashalfcrumblingwithage.The troughperhapshadbeenhereforas longas thedeserthadexisted,hadwateredthehorsesofahundredconquerors.

Farashaseemedtograspthattheyweretoenterthatoceanofsandanddrankheartily.Yreneledherhorseover,keepingthechestnutahealthydistanceawayfromFarasha,andsaid,“Howareyoufeeling?”

“Solid,”hesaid,andmeantit.“I’llbeachingbythetimewegetthere,butthestrainisn’tsobad.”Withoutthecane,hedidn’tdaretrytowalkmorethanafewsteps.Couldbarelymanageit.

She still put a hand on his lower spine, then his thighs, letting her magic

assess.Evenwiththeclothesandtheheat,thepressofherhandslefthimawareofeveryinchofspacebetweenthem.

But others gathered around the ancient, enormous trough, and so he pulledoutofYrene’sassessingtouch,leadingFarashaasafedistanceaway.Mountingthemareagain,though…

“Takeyourtime,”Yrenemurmured,butremainedafewstepsaway.He’dhadablockatthepalace.Here,shortofclimbingontotheprecariouslip

ofthetrough…Thedistancebetweenhisfootandthestirruphadneverseemedsolong.Balancingononefootwhileheliftedit,pushingdownwiththeothertopropel himup, swinginghis leg around the saddle…Chaolwent through thesteps, feeling themotions he’d done a thousand times before.He’d learned toridebeforehewassix—hadbeenonahorsenearlyhisentirelife.

Ofcoursehe’dbeengivenadevilofahorsetodothiswith.ButFarashaheldstill,staringtowardthesiftingseaofsand,tothepaththat

had been trampled down the hill—their entry into the desert. Even with theshifting winds hauling the sands into new shapes and valleys, the tracks theothershadleftwereclearenough.Hecouldevenspysomeofthemcrestinghillsandthenflyingdownthem,littlemorethanspecksofblackandwhite.

Andyetheremainedhere.Staringatthestirrupsandsaddle.Yreneofferedcasually,“Icanfindablockorbucket—”Chaolmoved.Perhapsnotasgracefulashe’dlike,perhapsmorestruggling

than he’d intended, but hemanaged, the cane groaning as he used it to pushupward,thenclatteringtotherockasheletgotograbthepommelofthesaddle,right as his foot slid—barely—into the stirrup. Farasha shifted at his weightwhilehehauledhimselfhigherintothesaddle,hisbackandthighsbarkingasheswunghislegover,buthewasup.

Yrenestrode to the fallencaneanddusted itoff.“Notbad,LordWestfall.”Shestrappedthecanebehindhersaddleandmountedhermare.“Notbadatall.”

He hid his smile, his face still over-warm, and nudged Farasha down the

sandyhillatlast.Theyfollowedthetrackstheothershadleftslowly,theheatripplingoffthe

sands.Up,anddown,theonlysoundsthemuffledthumpingoftheirhorsesandthe

sighingsands.Theirpartymeandered ina long,snakingline.Guardshadbeenposted throughout, standingwith toweringpoles toppedwith thekhagan’s flagandinsigniaofadarkrunninghorse.Markersofthegeneraldirectiontowardtheoasis.Hepitiedthepoormenorderedtostandintheheatforaprincess’swhim,butsaidnothing.

Thedunesevenedoutafteratime,thehorizonshiftingtorevealaflat,sandyplain.Andinthedistance,wavingandbobbingintheheat…

“Therewemakeourcamp,”Yrenesaid,pointing towardadenseclusterofgreen. No sign of the ancient, buried city of the dead that Hasar claimed theoasishadgrownover.Notthattheyexpectedtoseemuchofanythingfromtheirvantagepoint.

Fromthedistance,itmightverywellbeanotherthirtyminutes.Certainlyattheirpace.

Despite the sweat soaking through her white clothes, Yrene was smiling.Perhapsshe,too,hadneededadayaway.Tobreathetheopenair.

Shenoticedhisattentionand turned.The sunhadbroughtouther freckles,darkening her skin to a glowing brown, and tendrils of hair curled about hersmilingface.

Farashatuggedonthereins,herbodyquiveringwithimpatience.“I ownanAsterionhorse,”he said, andhermouth curved in an impressed

frown.Chaolshrugged.“I’dliketoseehowaMuniqimeasuresup.”Her brows narrowed. “Youmean…”She noted the flat, smooth spread of

landbetweenthemandtheoasis.Perfectforrunning.“Oh,Ican’t—agallop?”Hewaitedforthewordsabouthisspine,hislegs.Nonecame.“Areyouafraid?”heasked,archingabrow.

“Ofthesethings?Yes.”Shecringedathermount,restlessbeneathher.“She’sassweetasadairycow,”hesaidofYrene’schestnutmare.Chaolleaneddowntopat“Butterfly’s”neck.Shetriedtobitehim.Heyankedonthereinsenoughtotellherhewasfully

awareofherbullshit.“I’llraceyou,”hesaid.Yrene’seyessparkled.Andtohisshockshebreathed,“Theprize?”Hecouldnot remember the last time.The last timehehad felt soawareof

everybitofbreathandblood,simmeringandthrumming,inhisbody.“Akiss.Whenandwhereofmychoosing.”“Whatdoyoumeanwhere.”Chaolonlygrinned.AndletFarasharunfree.Yrene cursed,more viciously than he’d ever heard her, but he didn’t dare

lookback—notasFarashabecameablackstormuponthesand.He’dnevergottentotestouttheAsterion.Butifitwasfasterthanthis—Flyingoverthesand,Farashawasaboltofdarklightningspearingacrossthe

golden desert. It was all he could do to keep up, to grit his teeth against hisbarkingmuscles.

He forgot about them anyway at the blur of reddish brown and black thatemergedinthecornerofhiseye—andthewhiterideratopit.

Yrene’shairroseandfellbehindherinagolden-browntangleofcurls,liftingwitheachthunderouspoundofhermare’slegsonthehardsand.Whiteclothesstreaminginthewind,thegoldandsilversparkledlikestars,andherface—

Chaol couldn’t breathe as he beheld the wild joy on Yrene’s face, theuncheckedexhilaration.

Farashamarked themaregainingon them,meeting thembeat forbeat,andmadetochargeahead.Toleavetheminthedust.

Hecheckedherwiththereinsandhisfeet,marvelingthathecouldevendoso.Thatthewomannowclosingin,nowridingbesidehim,nowbeamingathim

as if hewere the only thing in this barren, burning sea…She had done this.Givenhimthis.

Yrenewassmiling,andthenshewaslaughing,asifshecouldnotcontainitinsideher.

Chaolthoughtitwasthemostbeautifulsoundhe’deverheard.And that thismoment, flying together over the sands, devouring the desert

wind,herhairagolden-brownbannerbehindher…Chaolfelt,perhapsforthefirsttime,asifhewasawake.Andhewasgrateful,rightdowntohisverybones,forit.

44

Yrene was soaked in sweat, though it dried so quickly that she only felt itsessenceclinging.

Thankfully,theoasiswasshadedandcool,alarge,shallowpoolinitscenter.Horseswere led into theheaviest shade tobewatered andbrusheddown, andservantsandguardsclaimedahiddenspotfortheirownwashingandenjoyment.

No sign of any sort of cave thatNousha hadmentioned, or the city of thedeadthatHasarclaimedlurkedinthejunglebeyond.Butthesitewassprawling,andinthelargepool…Theroyalswerealreadysoakinginthecoolwaters.

Renia,Yrenesawimmediately,wasonlywearinga thinsilkshift—thatdidlittletohideherconsiderableassetsassheemergedfromthewater,laughingatsomethingHasarsaid.

“Well,then,”Chaolsaid,coughingbesideYrene.“I told you about the parties,” she muttered, heading to the tents spread

throughthetoweringpalmsandbrush.Theywerewhiteandgilded,eachmarkedwith theprinceorprincess’sbanner.ButwithSartaqandDuvanotwith them,ChaolandYrenehadbeenassignedthem,respectively.

Mercifully, the twowere near each other, but Yrene took in the open tentflaps,theentirespaceaslargeasthecottageshe’dsharedwithhermother,thenturnedtowardChaol’sretreatingback.Hislimp,evenwiththecane,wasdeeperthan it’d been that morning. And she’d seen how stiffly he’d gotten off thatinfernalhorse.

“Iknowyouwanttowashup,”Yrenesaid.“ButIneedtotakealookatyou.Atyourbackandlegs,Imean.Afterallthatriding.”

Perhapsshe shouldn’thave racedhim.Shehadn’teven rememberedwho’dreachedtheoasisborderanyway.She’dbeentoobusylaughing,feelingasifshewerecomingoutofherbodyandwould likelynever feel thatwayagain.Toobusylookingathisface,filledwithsuchlight.

Chaolpausedathistentflaps,canewobbling,asifhe’dputfarmoreweightonit thanheleton.But itwastherelief inhisfaceasheasked,“Your tentormine?”thatmadeherworry—justatad.

“Mine,”shesaid,awareoftheservantsandnobilitywholikelyhadnoideashe was even the cause of this excursion, but who would happily report hercomingsandgoings.Henodded,andshemonitoredeachriseandplacementofhislegs,theshiftingofhistorso,thewayheleanedonthatcane.

AsChaoledgedpastherandintothetent,hemurmuredinherear,“Iwon,bytheway.”

Yrene glanced toward the sun now making its descent and felt her coretighteninanswer.

He was sore but could thankfully still walk by the time Yrene finished herthoroughexamination.Andsetofsoothingstretchesforhislegsandback.Andmassage.

Chaol had the distinct feeling shewas toyingwith him, even as her handsremainedchaste.Uninterested.

Sheevenhadthenervetocallforaservanttoaskforajugofwater.Thetentwasfitfortheprincesswhousuallyoccupiedit.Alargebedlayin

the center upon a raised platform, the floors coveredwith ornate rugs. Sittingareas were scattered throughout, along with a curtained-off washing-up andprivy,andtherewasgoldeverywhere.

Eithertheservantshadbroughtitwiththemyesterday,orthepeopleofthislandsofearedthewrathofthekhaganatethattheydidn’tdarerobthisplace.Orweresowell-caredfortheydidn’tneedto.

Theotherswereallintheoasispoolbythetimeheshruggedonhisnow-dryclothesandtheyemergedtoseekouttheirquarry.

They’d whispered in the tent—neither of them had spotted anything ofinterestuponarrival.Andintheoasispool,definitelynoindicationofacaveorruins near the bathing royals and their friends. Comfortable, relaxed. Free, inwaysthatAdarlanhadneverbeen, toitsdetriment.Hewasn’tnaiveenoughtothinkthatnoschemingorintriguewasnowplayingout inthecoolwaters,buthe’dneverheardofAdarlaniannoblesgoingtoaswimmingholeandenjoyingthemselves.

ThoughhecertainlywonderedwhatthehellHasarwasthinkinginthrowingsuchapartyforYrene,manipulatedinto itorno,consideringtheprincesswaswellawareYrenebarelyknewmostofthosegathered.

Yrene hesitated at the edge of the clearing and glanced at him beneathloweredlashes—alookanyonemightinterpretasshy.Awomanperhapshesitanttostripdowntothelightclothestheyworeinthewaters.Lettinganyonlookersforget thatshewasahealerandwhollyusedtofarmoreskinshowing.“IfindI’mnotuptobathing,”Yrenemurmuredoverthelaughterandsplashingofthosewithintheoasiswaters.“Careforawalk?”

Pleasant, polite words as she inclined her head through the few acres ofuntamedjunglesprawlingtotheleft.Shedidn’tthinkherselfacourtier,butshecouldcertainlyliewellenough.Hesupposedthatasahealer,itwasaskillthatproveduseful.

“Itwouldbemypleasure,”Chaolsaid,offeringhisarm.Yrenehesitatedagain,theportraitofmodesty—peeringoverhershoulderat

thoseinthepool.Theroyalswatching.Kashinincluded.Hewouldletherchoosewhenandhowtomakeitcleartotheprince—again

—thatshewasnotinterested.Thoughhecouldn’tavoidafainttingeofguiltassheloopedherarmthroughhisandtheysteppedintothemurkinessoftheoasisjungle.

Kashinwasagoodman.Chaoldoubtedhiswordsaboutbeingwillingtogotowarwerelies.AndtoriskantagonizingtheprincebyperhapsflauntingwhathehadwithYrene…Chaolglancedsidelongather,hiscanedigging into therootsandsoft soil.Sheofferedhima faint smile, cheeks still flushedwith thesun.

TohellwithworryingoverantagonizingKashin.Theoasisspring’sgurglingblendedwiththesighingpalmsoverheadasthey

headeddeeperbetweenthefauna,pickingtheirownway—nodirectioninmind.“InAnielle,”hesaid,“therearedozensofhotspringsalongthevalleyfloor,neartheSilverLake.Keptwarmbytheventsintheearth.WhenIwasaboy,we’doftensoakinthemafteradayoftraining.”

Sheaskedcarefully,as if realizing thathe’d indeedofferedup thispieceofhim,“Wasitthattrainingthatinspiredyoutojointheguard?”

Hisvoicewas thick ashe finally said, “Part of it. Iwas just…goodat it.Fightingand fencingandarcheryandallof it. I received the training thatwasbefittingfortheheirofalordtoamountainpeoplewhohadlongfendedoffwildmenfromtheFangs.ButmyrealtrainingbeganwhenIarrivedinRiftholdandjoinedtheroyalguard.”

Sheslowedwhilehenavigatedaroundatrickynestofroots,lettinghimfocusonwheretoplacehisfeetandthecane.

“I suppose being stubborn and bullheaded made you a good pupil for thedisciplineaspect.”

Chaolchuckled,nudgingherwithhiselbow.“Itdid.Iwasthefirstoneonthetraining pitch and the last one off. Even though I was walloped every singleday.” His chest tightened as he remembered their faces, those men who hadtrainedhim,whohadpushedandpushedhim,lefthimlimpingandbleeding,and

then made sure he got patched up in the barracks that night. Usually with aheartymealandaclapontheback.

Anditwasinhonorofthosemen,hisbrothers,thathesaidhoarsely,“Theyweren’tallbadmen,Yrene.TheonesI…Igrewupwith,whomIcommanded…Theyweregoodmen.”

He saw Ress’s laughing face, the blush the young guard could never hidearoundAelin.Hiseyesburned.

Yrenestopped,theoasishummingaroundthem,andhisbackandlegsweremorethangratefulforthereprieveassheremovedherarmfromhis.Touchedhischeek.“If theyarepartiallyresponsibleforyoubeing…you,”shesaid,risinguptobrushhermouthagainsthis,“thenIbelievethattheyare.”

“Were,”hebreathed.And there itwas.That oneword, swallowedby the loamand shadeof the

oasis,thathecouldbarelystand.Were.Hecouldstillretreat—retreatfromthisinvisibleprecipicenowbeforethem.

Yreneremainedstandingclose,ahandrestingoverhisheart,waitingforhimtodecidewhethertospeak.

And maybe it was only because she held her hand over his heart that hewhispered,“Theyweretorturedforweeksthisspring.Thenbutcheredandlefttohangfromthecastlegates.”

Grief and horror guttered in her eyes. He could hardly stomach it as hemanagedtogoon,“Notoneofthembroke.Whenthekingand—others…”Hecouldnotbringhimselftofinish.Notyet.Perhapsnotever,tofacethatsuspicionandlikelytruth.“Whentheyquestionedtheguardsaboutme.Notasingleoneofthembroke.”

Hedidn’thavethewordsforit—thatcourage,thatsacrifice.Yrene’sthroatbobbed,andshecuppedhischeek.AndChaolfinallybreathed,“Itwasmyfault.Theking—hedidittopunish

me.Forrunning,forhelpingtherebelsinRifthold.He…itwasallbecauseof

me.”“Youcan’tblameyourself.”Simple,honestwords.Andutterlyuntrue.Theysnappedhimbackintohimself,moreeffectivelythanathrownbucket

ofcoldwater.Chaolpushedoutofhertouch.He shouldn’t have told her, shouldn’t have brought it up.On her birthday,

godsabove.Whiletheyweresupposedtofocusonfindinganysortofscrapofinformationthatmighthelpthem.

He’d brought his sword and dagger, and as he limped into the palms andferns,leavingYrenetofollow,hecheckedtoensuretheywerebothstillbuckledat his waist. Checked them because he had to do something with his shakinghands,hisrawinsides.

He folded thewords, thememoriesback intohimself.Deeper.Sealed themawayashecountedhisweapons,oneafteranother.

Yreneonly trailed him, sayingnothingwhile theypicked theirwaydeeperintothejungle.Theentiresitewaslargerthanmanyvillages,andyetlittleofthegreenhadbeentamed—certainlynopathtobefound,orindicationofacityofthedeadbeneaththem.

Until fallen pale pillars began to appear between the roots and bushes. Agood sign, he supposed. If therewere a cave, itmight be nearby—perhaps assomeancientdwelling.

But the levelof architecture theyclimbedover andwalkedaround, forcinghim to select his steps carefully…“Theseweren’t some cave-dwelling peoplewho buried their dead in holes,” he observed, cane scraping over the ancientstone.

“Hasarsaiditwasacityofthedead.”Yrenefrownedattheornatecolumnsandslabsofcarvedstone,crustedwithforestlife.“Asprawlingnecropolis,rightbeneathourfeet.”

Hestudiedthejunglefloor.“ButIthoughtthekhagan’speoplelefttheirdeadundertheopenskyintheheartoftheirhometerritory.”

“Theydo.”Yreneranherhandsoverapillarcarvedwithanimalsandstrangecreatures.“But…thissitepredatesthekhaganate.TheTorreandAntica,too.Towhoeverwasherebefore.”Asetofcrumblingstepsledtoaplatformwherethetreeshadgrownthroughthestoneitself,knockingovercarvedcolumnsintheirwake. “Hasar claimed the tunnels are all clever traps.Either designed to keeplootersout—orkeepthedeadinside.”

Despitetheheat,thehaironhisarmsrose.“You’retellingmethisnow?”“IassumedNoushameantsomethingdifferent.Thatitwouldbeacave,and

ifitwasconnectedtotheseruins,she’dhavementionedit.”Yrenesteppedontotheplatform,andhislegsprotestedashefollowedherup.“ButIdon’tseeanysortofrockformationshere—nonelargeenoughforacave.Theonlystone…it’s from this.”The sprawling gateway into the necropolis beneath,Hasar hadclaimed.

They surveyed themangled complex, the enormous pillars now broken orcoveredinrootsandvines.Silencelayasheavyastheshadedheat.Asifnoneofthesingingbirdsorhumminginsectsfromtheoasisdaredventurehere.

“It’sunsettling,”shemurmured.Theyhadtwentyguardswithinshoutingdistance,andyethefoundhisfree

handdriftingtowardhissword.Ifacityofthedeadslumberedbeneaththeirfeet,perhapsHasarwasright.Theyshouldbelefttosleep.

Yreneturnedinplace,surveyingthepillars,thecarvings.Nocaves—noneatall. “Nousha knew the location, though,” she mused. “It must have beenimportant—thesite.TotheTorre.”

“But its importance was forgotten over time, or warped. So that only thename,thesenseofitsimportanceremained.”

“Healerswerealwaysdrawntothisrealm,youknow,”Yrenesaiddistantly,runningahandoveracolumn.“Thelandjust…blessedthemwiththemagic.

Morethananyotherkind.Asifthisweresomebreedinggroundforhealing.”“Why?”She traced a carving on a column longer than most ships. “Why does

anything thrive? Plants grow best in certain conditions—those mostadvantageoustothem.”

“Andthesoutherncontinentisaplaceforhealerstothrive?”Somethinghadsnaggedherinterest,makingherwordsmumbledasshesaid,

“Maybeitwasasanctuary.”Heapproached,wincingat theslicingpaindownhisspine.Itwasforgotten

asheexaminedthecarvingbeneathherpalm.Twoopposing forceshadbeenetched into thecolumn’sbroad face.On the

left: tall, broad-shouldered warriors, armed with swords and shields, withripplingflameandburstingwater,animalsofallkindsintheairorattheirknees.Pointedears—thosewerepointedearsonthefigures’heads.

Andfacingthem…“Yousaidnothingiscoincidence.”YrenepointedtothearmyfacingtheFae

one.Smaller than the Fae, their bodies bulkier. Claws and fangs and wicked-

lookingblades.Shemouthedaword.Valg.Holygods.Yrene rushed to the other pillars, ripping away vines and dirt. More Fae

faces.Figures.Someweredepicted inone-on-onebattles againstValg commanders.Some

felledbythem.Sometriumphing.Chaolmovedwithherasmuchashecouldmanage.Looking,looking—There, tucked into the dense shadows of squatting, thick palms. A square,

crumblingstructure.Amausoleum.

“Acave,”Yrenewhispered.Orwhatmighthavebeeninterpretedasone,asknowledgeturnedmuddled.

Chaolrippedawaythevinesforherwithhisfreehand,hisbackprotesting.Rippedandtorethemdowntosurveywhathadbeencarvedintothegatesof

thenecropolis.“Noushasaidlegendclaimedsomeofthosescrollscamefromhere,”Chaol

said.“FromaplacefullofWyrdmarks,ofcarvingsoftheFaeandValg.Butthiswasno livingcity.So theyhad tohavebeen removed from tombsor archivesbelowourfeet.”Fromthedoorwayjustbeyondthem.

“Theydidnotburyhumanshere,”Yrenewhispered.Forthemarkingsonthesealed,stonegates…“TheOldLanguage.”He’dseenitinkedonRowan’sfaceandarm.ThiswasaFaeburialsite.Fae—nothuman.Chaolsaid,“IthoughtonlyonegroupofFaeeverleftDoranelle—toestablish

TerrasenwithBrannon.”“Maybeanothersettledhereduringwhateverthiswarwas.”Thefirstwar.Thefirstdemonwar,beforeElenaandGavinwereborn,before

Terrasen.Chaol studied Yrene. Her bloodless face. “Or maybe they wanted to hide

something.”Yrene frowned at the ground as if she could see to the tombs beneath. “A

treasure?”“Ofadifferentsort.”Shemethiseyesathistone—hisstillness.Andfear,coolandsharp,slidinto

hisheart.Yrenesaidsoftly,“Idon’tunderstand.”“Fae magic is passed down through their bloodlines. It doesn’t appear at

random.Perhapsthesepeoplecamehere.Andthenwereforgottenbytheworld,forces good and evil. Perhaps they knew this place was far away enough to

remainuntouched.Thatwarswouldbewagedelsewhere.Bythem.”HejerkedhischintoacarvingofaValgsoldier.“Whilethesoutherncontinentremainedmostlymortal-held.WhiletheseedsplantedherebytheFaewerebredintothehumanbloodlinesandgrewintoapeoplegiftedandpronetohealingmagic.”

“An interesting theory,” she said hoarsely, “but you don’t know if it couldstandtoreason.”

“Ifyouwantedtohidesomethingprecious,wouldn’tyouconcealitinplainsight?Inaplacewhereyouwerewillingtobetapowerfulforcewouldspringupto defend it? Like an empire. Several of them. Whose walls had not beenbreachedbyoutsideconquerorsfortheentiretyofitshistory.Whowouldseethevalueofitshealersandthinktheirgiftwasforonething,butneverknowthatitmightbeatreasurewaitingtobeusedatanothertime.Aweapon.”

“Wedonotkill.”“No,”Chaolsaid,hisbloodgoingcold.“Butyouandallthehealershere…

Thereisonlyoneothersuchplaceintheworld.Guardedasheavily,protectedbyapowerjustasmighty.”

“Doranelle—theFaehealersinDoranelle.”GuardedbyMaeve.Fiercely.Whohadfoughtinthatfirstwar.WhohadfoughtagainsttheValg.“Whatdoesitmean?”shebreathed.Chaol had the sense of the ground slipping from beneath him. “Iwas sent

heretoretrieveanarmy.ButIwonder…Iwonderifsomeotherforcebroughtmetoretrievesomethingelse.”

Sheslidherhandintohis,asilentpromise.Onehe’dthinkoflater.“Perhapsthatiswhywhoeveritisthat’sbeenstalkingtheTorre,washunting

me,”Yrenewhispered.“IftheyareindeedsentfromMorath…Theydon’twantusrealizinganyofthis.Throughhealingyou.”

Hesqueezedherfingers.“Andthosescrollsinthelibrary…eithertheyweretaken or brought from here, forgotten save for legend aboutwhere they came

from.Wherethehealersofthislandmighthaveoriginatedfrom.”Notthenecropolis—buttheFaepeoplewhohadbuiltit.“The scrolls,” she blurted. “Ifwe return and find someone to—to translate

them…”“Theymightexplainthis.WhatthehealerscoulddoagainsttheValg.”She swallowed. “Hafiza. I wonder if she knows what those scrolls are,

somehow.TheHealeronHigh isnot justapositionofpower,butof learning.She’sawalkinglibraryherself,taughtthingsbyherpredecessorthatnooneelseattheTorreknows.”Shetwistedacurlaroundafinger.“It’sworthshowinghersomeofthetexts.Toseeifshemightknowwhattheyare.”

Agamble to share the informationwith anyone else, but oneworth taking.Chaolnodded.

Someone’slaughterpiercedthrougheventheheavysilenceoftheoasis.Yrenereleasedhishand.“We’llneedtosmile,enjoyourselvesamongstthem.

Andthenleaveatfirstlight.”“I’llsendwordtoNesryntoreturn.Assoonaswe’reback.I’mnotsurewe

canaffordanylongertowaitforthekhagan’said.”“We’lltrytoconvincehimagainanyway,”shepromised.Heangledhishead.

“Youwill still have to win this war, Chaol,” she said quietly. “Regardless ofwhatrolewemightplay.”

Hebrushedathumboverhercheek.“Ihavenointentionoflosingit.”

It was no easy task to pretend they had not stumbled across somethingenormous.Thatsomethinghadnotrattledthemdowntotheirbones.

Hasar grew bored of bathing and called formusic and dancing and lunch.Which turned into hours of lounging in the shade, listening to themusicians,eating an array of delicacies that Yrene had no idea how they’d managed tobringallthewayouthere.

But as the sun set, they all dispersed into their tents to change for dinner.Afterwhat she’d learnedwithChaol, even being alone for amoment had herjumpy, butYrenewashed and changed into the purple gauzygownHasar hadprovided.

Chaolwaswaitingoutsidethetent.Hasarhadbroughthimclothes,too.Beautifuldeepbluethatbroughtoutthe

goldinhisbrowneyes,thesummer-kissedtanofhisskin.Yreneblushedashisgazeslidalongherneckline, to theswathsofskinthe

flowingfoldsofthedressrevealedalongherwaist.Herthighs.Silverandclearbeadshadbeensewnonto theentire thing,making thegownshimmer like thestarsnowflickeringtolifeinthenightskyabovethem.

Torchesand lanternshadbeen litaround theoasispool, tablesandcouchesand cushions brought out. Music was playing, people were already loosingthemselves upon the feast laid across the various tables, with Hasar holdingcourt,regalasanyqueenfromherspotatthecentermosttablealongsidethefire-gildedpool.

ShespottedYreneandsignaledherover.Chaol,too.Twoseatshadbeenleftopentotheprincess’sright.Yrenecouldhavesworn

Chaolsizedthemupwitheachstep,asifscanningthechairs,thosearoundthem,the oasis itself for any pitfalls or threats. His hand brushed the sliver of skinexposeddownthecolumnofherspine—asifinconfirmationthatallwasclear.

“YoudidnotthinkIforgotmyhonoredguest,didyou?”Hasarsaid,kissingher cheeks. Chaol bowed to the princess as much as he could manage, andclaimedhisseatonYrene’sotherside,leaninghiscaneagainstthetable.

“Todayhasbeenwonderful,”Yrenesaid,andwasn’tlying.“Thankyou.”Hasar was quiet for a beat, looking Yrene over with unusual softness. “I

knowIamnotaneasypersontocarefor,oraneasyfriendtohave,”shesaid,herdarkeyesmeetingYrene’sat last.“Butyouhaveneveroncemademefeelthatway.”

Yrene’s throat tightenedat thebaldwords.Hasar inclinedherhead,wavingtothepartyaroundthem.“ThisistheleastIcandotohonormyfriend.”ReniagentlypattedHasar’sarm,asifinapprovalandunderstanding.

SoYrenebowedherheadandsaidtotheprincess,“Ihavenointerestineasyfriends—easypeople. I think I trust them less than thedifficultones, and findthemfarlesscompelling,too.”

That brought a grin to Hasar’s face. She leaned down the table to surveyChaolanddrawl,“Youlookquitehandsome,LordWestfall.”

“Andyouarelookingbeautiful,Princess.”Hasar,whilewelldressed,wouldneverbecalledsuch.Butsheacceptedthe

complimentwiththatcat’ssmilethatsomehowremindedYreneofthatstrangerinInnish—thatknowledgethatbeautywasfleeting,yetpower…powerwasafarmorevaluablecurrency.

The feast unfolded, and Yrene suffered through a not-so-unguarded toastfromHasartoherdear,loyal,cleverfriend.Butshedrankwiththem.Chaol,too.Wine and honey ale, their glasses refilled beforeYrene could even notice thenear-silentreachoftheservantspouring.

Ittookallofthirtyminutesbeforetalkofthewarstarted.Arghun began it first. A mocking toast, to safety and serenity in such

tumultuoustimes.Yrene drank but tried to hide her surprise as she foundChaol doing so as

well,avaguesmileplasteredonhisface.ThenHasarbeganmusingonwhethertheWesternWastes,witheveryoneso

focused upon the eastern half of the continent, was fair game to interestedparties.

Chaol only shrugged. As if he’d reached some conclusion this afternoon.Somerealizationaboutthiswar,andtheroleoftheseroyalsinit.

Hasarseemedtonotice,too.Andforallthatthiswasmeanttobeabirthdayparty, the princess pondered aloud to no one in particular, “Perhaps Aelin

Galathynius should drag her esteemed self down here and select one of mybrothers to marry. Perhaps then we would consider assisting her. If suchinfluenceremainedinthefamily.”

Meaningallthatflame,allthatbrutepower…tiedtothiscontinent,bredintothebloodline,nevertobeathreat.

“My brothers would have to stomach being with someone like that, ofcourse,”Hasarwenton,“buttheyarenotsuchweak-bloodedmenasyoumightbelieve.”AglanceatKashin,whoseemedtopretendnottohear,evenasArghunsnorted.YrenewonderediftheothersknewhowadeptKashinwasatdrowningouttheirtaunting—thatheneverfellfortheirbaitingsimplybecausehecouldn’tbebotheredtocare.

ChaolansweredHasarwithequalmildness,“AsinterestingasitwouldbetoseeAelinGalathynius dealwith all of you…”A secret, knowing smile, as ifChaolmightverywellenjoyseeingthatsight.AsifAelinmightverywellmakebloodsportoutofthemall.“Marriageisnotanoptionforher.”

Hasar’sbrowslifted.“Toaman?”ReniagaveherasharplookthatHasarignored.Chaolchuckled.“Toanyone.Beyondherbeloved.”“King Dorian,” Arghun said, swirling his wine. “I’m surprised she can

stomachhim.”Chaolstiffened,butshookhishead.“No.Anotherprince—foreign-bornand

powerful.”Alltheroyalsstilled.EvenKashinlookedtheirway.“Who,praytell,isthat?”Hasarsippedherwine,thosekeeneyesdarkening.“Prince Rowan Whitethorn, of Doranelle. Former commander to Queen

Maeve,andamemberofherroyalhousehold.”Yrene could have sworn the blood drained wholly from Arghun’s face.

“AelinGalathyniusistowedRowanWhitethorn?”Fromthewaytheprincesaidthename…he’dindeedheardofthisRowan.

ChaolhadmentionedRowanmore thanonce inpassing—Rowan,whohadmanaged tohealmuchof thedamage inhis spine.AFaePrince.AndAelin’sbeloved.

Chaolshrugged.“Theyarecarranam,andhesworethebloodoathtoher.”“HesworethatoathtoMaeve,”Arghuncountered.Chaol leaned back in his seat. “He did.AndAelin gotMaeve to free him

fromitsohecouldswearittoher.RightinMaeve’sface.”ArghunandHasarswappedglances.“How,”theformerdemanded.Chaol’s mouth turned up at the corner. “Through the same way Aelin

achievesallherends.”Heflickedhisbrowsup.“SheencircledMaeve’scityinfire.AndwhenMaevetoldherthatDoranellewasmadeofstone,Aelinsimplyrepliedthatherpeoplewerenot.”

AchillsnakeddownYrene’sspine.“Sosheisabruteandamadwoman,”Hasarsniffed.“Is she?Who else has taken onMaeve andwalked away, let alone gotten

whattheywantoutofit?”“Shewouldhavedestroyedanentirecityforoneman,”Hasarsnapped.“Themostpowerfulpure-bloodedFaemaleintheworld,”Chaolsaidsimply.

“Aworthyassetforanycourt.Especiallywhentheyhadfalleninlovewitheachother.”

Thoughhiseyesdancedashespoke,atremoroftensionranbeneaththelastwords.

But Arghun seized on the words. “If it is a love match, then they riskknowingtheirenemieswillgoafterhimtopunishher.”Arghunsmiledasiftosayhewasalreadythinkingofdoingso.

Chaolsnorted,andtheprincestraightened.“GoodlucktoanyonewhotriestogoafterRowanWhitethorn.”

“Because Aelin will burn them to ash?” Hasar asked with poisonedsweetness.

But it was Kashin who answered softly, “Because RowanWhitethornwillalwaysbethepersonwhowalksawayfromthatencounter.Nottheassailant.”

Apauseofsilence.ThenHasarsaid,“Well, ifAelincannotrepresenthercontinent,perhapswe

shalllookelsewhere.”ShesmirkedatKashin.“PerhapsYreneTowersmightbeofferedinthequeen’sstead.”

“Iamnotnoble-born,”Yreneblurted.“Orroyal.”Hasarhadlosthermind.Hasarshrugged.“I’msureLordWestfall,asHand,canfindyouatitle.Make

you a countess or duchess orwhatever terms you call them.Of course, we’dknowyouwere littlemore than amilkmaid dressed in jewels, but if it stayedamongstus…I’msuretherearesomeherewhowouldnotmindyourhumblebeginnings.”She’ddoneasmuchwithRenia—forRenia.

TheamusementfadedfromChaol’sface.“Yousoundasifyounowwanttobeapartofthiswar,Princess.”

Hasarwavedahand.“Iammerelymusingonthepossibilities.”ShesurveyedYreneandKashin,andthefoodinYrene’sstomachturnedleaden.“I’vealwayssaidyouwouldmakesuchbeautifulchildren.”

“Iftheywereallowedtolivebyyourfuturekhagan.”“Asmallconsideration—tobelaterdealtwith.”Kashinleanedforward,hisjawtight.“Thewinegoestoyourhead,sister.”Hasarrolledhereyes.“Whynot?YreneistheunspokenheiroftheTorre.It

is apositionofpower—and ifLordWestfallwere tobestowuponher a royaltitle…say,spina littlestory thatherroyal lineagewasnewlydiscovered,shemightverywellwedyou,Ka—”

“Shewillnot.”Chaol’swordswereflat.Hard.Color stained Kashin’s face as he asked softly, “And why is that, Lord

Westfall?”Chaolheldtheman’sgaze.“Shewillnotmarryyou.”

Hasarsmiled.“Ithinktheladymayspeakforherself.”Yrenewantedtoflipherchairbackintothepoolandsinktothebottom.And

livethere,underthesurface,forever.Ratherthanfacetheprincewaitingforananswer, theprincesswhowas smirking likeademon,and the lordwhose facewashardwithrage.

Butifitwasaseriousoffer,ifdoingsomethinglikethatcouldleadtothefullmightofthesoutherncontinent’sarmiescomingtohelpthem,savethem…

“Don’tyouevenconsiderit,”Chaolsaidtooquietly.“She’sfullofshit.”Peoplegasped.Hasarbarkedalaugh.Arghunsnapped,“Youwillspeakwithrespecttomysister,oryouwillfind

yourselfwithlegsthatdon’tworkagain.”Chaol ignored them.Yrene’s hands shook badly enough that she slid them

beneaththetable.Had the princess brought her out here to corner her into agreeing to this

preposterous idea, or had itmerelybeen awhim, an idle thought to taunt andgnawatLordWestfall?

Chaolseemedtobeonthevergeofopeninghismouthtosaymore,topushthisridiculousideaoutofherhead,buthehesitated.

Notbecauseheagreed,Yrenerealized,butbecausehewantedtogiveherthespacetochooseforherself.Amanusedtogivingorders,tobeingobeyed.AndyetYrenehadthesensethatthis,too,wasnewtohim.Thepatience;thetrust.

Andshetrustedhim.Todowhathehadto.Tofindawaytosurvivethiswar,whether with this army or another one. If it did not happen here, with thesepeople,he’dsailelsewhere.

Yrene looked to Hasar, to Kashin and the others, some smirking, someswapping disgusted glances. Arghun most of all. Revolted at the thought ofsullyinghisfamily’sbloodline.

ShetrustedChaol.Shedidnottrusttheseroyals.

YrenesmiledatHasar,thenKashin.“Thisisverygravetalkformybirthday.WhyshouldIchooseonemantonightwhenIhavesomanyhandsomeonesinmycompanyrightnow?”

ShecouldhaveswornashudderofreliefwentthroughChaol.“Indeed,”Hasarcrooned,hersmilesharpening.Yrenetriednottobalkatthe

invisiblefangsrevealedinthatsmile.“Betrothalsareratherodiousthings.LookatpoorDuva,stuckwiththatbrooding,sad-eyedprinceling.”

And so the conversationmoved on.Yrene did not glance toKashin or theothers. She looked only at her constantly refilled goblet—and drank it. Or atChaol,who appearedhalf inclined to lean acrossYrene and flipHasar’s chairrightbackintothepool.

But the meal passed, and Yrene kept drinking—enough so that when shestoodafterdessert,shehadnotrealizedpreciselyhowmuchshe’dimbibed.Theworldtippedandswayed,andChaolsteadiedherwithahandonherelbow,evenashewasnonetoosteadyonhisfeet.

“Seemsliketheycan’tholdtheirliquorupnorth,”Arghunsaidwithasnort.Chaolchuckled.“I’dadvisenevertosaythattosomeonefromTerrasen.”“Isupposethere’snothingelsetodowhilelivingamongstall thesnowand

sheepbeyonddrink,”Arghundrawled,lounginginhischair.“Thatmaybe,”Chaolsaid,puttinganarmonYrene’sback toguideher to

the trees and tents, “but it won’t stop Aelin Galathynius or Aedion Ashryverfromdrinkingyouunderthetable.”

“Orunderachair?”HasarcroonedtoChaol.Maybeitwasthewine.Maybeitwastheheat,orthehandonherback,orthe

factthatthismanbesideherhadfoughtandfoughtandneveroncecomplainedaboutit.

Yrenelungedfortheprincess.And thoughChaolmight havedecided against pushingHasar into thepool

behind her, Yrene had no such qualms about doing it herself. One heartbeat,

Hasarwassmirkingupather.The next, her legs and skirts and jewels went sky-up, her shriek piercing

acrossthedunesasYreneshovedtheprincess,chairandall,intothewater.

45

Yreneknewshewasadeadwoman.Knew it themomentHasarhit thedarkwater andeveryone leaped to their

feet,shoutinganddrawingblades.Chaol hadYrene behind him in an instant, a sword half out—a blade she

hadn’tevenseenhimreachforbeforeitwasinhishand.Thepoolwasnotdeep,andHasarswiftlystood,soakedandseething, teeth

baredandhairutterlylimpasshepointedatYrene.Noonespoke.Shepointedandpointed,andYrenebracedforthedeathorder.They’dkillher,andthenkillChaolfortryingtosaveher.She felthimsizingupall theguards, theprinces, theviziers.Everyperson

whowouldgetinthewaytothehorses,everypersonwhomightputupafight.Butalow,fizzingsoundedbehindYrene.ShelookedtoseeReniaclutchingherstomach,anotherhandoverhermouth,

asshelookedatherloverandhowled.Hasar whirled on Renia, who just stuck out a finger, pointing and roaring

withlaughter.Tearsleakedfromthewoman’seyes.ThenKashintippedhisheadbackandbellowedwithamusement.YreneandChaoldidnotdaremove.NotuntilHasarshovedawayaservantwho’dflunghimselfintothepoolto

helpher,crawledbackontothepavedlip,andlookedYrenedeadintheeyewith

thefullwrathofallthemightykhagansbeforeher.Silenceagain.But then the princess snorted. “I was wondering when you’d grow a

backbone.”Shewalkedaway,trailingwaterbehindher,Reniahowlingagain.Yrene caught Chaol’s stare—watched him slowly release the hand on his

sword.Watchedhispupilsshrinkagain.Watchedhimrealize…Theywerenotgoingtodie.“Withthat,”Yrenesaidquietly,“Ithinkit’stimeforbed.”Renia paused her laughing long enough to say, “I’d be gone before she

returns.”Yrenenodded,andledChaolbythewristbacktowardthetreesanddarkand

torches.Shecouldn’thelpbutwonderifReniaandKashin’slaughterhadinpartbeen

trueamusement,butalsoagift.Abirthdaygift,tokeepthemfromthegallows.FromthetwopeoplewhounderstoodbestjusthowdeadlyHasar’smoodscouldbe.

Keepingherhead,Yrenedecided,wasaverygoodbirthdaygiftindeed.

ItwouldhavebeeneasyforChaoltoroaratYrene.Todemandhowshecouldeventhinktoriskherlifelikethat.Monthsago,hewouldhave.Hell,hewasstilldebatingit.

Even as they slipped into her spacious tent, he continued soothing theinstincts that had comebellowing to the surface themoment thoseguardshadpressedinandreachedfortheirswords.

Some small part of himwas profoundly, knee-wobblingly grateful none ofthose guards were ones he’d trained with these weeks—that he hadn’t beenforcedtomakethatchoice,crossthatlinebetweenthem.

But he’d seen the terror inYrene’s eyes. Themoment she’d realizedwhatwas about to happen, what would have happened if the princess’s lover andKashinhadnotsteppedintodefusethesituation.

ChaolknewYrenehaddoneitforhim.Forthemocking,hatefulinsult.And from theway shepaced inside the tent,wendingbetween thecouches

andtablesandcushions…Chaolalsoknewshewaswellawareoftherest.Hetookupaseatontherolledarmofachair,leaningthecanebesideit,and

waited.Yrenewhirled towardhim, stunning in thatpurplegown,whichhadnearly

knockedhiskneesfrombeneathhimwhenshe’dfirstemergedfromthetent.Notjust forhowwell it suitedher,but the swathsof supple skin.Thecurves.Thelightandcolorofher.

“Before you begin shouting,”Yrene declared, “I should say thatwhat justhappenedisproofthatIshouldnotbemarryingaprince.”

Chaolcrossedhisarms.“Havinglivedwithaprinceformostofmylife,I’dsayquitetheopposite.”

Shewavedahand,pacingmore.“Iknowitwasstupid.”“Incredibly.”Yrenehissed—notathim.Thememory.Thetemper.“Idon’tregretdoingit.”Asmiletuggedonhismouth.“It’sanimageI’lllikelyrememberfortherest

ofmylife.”Hewould.ThewayHasar’sfeethadgoneoverherhead,hershriekingface

rightbeforeshehitthewater—“Howcanyoubesoamused?”“Oh,I’mnot.”Hislipsindeedcurved.“Butit’scertainlyentertainingtosee

thattemperofyoursturnedonsomeoneotherthanme.”“Idon’thaveatemper.”Heraisedabrow.“Ihaveknownafairnumberofpeoplewithtempers,and

yours,YreneTowers,ranksamongthefinestofthem.”“LikeAelinGalathynius.”A shadow passed over him. “She would have greatly enjoyed the sight of

Hasarflippingintothepool.”“IsshereallymarryingthatFaePrince?”“Maybe.Likely.”“Areyou—upsetaboutit?”And though she asked it casually, that healer’s mask a portrait of calm

curiosity,heselectedhiswordscarefully.“Aelinwasveryimportanttome.Shestillis—thoughinadifferentway.And

forawhile…itwasnoteasy,tochangethedreamsI’dplannedformyfuture.Especiallythedreamswithher.”

Yreneangledherhead,thelanternlightdancinginhersoftcurls.“Why?”“BecausewhenImetAelin,whenIfellinlovewithher,shewasnot…She

went by another name. Another title and identity. And things between us fellapartbeforeIknewthetruth,but…IthinkIknew.WhenIlearnedshewastrulyAelin.IknewthatbetweenherandDorian,I…”

“YouwouldneverleaveAdarlan.Orhim.”He fiddled with the cane beside him, running his hands over the smooth

wood.“Sheknewit,too,Ithink.LongbeforeIdid.Butshestill…Sheleft,atone point. It’s a long story, but shewent off toWendlyn alone.And thatwaswhere shemet PrinceRowan.And out of respect tome, becausewe had nottrulyendedit,shewaited.Forhim.Theybothdid.AndwhenshecamebacktoRifthold,itended.Betweenus,Imean.Officially.Badly.Ihandleditbadly,andshedid, too,andit just…Wemadeourpeace,beforewepartedwaysmonthsago.Andtheylefttogether.Asitshouldbe.Theyare…Ifyouevermeetthem,you’llgetit.LikeHasar,sheisn’taneasypersontobewith,tounderstand.Aelinfrightenseveryone.”Hesnorted.“Butnothim.Ithinkthat’swhyshefellinlovewithhim,againstherbestintentions.RowanbeheldallAelinwasandis,andhe

wasnotafraid.”Yrenewasquietforamoment.“Butyouwere?”“It was a … rough period for me. Everything I knew was trampled.

Everything.Andshe…IthinkIplacedtheblameforagreatdealofituponher.Begantoseeherasamonster.”

“Isshe?”“Itdependsonwho’stellingthestory,Isuppose.”Chaolstudiedtheintricate

patternofthered-and-greenrugbeneathhisboots.“ButIdon’tthinkso.ThereisnooneelsethatIwouldtrusttohandlethiswar.NooneelseIwouldtrusttotakeonallofMorathbutAelin.EvenDorian.Ifthere’ssomewaytowin,she’llfindit.Thecostsmightbehigh,butshe’lldoit.”Heshookhishead.“Andit’syourbirthday.Weshouldprobablytalkofnicerthings.”

Yrene didn’t smile. “Youwaited for her while she was gone. Didn’t you?Evenknowingwhat—who—shereallywas.”

Hehadn’tadmittedit,eventohimself.Histhroattightened.“Yes.”Shenowstudiedthatwovencarpetbeneaththem.“Butyou—youdon’tstill

loveher?”“No,” he said, and had never meant anything more. He added softly, “Or

Nesryn.”Her brows rose at that, but he wrapped a hand around the cane, groaning

softlyashepushedtohis feetandmadehiswaytowardher.She trackedeachmovement, unable to set aside the healing, her eyes darting over his legs, hismiddle,thewayhegrippedthecane.

Chaolhaltedastepaway,pullingasmallbundleoutofhispocket.Silently,heextendedittoher,theblackvelvetliketheripplingdunesbeyondthem.

“What’sthat?”Heonlyheldoutthefoldedpieceoffabric.“Theydidn’thaveaboxIliked,

soIjustusedthecloth—”

Yrenetookitfromhishand,herfingersshakingslightlyasshefoldedbacktheedgesofthebundlethathe’dbeencarryingallday.

Inthelanternlight,thesilverlocketshimmeredanddancedasshelifteditupbetweenherfingers,eyeswide.“Ican’ttakethis.”

“You’d better,” he said as she lowered the oval locket into her palm toexamineit.“Ihadyourinitialscarvedontoit.”

Indeed,shewasalreadytracingtheswirlinglettershe’daskedthejewelerinAnticatoengraveonthefront.Sheturneditovertotheback—

Yreneputahandtoherthroat,rightoverthatscar.“Mountains.Andseas,”shewhispered.“Soyounever forget thatyouclimbed themandcrossed them.Thatyou—

onlyyou—gotyourselfhere.”Sheletoutasmall,softlaugh—asoundofpurejoy.Hecouldn’tlethimself

identifytheothersoundwithinit.“Iboughtit,”Chaolclarifiedinstead,“soyoucouldkeepwhateveritisyou

alwayscarry inyourpocket inside.Soyoudon’thave tokeepmoving it fromdresstodress.Whateveritis.”

Surpriselightedhereyes.“Youknow?”“I don’t knowwhat it is, but I see you holding something in there all the

time.”He’dcalculated that itwas small, andbased the locket’s sizeupon it.He’d

neverseenanindentationorweight inherpockets tosuggest itsbulk,andhadstudiedotherobjectsshe’dplacedwithintherewhileworkingonhim—papers,vials—againsttheutterflatnessofit.Perhapsitwasalockofhair,somesmallstone—

“It’snothingasfineasapartyinthedesert—”“NoonehasgivenmeagiftsinceIwaseleven.”Sincehermother.“Abirthdaygift,Imean,”sheclarified.“I…”

Sheslidthelocket’sfinesilverchainoverherhead,thelinkscatchinginthestray, luscious curls. Hewatched her lift themass of her hair over the chain,settingitdanglingdowntotheedgeofherbreasts.Againstthehoney-brownofher skin, the locketwas like quicksilver. She traced her slim fingers over theengravedsurface.

Chaol’schesttightenedassheliftedherhead,andhefoundsilverlininghereyes.

“Thankyou,”shesaidsoftly.Heshrugged,unabletocomeupwitharesponse.Yreneonlywalkedover,andhebracedhimself,readiedhimself,asherhands

cuppedhisface.Asshestaredintohiseyes.“Iamglad,”shewhispered,“thatyoudonotlovethatqueen.OrNesryn.”Hisheartthunderedthrougheveryinchofhim.Yreneroseontoher toesandpressedakiss, lightasacaress, tohismouth.

Neverbreakinghisstare.He read the unspoken words there. He wondered if she read the ones not

voicedbyhim,either.“Iwillcherishitalways,”Yrenesaid,andheknewshewasn’ttalkingabout

thelocket.Notassheloweredahandfromhisfacetohischest.Atophisragingheart. “Nomatter whatmay befall theworld.”Another featherlight kiss. “Nomattertheoceans,ormountains,orforestsintheway.”

Any leash on himself snapped. Letting his cane thump to the floor, Chaoldriftedahandaroundherwaist,histhumbstrokingalongthesliverofbareskinthedressrevealed.Theotherheplungedintothatluxurious,heavyhair,cuppingthebackofherheadashe tiltedher faceupward.Ashe studied thosebrown-goldeyes,theemotionsimmeringinthem.

“IamgladthatIdonotlovethem,either,YreneTowers,”hewhisperedontoherlips.

Thenhismouthwasonhers,andsheopenedforhim,theheatandsilkofher

drivingagroanfromdeepinhisthroat.Herhandsspeared intohishair,ontohisshoulders,acrosshischestandup

hisneck.Asifshecouldnottouchenoughofhim.Chaol reveled in the fingers shedug intohisclothes, as if theywereclaws

seekingpurchase.Heslidhis tongueagainsthers,andhermoanasshepushedherselfagainsthim—

Chaol backed them toward the bed, its white sheets near-glowing in thelantern light, not caring that his stepswere uneven, staggering. Not with thatdresslittlemorethancobwebsandmist,notwhenhenevertookhismouthfromhers,remainedunabletotakehismouthfromhers.

Yrene’s knees hit the mattress behind them, and she drew her lips awayenoughtoprotest,“Yourback—”

“I’llmanage.”Heslantedhismouthoverhersagain,herkisssearinghimtohisverysoul.

His.Shewashis,andhehadneverhadanythinghecouldcallsuch.Wantedtocallsuch.

Chaol couldn’t bring himself to rip his mouth away from Yrene’s longenough toask if sheconsideredhimhers.Toexplain thathealreadyknewhisownanswer.Hadperhapsknownfromthemomentshe’dwalkedintothatsittingroomanddidnotlookathimwithanounceofpityorsadness.

Henudgedherwithapressofhiships,andshelethimlayheruponthebedgently—reverently.

Herreachforhim,haulinghimatopher,wasanythingbut.Chaolhuffedalaughagainstherwarmneck,theskinsofterthansilk,asshe

scrabbled with his buttons, his buckles. She writhed against him, and as hesettledhisweightoverher,everyhardpartofhimliningupwithsomanysoftpartsofher…

Hewasgoingtoflyoutofhisskin.Yrene’s breath was sharp and ragged against his ear, her hands tugging

desperatelyathisshirt,tryingtoslidetohisbackbeneath.“I’dthinkyouweresickoftouchingmyback.”Sheshuthimupwithaplunderingkissthatmadehimforgetlanguagefora

while.Forgetabouthisnameandhistitleandeverythingbuther.Yrene.Yrene.Yrene.Shemoanedwhenhe slid ahandupher thigh,baringher skinbeneath the

foldsofthatgown.Whenhedidittotheotherleg.Whenhenippedathermouthandtracedidlecircleswithhisfingersoverthosebeautifulthighs,startingalongtheirouteredgeandarcingover—

Yrenedidnotappreciatebeingtoyedwith.Notasshewrappedahandaroundhim,andhisentirebodybowedintothe

touch,thesensationofit.Notjustahandstrokingoverhim,butYrenedoingit—Hecouldn’tthink,couldn’tdoanythingbuttasteandtouchandyield.Andyet—Hefoundwords.Foundlanguageagain.Longenoughtoask,“Haveyouever

—”“Yes.”Thewordwasaroughpant.“Once.”Chaolshovedagainsttherippleofdarkness,thelineonthatthroat.Heonly

kissed it instead.Licked it.Thenaskedagainsther skin,hismouthskirtingupherjaw,“Doyouwantto—”“Keepgoing.”Buthemadehimselfpause.Madehimselfrisetolookatherface,hishands

onhersleekthighsandherhandstillgrippinghim,strokinghim.“Yes,then?”Yrene’seyesweregoldflame.“Yes,”shebreathed.Sheleanedup,kissedhim

gently.Notlightly,butsweetly.Openly.“Yes.”Ashudderwrackedthroughhimatthewords,andhegrippedherthighright

whereitmetherhip.Yrenereleasedhimtoliftherhips,draggingherselfoverhim.Feelinghim,withonlythethingossamerpanelofhergownbetweenthem.Nothingbeneath.

Chaol slid it to the side, bunching thematerial at herwaist.Hedippedhishead,eagertolookhisfill, thentotouchandtasteandlearnwhatmadeYreneTowerslosecontrolentirely—

“Later,”Yrenebeggedhoarsely.“Later.”He couldn’t bring himself to deny her anything. This woman who held

everythinghewas,allhehadleft,inherbeautifulhands.So Chaol removed his shirt, his pants following with a few, trickier

maneuvers.Thenheremovedthatdressofhers,leavingitinscrapsonthefloorbesidethebed.

UntilYrene onlywore that locket.UntilChaol surveyed every inch of herandfoundhimselfunabletobreathe.

“Iwillcherishitalways,”Chaolwhisperedasheslidintoher,slowanddeep.Pleasurerippleddownhisspine.“Nomatterwhatmaybefalltheworld.”Yrenekissedhisneck,hisshoulder,his jaw.“Nomatter theoceans,ormountains,orforestsintheway.”

ChaolheldYrene’sstareashestilled,lettingheradjust.Lettinghimselfadjusttothesensationthattheentireaxisoftheworldhadshifted.Lookingintothoseeyesofhers,swimmingwithbrightness,hewonderedifshefeltit,too.

But Yrene kissed him again, in answer and silent demand. And as Chaolbegantomoveinher,herealizedthathere,amongstthedunesandstars…Here,intheheartofaforeignland…Here,withher,hewashome.

46

Itbrokeher,andunmadeher,andrebirthedher.Sprawled over Chaol’s chest hours later, listening to the thump of his

heartbeat,Yrenestilldidnothavewordsforwhathadpassedbetweenthem.Notthephysicaljoining,nottherepeatedboutsofit,butsimplythesenseofhim.Ofbelonging.

She’dneverknownitcouldbe like that.Herquick,unimpressive,andonlybrushwithsexhadbeenjustlastautumn,andhadleftherinnohurrytoseekitoutagain.Butthis…

He’dmadesureshefoundherpleasure.Repeatedly.Beforeheeverfoundhisown.

Andbeyondthat,thethingshemadeherfeel—Notjustasaresultofhisbody,butwhohewas…Yrenepressedan idlekiss to thesculptedmuscleofhischest, savoring the

fingershestilltraineddownherspine,overandover.Itwassafety,andjoy,andcomfort,andknowingthatnomatterwhatbefell

them…Hewouldnotbalk.Hewouldnotbreak.Yrenenuzzledherfaceagainsthim.

Itwasdangerous,sheknew,tofeelsuchthings.She’dknownwhatlayinhereyes when he’d looked at her. The heart she’d offered up without saying asmuch. But seeing that locket that he’d somehow found and had been sothoughtful about…Her initialswere beautifully done, but themountains and

waves…Itwasstunningwork,donebyamasterjewelerinAntica.“Ididn’tdoitonmyown,”Yrenemurmuredagainsthisskin.“Hmm?”SheranherfingersoverthegroovesofChaol’sstomachbeforerisingontoan

elbowtostudyhisfaceinthedimness.Thelanternshadlongsinceburnedout,andsilencehadsettledoverthecamp,replacedbythebuzzandhumofbeetlesin thepalm trees. “Gettinghere.Themountainsyes,but the seas…Someonehelpedme.”

Alertnessfilledthosesatedeyes.“Oh?”Yrenepluckedupthelocket.Betweenboutsoflovemaking,whenshe’dgone

tomovehiscanewithineasyreachofthebed,she’dslidthesmallnoteinside.Thefithadbeenperfect.

“IwasstuckinInnish,withnowayofleaving.Andonenight,thisstrangerappearedattheinn.Shewas…everythingIwasnot.EverythingI’dforgotten.Shewaswaitingforaboat,andduringthethreenightsshewasthere,Ithinkshewantedthelowlifestotrytorobher—shewasspoilingforafight.Butshekeptherdistance.Iwasleftwithcleaningupalonethatnight…”

Chaol’shandtensedonherback,buthesaidnothing.“Andmercenarieswhohadgivenmeahardtimeearlier thateveningfound

meinthealley.”Hewentutterlystill.“I think—Iknow theywanted to…”She shook off the icy grip of horror,

evenall theseyears later.“Thewoman,girl,whatevershewas,sheinterruptedbefore they could so much as try. She … dealt with them. And when shefinished,shetaughtmehowtodefendmyself.”

Hishandbeganstrokingagain.“Sothat’showyoulearned.”Sheranahandoverthescaronherneck.“Butothermercenaries,friendsof

theearlierones, returned.Oneheldaknife tomy throat together todropherweapons.She refused todoso.So Iusedwhat she’d taughtme todisarmand

disabletheman.”Heblewoutanimpressedbreaththatruffledherhair.“Toher,itwasatest.She’dbeenawareofthesecondgroupcircling,andtold

me she wanted me to have some controlled experience. I’d never heard ofanything more ridiculous.” The woman had been either brilliant or insane.Likely both. “But she toldme… toldme itwas better to be suffering in thestreetsofAnticathaninInnish.AndthatifIwantedtocomehere,Ishouldgo.That if I wanted something, I should take it. She told me to fight for mymiserablelife.”

Yrenebrushedthesweat-damphairfromhiseyes.“Ipatchedherupandshewentonherway.AndwhenIgotbacktomyroom…Shehadleftmeabagofgold.Andagoldenbroochwitharubythesizeofarobin’segg.Topayformypassagehere,andanytuitionattheTorre.”

Heblinkedinsurprise.Yrenewhispered,voicebreaking,“Ithinkshewasagod.I—Idon’tknowwhowoulddothat.Ihavealittlegoldleft,butthebrooch…Ineversoldit.Istillhaveit.”

Hefrownedatthenecklace,asifhe’dmisjudgeditssize.Yreneadded,“That’snotwhatIkeepinmypocket.”Hisbrowsrose.“Ileft

Innishthatmorning.Itookthegoldandthebroochandgotonashiphere.SoIcrossedmountainsalone,yes—buttheNarrowSea…”Yrenetracedthewavesonthelocket.“Icrossedbecauseofher.IteachthewomenattheTorrebecauseshetoldmetosharetheknowledgewithanywomenwhowouldlisten.IteachitbecauseitmakesmefeellikeI’mpayingherback,insomesmallway.”

Yreneranherthumbovertheinitialsonthefront.“Ineverlearnedhername.She only left a note with two lines.For wherever you need to go—and thensome. The world needs more healers. That’s what I keep inmy pocket—thatlittlescrapofpaper.What’snowinhere.”Yrenetappedthelocket.“Iknowit’ssilly,butitgavemecourage.Whenthingswerehard,itgavemecourage.Itstilldoes.”

Chaol swept the hair from her brow and kissed it. “There is nothing sillyaboutit.Andwhoeversheis…Iwillbeforevergrateful.”

“Me too,”Yrenewhisperedashe slidhismouthoverher jawandher toescurled.“Metoo.”

47

ThepassbetweenthetwinpeaksofDagulwaslargerthanitlooked.Itwentonandon,amazeofjagged,toweringrock.NesrynandSartaqdidnotdarestop.Webssometimesblockedtheirway,orhoveredabove,butstilltheycharged

onward, seeking any sort of pathupward.TowhereKadaramight pluck themintothesky.

Fordownhere,withthecramped,narrowwallsofthepass,therukcouldnotreachthem.Iftheyweretostandachanceofbeingrescued,they’dhavetofindawayup.

Nesryndidn’tdareletFalkanout—notyet.Notwhensomanythingscouldstillgosowrong,andlettingthespidersknowwhatsortofcardtheyhaduptheirsleeve…No,notyetwouldsheriskusinghim.

But the temptation gnawed on her. The walls were smooth, ill-fitted forclimbing, and as they hurried through the pass, hour after hour, Sartaq’swet,laboredbreathsechoedofftherock.

Hewas innostate toclimb.Hewasbarelyable tostayupright,orgriphissword.

Nesryn kept an arrow nocked, ready to fly as they rounded corner aftercorner,glancingupeverynowandthen.

The passwas so tight in spots that they had to squeeze through, the sky awaterytricklehighabove.Theydidnotspeak,didnotdaredomorethanbreathe

astheykepttheirstepslight.Itmadenodifference.Nesrynknewitmadelittledifference.A trap had been laid for them, and they had fallen into it. The kharankui

knew where they were. Were likely following at their leisure, herding themalong.

Ithadbeenhourssincethey’dlastheardtheboomofKadara’swings.Andthelight…itwasbeginningtofade.Once darkness fell, once the way became too dark to manage… Nesryn

pressed a hand to Falkan, still in her pocket.When the night settled upon thepass,shedecided,thenshe’dusehim.

They pushed through a particularly tight passage between two near-kissingboulders, Sartaq grunting behind her. “We have to be nearing the end,” hebreathed.

Shedidn’ttellhimthatshedoubtedthespiderswerestupidenoughtoallowthemtowalkrightoutof theothersideof thepassandintoKadara’sawaitingtalons.Iftheinjuredrukcouldevenmanagetheirweight.

Nesrynjustpushedonward,thepassbecomingafractionwider,countingherbreaths.Theywerelikelysomeofherlast—

Thinkingthatwayhelpednooneandnothing.She’dstareddowndeaththissummer,when thatwaveofglasshadcomecrashing towardher.Hadstared itdown,andbeensaved.

Perhapsshewouldbeluckyagain,too.Sartaq stumbled out behind her, breathing hard. Water. They desperately

neededwater—andbandages forhiswounds. If the spidersdidnot find them,then the lack of water in the arid pass might very well kill them first. LongbeforeanyhelparrivedfromtheEridunrukhin.

Nesrynforcedonestepinfrontofanother,thepathnarrowingagain,therockastightasavise.Shetwistedsideways,edgingthrough,herswordsscraping.

Sartaqgrunted,thenletoutapainedcurse.“I’mstuck.”

She found him indeedwedged behind her, the bulk of his broad chest andshoulderspinned.Heshovedhimselfforward,bloodleakingfromhiswoundsashepushedandpulled.

“Stop,” she ordered. “Stop—wriggle back out if you can.” There was nootherwaythroughandnothingtoclimbover,butiftheyremovedhisweapons—

Hisdarkeyesmethers.Shesawthewordsforming.Youkeepgoing.“Sartaq,”shebreathed.Theyhearditthen.Clawsclickingonstone.Skitteringalong.Manyofthem.Toomany.Comingfrombehind,closingin.Nesryngrabbedtheprince’shand,tugging.“Push,”shepanted.“Push.”He grunted in pain, the veins in his neck bulging as he tried to squeeze

through,hisbootsscrapingonthelooserock—Nesryndugherownfeetin,grittingherteethasshehauledhimforward.Click,click,click—“Harder,”shegasped.Sartaqangledhishead,shovingagainsttherockthatheldhim.“What a fine morsel, our guest,” hissed a soft female voice. “So large he

cannotevenfitthroughthepassage.Howweshallfeast.”Nesryn heaved and heaved, her grip treacherously slipperywith sweat and

bloodfrombothof them,butsheclampedontohiswristhardenough thatshefeltbonesshiftbeneath—

“Go,”hewhispered,strainingtopushthrough.“Yourun.”Falkan was shifting in her pocket, trying to emerge. But with the rock

pressing on her chest, the passagewas too tight for even him to poke out hishead—

“Aprettypair,”thatfemalecontinued.“Howherhairshineslikeamoonlessnight.Weshalltakeyoubothbacktoourhome,ourhonoredguests.”

AsobclaweditswayupNesryn’sthroat.“Please,”shebegged,scanningtherock high above them, the lip into the upper reaches of the narrow pass, thecurvinghornsofthepeaks,tuggingandtuggingonSartaq’sarm.“Please,”shebeggedthem,beggedanyone.

ButSartaq’sfacewentcalm.Socalm.Hestoppedpushing,stoppedtryingtohaulhimselfforward.Nesrynshookherhead,pullingonhisarm.Hedidnotmove.Notaninch.Hisdarkeyesmethers.Therewasnofearinthem.Sartaq said to her, clear and steady, “I heard the spies’ stories of you.The

fearlessBalruhniwomaninAdarlan’sempire.Neith’sArrow.AndIknew…”Nesrynsobbed,tuggingandtugging.Sartaqsmiledather—gently.Sweetly.Inawayshehadnotyetseen.“IlovedyoubeforeIeverseteyesonyou,”hesaid.“Please,”Nesrynwept.Sartaq’shandtightenedonhers.“Iwishwe’dhadtime.”Ahissbehindhim,arisingbulkofshiningblack—Thentheprincewasgone.Rippedfromherhands.Asifhehadneverbeen.

Nesryncouldbarelyseethroughhertearsassheedgedandsqueezedalongthepass.Asshehurtledoverrocks,armsstraining,feetunfaltering.

Keepgoing.Thewordswereasonginherblood,herbonesassheplungedonward.

Keepgoingandgetout;findhelp—Butthepassageatlastopenedintoawiderchamber.Nesrynstaggeredfrom

thevisethathadheldher,panting,Sartaq’sbloodstillcoatingherpalms,hisfacestillswimmingbeforeher—

Thepathcurvedahead,andshestumbledforit,handflyingtowhereFalkannowpokedhisheadout.Shesobbedatthesightofhim,sobbedastheclickingandhissingagainbegantosoundbehindher,closinginoncemore.

Itwasover.Itwasdone,andshehadasgoodaskilledhim.Sheshouldhaveneverleft,shouldhaveneverdoneanyofit—

She sprinted toward the curve in the pass, chips of shale scattering frombeneathherboots.Takeyoubothbacktoourhome…Alive.Thespiderhadtalkedasiftheywouldbetakenalivetotheirlair.Fora

briefwindowbeforethefeastingbegan.Andifshehadspokentrue…NesrynslappedahandoverawrigglingFalkan,earningasqueakofoutrage.But she said, soft as the wind through the grass, “Not yet. Not yet, my

friend.”AndasNesrynslowedhersteps,asshestoppedentirely,shewhisperedher

plantohim.

Thekharankuididnottrytohidetheirarrival.Hissingandlaughing,theyskitteredaroundthecornerofthepass.AndhaltedwhentheybeheldNesrynpantingonherknees,bloodfromslices

inherarms,hercollarbone,fillingthetightairwithherscent.Shesawthemnotethesprayedshalearoundher,flecksofherbloodonit.

Asifshehadtakenabadfall.Asifshecouldnolongergoon.Clicking, chattering tooneanother, they surroundedher.Awallof ancient,

reekinglimbsandfangsandswollen,bulbousabdomens.Andeyes.Moreeyesthanshecouldcount,herreflectioninallofthem.

Hertremblingwasnotfaked.“Pityitdidnotgivemuchsport,”onepouted.“Weshallhaveitlater,”anotherreplied.

Nesrynshookharder.Onesighed.“Howfreshherbloodsmells.Howclean.”“P-please,”shebegged.Thekharankuijustlaughed.Thentheonebehindherpounced.Pinningher to the shale, rock slicingher face,herhands,Nesryn screamed

againsttheclawsthatdugintoherback.Screamedasshemanagedtolookoverhershouldertoseethosespinneretshoveringaboveherlegs.

Toseethesilkthatshotfromthem,readytobewoven.Towraphertightly.

48

Nesrynawoketosharpbiting.Shejerkedupright,ascreamonherlips—Itdiedwhenshe felt the little teethbitingatherneck,herear.Nippingher

awake.Falkan.Shewinced,herheadthrobbing.Bilesurgedupherthroat.Not biting at her head. But the silk that bound her body, the thick strands

reeking.Andthecaveshewasin…No, not cave.But a covered section of the pass.Dimly illuminated by the

moon.She scanned thedark to either side, the archof stone above themnomore

thanthirtyfeetwide,keepingherbreathingsteady—There. Sprawled on the groundnearby, covered foot to neckwith silk.His

facecrustedwithblood,eyesclosed—Sartaq’schestroseandfell.Nesryn shuddered with the force of keeping her sob contained as Falkan

slithereddownherbody,chewingatthestrandswithhisviciousteeth.Shedidn’tneed to tell theshifter tohurry.Shescanned theemptypassage,

scannedthedimstarsbeyond.Wherevertheywere…Itwasdifferenthere.Therocksmooth.Polished.Andcarved.Countlesscarvingshadbeenetched

inthespace,ancientandprimitive.

Falkanchewedandchewed,thesilksnappingstrandbystrand.“Sartaq,”Nesryndaredtowhisper.“Sartaq.”Theprincedidnotstir.Clickingsoundedfrombeyondthearchway.“Stop,”shemurmuredtoFalkan.

“Stop.”Theshifterhaltedhispathdownherback.Clungtoherleathersasashadow

darkerthanthenightemergedfromaroundthecornerbehindthem.Orahead—shehadnoideawheretruenorthlay.Iftheywerestillwithinthepassitself,oratopanotherpeak.

Thespiderwasslightlylargerthantheothers.Herblacknessdeeper.Asifthestarlightitselfwasloathtotouchher.

ThekharankuihaltedasshenotedNesrynstaringather.Nesryn controlled her breathing, rallying her mind to come up with

somethingtobuythemtime,buySartaqandFalkantime…“You are the ones who have been poking about in forgotten places,” the

spidersaidinHalha,hervoicebeautiful,lyrical.Nesryn swallowed once, twice, trying and failing tomoisten her paper-dry

tongue.Shemanagedtorasp,“Yes.”“Whatisitthatyouseek?”Falkanpinchedherbackinwarning—andorder.Keepherdistracted.While

hechewed.Nesrynblurted,“Wewerepaidbyamerchant,whotradedwithyoursistersto

thenorth,thestygianspiders—”“Sisters!”Thespiderhissed.“Ourbloodkintheymaybe,butnotruesisters

of thesoul.Gentlehearted fools, tradingwithmortals—trading,whenwewereborntodevouryou.”

Nesryn’s hands shook behind her back. “T-that iswhy he sent us.Hewasunimpressedbythem.S-saidtheydidnotliveuptothelegend…”Shehadnoideawhatwas spewing fromhermouth. “Sohewished to seeyou, see ifyoumightt-t-trade.”

Falkanbrushedagainstherarminquietcomfort.“Trade?Wehavenothingtotrade,beyondthebonesofyourkin.”“ThereisnoSpidersilkhere?”“No.Thoughwedelightintastingyourdreams,youryears.Beforewefinish

withyou.”HadtheyalreadydonesoforSartaq?Was thatwhyhedidnotstir?Nesryn

forcedherselftoaskasthethreadsbehindhersnappedfreesoslowly,“Then—thenwhatisityoudohere?”

The spider took a step forward, andNesryn braced herself. But the spiderlifteda thin,clawed legandpointed tooneof thepolished,carvedwalls.“Wewait.”

Andashereyesatlastadjustedtothedimness,Nesrynsawwhatthespiderpointedto.

Acarvingofanarchway—agate.Andacloakedfigurestandingwithinit.She squinted, straining tomake outwho stood there. “W-whodo youwait

for?”HoulunhadsaidtheValghadoncepassedthroughhere—The spider brushed aside the dirt crusted over the figure. Revealing long,

flowing hair etched there. Andwhat she’d thought to be a cloak… It was adress.

“Our queen,” the spider said. “Wewait for Her DarkMajesty to return atlast.”

“Not—notErawan?”Servantstoadarkcrown,Houlunhadsaid…The spider spat, the venom landing near Sartaq’s covered feet. “Not him.

Neverhim.”“Thenwho—”“Wewaitfor theQueenof theValg,” thespiderpurred,rubbingagainst the

carving.“WhointhisworldcallsherselfMaeve.”

49

QueenoftheValg.“MaeveisQueenoftheFae,”Nesryncounteredcarefully.Thespiderchuckled,lowandwicked.“Soshehasmadethembelieve.”Think,think,think.“What—whatamightyandpowerfulqueenshemustbe,”

Nesrynstammered.“Toruleboth.”Falkanfuriouslychewed,eachstrandslowly,soslowly,yielding.“Willyou—willyoutellmethetale?”

Thespiderstudiedher,thosedepthlesseyeslikepitsofhell.“Itwillnotbuyyouyourlife,mortal.”

“I—I know.” She shook further, thewords tumbling out. “But stories… Ihave always loved stories—of these lands especially.Wind-seeker,mymothercalled me, because I was always drifting where the wind tugged me, alwaysdreamingofthosestories.Andhere…herethewindhastakenme.SoIwouldhearonelasttale,ifyouallowit.BeforeImeetmyend.”

Thespiderremainedquietforaheartbeat.Another.Thenshesettledherselfbeneaththecarvingofthearchway—theWyrdgate.“Consideritagift—foryourboldnessinevenasking.”

Nesrynsaidnothing,heartthunderingthrougheverypartofherbody.“Longago,”thespidersaidsoftlyinthatbeautifulvoice,“inanotherworld,

anotherlifetime,thereexistedalandofdark,andcold,andwind.Ruledbythreekings,mastersofshadowandpain.Brothers.Theworldhadnotalwaysbeenthatway,hadnotbeenbornthatway.Buttheywagedamightywar.Awartoendall

wars.Andthosethreekingsconqueredit.Turneditintoawasteland,aparadiseforthosewhohaddwelledindarkness.Forathousandyears,theyruled,equalinpower, their sons and daughters spread throughout the land to ensure theircontinueddominion.Untilaqueenappeared—herpoweranew,darksongintheworld. Such wondrous things she could do with her power, such horrible,wondrousthings…”

Thespidersighed.“Theyeachdesiredher, thosekings.Pursuedher,wooedher.Butsheonlydeignedtoallywithone,thestrongestofthem.”

“Erawan,”Nesrynmurmured.“No.Orcus,eldestoftheValgkings.Theywed,butMaevewasnotcontent.

Restless, our queen spent long hours pondering the riddles of the world—ofotherworlds.Andwith her gifts, she found away to look. To pierce the veilbetweenworlds.Toseerealmsofgreen,oflightandsong.”Thespiderspat,asifsuch a thingwere abhorrent. “And one day,whenOrcuswas gone to see hisbrothers, she tookapathbetween realms.Steppedbeyondherworld, and intothenext.”

Nesryn’sbloodwentcold.“H-how?”“She had watched. Had learned of such rips between worlds. A door that

couldopenandcloseatrandom,or ifoneknewtherightwords.”Thespider’sdarkeyesgleamed.“Wecamewithher—herbelovedhandmaidens.Westeppedwithherintothis…place.Tothisveryspot.”

Nesrynglancedatthepolishedstone.EvenFalkanseemedtopausetodothesame.

“Shebadeusstay—toguardthegate.Lestanyoneshouldpursueher.Forshehad decided she did not wish to go back. To her husband, her world. So shewent,andweonlyheardwhisperingsthroughoursistersandsmallerkin,carriedonthewind.”Thespiderfellsilent.

Nesrynpushed,“Whatdidyouhear?”“ThatOrcusarrived,hisbrothersintow.ThatOrcushadlearnedofhiswife’s

leavinganddiscoveredhowshe’ddone it.Wentbeyondwhat she’ddone, andfoundawaytocontrolthegatebetweenworlds.Madekeystodoso,sharedwithhisbrothers.Threekeys,forthethreekings.

“Theywentfromworldtoworld,openinggatesastheywilledit,sweepingintheirarmiesandlayingwastetothoserealmsastheyhuntedforher.Untiltheyreachedthisworld.”

Nesryncouldbarelydrawbreathtoask,“Andtheyfoundher?”“No,” the spider said, something like a smile in its voice. “For Her Dark

Majestyhadleftthesemountains,hadfoundanotherland,andpreparedherselfwell.Sheknew thatoneday shewouldbe found.Andplanned tohidewithinplain sight. So she did. She came across a lovely, long-lived people—near-immortalsthemselves—ruledoverbytwosister-queens.”

MabandMora.Holygods—“Andusingherpowers,sherippedintotheirminds.Madethembelievethey

hadasister,aneldestsistertorulewiththem.Threequeens—forthethreekingsthatmightonedaycome.Whentheyreturned to theirpalace,she tore into theminds of all those who dwelled there, too. And any who came. Planting thethought that a third queen had always existed, always ruled. If they somehowresistedherpower,shefoundwaystoendthem.”Awickedchuckle.

Nesrynhadheardthelegends.OfMaeve’sdark,unnamedpower—adarknessthatcoulddevourthestars.ThatMaevehadneverrevealedaFaeform,onlythatdeadlydarkness.AndshehadlivedfarbeyondthelifespanofanyknownFae.Livedsolongthattheonlycomparablelifespan…Erawan.

AValglifespan.ForaValgqueen.Thespideragainpaused.Falkanhadnearlyreachedherhands—butstillnot

enoughtofreethem.Nesrynasked,“SotheValgkingsarrived,butdidnotknowwhofacedthem

inthewar?”“Precisely.” A delighted purr. “Disguised in a Fae body, they did not

recognizeher,thefools.Butsheuseditagainstthem.Knewhowtodefeatthem,howtheirarmiesworked.Andwhensherealizedwhat theyhaddonetoarrivehere, thekeys theypossessed…shewanted them.Tobanish them,kill them,andtousethekeysasshesawfitwithinthisworld.Andothers.

“So she took them. Snuck in and took them, surrounding herselfwith Faewarriors so othersmight not ask just how she knew somany things. Oh, thecleverqueenclaimeditwasfromcommuningwiththespiritworld,but…sheknew.Shehadrunthosewarcamps.Knewhowthekingsworked.Soshestolethe keys.Managed to send two of those kings back,Orcus one of them.Andbeforeshecouldgoafterthefinalking,theyoungestonewholovedhisbrotherssoverydeeply,thekeysweretakenfromher.”Ahiss.

“ByBrannon,”Nesrynbreathed.“Yes, thefire-king.Hesawthedarkness inherbutdidnot recognize it.He

wondered,suspected,butallhe’dknownoftheValg,ourpeople,weretheirmalesoldiers.Theirgruntsandprincesandkings.Hedidnotknowthatafemale…Howdifferent,howextraordinaryafemaleValgis.Evenhewastrickedbyher;shefoundpathsintohismindtokeephimfromtrulyrealizingit.”Anothersoft,lovelylaugh.“Evennow,whenallshouldbecleartohismeddlesomespirit…Evennow,hedoesnotknow.Tohisoncomingdoom—yes,tohisdoom,andtheother’s.”

Nausearoiledthroughher.Aelin.Aelin’sdoom.“Butwhilehedidnotguesscorrectlyaboutourqueen’sorigins,hestillknew

thathisfire…Shegreatlyfearedhisfire.Asall trueValgdo.”Nesryn tuckedaway that kernel. “He left, building his kingdom far away, and she built herdefenses, too. Somany clever defenses, should Erawan rise again and realizethatthequeenhe’dsoughtforhisbrother,conqueredworldstofind,washereallalong.ThatshehadbuiltarmiesofFae,andwouldletthembattleeachother.”

Aspiderinaweb.That’swhatMaevewas.Falkan reached Nesryn’s hands, chewing through the silk there. Sartaq

remainedunconscious,soperilouslyclosetothespider.“So you have waited these thousands of years—for her to return to these

mountains?”“Sheorderedustoholdthepass,toguardtheripintheworld.Sowehave.

Andsowewill,untilshesummonsustohersideoncemore.”Nesryn’s head spun.Maeve—she’d think on it later. If they lived through

this.SheflickedherfingersatFalkan,signalinghim.Silently,keepingtotheshadows,theshifterscuttledintothedark.“Andnowyouknow—howtheBlackWatchcametodwellhere.”Thespider

rose with a mighty heave. “I hope it was a fitting final tale for you, Wind-seeker.”

Nesrynopenedhermouthasthespideradvanced,rotatingherwristsbehindherback—

“Sister,”afemalevoicehissedfromthedarknessbeyond.“Sister,aword.”The spiderhalted,pivotingherbulbousbody toward the archwayentrance.

“What.”Abeatoffear.“Thereisaproblem,sister.Athreat.”Thespiderscuttledtowardherkin,snapping,“Tellme.”“Ruksonthenorthernhorizon.Twentyatleast—”Thespiderhissed.“Guardthemortals.Ishalldealwiththebirds.”Clickinglegs,shaleshiftingallaroundher.Nesryn’shearthammeredasshe

flexedherachingfingers.“Sartaq,”shebreathed.Hiseyesflickedopenacrosstheway.Alert.Calm.Theotherspidercrawledin,smallerthanherleader.Sartaqtensed,shoulders

strainingasifhe’dtrytoburstfromthesilkthatheldhim.Butthespideronlywhispered,“Hurry.”

50

SartaqsaggedatFalkan’svoiceasitcamefromthekharankui’shideousmouth.Nesrynhauledherhandsfreefromthewebbing,swallowinghergruntofpain

asthefiberstoreatherskin.Falkan’smouthandtonguehadtobeaching—She glanced at the spider hovering over Sartaq, slicing through the silk

bindingtheprincewithslashesoftheclaws.Indeed,wherethosepincerswaved,bloodleakedout.

“Quickly,”theshifterwhispered.“Yourweaponsareinthecornerthere.”Shecouldjustmakeoutthefaintgleamofstarlightonthecurveofherbow,

alongthenakedsilverofherAsterionshort-sword.FalkancutthroughSartaq’sbindings,andtheprincesprangfree,shovingoff

thewebbing.Heswayedashestood,bracingahandonthestone.Blood,therewassomuchbloodalloverhim—

Butherushedtoher,rippingat thethreadsstillcoveringherfeet.“Areyouhurt?”

“Faster,”Falkansaid,glancingtothearchwayentrancebehind.“Itwon’ttakeherlongtorealizenoone’scoming.”

Nesryn’s feetcamefree,andSartaqhauledherup.“DidyouhearwhatshesaidaboutMaeve—”

“Oh, Iheard,”Sartaqbreathedas they rushed to theirweapons.Hehandedherthebowandquiver,theFaeblade.GrabbedhisownAsteriondaggersashehissedtoFalkan,“Whichway?”

The shifter scuttled forward, past the carving ofMaeve. “Here—there is aslopeupward.We’rejustontheothersideofthepass.Ifwecangetuphigh—”

“HaveyouseenKadara?”“No,”theshiftersaid.“But—”Theydidn’twaittoheartherestastheycreptonsilentfeetfromthearchway,

entering the starlight-filled pass beyond. Sure enough, a rough slope of loosestonerosefromtheground,asifitwereapathintothestarsthemselves.

They’dmade it halfwayup the treacherous slope,Falkanadark shadowattheirbacks,whena shriek rose from themountainbeyond.But theskieswereempty,nosignofKadara—

“Fire,”Nesryn breathed as they hurtled toward the apex of the peak. “ShesaidallValghatefire.Theyhatefire.”Forthespiders,devouringlife,devouringsouls…TheywereasValgasErawan.Hailedfromthesamedarkhell.“Gettheflintfromyourpocket,”sheorderedtheprince.

“And lightwhat?”Hiseyesdrifted to thearrowsatherbackas theyhaltedatopthenarrowapexofthepeak—thecurvedhorn.“We’retrappeduphere.”Hescannedthesky.“Itmightnotbuyusanything.”

Nesrynwithdrewanarrow,shoulderingherbowasshetuggedastripofhershirt frombeneath the jacketofher flying leathers.She rippedoff the bottom,slicedthepieceintwo,andwrappedonearoundtheshaftofthearrow.“Weneedkindling,”shesaidasSartaqwithdrewtheflintstonefromhisbreastpocket.

Aknifeflashed,andthenasectionofSartaq’sbraidwasinhisoutstretchedhand.

She didn’t hesitate. Just wrapped the braid around the fabric, holding thearrowoutforhimashestrucktheflintoverandover.Sparksflew,drifting—

Onecaught.Fireflared.Justasdarknessspilledintothepassbelow.Shouldertoshoulder,thespiderssurgedforthem.Twodozenatleast.

Nesrynnockedthearrow,drawingbackthestring—andaimedup.Notdirectlytothem.Butashotintothesky,highenoughtopiercethefrosty

stars.The spiders paused, watching the arrow reach its zenith and then plunge

down,down—“Another,” Nesryn said, taking that second strip of fabric and wrapping it

again around the head of her next arrow. Only three remained in her quiver.Sartaqslicedoffasecondpieceofhisbraid,loopingitoverthetip.Flintstruck,sparksglowed,andas that firstarrowplummetedtoward thespidersscatteringfromitspath,sheloosedhersecondarrow.

Thespidersweresodistractedlookinguptheydidnotstareahead.Thelargestofthem,theonewhohadspokentoherforsolong,leastofall.AndasNesryn’sburningarrowslammedintoherabdomen,stickingdeep,the

spider’sscreamshooktheverystonesbeneaththem.“Another,”Nesrynbreathed,fumblingforhernextarrowasSartaqrippedthe

fabricfromhisshirt.“Hurry.”Nowheretogo,nowaytokeepthematbay.“Shift,”shetoldFalkan,whomonitoredthepanickingspiders,whobalkedat

theirleader’sscreamingorderstoputoutthefireatopherabdomen.“Ifyouaregoingtoshiftintosomething,doitnow.”

The shifter turned thathideous spider’s face toward them.Sartaq slicedoffanotherpieceofhisbraidandsliditovertheheadofherthirdarrow.“Iwillholdthem,”Falkansaid.

Sparksshowered,flamekindledonthatthirdflamingarrow.“Afavor,Captain,”theshiftersaidtoher.Time.Theydidnothavetime—“When I was seven, my older brother sired a bastard daughter off a poor

womaninRifthold.Abandonedthemboth.Ithasbeentwentyyearssincethen,andfromwhenIwasoldenoughtogotothecity,tobeginmytrade,Ilookedforher.Foundthemotheraftersomeyears—onherdeathbed.Shecouldbarelytalklongenoughtosayshe’dkickedthegirlout.Shedidnotknowwheremyniece

was.Didn’tcare.Shediedbeforeshecouldgivemeaname.”Nesryn’shandsshookassheaimedthearrowtowardthespidertryingtoedge

pastherburningsister.Sartaqwarned,“Hurry.”Falkansaid,“Ifshesurvived,ifsheisgrown,shemighthavetheshiftergift,

too.But it doesn’tmatter if shedoesordoesnot.Whatmatters…She ismyfamily.AllIhaveleft.AndIhavelookedforherforaverylongtime.”

Nesryn fired the third arrow. A spider screamed as it found its mark. Theothersfellback.

“Find her,” Falkan said, taking a step toward the horrors churning below.“Myfortune—allofitisforher.AndImayhavefailedherinthislife.Butnotinmydeath.”

Nesrynopenedhermouth,notbelievingit,thewordssurgingup—ButFalkansprinteddownthepath.Leapedrightinfrontofthatburningline

ofspiders.Sartaq grabbed her elbow, pointing toward the steep slope downward from

thetinypeak.“This—”One moment, she was standing upright. The next, Sartaq had thrown her

back,hisswordwhining.Shestumbled,armsflailingtokeepheruprightassherealizedwhathadcrept

uptheothersideof thepeak.Thespidernowhissingat them,enormousfangsdrippingvenomtothestone.

ItlungedforSartaqwithitsfronttwolegs.Hedodgedoneandswungdown,strikingtrue.Blackbloodsprayed,thespidershrieking—butnotbeforeitslashedthatclaw

deepintotheprince’sthigh.Nesrynmoved,herfourtharrowflying,rightintooneofthoseeyes.Thefifth

andfinalarrowflewamomentlater,shootingforthespider’sopenmouthasitscreamed.

Itbitdownonthearrow,slicingitinhalf.

NesryndroppedherbowanddrewherFaeblade.Thespiderhissedatit.Nesryn steppedbetweenSartaq and the spider.Downbelow, thekharankui

screamedandshrieked.ShedidnotdaretolooktoseewhatFalkanwasdoing.Ifhestillfought.

Thebladewasasliverofmoonlightbetweenherandthespider.Thekharankuiadvancedastep.Nesrynyieldedone,Sartaqstrugglingtorise

besideher.“Iwillmakeyoubegfordeath,”thespiderseethed,advancingagain.Itrecoiled,preparingtospring.Makeitcount;maketheswingcount—Thespiderleaped.Andwent tumbling off the cliff as a dark ruk slammed into it, roaring her

fury.NotKadara.ButArcas.Borte.

51

Awhirlwindoffury,Arcasrearedup,thendoveagain,Borte’sbattlecryringingoffthestonesassheandherrukaimedforthekharankuiinthepassbelow.Tothespiderholdingthemoff,blood—redblood—leakingfromhim.

Anothercrysplitthenight,oneshe’dlearnedaswellasherownvoice.AndtherewasKadara,sailinghardforthem,twootherruksinherwake.Sartaq let out whatmight have been a sob as one of the other ruks broke

away, diving to where Borte swept and lunged and shattered through thekharankuiranks.

Arukofdarkestbrownfeathers…andayoungmanatopit.Yeran.NesryndidnotrecognizetheotherriderwhosailedinbehindKadara.Blood

stainedKadara’sgoldenfeathers,butsheflewsteady,hoveringoverheadastheotherrukclosedin.

“Holdstill,anddon’t fear thedrop,”Sartaqbreathed,brushingahandoverNesryn’scheek.Inthemoonlight,hisfacewascakedindirtandblood,hiseyesfullofpain,andyet—

Thentherewasawallofwings,andmightytalonsspreadwide.Theywrapped around herwaist and beneath her upper thighs, hauling her

sittingupright into theair,Sartaqclutched in theother,and then thegreatbirdshotintothenight.

Thewindroared,buttherukliftedthemhigher.Kadarafellintorankbehind

—guarding their rear.Throughherwhipping hair,Nesryn lookedback towardthefire-limnedpass.

TowhereBorteandYerannowsoaredupward,adarkformclutched in theclawsofYeran’sruk.Utterlylimp.

Bortewasnotdone.Alightsparkedatopherruk.Aflamingarrow.Bortefiredithighintothesky.Asignal,Nesrynrealizedascountlesswingsfilledtheairaroundthem.And

asBorte’sarrowlandedatopaweb,flameerupting,hundredsoflightskindledinthesky.

Rukriders.Eachbearingaflamingarrow.Eachnowpointingdownward.Like a rain of shooting stars, the arrows fell upon the darkness of Dagul.

Landedonwebandtree.Andcaughtfire.Oneafteranotherafteranother.Until the night was lit up, until smoke streamed, mingling with the rising

screamsfromthepeaksandwood.Theruksveerednorthward,Nesrynshakingassheclungtothetalonsholding

her.Acrosstheway,Sartaqmethergaze,hisnow-shoulder-lengthhairripplinginthewind.

Withtheflamesbelow,itmadethewoundstohisface,hishands,hisneckallthe more gruesome. His skin was wan, his lips pale, his eyes heavy withexhaustionandrelief.Andyet…

Sartaq smiled, barely a curve of his mouth. The words the prince hadconfesseddriftedonthewindbetweenthem.

Shecouldnottakehereyesfromhim.Couldnotlookaway.SoNesrynsmiledback.Andbelowandbehindthem,longintothenight,theDagulFellsburned.

52

ChaolandYrenegallopedbacktoAnticaatdawn.TheyleftanoteforHasar,claimingthatYrenehadagravelyillpatientwho

neededtobecheckedon,andracedacrossthedunesundertherisingsun.Neitherofthemhadsleptmuch,butifwhatthey’dguessedaboutthehealers

wastrue,theydidnotrisklingering.Chaol’sbackachedthankstoyesterday’srideandlastnight’s…otherride.

Multiplerides.AndbythetimetheminaretsandwhitewallsofAnticaappeared,hewashissingthroughhisteeth.

Yrenefrownedathimtheentirepainfultrekthroughthepackedstreetstothepalace.Theyhadn’tdiscussedsleepingarrangements,buthedidn’tcareifhehadtowalkupeverysingleoneofthestairsoftheTorre.Eitherherbedorhis.Thethoughtofleavingher,evenforaheartbeat—

Chaolwinced as he climbed off Farasha, the blackmare suspiciouslywellbehaved, and accepted the cane the nearest stable hand had retrieved fromYrene’smare.

Hemanagedafewstepstowardher,hislimpdeepandsplintering,butYreneheldoutawarninghand.“Donotthinkaboutattemptingtoliftmeoffthishorse,orcarryme,oranything.”

Hegaveherawrylook,butobeyed.“Anything?”She turnedabeautiful shadeofscarletassheslidoff themare,passing the

reinstothewaitingstablehand.Themansaggedwithrelief,utterlygratefulto

nothave the taskofhandling the impetuousFarasha,whowascurrentlysizingupthepoormanattemptingtodraghertowardthestablesasifshe’dhavehimforlunch.Hellas’shorseindeed.

“Yes, anything,” Yrene said, fluffing out her wrinkled clothes. “It’s likelybecauseofanythingthatyou’relimpingworsethanbefore.”

Chaolletherfallintostepbesidehim,andbalancedonhiscanelongenoughtopressakisstohertemple.Hedidn’tcarewhosaw.Whoreportedonit.Theycouldallgotohell.Butbehindthem,hecouldhaveswornShenandtheotherguardsweregrinningfromeartoear.

Chaolwinkedather.“Thenyou’dbetterhealme,YreneTowers,because Iplantodoagreatdealofanythingwithyoutonight.”

Sheflushedevendeeper,butangledherchinupward,primandproper.“Let’sfocusonthesescrollsfirst,yourogue.”

Chaolgrinned,broadandunrestrained,andfeltitineveryinchofhisachingbodyastheystrodebackinsidethepalace.

Anyjoywasshort-lived.Chaol picked up on the humming threads of something amiss themoment

they entered their quietwing.Themoment he saw the guardsmurmuring, theservantsscurryingabout.Yreneonlysharedaglancewithhim,andtheyhurriedalongasfastashecouldmanage.Strandsoffireshotalonghisback,downhisthighs,butifsomethinghadhappened—

Thedoors tohissuitewereajar,with twoguardspostedoutside,whogavehimlooksfullofpityanddread.Hisstomachturned.

Nesryn. If she had come back, if something had happened with that Valghuntingthem—

Hestormedintothesuite,hisprotestingbodygoingdistant,hisheadfullofroaringsilence.

Nesryn’sdoorwasopen.But no body lay sprawled on the bed. No blood stained the carpet, or

splatteredthewalls.Hisroomwasthesame.Butbothbedrooms…Trashed.Shredded,asifsomegreatwindhadshatteredthewindowsandtornthrough

thespace.The sitting roomwasworse.Theirusualgoldcouch—gutted.Thepictures,

theartoverturnedorcrackedorslashed.Thedeskhadbeenlooted,thecarpetsflippedover—Kadjawaskneelinginthecorner,gatheringpiecesofabrokenvase.“Becareful,”Yrenehissed,stridingtothegirlasshepluckeduppieceswith

herbarehands.“Getabroomanddustpanratherthanuseyourownhands.”“Whodidthis,”Chaolaskedquietly.FearglimmeredinKadja’seyesassherose.“ItwaslikethiswhenIcamein

thismorning.”Yrenedemanded,“Youdidn’thearanythingatall?”The sharp doubt in thosewordsmade him tense. Yrene hadn’t trusted the

servant girl for an instant,makingup tasks thatwould keepher away, but forKadjatodothis—

“Withyougone,mylord,I…Itookthenighttovisitmyparents.”He tried not to cringe. A family. She had family here, and he’d never

botheredtoask—“Andcanyourparentssweartothefactthatyouwerewiththemallnight?”Chaolwhirled.“Yrene.”Yrenedidn’tsomuchasglanceathimasshestudiedKadja.Theservantgirl

witheredunder that fierce stare. “But I suppose leaving thedoor unlocked forsomeonewouldhavebeensmarter.”

Kadjacringed,shoulderscurvinginward.“Yrene—thiscouldhavebeenfromanything.Anyone.”

“Yes,anyone.Especiallysomeonewhowaslookingforsomething.”Thewordsclickedatthesamemomentthedisarrayoftheroomdid.Chaolfacedtheservantgirl.“Don’tcleananymoreofthemess.Everything

inheremightoffersomeproofofwhodid this.”Hefrowned.“Howmuchdidyoumanagetocleanalready?”

Fromthestateoftheroom,notmuch.“Ionlyjuststarted.Ithoughtyouwouldn’treturnuntiltonight,soIdidn’t—”“It’s fine.”Ather cringe, he added, “Go toyourparents.Take thedayoff,

Kadja.I’mgladyouweren’therewhenthishappened.”Yrene gave him a frown that said the girl might very well have been the

causeofthis,butkepthermouthshut.Withinaminute,Kadjahadleft,closingthehalldoorswithaquietclick.

Yreneranherhandsoverherface.“Theytookeverything.Everything.”“Didthey?”Helimpedto thedesk,peeringinto thedrawersashebraceda

handonthesurface.Hisbackachedandwrithed—Yrene stormed to the gold couch, lifting the ruined cushions. “All those

books,thescrolls…”“Itwascommonknowledgethatwe’dbegone.”Heleanedfullyagainstthe

desk,nearlysighingattheweightittookoffhisback.Yrenecarvedapaththroughtheroom,inspectingalltheplacesshe’dferreted

awaythosebooksandscrolls.“Theytookitall.EvenTheSongofBeginning.”“Whataboutthebedroom?”She vanished instantly. Chaol rubbed at his back, hissing softly. More

rustling,then,“Ha!”Sheemergedagain,wavingoneofhisbootsintheair.“Atleasttheydidn’t

findthis.”Thatfirstscroll.Heralliedasmiletohismouth.“Atleastthere’sthat.”Yrene held his boot to her chest as if it were a babe. “They’re getting

desperate.Thatmakespeopledangerous.Weshouldn’tstayhere.”

Hesurveyedthedamage.“You’reright.”“Thenwe’llgodirectlytotheTorre.”Heglancedthroughtheopendoorstothefoyer.ToNesryn’sbedroom.Shewas due back soon.Andwhen she did return, to find him gone,with

Yrene … He’d treated her abominably. He’d let himself forget what he’dpromised,whathe’dimplied, inRifthold.Ontheshiphere.AndNesrynmightnotholdhimtoanypromises,buthe’dbrokentoomanyofthem.

“Whatisit?”Yrene’squestionwasbarelymorethanawhisper.Chaolclosedhiseyes.Hewasabastard.He’ddraggedNesrynhere,andthis

was howhe’d treated her.While shewas off hunting for answers, risking herlife,whileshesoughtsomeshredofhopeforraisinganarmy…He’dsendthatmessage—immediately.Toreturnasfastasshecould.

“It’s nothing,” Chaol said at last. “Perhaps you should stay at the Torretonight.Thereareenoughguardstheretomakeanyonethinktwice.”Headdedwhenhurtflickeredinhereyes,“Ican’tappeartoberunningaway.EspeciallywiththeroyalsnowstartingtothinkImightbesomeoneofinterest.ThatAelincontinuestobesuchasourceofworryandintrigue…perhapsIshouldusethattomyadvantage.”Hefiddledwiththecane,tossingitfromonehandtoanother.“ButIshouldstayhere.Andyou,Yrene,youshouldgo.”

She opened her mouth to object, but paused, straightening. A steely glintenteredhereyes.“I’lltakeHafizathescrollmyself,then.”

Hehatedtheedgetohervoiceashenodded,thedimmingofthoseeyes.He’ddonewrongbyher,too.InnotfirstendingthingswithNesryn,tomakeitclear.He’dmadeamessofit.

Afool.He’dbeenafooltothinkhecouldriseabovethis.Movebeyondthepersonhe’dbeen,themistakeshe’dmade.

Afool.

53

YrenestormeduptheTorresteps,carefulnottocrushthescrollinherfist.Thetrashingofhisroomhadrattledhim.Rattledher,too,but…Itwasn’tfearofharmordeath.Somethingelsehadshakenhim.Inherotherhand,sheclutchedthelocket,themetalwarmagainstherskin.Someoneknewtheywereclosetodiscoveringwhatever itwastheywanted

tokeepsecret.Orattheveryleastsuspectedtheymightlearnsomethingandhaddestroyedanypossiblesources.Andafterwhat they’dstartedtopiecetogetherintheruinsamidAksara…

Yrene checked her temper as she reached the top landing of theTorre, theheatsmothering.

Hafizawasinherprivateworkshop,tuttingtoherselfoveratonicthatrippledwiththicksmoke.“Ah,Yrene,”shesaidwithoutlookingupwhileshemeasuredinadropofsomeliquid.Vialsandbasinsandbowlscoveredthedesk,scatteredbetween the open books and a set of bronze hourglasses of various timemeasurements.“Howwasyourparty?”Revelatory.“Lovely.”“Iassumetheyounglordfinallyhandedoverhisheart.”Yrenecoughed.Hafizasmiledassheliftedherheadatlast.“Oh,Iknew.”“Wearenot—thatistosay,thereisnothingofficial—”“Thatlocketsuggestsotherwise.”

Yreneclappedahandoverit,cheeksheating.“Heisnot—heisalord.”At Hafiza’s raised brows, Yrene’s temper whetted itself. Who else knew?

Whoelsehadseenandcommentedandbetted?“HeisaLordofAdarlan,”sheclarified.“So?”“Adarlan.”“Ithoughtyouhadmovedpastthat.”Perhapsshehad.Perhapsshehadn’t.“Itisnothingtobeconcernedabout.”Aknowingsmile.“Good.”Yrenetookalongbreaththroughhernose.“But,unfortunately,youarenotheretogivemeallthejuicydetails.”“Och.”Yrenegrimaced.“No.”Hafiza measured another few drops into her tonic, the substance within

roiling.Shepluckedupherten-minutehourglassandturneditover,bone-whitesand trickling into the ancient base.A proclamation of ameeting begun evenbefore Hafiza said, “I assume it has something to dowith that scroll in yourhand?”

Yrene looked to theopenhall, then rushed toshut thedoor.Then theopenwindows.

Bythetimeshe’dfinished,Hafizahadsetdownthetonic,herfaceunusuallygrave.

Yreneexplained theransackingof their room.Thebooksandscrolls taken.Theruinsattheoasisandtheirwildtheorythatperhapsthehealershadnotjustarisen here, but had been planted here, in secret. Against the Valg and theirkings.

AndforthefirsttimesinceYrenehadknownher,theancientwoman’sbrownfaceseemedtogoabitcolorless.Hercleardarkeyesturnedwide.

“You are certain—that these are the forces amassing on your continent?”Hafizasettledherselfintothesmallchairbehindtheworktable.

“Yes.LordWestfallhasseenthemhimself.Battledthem.Itiswhyhecame.NottoraiseanarmyagainstmeremenloyaltoAdarlan’sempire,butanarmytofightdemonswhowearthebodiesofmen,demonswhobreedmonsters.SovastandterriblethateventhefullmightofAelinGalathyniusandDorianHavilliardisnotenough.”

Hafizashookherhead,hernimbusofwhitehairflowing.“Andnowyoutwobelievethatthehealershavesomeroletoplay?”

Yrene paced. “Perhaps. We were relentlessly hunted down on our owncontinent,andIknowitdoesn’tsoundlikeanythingtogoon,butifasettlementofhealing-inclinedFaedidstartacivilizationherelongago…Why?WhyleaveDoranelle,whycomesofar,andleavesofewtraces,yetensurethatthehealinglegacysurvived?”

“Thatiswhyyouhavecome—andbroughtthisscroll.”YreneplacedthescrollbeforetheHealeronHigh.“SinceNoushaonlyknew

vaguelegendsanddidn’tknowhowtoreadthelanguagewrittenhere,Ithoughtyoumightactuallyhavethetruth.Ortellmewhatthisscrollmightbeabout.”

Hafizacarefullyunfurledthescroll,weighingitscornerswithvariousvials.Dark,strangelettershadbeeninkedthere.TheHealeronHightracedawrinkledfingeroverafewofthem.“Idonotknowhowtoreadsuchalanguage.”Sheranherhandovertheparchmentagain.

Yrene’sshoulderssagged.“But it remindsme…”Hafiza scanned the bookshelves in her workshop,

some of them sealed behind glass. She rose, hobbling to a locked case in theshadowycornerof theroom.Thedoors therewerenotglassatall—butmetal.Iron.

Shewithdrew a key fromaroundher neck and opened it.BeckonedYreneover.

Halfstumbling through theroominherhaste,YrenereachedHafiza’sside.On a few of the spines of the tomes, near-rotting with age…“Wyrdmarks,”

Yrenemurmured.“Iwastoldthesewerenotbooksforhumaneyes—thatitwasknowledgebest

keptlockedawayandforgotten,lestitfinditswayintotheworld.”“Why?”Hafizashrugged,studyingbutnot touching theancient textsshelvedbefore

them.“Thatwasallmypredecessortoldme:Theyarenotmeantforhumaneyes.Oh,onceortwice,I’vebeendrunkenoughtodebateopeningupthebooks,buteverytimeItakeoutthiskey…”Shetoyedwiththelongnecklace,thekeyofblackestironhangingfromit.Amatchtothecabinet.“Ireconsider.”

Hafizaweighedthekeyinherpalm.“Idonotknowhowtoreadthesebooks,norwhatthislanguageis,butifthosescrollsandbookswereinthelibraryitself,thenthefact that thesehavebeenlockeduphere…Perhaps this is thesortofinformationworthkillingfor.”

Ice skittered down her spine. “Chaol—LordWestfall knows someonewhocanreadthesemarkings.”AelinGalathynius,he’dtoldher.“Perhapsweshouldbringthemtoher.Thescroll,andthesefewbooks.”

Hafiza’s mouth tightened as she closed the iron doors to the cabinet andlocked it with a heavy click. “I shall have to think on it, Yrene. The risks.Whetherthesebooksshouldleave.”

Yrenenodded.“Yes,ofcourse.ButIfearwemaynothavemuchtime.”Hafizaslidtheironkeybackunderherrobesandreturnedtotheworktable,

Yrenetrailingher.“Idoknowalittleofthehistory,”Hafizaadmitted.“Ithoughtitmyth,but…mypredecessor toldme,when I first came.During theWinterMoonfestival.Shewasdrunk,becauseI’dpliedherwithalcohol together torevealhersecrets.But instead,shegavemearamblinghistory lesson.”Hafizasnorted, shaking her head. “I never forgot it, mostly because I was sodisappointedthatthreebottlesofexpensivewine—purchasedwithallthemoneyIhad—gotmesolittle.”

Yrene leanedagainst theancientworktableasHafizasatand interlacedher

fingersinherlap.“Shetoldmethatlongago,beforemanstumbledhere,beforethehorse-lordsandtheruksabovethesteppes,thislandindeedbelongedtoFae.A small, pretty little kingdom, its capital here.Anticawas built atop its ruins.But they erected temples to their gods beyond the city walls—out in themountains,intheriver-lands,inthedunes.”

“LikethenecropolisatAksara.”“Yes.Andshetoldmethattheydidnotburntheirbodies,butentombedthem

withinsarcophagiso thicknohammerordevicecouldopenthem.Sealedwithspellsandcleverlocks.Nevertobeopened.”

“Why?”“Thedrunkgoat toldme that itwasbecause they lived in fearof someone

gettingin.Totaketheirbodies.”Yrenewas glad shewas leaning on the table. “Theway theValg now use

humansforpossession.”Anod.“Sherambledabouthowtheyhadlefttheirknowledgeofhealingfor

us to find. That they had stolen it from elsewhere, and that their teachingsformedthebasisoftheTorre.ThatKamalaherselfhadbeentrainedintheirarts,their records discovered in tombs and catacombs long since lost to us. ShefoundedtheTorrebasedoffwhatsheandhersmallorder learned.WorshippedSilbabecauseshewastheirhealinggod,too.”Hafizagesturedtotheowlscarvedthroughoutherworkroom, theTorre itself,and rubbedather temple.“Soyourtheory could hold water. I never learned how the Fae came here, where theywent and why they faded away. But they were here, and according to mypredecessor,theyleftsomesortofknowledgeorpowerbehind.”Afrowntowardthatlockedbookcase.

“Thatsomeoneisnowtryingtoerase.”Yreneswallowed.“Noushawillkillmewhenshehearsthosebooksandscrollsweretaken.”

“Oh,shemightverywell.Butshe’lllikelygoonthehuntforwhoeverdiditfirst.”

“Whatdoesanyofitmean,though?Whygotosomuchtrouble?”Hafizastrodebacktohertonic,thehourglassnearlyempty.“Perhapsthatis

foryoutolearn.”Sheaddedafewmoredropsofliquidtohertonic,grabbedtheone-minuteglass,andflippeditover.“Ishallconsiderthebooks,Yrene.”

Yrene returned toher room, flungopen thewindow to let in thebreeze to thestiflingchamber,andsatonherbedforallofaminutebeforeshewaswalkingagain.

She’dleftthescrollwithHafiza,figuringthelockedbookcasewassaferthananywhereelse,butitwasnotscrollsorancientbooksthatfilledherheadassheturnedleftandheadeddownstairs.

Progress. They had made progress on Chaol’s injury, significantly so, andreturnedtofindtheirroomtrashed.Hisroom—nottheirs.He’dmadethatclearenoughearlier.Yrene’sstepswereunfaltering,evenasherlegsachedfromnearlytwodays’

worthofriding.Therehadtobesomeconnection—hisprogress,theseattacks.She’d never get any thinking done up in her quiet, stuffy room.Or in the

library, notwhen she’d be jumping at every footstep ormeow froma curiousBaastCat.

But therewas one place, quiet and safe.One placewhere shemightworkthroughthetangledthreadsthathadbroughtthemhere.

TheWombwasempty.AfterYrenehadwashedandchangedintothepale,thinlavenderrobe,she’d

paddedintothesteam-filledchamber,unabletohelplookingtowardthattubbythefarwall.Towardwherethathealerhadcriedmerehoursbeforeherdeath.

Yrenescrubbedherhandsoverherface,takingasteadyingbreath.

Thetubsoneithersidebeckoned,thebubblingwatersinviting,promisingtosootheherachinglimbs.ButYreneremainedinthecenterofthechamber,amidallthosefaintlyringingbells,andstaredupintothedarknesshighabove.

Fromastalactitetoofarinthegloomtosee,adropletofwaterfell—landingonherbrow.Yreneclosedhereyesatthecool,hardsplash,butmadenomovetowipeawaythewater.

The bells sang and murmured, the voices of their long-dead sisters. Shewonderedifthathealerwhohaddied…Ifhervoicewasnowsinginghere.

Yrene peered up at the nearest string of bells hung across the chamber,varioussizesandmakes.Herownbell…

On bare, silent feet, Yrene padded to the little stalagmite jutting from thefloornearthewall,tothechainsaggingbetweenitandanotherpillarafewfeetaway.Sevenotherbellshungfromit,butYreneneededno reminderofwhichwashers.

Yrene smiled at the small silver bell, purchased with that stranger’s gold.Therewas her name, etched into the side—maybe by the same jewelerChaolhad found for the amulet hanging from her neck. Even in here, she had notwantedtopartwithit.

Gently,shebrushedherfingeroverthebell,overhernameandthedateshe’denteredtheTorre.

Afaint,sweetringingleapedawayinthewakeofhertouch.Itechoedofftherockwalls,offtheotherbells.Settingsomeofthemringing,asifinanswer.

Aroundandaroundthesoundofherbelldanced,andYreneturnedinplace,asifshecouldfollowit.Andwhenitfaded…

Yreneflickedherbellagain.Alouder,clearersound.Theringingflittedthroughtheroom,andshewatchedit,trackedit.Itfadedoncemore.Butnotbeforeherpowerflickeredinanswer.With hands that did not entirely belong to her,Yrene rang her bell a third

time.

Andasitssingingfilledtheroom,Yrenebegantowalk.Everywhereitsringingwent,Yrenefollowed.Herbarefeetslappingagainst thedampstone,she trackedthesound’spath

throughtheWomb,asifitwerearabbitracingaheadofher.Around the stalagmites rising from the floor.Ducking under the stalactites

droopingfromabove.Crossingtheroom;slitheringdownthewalls;settingthecandlesguttering.Onandon,shetrackedthatsound.

Pastthebellsofgenerationsofhealers,allsinginginitswake.Yrenestreamedherfingersalongthem,too.Awaveofsoundanswered.Youmustenterwhereyoufeartotread.Yrenewalked on, the bells ringing, ringing, ringing. Still she followed the

soundofherownbell,thatsweet,clearsongbeckoningonward.Pullingher.Thatdarknessstilldwelled inhim; inhiswound.Theyhadbeaten it so far

back,yetitremained.Yesterday,he’dtoldherthingsthatbrokeherheart,butnottheentirestory.

ButifthekeytodefeatingthatshredofValgblacknessdidnotlieinfacingthememoriesalone,ifblindblastsofhermagicdidnothing…

Yrenefollowedthesilverbell’sringingtowhereithalted:Anancientcorneroftheroom,thechainsrustedwithage,someofthebells

greenfromoxidation.Here,thesoundofherbellwentsilent.No,notsilent.Butwaiting.Hummingagainstthecornerofstone.Therewasasmallbell,hangingjustbytheendofthechain.Sooxidizedthat

thewritingwasnearlyimpossibletoread.ButYrenereadthenamethere.YafaTowersShedidnot feel thehardbiteofstoneasshefell toherknees.Assheread

thatname,thedate—thedatefromtwohundredyearsago.

ATowerswoman.ATowershealer.Here—withher.ATowerswomanhadbeensinginginthisroomduringtheyearsYrenehaddwelledhere.Evennow,evensofarfromhome,shehadneveroncebeenalone.

Yafa.Yrenemouthedthename,ahandonherheart.Enterwhereyoufeartotread…YrenepeeredupintothedarknessoftheWomboverhead.Feeding.TheValg’spowerhadbeenfeedingoffhim…Yes,thedarknessaboveseemedtosay.Notadripsounded;notabellchimed.Yrenegazeddownatherhands,lyinglimpathersides.Summonedforththe

faintwhite glowof her power.Let it fill the room, echooff the rock in silentsong. Echo off those bells, the voices of thousands of her sisters, the Towersvoicebeforeher.Enterwhereyoufeartotread…Notthevoidlurkingwithinhim.Butthevoidwithinherself.The one that had started the day those soldiers had gathered around her

cottage,hadhauledheroutbyherhairintothebrightgrasses.Had Yafa known, here in this chamber so far beneath the earth, what

happenedthatdayacrossthesea?Hadshewatchedthepasttwomonthsandsentupherancient,rustedsonginsilenturging?Theyweren’tbadmen,Yrene.No, theywerenot.Themenhe’dcommanded, trainedwith,whohadworn

thesameuniform,bowedtothesamekingasthesoldierswhohadcomethatday…

They were not bad men. People existed in Adarlan worth saving—worthfighting for. Theywere not her enemy, had never been. Perhaps she’d knownthat long before he’d revealed it in the oasis yesterday. Perhaps she had notwantedto.

But the thing that remained inside him, that shred of the demon who hadordereditall…

Iknowwhatyouare,Yrenesaidsilently.Foritwasthesamethingthathaddwelledinsidehertheseyears,takingfrom

her,evenasitsustainedher.Adifferentcreature,butstilloneandthesame.Yrenespooledhermagicbackinsideherself,theglowfading.Shesmiledup

atthesweetdarknessabove.Iunderstandnow.Anotherdropofwaterkissedherbrowinanswer.Smiling,Yrenereachedoutahandtoherancestor’sbell.Andrangit.

54

Chaolawokethenextmorningandcouldbarelymove.They’drepairedhisroom,addedextraguards,andbythetimetheroyalsat

lastreturnedfromthedunesatsundown,allwasinorder.He didn’t see Yrene for the rest of that day, andwondered if she and the

HealeronHighhad indeed foundsomethingofworth in that scroll.Butwhendinnercameandshestillhadn’tappeared,hesentKadjatoaskShenforareport.

Shenhimselfhadreturned—blushingabit,nodoubtthankstothebeautyoftheservantgirlwho’dledhimhere—andrevealedthathe’dmadesurewordwasreceivedfromtheTorrethatYrenehadreturnedsafelyandhadnotleftthetowersince.

Still,ChaolhaddebatedcallingforYrenewhenhisbackbegantoachetothepointofbeingunbearable,wheneventhecanecouldn’thelphimhobbleacrosstheroom.Butthesuitewasnotsafe.Andifshebegantostayhere,andNesrynreturnedbeforehecouldexplain—

Hecouldn’tgetthethoughtoutofhismind.Whathe’ddone,thetrusthe’dbroken.

So he’dmanaged to take a bath, hoping to ease his soremuscles, and hadnearlycrawledintobed.

Chaolawokeatdawn,triedtoreachforhiscanebesidethebed,andbitdownhisbarkofpain.

Paniccrashed intohim,wildandsharp.Hegrittedhis teeth, trying to fight

throughit.Toes.Hecouldmovehistoes.Andhisankles.Andhisknees—Hisneckarchedattheripplingagonyasheshiftedhisknees,histhighs,his

hips.Oh,gods.He’dpushedittoofar,he’d—Thedoorflungopen,andthereshewas,inthatpurplegown.Yrene’s eyes widened, then settled—as if she’d been about to tell him

something.Instead, thatmaskof steadycalmslidoverher facewhile she tiedherhair

backinherusualhalf-upfashionandapproachedonunfalteringfeet.“Canyoumove?”

“Yes,butthepain—”Hecouldbarelyspeak.Droppinghersatcheltothecarpet,Yrenerolleduphersleeves.“Canyouturn

over?”No.He’dtried,and—She didn’t wait for his answer. “Describe exactly what you did yesterday,

fromthemomentIleftuntilnow.”Chaoldid.Allofit,rightuntilthebath—Yrenesworeviciously.“Ice.Icetohelpstrainedmuscles,notheat.”Sheblew

outabreath.“Ineedyoutorollover.Itwillhurtlikehell,butit’sbestifyoudoitinonego—”

Hedidn’twait.Hegrittedhisteethanddidit.Ascreamshatteredfromhis throat,butYrenewasinstantly there,handson

hischeek,hishair,mouthagainsthistemple.“Good,”shebreathedontohisskin.“Braveman.”

He hadn’t botheredwithmore than undershortswhile sleeping, so she hadlittletodotopreparehimasshehoveredherhandsoverhisback,tracingtheairabovehisskin.

“It…itcreptback,”shebreathed.

“I’mnotsurprised,”hesaidthroughhisteeth.Notatall.Sheloweredherhandstohersides.“Why?”He traceda fingerover theembroideredcoverlet.“Just—dowhatyouhave

to.”Yrenepausedathisdeflection—thenriffled throughherbagforsomething.

Thebit.Sheheldit inherhands,however, insteadofslidingit intohismouth.“I’mgoingin,”shesaidquietly.

“Allright.”“No—I’mgoingin,andI’mendingthis.Today.Rightnow.”Ittookamomentforthewordstosinkin.Allthatit’dentail.Hedaredask,

“AndwhatifIcan’t?”Faceit,endureit?TherewasnofearinYrene’seyes,nohesitation.“That’snotmyquestionto

answer.”No,itneverhadbeen.Chaolwatchedthesunlightdanceonherlocket,over

thosemountainsandseas.Whatshemightnowwitnesswithinhim,howbadlyhe’dfailed,overandover—

But they hadwalked this far down the road. Together. She had not turnedaway.Fromanyofit.

Andneitherwouldhe.Histhroatthick,Chaolmanagedtosay,“Youcouldhurtyourselfifyoustay

toolong.”Again,norippleofdoubtorterror.“Ihaveatheory.Iwanttotestit.”Yrene

slidthebitbetweenhislips,andheclampeddownlightly.“Andyou—you’retheonlypersonIcantryiton.”

ItoccurredtoChaol,rightasshelaidherhandsonhisbarespine,whyhewastheonlyoneshecouldtryiton.Buttherewasnothinghecoulddoaspainandblacknessslammedintohim.

No way to stop Yrene as she plunged into his body, her magic a whiteswarminglightaroundthem,insidethem.

TheValg.Hisbodyhadbeentaintedbytheirpower,andYrene—

Yrenedidnothesitate.Shesoaredthroughhim,downtheladderofhisspine,downthecorridorsof

hisbonesandblood.Shewasaspearoflight,firedstraightintothedark,aimingforthathovering

shadowthathadstretchedoutoncemore.Thathadtriedtoreclaimhim.Yreneslammedintothedarknessandscreamed.Itroaredback,andtheytangled,grappling.Itwasforeignandcoldandhollow;itwasrifewithrotandwindandhate.Yrenethrewherselfintoit.Everylastdrop.And above, as if the surface of a night-dark sea separated them, Chaol

bellowedwithagony.Today.Itendedtoday.Iknowwhatyouare.SoYrenefought,andsothedarknessragedback.

55

Theagonytorethroughhim,unendinganddepthless.Heblackedoutwithinaminute.Leavinghimtofree-fallintothisplace.This

pit.Thebottomofthedescent.Thehollowhellbeneaththerootsofamountain.Here,whereallwaslockedandburied.Here,whereallhadcometotakeroot.Theemptyfoundation,minedandhackedapart,crumbledawayintonothing

butthispit.Nothing.Nothing.Nothing.Worthlessandnothing.Hesawhisfatherfirst.Hismotherandbrotherandthatcoldmountainkeep.

Sawthestairscrustedwith the iceandsnow,stainedwithblood.Sawthemanhe’dgladlysoldhimselfoutto,thinkingitwouldgetAelintosafety.Celaenatosafety.

He’dsentthewomanhe’dlovedtothesafetyofanotherassassination.HadsenthertoWendlyn,thinkingitbetterthanAdarlan.Tokillitsroyalfamily.

His father emerged from the dark, the mirror of the man he might havebecome, might one day be. Distaste and disappointment etched his father’sfeaturesashebeheldhim,thesonthatmighthavebeen.

Hisfather’saskingprice…he’dthoughtitaprisonsentence.Butperhaps ithadbeena shotat freedom—at savinghisuseless,wayward

sonfromtheevilhelikelysuspectedwasabouttobeunleashed.Hehadbrokenthatpromisetohisfather.He hated him, and yet his father—that horrible, miserable bastard—had

upheldhisendofthebargain.He…hehadnot.Oath-breaker.Traitor.Everything he had done, Aelin had come to rip it apart. Starting with his

honor.She,withherfluidity,thatmurkyareainwhichshedwelled…He’dbroken

hisvowsforher.Brokeneverythinghewasforher.Hecouldseeher,inthedark.Thegoldhair,thoseturquoiseeyesthathadbeenthelastclue,thefinalpiece

ofthepuzzle.Liar.Murderer.Thief.Shebaskedinthesunatopachaiselongueonthebalconyofthatsuiteshe’d

occupiedinthepalace,abookinherlap.Tiltingherheadtotheside,shelookedhimoverwiththatlazyhalfsmile.Acatbeingstirredfromitsrepose.

Hehatedher.He hated that face, the amusement and sharpness. The temper and

viciousness thatcouldreducesomeonetoshredswithoutsomuchasaword—onlyalook.Onlyabeatofsilence.

Sheenjoyedsuchthings.Savoredthem.And he had been so bewitched by it, this woman who had been a living

flame.He’dbeenwillingtoleaveitallbehind.Thehonor.Thevowshe’dmade.Forthishaughty,swaggering,self-righteouswoman,hehadshatteredpartsof

himself.Andafterward,shehadwalkedaway,asifhewereabrokentoy.

Right into the arms of that Fae Prince, who emerged from the dark.Whoapproachedthatloungechaironthebalconyandsatonitsend.

Herhalfsmileturneddifferent.Hereyessparked.The lethal, predatory interest honed in on the prince. She seemed to glow

brighter.Becomemoreaware.Morecentered.More…alive.Fireandice.Anendandabeginning.Theydidnottoucheachother.Theyonly saton thatchaise, someunspokenconversationpassingbetween

them.Asiftheyhadfinallyfoundsomereflectionofthemselvesintheworld.Hehatedthem.Hehatedthemforthatease,thatintensity,thatsenseofcompletion.She hadwrecked him,wrecked his life, and had then strolled right to this

prince,asifsheweregoingfromoneroomtoanother.Andwhenithadallgonetohell,whenhe’dturnedhisbackoneverythinghe

knew,whenhehad lied to theonewhomatteredmost tokeephersecrets,shehadnotbeentheretofight.Tohelp.

Shehadonlyreturned,monthslater,andthrownitinhisface.Hisuselessness.Hisnothingness.Youremindmeofhowtheworldoughttobe.Whattheworldcanbe.Lies. The words of a girl who had been grateful to him for offering her

freedom,forpushingandpushingheruntilshewasroaringattheworldagain.Agirlwhohadstoppedexistingthenightthey’dfoundthatbodyonthebed.Whenshehadrippedhisfaceopen.Whenshehadtriedtoplungethatdaggerintohisheart.Thepredatorhe’dseeninthoseeyes…ithadbeenunleashed.Therewere no leashes that could ever keep her restrained.Andwords like

honoranddutyandtrust,theyweregone.Shehadguttedthatcourtesaninthetunnels.She’dlettheman’sbodydrop,

closed her eyes, and had looked precisely as she had during those throes of

passion.Andwhenshehadopenedhereyesagain…Killer.Liar.Thief.Shewas still sitting on the chaise, theFaePrince beside her, both of them

watchingthatsceneinthetunnel,asiftheywerespectatorsinasport.WatchingArcherFinnslumptothestones,hisbloodleakingfromhim,face

tautwithshockandpain.WatchingChaolstandthere,unabletomoveorspeak,asshebreathedinthedeathbeforeher,thevengeance.

AsCelaenaSardothienended,shatteringcompletely.Hehadstilltriedtoprotecther.Togetherout.Toatone.Youwillalwaysbemyenemy.Shehadroaredthosewordswithtenyears’worthofrage.And she hadmeant it.Meant it as any childwho had lost and suffered at

Adarlan’shandwouldmeanit.AsYrenemeantit.Thegardenappearedinanotherpocketof thedarkness.Thegardenandthe

cottageandthemotherandlaughingchild.Yrene.Thethinghehadnotseencoming.Thepersonhehadnotexpectedtofind.Hereinthedarkness…hereshewas.Andyethehadstillfailed.Hadn’tdonerightbyher,orbyNesryn.Heshouldhavewaited,shouldhaverespectedthembothenoughtoendone

andbeginwithanother,buthesupposedhehadfailedinthat,too.AelinandRowanremainedonthatchaiseinthesunshine.HesawtheFaePrincegently, reverently, takeAelin’shand, turning itover.

Exposingherwristtothesun.Exposingthefaintmarksofshackles.He sawRowan rub a thumb over those scars. Saw the fire inAelin’s eyes

bank.Overandover,Rowanbrushedthosescarswithhisthumb.AndAelin’smask

slidoff.

Therewasfireinthatface.Andrage.Andcunning.Butalsosorrow.Fear.Despair.Guilt.Shame.Prideandhopeandlove.Theweightofaburdenshehadrunfrom,butnow

…Iloveyou.I’msorry.Shehadtriedtoexplain.Hadsaiditasclearlyasshecould.Hadgivenhim

the truth so hemight piece it togetherwhen she had left and understand. Shemeantthosewords.I’msorry.

Sorryforthelies.Forwhatshehaddonetohim,hislife.Forswearingthatshewouldpickhim,choosehim,nomatterwhat.Always.

He wanted to hate her for that lie. That false promise, which she haddiscardedinthemistyforestsofWendlyn.

Andyet.There,withthatprince,withoutthemask…Thatwasthebottomofherpit.ShehadcometoRowan,soullimping.Shehadcometohimasshewas,as

shehadneverbeenwithanyone.Andshehadreturnedwhole.Stillshehadwaited—waitedtobewithhim.ChaolhadbeenlustingforYrene,hadtakenherintohisbedwithoutsomuch

asthinkingofNesryn,andyetAelin…SheandRowanlookedtohimnow.Stillasananimalinthewoods,bothof

them.Buttheireyesfullofunderstanding.Knowing.She had fallen in love with someone else, had wanted someone else—as

badlyashewantedYrene.And yet itwasAelin, godless and irreverent,who had honored him.More

thanhe’dhonoredNesryn.Aelin’schindippedasiftosayyes.AndRowan…TheprincehadletherreturntoAdarlan.Tomakerightbyher

kingdom,buttoalsodecideforherselfwhatshewanted.Whoshewanted.AndifAelinhadchosenChaolinstead…Heknew,deepdown,Rowanwouldhavebackedoff.IfithadmadeAelinhappy,Rowanwouldhavewalkedawaywithoutevertellingherwhathefelt.

Shamepressedonhim,sickeningandoily.Hehadcalledheramonster.Forherpower,heractions,andyet…Hedidnotblameher.Heunderstood.Thatperhapsshehadpromisedthings,but…shehadchanged.Thepathhad

changed.Heunderstood.He’dpromisedNesryn—orhadimpliedit.Andwhenhehadchanged,when

thepathhadaltered;whenYreneappeareddownit…Heunderstood.Aelin smiled softly at him as she and Rowan rippled into a sunbeam and

vanished.Leavingaredmarblefloor,bloodpoolingacrossit.Aheadbumpingvulgarlyoversmoothtile.Aprincescreaminginagony,inrageanddespair.Iloveyou.Go.That—iftherehadbeenacleaving,itwasthatmoment.Whenheturnedandran.Andhelefthisfriend,hisbrother,inthatchamber.Whenheranfromthatfight,thatdeath.Dorianhadforgivenhim.Didnotholditagainsthim.Yethehadstillrun.Stillleft.Everythinghehadplanned,workedtosave,allcamecrumblingdown.Dorianstoodbeforehim,handsinhispockets,afaintsmileonhisface.Hedidnotdeservetoservesuchaman.Suchaking.

The darkness pushed in further. Revealing that bloody council room.Revealingtheprinceandkinghe’dserved.Revealingwhattheyhaddone.Tohismen.

Inthatchamberbeneaththecastle.HowDorianhadsmiled.SmiledwhileResshadscreamed,whileBrullohad

spatinhisface.Hisfault—allofit.Everymomentofpain,thosedeaths…ItshowedhimDorian’shandsastheywieldedthoseinstrumentsbeneaththe

castle.Asbloodspurtedandbonesundered.Unfaltering,cleanhands.Andthatsmile.

Heknew.Hehadknown,hadguessed.Nothingwouldevermakeitright.Forhismen;forDorian,lefttolivewithit.

ForDorian,whomhe’dabandonedinthatcastle.Thatmoment,overandover,thedarknessshowedhim.AsDorian held his ground. As he revealed hismagic, as good as a death

sentence,andboughthimtimetorun.Hehadbeensoafraid—soafraidofmagic,of loss,ofeverything.And that

fear…ithaddrivenhimtoitanyway.Ithadhurriedhimdownthispath.Hehadclung so hard, had fought against it, and it had cost him everything.Too late.He’dbeentoolatetoseeclearly.

Andwhentheworsthadhappened;whenhesawthatcollar;whenhesawhismenswingingfromthegates,theirbrokenbodiespickedoverbycrows…

Ithadcrackedhimthroughtohisfoundation.Tothishollowpitbeneaththemountainhe’dbeen.

Hehadfallenapart.Hadlethimselflosesightofit.AndhehadfoundsomeglimmerofpeaceinRifthold,evenaftertheinjury,

andyet…Itwaslikeapplyingapatchoveraknifewoundtothegut.Hehadnothealed.Unmooredandraging,hehadnotwantedtoheal.

Notreally.Hisbody,yes,buteventhat…Somepartofhimhadwhispereditwasdeserved.Andthesoul-wound…Hehadbeencontenttoletitfester.Failureandliarandoath-breaker.Thedarknessswarmed,awindstirringit.Hecouldstayhereforever.Intheagelessdark.Yes,thedarknesswhispered.Hecouldremain,andrageandhateandcurlintonothingbutshadow.ButDorianremainedbeforehim,stillsmilingfaintly.Waiting.Waiting.For—him.Hehadmadeonepromise.Hehadnotbrokenityet.Tosavethem.Hisfriend,hiskingdom.Hestillhadthat.Evenhereatthebottomofthisdarkhell,hestillhadthat.Andtheroadthathehadtraveledsofar…No,hewouldnotlookback.Whatifwegoon,onlytomorepainanddespair?Aelinhadsmiledathisquestion,posedonthatrooftopinRifthold.Asifshe

hadunderstood, longbefore he did, that hewould find this pit.And learn theanswerforhimself.Thenitisnottheend.This…Thiswasnottheend.Thiscrackinhim,thisbottom,wasnottheend.Hehadonepromiseleft.Tothathewouldstillhold.Itisnottheend.HesmiledatDorian,whosesapphireeyesshonewithjoy—withlove.“I’mcominghome,”hewhisperedtohisbrother,hisking.

Dorianonlybowedhisheadandvanishedintothedarkness.LeavingYrenestandingbehindhim.Shewasglowingwithwhitelight,brightasanewbornstar.Yrenesaidquietly,“Thedarknessbelongs toyou.Toshapeasyouwill.To

giveitpowerorrenderitharmless.”“WasitevertheValg’stobeginwith?”Hiswordsechoedintonothing.“Yes.Butitisyourstokeepnow.Thisplace,thisfinalkernelofit.”Itwouldremaininhim,ascarandareminder.“Willitgrowagain?”“Onlyifyouletit.Onlyifyoudonotfillitwithbetterthings.Onlyifyoudo

not forgive.” He knew she didn’t just mean others. “But if you are kind toyourself,ifyou—ifyouloveyourself…”Yrene’smouthtrembled.“IfyouloveyourselfasmuchasIloveyou…”

Something began to pound in his chest. A drumbeat that had gone silentdownhere.

Yreneheldahandtowardhim,heriridescenceripplingintothedarkness.Itisnottheend.“Willithurt?”heaskedhoarsely.“Thewayback—thewayout?”Thepathbacktolife,tohimself.“Yes,”Yrenewhispered.“Butjustthisonelasttime.Thedarknessdoesnot

wanttoloseyou.”“I’mafraidIcan’tsaythesame.”Yrene’s smilewasbrighter than theglowripplingoffherbody.Astar.She

wasafallenstar.Sheextendedherhandagain.Asilentpromise—ofwhatwaitedontheother

sideofthedark.Hestillhadmuchtodo.Oathstokeep.Andlookingather,atthatsmile…Life.Hehadlifetosavor,tofightfor.Andthebreakingthathadstartedandendedhere…Yes,itbelongedtohim.

Hewasallowedtobreak,sothatthisforgingmightbegin.Sothathemightbeginagain.Heowedittohisking,hiscountry.Andheowedittohimself.Yrenenoddedasiftosayyes.SoChaolstood.Hesurveyedthedarkness,thispieceofhim.Hedidnotbalkatit.AndsmilingatYrene,hetookherhand.

56

Itwasagonyanddespairandfear.Itwasjoyandlaughterandrest.Itwaslife,allofit,andasthatdarknesslungedforChaolandYrene,hedid

notfearit.Heonlylookedtowardthedarkandsmiled.Notbroken.Madeanew.Andwhenthedarknessbeheldhim…Chaolslidahandagainstitscheek.Kisseditsbrow.It loosened itsgripand tumbledback into thatpit.Curledupon that rocky

floorandquietly,carefully,watchedhim.Hehadthesenseofrisingup,ofbeingsuckedthroughatoo-thindoor.Yrene

graspedhim,haulinghimalongwithher.Shedidnotletgo.Didnotfalter.Shespearedthemupward,astarracinginto

thenight.Whitelightslammedintothem—No.Daylight.Hesqueezedhiseyesshutagainstthebrightness.Thefirstthinghefeltwasnothing.Nopain.Nonumbness.Noacheorexhaustion.Gone.His legswere…Hemovedone. It flowedand shiftedwithout a flickerof

painortension.Smoothasbutter.Helookedtotheright,towhereYrenealwayssat.Shewassimplysmilingdownathim.“How,”herasped.Joylitherstunningeyes.“Mytheory…I’llexplainlater.”“Isthemark—”Hermouthtightened.“Itissmaller,but…stillthere.”Shepokedapointon

hisspine.“ThoughIdonotfeelanythingwhenItouchit.Nothingatall.”A reminder.As if somegodwantedhim to remember this, rememberwhat

hadoccurred.Hesatup,marvelingattheease,thelackofstiffness.“Youhealedme.”“I thinkwebothget considerable credit this time.”Her lipswere toopale,

skinwan.Chaolbrushedhercheekwithhisknuckles.“Areyoufeelingwell?”“I’m—tired.Butfine.Areyoufeelingwell?”He scoopedYrene into his lap and buried his head in her neck. “Yes,” he

breathed.“Athousandtimes,yes.”Hischest…therewasalightnesstoit.Tohisshoulders.Shebattedhimaway.“Youstillneed tobecareful.Thisnewlyhealed,you

couldstillinjureyourself.Giveyourbodytimetorest—toletthehealingset.”Heliftedabrow.“What,exactly,doesrestingentail?”Yrene’ssmile turnedwicked.“Some things thatonlyspecialpatientsget to

learn.”Hisskintightenedoverhisbones,butYreneslidoffhislap.“Youmightwant

tobathe.”Heblinked,lookingathimself.Atthebed.Andcringed.Thatwasvomit.Onthesheets,onhisleftarm.“When—”

“I’mnotsure.”Thesettingsunwasindeedgildingthegarden,crammingtheroomwithlong

shadows.Hours.Allday,they’dbeeninhere.Chaolmovedoffthebed,marvelingathowheslidthroughtheworldlikea

bladethroughsilk.Hefeltherwatchinghimashestrodeforthebathingroom.“Hotwaterissafe

now?”hecalledoverhisshoulder,strippingoffhisundershortsandsteppingintothedeliciouslywarmbath.

“Yes,”shecalledback.“You’renotfullofstrainedmuscles.”Hedunkedunderthewater,scrubbinghimselfoff.Everymovement…holy

gods.When he broke from the surface,wiping thewater from his face, shewas

standinginthearcheddoorway.Hewentstillatthesmokinessinhereyes.Slowly,Yreneundidthelacesdownthefrontofthatpalepurplegown.Letit

rippletothefloor,alongwithherundergarments.His mouth turned dry as she kept her eyes upon him, hips swishing with

everystepshetooktothepool.Tothestairs.Yrenesteppedintothewater,andhisbloodroaredinhisears.Chaolwasuponherbeforeshe’dhitthelaststep.

Theymisseddinner.Anddessert.Andmidnightkahve.Kadja snuck in during the bath to change the sheets.Yrene couldn’t bring

herselftobemortifiedatwhattheservanthadlikelyheard.Theycertainlyhadn’tbeenquietinthewater.

Andcertainlyweren’tquietduringthehoursfollowing.

Yrenewaslimpwithexhaustionwhentheypeeledapart,sweatyenoughthatanother trip to the bath was imminent. Chaol’s chest rose and fell in mightygulps.

Inthedesert,he’dbeenunbelievable.Butnow,healed—beyondthespine,thelegs;healedinthatdark,rottingplacewithinhissoul…

Hepressedakisstohersweat-stickybrow,hislipscatchinginthestraycurlsthathadappearedthanksto thebath.Hisotherhanddrewcirclesonher lowerback.

“Yousaidsomething—downinthatpit,”hemurmured.Yrenewastootiredtoformwordsbeyondalow“Mmm.”“Yousaidthatyouloveme.”Well,thatwokeherup.Herstomachclenched.“Don’tfeelobligatedto—”Chaolsilencedherwiththatsteady,unruffledlook.“Isittrue?”Shetracedthescardownhischeek.Shehadnotseenmuchofthebeginning,

hadonlybrokenintohismemoriesintimetoseethatbeautiful,dark-hairedman—Dorian—smiling at him.But she had sensed it, knownwho had given himthatrecentscar.

“Yes.”And thoughhervoicewas soft, shemeant itwith every inchofhersoul.

The corners of hismouth tugged upward. “Then it is a good thing, YreneTowers,thatIloveyouaswell.”

Her chest tightened; she became too full for her body, for what coursedthroughher.

“From themoment youwalked into the sitting room that first day,”Chaolsaid.“IthinkIknew,eventhen.”

“Iwasastranger.”“Youlookedatmewithoutanounceofpity.Yousawme.Notthechairorthe

injury.Yousawme.ItwasthefirsttimeI’dfelt…seen.Feltawake, inalong

time.”Shekissedhischest,rightoverhisheart.“HowcouldIresistthesemuscles?”His laugh rumbled into her mouth, her bones. “The consummate

professional.”Yrene smiledontohis skin. “Thehealerswill never letmehear the endof

this.Hafizaisalreadybesideherselfwithglee.”Butshestiffened,consideringtheroadahead.Thechoices.Chaol said after amoment, “WhenNesryn returns, I plan tomake it clear.

ThoughIthinksheknewbeforeIdid.”Yrenenodded,tryingtofightofftheshakinessthatcreptoverher.“Andbeyondthat…Thechoiceisyours,Yrene.Whenyouleave.Howyou

leave.Ifyoutrulywanttoleaveatall.”Shebracedherself.“But ifyou’llhaveme…therewillbeaplace foryouonmyship.Atmy

side.”Sheletoutadaintyhumandtracedacirclearoundhisnipple.“Whatsortof

place?”Chaol stretched out like a cat, tucking his arms behind his head as he

drawled,“Theusualoptions:scullerymaid,cook,dishwasher—”Shepokedhisribs,andhelaughed.Itwasabeautifulsound,richanddeep.Buthisbrowneyessoftenedashecuppedherface.“Whatplacewouldyou

like,Yrene?”Herheartthunderedatthequestion,thetimbreofhisvoice.Butshesmirked

andsaid,“Whicheveronegivesmetherighttoyellatyouifyoupushyourselftoohard.”Shedrewherhandalonghislegs,hisback.Careful—he’dhavetobeso,socarefulforawhile.

AcornerofChaol’smouthkickedup,andhehauledheroverhim.“IthinkIknowofjusttheposition.”

57

TheEridunaeriewasmadnesswhentheyreturned.Falkanwasalive—barely—andhadcausedsuchpanicupontheruks’arrival

atAltunthatHoulunhadtoleapinfrontofthelimpspidertokeeptheotherruksfromshreddinghimapart.

SartaqhadmanagedtostandlongenoughtoembraceKadara,orderahealerto come for her immediately, then wrap his arms around Borte, who wasspatteredinblackbloodandgrinningfromeartoear.ThenSartaqclaspedarmswith Yeran, whom Borte pointedly ignored, which Nesryn supposed was animprovementfromoutrighthostility.

“How?”SartaqaskedBortewhileNesrynhoveredneartheunconsciousformofFalkan,stillnottrustingtherukstocontrolthemselves.

Yeran, his company of Berlad ruks having returned to their own aerie,steppedawayfromhisawaitingmountandansweredinstead,“Bortecametogetme.SaidshewasgoingonastupidlydangerousmissionandIcouldeither letherdiealoneorcomealong.”

Sartaqraspedalaugh.“Youwereforbidden,”hetoldBorte,glancingtowardwhere Houlun knelt at Falkan’s side, the hearth-mother indeed looking tornbetweenreliefandoutrightrage.

Bortesniffed.“Bymyhearth-motherhere.AsIamcurrentlybetrothed toacaptain of the Berlad”—emphasis on currently, to Yeran’s chagrin, it seemed—“I also can claim partial loyalty to the hearth-mother there. Who had no

qualmsaboutlettingmespendsomequalitytimewithmybetrothed.”“Wewillhavewords,sheandI,”Houlunseethedassherosetoherfeetand

strodepast,orderingseveralpeopletobringFalkanfartherintothehall.Wincingatthespider’sweight,theygingerlyobeyed.

Borte shrugged, turning to follow Houlun to where the shifter would bepatchedupasbesttheycouldmanageinthatspider’sbody.“Atleasthishearth-mother’ssenseofqualitytimeisinlinewithmyown,”shesaid,andwalkedoff.

Yet as she left,Nesryn could have swornBorte gaveYeran a secret, smallsmile.

Yeranstaredafterherforalongmoment,thenturnedtothem.Gavethemacrookedgrin.“Shepromisedtosetadate.That’showshegotmyhearth-mothertoapprove.”HewinkedatSartaq.“ToobadIdidn’ttellherthatIdon’tapproveofthedateatall.”

Andwith that, he strode after Borte, jogging a few steps to catch up. Shewhirledonhim,sharpwordsalreadysnappingfromherlips,butallowedhimtofollowherintothehall.

WhenNesrynfacedSartaq,itwasintimetoseehimsway.She lunged,herachingbodyprotestingasshecaught theprincearound the

middle.Someoneshoutedforahealer,butSartaqgothislegsbeneathhim,evenashekepthisarmsabouther.

Nesrynfoundherselfdisinclinedtoremoveherownarmsfromhiswaist.Sartaq stareddown at her, that soft, sweet smile onhismouth again. “You

savedme.”“It seemed a sorry end for the tales of the Winged Prince,” she replied,

frowningatthegashinhisleg.“Youshouldbesitting—”Across the hall, light flashed, people cried out… and then the spiderwas

gone.Replacedbyaman,coveredinslashingcutsandblood.WhenNesrynlookedback,Sartaq’sgazewasonherface.Herthroatclosedup,hermouthpressingintoatremblinglineassherealized

that theywerehere.Theywerehere,andalive,andshehadneverknownsuchtrue terror anddespair as shehad in thosemomentswhenhehadbeenhauledaway.

“Don’t cry,”hemurmured, leaningdown tobrushhismouthover the tearsthatescaped.Hesaidagainstherskin,“WhateverwouldtheysayaboutNeith’sArrowthen?”

Nesrynlaugheddespiteherself,despitewhathadhappened,andwrappedherarmsaroundhimastightlyasshedared,restingherheadagainsthischest.

Sartaqjustwordlesslystrokedherhairandheldherrightback.

TheCouncilofClansmettwodayslateratdawn.Hearth-mothers and their captains fromevery aerie gathered in the hall, so

manythatthespacewasfilled.Nesrynhadslepttheentiretyofthedaybefore.Not inherroom,butcurled inbedbeside theprincenowstandingwithher

beforetheassembledgroup.They had both been patched up and bathed, and though Sartaq had not so

muchaskissedher…Nesrynhadnotobjectedwhenheledherbythehandandlimpedintohisbedroom.

Sotheyhadslept.Andwhentheyhadawoken,whentheirwoundshadbeenrebandaged,they’demergedtofindthehallfullofriders.

Falkansatagainstthefarwall,hisarminasling,buteyesclear.Nesrynhadsmiledathimasshe’dentered,butnowwasnotthetimeforthatreunion.Orthepossibletruthsshebore.

When Houlun had finished welcoming everyone, when silence fell on thehall,Nesryn stood shoulder to shoulderwithSartaq. Itwas strange to seehimwiththeshorterhair—strange,butnotawful.Itwouldgrowback,hesaidwhenshehadfrownedthatmorning.

All eyes shifted between them, somewarm andwelcoming, someworried,somehard.

Sartaq said to the group gathered, “The kharankui have stirred again.”Murmursandshiftingrustledthroughthehall.“AndthoughthethreatwasdealtwithbravelyandfiercelybytheBerladclan,thespiderswilllikelyreturnagain.Theyhaveheardadarkcall throughtheworld.Andtheyarepoised toanswerit.”

Nesryn stepped forward. Lifted her chin. And though the words filled herwithdread, speaking themhere feltasnaturalasbreathing.“We learnedmanythingsinthePassofDagul,”Nesrynsaid,voiceringingoutacrossthepillarsandstonesofthehall.“Thingsthatwillchangethewarinthenorth.Andchangethisworld.”

Every eyewas onher now.Houlunnodded fromher spot nearBorte,whosmiledinencouragement.Yeransatnearby,halfwatchinghisbetrothed.

Sartaq’sfingersbrushedhers.Once—inurging.Andpromise.“Wedonotfaceanarmyofmeninthenortherncontinent,”Nesrynwenton.

“Butofdemons.Andifwedonotrise tomeet this threat, ifwedonotrise tomeetitasonepeople,ofalllands…Thenwewillfindourdoominstead.”

Soshetoldthem.Thefullhistory.OfErawan.AndMaeve.Shedidnotmentionthequestforthekeys,butbythetimeshewasdone,the

hallwasastirasclanswhisperedtooneanother.“I leave this choice toyou,”Sartaq said,voiceunfaltering. “Thehorrors in

theDagulFellsareonlythestart.Iwillpassnojudgment,shouldyouchoosetoremain.Butallwhoflywithme,wesoarunder thekhagan’sbanner.Weshallleaveyoutodebateamongstyourselves.”

And with that, taking Nesryn by the hand, Sartaq led her from the hall,Falkan falling into stepbehind them.Borte andHoulun remained, as headsoftheEridunclan.Nesrynknewhowtheywouldside, that theywouldflynorth,buttheothers…

Whispershadturnedintofull-ondebatebythetimetheyreachedoneoftheprivategatheringspaces for thefamily.ButSartaqwasonly in thesmall roomforamomentbeforeheheadedtothekitchens,leavingNesrynandFalkanwithawinkandapromisetobringbackfood.

Alonewiththeshifter,Nesrynstrodetothefireandwarmedherhands.“Howareyoufeeling?”sheasked,glancingoverhershoulder towhereFalkaneasedintoalow-backedwoodenchair.

“Everythinghurts.”Falkangrimaced,rubbingathis leg.“Remindmenevertodoanythingheroicagain.”

Shechuckledoverthecrackleofthefire.“Thankyou—fordoingthat.”“Ihavenooneinmylifewhowouldmissmeanyway.”Herthroattightened.Butsheasked,“Ifweflynorth—toAntica,andfinally

tothenortherncontinent…”Shecouldnolongerbringherselftosaytheword.Home.“Willyoucome?”

Theshifterwassilentforalongmoment.“Wouldyouwantmethere?Anyofyou?”

Nesryn turned from the fire at last, eyesburning. “Ihave something to tellyou.”

Falkanwept.PuthisheadinhishandsandweptwhenNesryntoldhimwhatshesuspected.

ShedidnotknowmuchofLysandra’spersonalhistory,buttheages,thelocationmatched.Onlythedescriptiondidnot.Themotherhaddescribedaplain,brown-hairedgirl.Notablack-haired,green-eyedbeauty.

But yes—yes, hewould come.Towar, and to find her.His niece.His lastshredoffamilyintheworld,forwhomhehadneverstoppedlooking.

Sartaqreturnedwithfood,andthirtyminuteslater,wordcamefromthehall.Theclanshaddecided.

Handsshaking,Nesrynstrodetothedoor,towhereSartaqheldoutahand.Their fingers interlaced, and he led her toward the now-silent hall. Falkan

rosepainfullyfromhischair,groaningashebrushedawayhistears,andlimpedafterthem.

Theymadeitahandfulofstepsbeforeamessengercamebarrelingdownthehall.

NesrynpulledawayfromSartaqtolethimdealwiththepanting,wild-eyedgirl.ButitwastoNesrynthemessengerextendedtheletter.

Nesryn’shandsshookassherecognizedthehandwritingonit.She felt Sartaq stiffen as he, too, realized that thewritingwasChaol’s.He

steppedback,eyesshuttered,toletherreadit.She read the message twice. Had to take a steady breath to keep from

vomiting.“He—he requests my presence in Antica. Needs it,” she said, the note

flutteringinhershakinghand.“Hebegsustoreturnimmediately.Asfastasthewindscancarryus.”

Sartaqtookthelettertoreadforhimself.Falkanremainedquietandwatchfulastheprincereadit.Swore.

“Somethingiswrong,”Sartaqsaid,andNesrynnodded.IfChaol,whoneveraskedforhelp,neverwantedhelp,hadtoldthemtohurry

…Sheglancedtowardthecouncil,stillwaitingtoannouncetheirdecision.ButNesrynonlyaskedtheprince,“Howsooncanwebeairborne?”

58

Morningcameandwent,andYrenewasinnorushtorisefrombed.NeitherwasChaol.Theyatealeisurelylunchinthesittingroom,notbotheringwithproperclothes.

Hafizawoulddecideinherowntimewhethertogivethemthosebooks.Sothey’djusthavetowait.AndthenwaittoencounterAelinGalathyniusagain,oranyone else who might be able to decipher them. Chaol said as much, afterYrenetoldhimwhatHafizahadconfirmed.

“Theremustbeconsiderable information inside thosebooks,”Chaolmusedashechewedonpomegranateseeds, the fruit likesmall rubieshepopped intohismouth.

“If they date back as far aswe think,”Yrene said, “ifmanyof those textscame from thenecropolisor similar sites, it couldbe a trove.About theValg.Ourconnectiontothem.”

“AelinluckedoutinRifthold,whenshestumbledacrossthosefewbooks.”He’dtoldherlastnight—oftheassassinnamedCelaena,whohadturnedout

tobeaqueennamedAelin.Theentirehistoryofit,laidbare.Alongone,andasadone.Hisvoicehadgrownhoarsewhenhe’dtalkedofDorian.OfthecollarandtheValgprince.Ofthosetheyhadlost.Ofhisownrole,thesacrificeshe’dmade,thepromiseshe’dbroken.Allofit.

And if Yrene had not loved him already, shewould have loved him then,learningthattruth.Seeingthemanhewasbecoming,turninginto,afterallofit.

“Thekingsomehowmissedthemduringhisinitialresearchandpurging.”“Orperhapssomegodmadesurehedid,”Yrenemused.Sheliftedabrow.“I

don’tsupposethereareanyBaastCatsatthatlibrary.”Chaol shook his head and set down the looted corpse of the pomegranate.

“Aelin has always had a god or two perched on her shoulder.Nothingwouldsurprisemeatthispoint.”

Yreneconsidered.“Whateverdidhappenwiththeking?IfhehadthatValgdemon.”

Chaol’s face darkened as he leaned back on the not-nearly-as-comfortablereplacementfortheshreddedgoldsofa.“Aelinhealedhim.”

Yrenesatupstraighter.“How?”“Sheburneditoutofhim.Well,sheandDoriandid.”“Andtheman—thetrueking—survivedit?”“No. Initially,yes.ButneitherAelinnorDorianwanted to talkmuchabout

what happened on that bridge. He survived long enough to explain what hadbeendone,butIthinkhewasfadingfast.ThenAelindestroyedthecastle.Andhimwithit.”

“ButfireridtheValgdemonwithinhim?”“Yes.AndIthinkithelpedsaveDorian,too.Oratleastboughthimenough

freedomtofightbackonhisown.”Heangledhishead.“Whydoyouask?”“BecausethattheoryIhad…”Yrene’skneebounced.Shescannedtheroom,

thedoors.Noonenearby.“I think…”Sheleanedcloser,grippinghisknee.“IthinktheValgareparasites.Infections.”

He opened his mouth, but Yrene plowed ahead. “Hafiza and I pulled atapewormfromHasarwhenIfirstcamehere.Theyfeedofftheirhost,muchinthesamewaytheValgdo.Takeoverbasicneeds—likehunger.Andeventuallykilltheirhosts,whenallthoseresourceshavebeenusedup.”

Chaolwentutterlystill.“Butthesearenomindlessgrubs.”“Yes, and that was what I wanted to see with you yesterday. How much

awarenessthatdarknesshad.Theextentoftheirpower.Ifithadleftsomesortofparasite in your bloodstream. It didn’t, but…Therewas the other parasite—feedingoffyou,givingitcontrol.”

Hewassilent.Yreneclearedher throat,caressingher thumboverhiswrist.“Irealizedthe

nightbefore.ThatIhadoneofmyown.Myhatred,myangerandfearandpain.”She brushed away a stray curl. “Theywere all parasites, feeding onme theseyears.Sustainingme,butalsofeedingonme.”

Andonce shehadunderstood that—that theplace shemost feared to treadwasinsideherself,whereshemighthavetoacknowledgewhat,exactly,dwelledwithinher…

“WhenIrealizedwhatIwasdoing,Iunderstoodthat’swhattheValgtrulyis,deepdown.Whatyourownshadowsare.Parasites.Andenduringittheseweekswas not the same as facing it. So I attacked it as Iwould any other parasite;swarmedaroundit.Madeitcometoyou—attackyouashardasitcouldtogetawayfromme.Sothatyoumightfaceit,defeatit.Soyoumightgowhereyoufearedmosttotread,anddecidewhether,atlast,youwerereadytofightback.”

Hiseyeswereclear,bright.“That’sabigrealization.”“It certainlywas.” She consideredwhat he’d related—aboutAelin and the

demon inside the dead king. “Fire is cleansing. Purifying. But amongst thehealing arts, it’s not often used. Too unwieldy. Water is better-tuned to thehealing.Butthentherearerawhealinggifts.Likemine.”

“Light,”Chaolsaid.“Itlookedlikeswarminglights,againsttheirdarkness.”She nodded. “Aelin managed to get Dorian and his father free. Roughly,

crudely,andonedidnotsurvive.Butwhatifahealerwithmysortofgiftswastotreatsomeonepossessed—infectedby theValg?Thering, thecollar, they’reimplantationdevices.Likeabadbitofwater,or taintedfood.Merelyacarrierfor something small, the kernel of those demons, who then growwithin theirhosts. Removing it is the first step, but you said the demon can remain even

afterward.”Hischestbegantoheaveinanunevenrhythmashenodded.Yrenewhispered,“IthinkIcanhealthem.IthinktheValg…Ithinktheyare

parasites,andIcantreatthepeopletheyinfect.”“TheneveryoneErawanhascaptured,heldwiththoseringsandcollars—”“Wecouldpotentiallyfreethem.”He squeezed her hand. “But you’d have to get close to them. And their

power,Yrene—”“I would assume that is where Aelin and Dorian would come in. To hold

themdown.”“There’s no way to test this, though. Without considerable risk.” His jaw

tightened. “It has to be why Erawan’s agent is hunting you. To erase theknowledgeofthat.Tokeepyoufromrealizingitbyhealingme.Andrelayingittootherhealers.”

“Ifthatisthecase,though…Whynow?Whywaitthislong?”“PerhapsErawandidnotevenconsiderit.UntilAelinpurgedtheValgfrom

Dorianandtheking.”Herubbedathischest.“Butthereisaring.ItbelongedtoAthril,friendtoKingBrannonandMaeve.ItgrantedAthrilimmunityfromtheValg.Itwaslosttohistory—theonlyoneofitskind.Aelinfoundit.AndMaevewanteditbadlyenoughthatshetradedRowanforit.LegendsaidMalaherselfforgeditforAthril,but…MalalovedBrannon,notAthril.”

Chaol shotup from thecouch,andYrenewatchedhimpace. “Therewasatapestry.InAelin’soldroom.Atapestrythatshowedastag,andhidtheentrancethat leddownto the tombwhere theWyrdkeyhadbeenhiddenbyBrannon.ItwasAelin’sfirstcluethatsetherdownthispath.”

“And?”Thewordwasapushofair.“Andtherewasanowlonitamongsttheforestanimals.ItwasAthril’sform.

Not Brannon’s. All of that was coded—the tapestry, the tomb. Symbols uponsymbols.Buttheowl…Weneverthought.Neverconsidered.”

“Consideredwhat?”Chaol halted in the middle of the room. “That the owl might not just be

Athril’sanimalform,buthissigilbecauseofhisloyaltytosomeoneelse.”Anddespitethewarmday,Yrene’sbloodchilledasshesaid,“Silba.”Chaolnoddedslowly.“GoddessofHealing.”Yrenewhispered,“Maladidnotmakethatringofimmunity.”“No.Shedidn’t.”Silbadid.“WeneedtogotoHafiza,”Yrenesaidsoftly.“Evenifshewon’tletustake

thebooks,weshouldaskhertolookatthem—seeforourselveswhatmighthavesurvivedallthistime.WhatthoseFaehealersmighthavelearnedinthatwar.”

Hemotionedhertorise.“We’llgonow.”But thesuitedoorsopened,andHasarbreezed in,hergold-and-greendress

flowing.“Well,”shesaid,smirkingattheirlackofclothes,theirdisheveledhair.“At

leastyoutwoarecomfortable.”Yrenehadthesensetheworldwasabouttobeknockedfrombeneathheras

theprincesssmiledatChaol.“We’vehadsomenews.Fromyourlands.”“Whatisit.”Thewordsweregroundout.Hasarpickedathernails.“Oh,justthatQueenMaeve’sarmadamanagedto

find the hostAelinGalathynius has been so sneakily patching together. Therewasquitethebattle.”

59

Chaol debated strangling the smirking princess. But he managed to keep hishandsathis sides,managed tokeephis chinhighdespite the fact thathewasonlywearinghispants,andsaid,“What.Happened.”

A naval battle. Aelin againstMaeve. He waited for the dangling sword todrop.Ifhehadbeentoolate—

Hasarlookedupfromhernails.“Itwasaspectacle,apparently.AFaearmadaversusacobbled-togetherhumanforce—”

“Hasar,please,”Yrenemurmured.Theprincesssighedattheceiling.“Fine.Maevewastrounced.”Chaolsankontothesofa.Aelin—thankthegodsAelinhadmanagedtofindaway—“Though therewere some interesting details.”Then the princess rattled off

the facts.Thenumbers.A third ofMaeve’s armada, bearingWhitethorn flags,hadturnedontheirownandjoinedTerrasen’sfleet.Dorianhadfought—heldthefrontlineswithRowan.Thenapackofwyvernshadsoaredinfromnowhere—tofightforAelin.

Manon Blackbeak. Chaol would be willing to bet his life that somehow,eitherthroughAelinorDorian,thatwitchhaddonethemafavor,andpossiblyalteredthecourseofthiswar.

“Themagic, they say,was impressive,”Hasarwent on. “Ice andwind andwater.”DorianandRowan.“Evenrumorofashape-shifter.”Lysandra.“Butno

darkness.OrwhateverMaevefightswith.Andnoflame.”Chaolbracedhisforearmsonhisknees.“Though some reports claim they spotted flame and shadowon shore—far

away.Flickersofboth.Thereandgone.AndnoonespottedAelinor theDarkQueeninthefleet.”

ItwouldhavebeenlikeAelin, toshift thebattlebetweenherandMaevetotheshore.Tominimizecasualties,soshecouldunleashher fullpowerwithouthesitation.

“As I said,” Hasar continued, fluffing the skirts of her dress, “They werevictorious.Aelinwas spotted returning to her armada hours later. They’ve setsail—north,apparently.”

HemutteredaprayerofthankstoMala.AndaprayerofthankstowhatevergodwatchedoverDorian,too.“Anymajorcasualties?”

“Totheirmen,yes,butnottoanyoftheinterestingplayers,”Hasarsaid,andChaolhatedher.“ButMaeve…thereandgone,notawhisperofherleft.”Shefrownedatthewindows.“Maybeshe’llsailheretolickherwounds.”

Chaolprayedthatwouldn’tbethecase.YetifMaeve’sarmadastillsatintheNarrowSeawhentheytookthecrossing…“Buttheotherssailnorthnow—towhere?”WherecanIfindmyking,mybrother?

“I’dassumeTerrasen,nowthatAelinhasherarmada.Oh,andanotherone.”Hasarsmiledathim.Waitingforthequestion—theplea.“Whatotherarmada,”Chaolforcedhimselftoask.Hasarshrugged,walkingfromtheroom.“Turnsout,Aelincalledinadebt.

TotheSilentAssassinsoftheRedDesert.”Chaol’seyesburned.“AndtoWendlyn.”Hishandsbeganshaking.“Howmanyships,”hebreathed.“Allofthem,”Hasarsaid,handonthedoor.“AllofWendlyn’sarmadacame,

commandedbyCrownPrinceGalanhimself.”Aelin…Chaol’sbloodsparked,andhelookedtoYrene.Hereyeswerewide,

bright.Brightwithhope—burning,precioushope.“Turnsout,”Hasarmused,asifitwereapassingthought,“therearequitea

fewpeoplewhothinkhighlyofher.Andwhobelieveinwhatshe’sselling.”“Whichiswhat?”Yrenewhispered.Hasarshrugged.“Iassumeit’swhatshetriedtosell tome,whenshewrote

meamessageweeksago,askingformyaid.Fromoneprincesstoanother.”Chaoltookashudderingbreath.“WhatdidAelinpromiseyou?”Hasarsmiledtoherself.“Abetterworld.”

60

Chaol was bristling beside Yrene as they hurried through Antica’s narrowstreets, crammed with people going home for the night. Not with rage, sherealized,butpurpose.

Aelinhadmustered an army, and if they could joinwith them,bring someforcefromthekhaganate…Yrenebeheldthehopeinhiseyes.Thefocus.

Afool’sshotatthiswar.Butonlyiftheycouldconvincetheroyals.Onelastpush,hedeclaredtoherastheyenteredthecoolinterioroftheTorre

andhurriedupthestairs.Hedidn’tcareifhehadtocrawlinfrontofthekhagan.Hewouldmakeonelastattemptatconvincinghim.

But first: Hafiza. And the books that might contain a far more valuableweaponthanswordsorarrows:knowledge.

His steps did not falter as theywoundup the endless interior of theTorre.Even with all that weighed on them, Chaol still murmured in her ear, “Nowonderthoselegsofyoursaresopretty.”

Yrenebattedhimoff,herfaceheating.“Cad.”At this hour, most of the acolytes were already heading down to dinner.

SeveralbeamedatChaolas theypassedhimon the stairs, someyoungeronesgiggling.He gave them allwarm, indulgent smiles that sent them into furtherfits.

Hers. He was hers, Yrene wanted to crow at them. This beautiful, brave,selflessman—hewashers.

Andshewasgoinghomewithhim.It was that thought that sobered her slightly. The sense that these endless

hikesuptheinterioroftheTorremightnowbelimited.Thatshemightnotsmellthelavenderandbakedbreadforalongtime.Nothearthosegiggles.

Chaol’shandbrushedhersasiftosayheunderstood.Yreneonlygrippedhisfingers tightly.Yes, shewould leave a part of herself here.Butwhat she tookwithheruponleaving…YrenewassmilingwhentheyatlastreachedthetopoftheTorre.

Chaolpanted,bracingahandonthewallofthelanding.Hafiza’sofficedoorwascrackedopen,lettinginthelastofthesunset.“Whoeverbuiltthisthingwasasadist.”

Yrenelaughed,knockingonHafiza’sofficedoorandpushingitopen.“ThatwouldbeKamala.Andrumorsaysshe—”Yrenehalted,findingtheHealeronHigh’sofficeempty.

Sheedgedaroundhimon the landing,stridingfor theworkroom—thedoorajar.“Hafiza?”

Noanswer,butshepushedopenthedooranyway.Empty.Thatbookcase,mercifully,stilllocked.Likely making rounds, or at dinner, then. Though they’d seen everyone

comingdown after the dinner bell’s summons, andHafiza hadn’t been amongthem.

“Waithere,”Yrenesaid,andboundeddownthestairstothenextlanding,alevelaboveYrene’sownroom.

“Eretia,”shesaid,steppingintothesmallroom.Thehealergruntedinanswer.“Sawanicebacksidewalkpasthereamoment

ago.”Chaol’scoughsoundedfromabove.Yrenesnorted,butsaid,“DoyouknowwhereHafizais?”“Inherworkroom.”Thewomandidn’tsomuchasturn.“She’sbeeninthere

allday.”“You’re…certain?”“Yes.Sawhergoin,shutthedoor,andshehasn’tcomeout.”“Thedoorwasopenjustnow.”“Thenshelikelyslippedpastme.”Withoutsayingaword?Thatwasn’tHafiza’snature.Yrenescratchedherhead,scanningthelandingbehindher.Thefewdoorson

it. Shedidn’t bother sayinggood-bye toEretia before knockingon them.Onewasempty;theotherhealertoldherthesame:Hafizawasinherworkroom.

ChaolwaswaitingatopthestairswhenYreneclimbedbackup.“Noluck?”Yrenetappedherfootontheground.Perhapsshewasparanoid,but…“Let’scheckthemesshall,”wasallshesaid.ShecaughtthegleaminChaol’seyes.Theworry—andwarning.TheywentdowntwolevelsuntilYrenehaltedonherownlanding.Her door was shut—but there was something wedged beneath it. As if a

passingfoothadkickeditunder.“Whatisthat?”Chaoldrewhisswordsofastshedidn’tevenseehimmove,everymovement

ofhisbody,hisblade,adance.Shebentandpulledtheobjectout.Metalscrapedonstone.

Andthere,danglingfromitschain…Hafiza’sironkey.Chaolstudiedthedoor,thestairs,asYrenepulledthenecklaceoverherhead

withshakingfingers.“Shedidn’tslideittherebyaccident,”hesaid.And if she had thought to hide the key here…“Sheknew somethingwas

comingforher.”“Therewasnosignofforcedentryorattackupstairs,”hecountered.“She could have just been spooked, but … Hafiza does nothing without

thought.”Chaol put a hand on the small of her back, ushering her toward the stairs.

“Weneedtonotifytheguard—startasearchparty.”

Shewasgoingtobeill.Shewasgoingtovomitrightdownthesteps.IfshehadbroughtthisuponHafiza—Panichelpednoone.Nothing.Sheforcedherselftotakeabreath.Anotherone.“Weneedtobequick.Can

yourback—”“Icanmanage.Itfeelsfine.”Yreneassessedhisstance,hisbalance.“Thenhurry.”

Aroundandaround,theyflewdownthestepsoftheTorre.Askinganyonewhopassedifthey’dseenHafiza.Inherworkroom,theyallsaid.

Asifshehadsimplyvanishedintonothing.Intoshadow.Chaolhadseenenough,enduredenough,tolistentohisgut.Andhisguttoldhimthatsomethingeitherhadhappenedorwasunfurling.Yrene’sfacewasbonewhitewithdread, that ironkeybouncingagainsther

chestwitheachoftheirsteps.TheyreachedthebottomoftheTorre,andYrenehadtheguardonalertinamatterofwords,calmlyexplainingthattheHealeronHighwasmissing.

But searchparties took too long toorganize.Anythingcouldhappen in thespanofminutes.Seconds.

In the busy hallway of the Torre’s main level, Yrene called out to a fewhealersaboutHafiza’s location.No,shewasnot in themesshall.No,shewasnotintheherbgardens.Theyhadjustbeenthatwayandhadnotseenher.

It was an enormous complex. “We’d cover more ground if we split up,”Yrenepanted,scanningthehall.

“No.Theymightbeexpectingthat.Westicktogether.”Yrene scrubbedherhandsoverher face. “Widespreadhysteriamightmake

the—person act quicker. Rasher. We keep it quiet.” She lowered her hands.“Wheredowestart?Shecouldbeinthecity,shecouldbed—”

“HowmanyexitsleadfromtheTorreintothestreets?”“Just the main gate, and a small side one for the deliveries. Both heavily

guarded.”Theyvisitedbothwithinaspanofminutes.Nothing.Theguardswerewell

trainedandhadkeptarecordofeveryonewhowentinandout.Hafizahadnotbeen seen. And no wagons had come in or left since early morning. BeforeEretiahadlastseenher.

“Shehastobesomewhereonthepremises,”Chaolsaid,surveyingthetowerloomingabove,thephysicians’complex.“Unlessyoucanthinkofanotherwayinorout.Perhapssomethingthatmighthavebeenforgotten.”

Yrenewentwhollystill,hereyesbrightasflameinthesinkingtwilight.“Thelibrary,”shebreathed,andlaunchedintoasprint.Swift—shewasswift,anditwasallhecoulddotokeepupwithher.Torun.

Holygods,hewasrunning,and—“Therearerumorsoftunnelsinthelibrary,”Yrenepanted,leadinghimdown

a familiar hallway. “Deep below. That connect outside. To where, we don’tknow.Rumorclaimstheyweresealedup,but—”

Hisheart thundered.“Itwouldexplainhowtheywereable tocomeandgounnoticed.”

Andiftheoldwomanhadbeenbroughtdownthere…“Howdidtheyevengethertogo?Withoutanyonenoticing?”Hedidn’twanttoanswer.TheValgcouldsummonshadowsiftheywished.

Andhidewithinthem.Andthoseshadowscouldturndeadlyinaninstant.Yreneslidtoastopinfrontofthemainlibrarydesk,Nousha’sheadsnapping

up.ThemarblewassosmoothYrenehadtograppleattheedgesofthedesktokeepfromfalling.

“HaveyouseenHafiza?”sheblurted.Noushalookedbetweenthem.Notedtheswordhestillhadout.“Whatiswrong.”

“Where are the tunnels?” Yrene demanded. “The ones they boarded up—wherearethey?”

Behindher,astorm-grayBaastCatleapedupfromitsvigilbythehearthandsprintedintothelibraryproper.

Noushagazedatanancientbellthesizeofamelonatopthedesk.Ahammerlaybesideit.

Yreneslappedherhandonthehammer.“Don’t.Itwillalertthemthat—thatweknow.”

Thewoman’sbrownskinseemedtogowan.“Headdowntothebottomlevel.Walkstraighttothewall.Cutleft.Takethattothefarthestwall—theveryend.Wherethestoneisroughandunpolished.Cutright.You’llseethem.”

Yrene’s chest heaved, but she nodded, muttering the directions to herself.Chaolmemorizedthem,plantedtheminhismind.

Nousharosetoherfeet.“ShallIsummontheguard?”“Yes,”Chaolsaid.“Butquietly.Sendthemafterus.Asfastasyoucan.”Nousha’s hands shook as she folded them in front of her middle. “Those

tunnelshavebeenleftuntouchedforaverylongtime.Beonyourguard.Evenwedonotknowwhatliesdownthere.”

Chaoldebatedmentioningtheusefulnessofcrypticwarningsbeforeplungingintobattle,butsimplyentwinedhisfingersthroughYrene’sandlaunchedthemdownthehall.

61

Yrene counted every step. Not that it helped, but her brain just produced thenumbersinanendlesstally.One,two,three…Forty.Threehundred.Fourtwenty-four.Sevenhundredtwenty-one.Downanddown theywent, scanningeveryshadowandaisle, everyalcove

andreadingroomandnook.Nothing.Onlyacolytesquietlyworking,manypackingupforthenight.NoBaastCats

—notone.Eighthundredthirty.Onethousandthree.Theyhitthebottomofthelibrary,thelightsdimmer.Sleepier.Theshadowsmorealert.Yrenesawfacesinallofthem.Chaol plunged ahead, sword like quicksilver as they followed Nousha’s

directions.Thetemperaturedropped.Thelightsbecamefewerandfartherbetween.Leather books were replaced with crumbling scrolls. Scrolls replaced by

carved tablets.Wooden shelves gave way to stone alcoves. The marble floorturneduncut.Sodidthewalls.

“Here,”Chaolbreathed,anddrewherintoastop,hisswordlifting.

Thehallbeforethemwaslitbyasolecandle.Lefttoburnontheground.Anddownit:fourdoors.Three sealed with heavy stone, but the fourth … Open. The stone rolled

aside.Anotherlonecandlebeforeit,illuminingthedarknessbeyond.Atunnel.DeeperthantheWomb—deeperthananyleveloftheTorre.Chaolpointedtotheroughdirtofthepassageahead.“Tracks.Twosets,side

byside.”Sureenough,thegroundhadbeendisturbed.Hewhirledtoher.“Youstayhere,I’ll—”“No.”Heweighedtheword,herstance,assheadded,“Together.Wedothis

together.”Chaol tookanothermoment to consider, thennodded.Carefully,he ledher

along,showingherwheretosteptoavoidanyloudnoisesonloosebitsofstone.Thecandlebeckonedbytheopentunneldoorway.Abeacon.Aninvitation.Thelightdancedalonghisbladeasheangleditbeforethetunnelentrance.Nothingbutfallenblocksofstoneandanendlessdarkpassagegreetedthem.Yrenebreathed in throughhernose,out throughhermouth.Hafiza.Hafiza

wasinthere.Eitherhurtorworse,and—Chaollinkedhishandwithhersandledherintothedark.Theyinchedalonginsilenceforuntoldminutes.Untilthelightfromthesole

candlefadedbehindthem—andanotherappeared.Faintly,faroff.Asifaroundadistantcorner.

Asifsomeonewaswaiting.

Chaolknewitwasatrap.Knew theHealeronHighhadnotbeen the target, but thebait.But if they

arrivedtoolate…Hewouldnotletthathappen.

They inched toward that second candle, the light as good as ringing thedinnerbell.

Buthemovedforwardnonetheless,Yrenekeepingpacebesidehim.Thesolecandlegrewbrighter.Notacandle.Agoldenlightfromthepassagebeyond.Gildingthestonewall

behindit.Yrenetriedtohurry,buthekepttheirpaceslow.Quietasdeath.Thoughhehadnodoubtwhoeveritwasalreadyknewtheywerecoming.Theyreachedtheturninthetunnel,andhestudiedthelightonthefarwall,

tryingtoreadforanyshadowsordisruptions.Onlylight.Hepeeredaroundthecorner.Yrenedidso,too.Herbreathsnagged.Hehadseensomesightsinthepastyear,butthis…Itwasachamber,asenormousastheentirethroneroominRifthold’spalace,

perhapslarger.Theceilingheldaloftoncarvedpillarsrecedingintothegloom,asetofstairsleadingdownfromthetunnelontothemainfloor.Heknewwhythelighthadbeengoldenuponthewalls.

Forilluminatedbythetorchesthatburnedthroughout…Gold.Thewealthofanancientempire filled thechamber.Chestsandstatuesand

trinketsofpuregold.Suitsofarmor.Swords.And scattered amongst it all were sarcophagi. Built not from gold, but

impenetrablestone.Atomb—andatrove.Andattheveryback,risinguponatoweringdais…Yreneletoutasmallsoundat thesightofthegaggedandboundHealeron

Highseatedonagoldenthrone.Butitwasthewomanstandingbesidethehealer,akniferestingonherroundbelly,thatmadeChaol’sbloodgocold.

Duva.Thekhagan’snow-youngestdaughter.Shesmiledatthemastheyapproached—andtheexpressionwasnothuman.ItwasValg.

62

“Well,”saidthethinginsidetheprincess,“itcertainlytookyoulongenough.”Thewordsechoeddownthemassivechamber,bouncingoffstoneandgold.Chaol assessed every shadow, every object they passed. All possible

weapons.Allpossibleescaperoutes.Hafizadidnotmoveastheyneared,walkingdownthebroadavenuebetween

theendless,glitteringgoldandsarcophagi.Anecropolis.Perhapsoneenormous,subterraneancity,stretchingfromthedeserttohere.When they’dvisitedAksara,Duvahad remainedbehind.Claiming that her

pregnancy—Yrene’shisstoldhimsherealizedthesame.Duvawaspregnant—andtheValghadaholdonher.Chaol sized up the odds.AValg-infested princess, armedwith a knife and

whateverdarkmagic,theHealeronHightiedtothethrone…AndYrene.“BecauseIseeyoucalculating,LordWestfall,I’llspareyouthetroubleand

layoutyouroptionsforyou.”Duvatracedgentle,idlelinesoverherfullwombwith that knife, barely disturbing the fabric of her gown. “See, you’ll have topick. Me, the Healer on High, or Yrene Towers.” The princess smiled andwhisperedagain,“Yrene.”

Andthatvoice…Yreneshookbesidehim.Thevoicefromthatnight.

ButYreneliftedherchinastheyhaltedatthebaseofthosesteepdaissteps,andsaidtotheprincess,unfalteringasanyqueen,“Whatisitthatyouwant?”

Duvaangledherhead,hereyeswhollyblack.TheebonyoftheValg.“Don’tyouwanttoknowhow?”

“I’msureyou’lltellus,anyway,”Chaolsaid.Duva’seyesnarrowedwithannoyance,butsheletoutasmalllaugh.“These

tunnels run right between the palace and theTorre. Those immortal Fae bratsburiedtheirroyalshere.RenegadesofMora’snobleline.”Shesweptanarmtoencompasstheroom.“I’msurethekhaganwouldbebesidehimselftolearnofhowmuchgoldsitsbeneathhisfeet.Anotherhandtoplaywhenthetimecallsforit.”

YrenestaredandstaredatHafiza,whowaswatchingthemcalmly.Awomanreadyforherend.WhonowonlywantedtomakesureYrenedid

notthinkherfrightened.“I was waiting for you to figure out it was me,” Duva said. “When I

destroyedallthosepreciousbooksandscrolls,Ithoughtyou’dcertainlyrealizeIwastheonlyonewhohadn’tgonetotheparty.ButthenIrealized—howcouldyoususpectme?”Shelaidahandonherfullwomb.“Itwaswhyhechosehertobeginwith.Lovely,gentleDuva.Tookindtoeverbeacontenderforthethrone.”Asnake’ssmile.“DoyouknowHasartriedtotaketheringfirst?ShespieditintheweddingtrovesentbyPerringtonandwantedit.ButDuvasnatcheditbeforeshe could.” She held up her finger, revealing the broad silver band. Not aglimmerofWyrdstone.

“It’sbeneath,”shewhispered.“Acleverlittletricktohideit.Andthemomentshespokehervowstothatsweet,lovesickhumanprince,thiswentonherhand.”Duvasmirked.“Andnooneevennoticed.”Aflashofherwhiteteeth.“Exceptfor keen-eyed little sister.” She clicked her tongue. “Tumelun suspectedsomethingwaswrong.Caughtmepokingaboutinforgottenplaces.SoIcaughther,too.”Duvachuckled.“Ordidn’t,Isuppose.SinceIshovedherrightoffthat

balcony.”Yrenesuckedinabreath.“Suchawild, impetuousprincess,”Duvadrawled.“Prone tosuchmoods. I

couldn’tverywellhavehergoingtoherbelovedparentsandwhiningaboutme,couldI?”

“Youbitch,”Yrenesnapped.“That’swhat shecalledme,”Duva replied. “Said Ididn’t seemright.”She

rubbedahandoverherbelly,thentappedafingertothesideofherhead.“Youshould have heard how she screamed. Duva—how Duva screamed when Ipushed the brat off the balcony.But I shut her up fast enough, didn’t I?”Sheagainbroughtthatknifeuptoherbellyandscrapedoverthesilkfabric.

“Whyareyouhere,”Yrenebreathed.“Whatdoyouwant?”“You.”Chaol’sheartstumbledattheword.Duva straightened. “TheDarkKingheardwhispers.Whispers that ahealer

blessedwithSilba’sgiftshadenteredtheTorre.Anditmadehimsovery,verywary.”

“BecauseIcanwipeyoualloutliketheparasitesyouare?”ChaolshotYreneawarningglance.ButDuvapluckedthedaggeroffherwombandstudiedtheblade.“Whydo

you think Maeve has hoarded her healers, never allowing them to leave herpatrolled borders? She knew we would return. She wanted to be ready—toprotectherself.Herprizedfavorites, thoseDoranellehealers.Hersecretarmy.”Duvahummed,motioningwiththedaggertothenecropolis.“HowcleverthoseFaewere,whoescapedherclutchesafterthelastwar.Theyranallthewayhere—thehealerswhoknewtheirqueenwouldkeep thempennedup likeanimals.Andthentheybredthemagicintotheland,intoitspeople.Encouragedtherightpowers to rise up, to ensure this landwould always be strong, defended.Andthen they vanished, taking their treasures and histories beneath the earth.

Ensuring they were forgotten below, while their little garden was plantedabove.”

“Why,”wasallChaolsaid.“To give thoseMaeve did not consider important a fighting chance should

Erawan return.”Duvaclickedher tongue.“Sonoble, those renegadeFae.AndthustheTorregrew—andHisDarkMajestyindeedroseagain,andthenfell,andthenslept.Andevenheforgotwhatsomeonewiththerightgiftsmightdo.Butthenheawokeoncemore.Andherememberedthehealers.Sohemadesuretopurge the gifted ones from the northern lands.”A smile atYrene, hateful andcold.“Butitseemsalittlehealerslippedthebutcher’sblock.Andmadeitallthewaytothiscity,withanempiretoguardher.”

Yrene’sbreathingwas ragged.Hesaw theguiltanddreadsettle in.That incoming here, she had brought this upon them. Tumelun, Duva, the Torre, thekhaganate.

ButwhatYrenedidnotrealize,Chaolinsteadsawitforher.Sawitwiththeweightofacontinent,aworld,uponhim.SawwhathadterrifiedErawanenoughtodispatchoneofhisagents.

BecauseYrene,ripewithpowerandfacingdownthatpreeningValgdemon…Hope.

Itwashope that stoodbesidehim,hiddenandprotected theseyears in thiscity,andintheyearsbeforeit,spiritedacrosstheearthbythegodsthemselves,concealedfromtheforcespoisedtodestroyher.

Akernelofhope.The most dangerous of all weapons against Erawan, against the Valg’s

ancientdarkness.Whathehadbeenbroughtheretoretrieveforhishomeland,hispeople.What

he had been brought here to protect. More precious than soldiers, than anyweapon.Theironlyshotatsalvation.

Hope.

“Whynotkillme,then,”Yrenedemanded.“Whynotjustkillme?”Chaolhadn’tdaredaskorthinkthequestion.Duvarestedherdaggeruponherbellyagain.“Becauseyouaresomuchmore

usefultoErawanalive,YreneTowers.”

Yrenewasshaking.Inherbones,shewastrembling.“Iamnoone,”Yrenebreathed.That blade—that blade sat atop thatwomb.AndHafiza remained still and

watchful,evercalm,besideDuva.“Areyou?”theprincesscrooned.“Twoyearsisanunnaturallyswiftpaceto

climbsohighintheTorre.Isitnot,Healer?”YrenewantedtovomitasthedemoninsideDuvalookeduponHafiza.Hafizametherstareunflinchingly.Duvalaughedquietly.“Sheknew.ShesaidasmuchtomewhenIspiritedher

outofherroomearlier.ThatIwascomingforyou.Silba’sHeir.”Yrene’shandslidtoherlocket.Thenotewithin.Theworldneedsmorehealers.HaditbeenSilbaherselfwhohadcomethatnightinInnish,whohadsenther

here,withamessageshewouldlaterunderstand?Theworldneededmorehealers—tofightErawan.“ThatwaswhyErawansentme,”Duvadrawled.“Tobehisspy.Toseeifa

healerwiththosegifts—thegifts—mightindeedemergefromtheTorre.Andtokeepyoufromlearningtoomuch.”Alittleshrug.“Ofcourse,killingthatbrat-princessandtheotherhealerwere…mistakes,butI’msureHisDarkMajestywillforgivemeforitwhenIreturnwithyouintow.”

Roaring filled her head, so loud Yrene could barely hear herself as shesnapped,“Ifyoumeantobringmetohim,whykillthehealeryoumistookforme?Andwhynotkilleveryhealerinthiscityandspareyourselvesthetrouble?”

Duva snorted, waving that dagger. “Because that would raise too manyquestions.WhywasErawantargetingyourkind?Certainkeyplayersmighthavestarted pondering. So the Torre was to be left alone—in ignorance. Dwellinghere,removedfromthenorth,neverleavingtheseshores.Untilit’stimeformyliegetodealwith thisempire.”Asmile thatmadeYrene’sblood iceover.“Asforthathealer…Ithadnothingtodowithhowsheresembledyou.Shewasinthe wrong place at the wrong time.Well, the right time forme, since I wasfrightfullyhungryandIcouldn’texactlyfeedwithoutbeingnoticed.Buttodrumupsomefear inyou, tomakeyourealize thedangerandstopworkingon thatAdarlanianfool,stopprying toofar intosuchancientmatters.Butyoudidnotlisten,didyou?”

Yrene’shandscurledintoclawsathersides.Duvawenton,“Toobad,YreneTowers.Toobad.Foreverydayyouworked

onhim,healedhim,itbecameclearthatyou,indeed,weretheone.TheonemyDark King covets. And after Duva’s own palace spies told her that you hadhealedhimfully,oncehewaswalkingagainandyouprovedbeyonddoubtthatyouwere the one I’d been sent to find…”She sneered atHafiza, andYrenewantedtoripthatexpressionrightoffherface.“Iknewoutrightattackwouldbecomplicated. But luring you down here…Too easy. I’m rather disappointed.So,”shedeclared,flippingtheknifeinherhand,“youwillbecomingwithme,YreneTowers.ToMorath.”

ChaolsteppedinfrontofYrene.“Youareforgettingonething.”Duvaliftedagroomedeyebrow.“Oh?”“Youhavenotwonyet.”Go,Yrenewantedtotellhim.Go.For thatwasdarkpower starting to curl aroundDuva’s fingers, around the

hiltofherdagger.“What’s amusing, LordWestfall,” Duva said, peering down at them from

atopthedais,“isthatyouthinkyoucanbuyyourselftimeuntiltheguardscome.

Butbythen,youwillbedead,andnoonewoulddarequestionmywordwhenItellthemyoutriedtokillusdownhere.Totakethisgoldbacktoyourpoorlittlekingdom after you wasted your own upon ordering those weapons from myfather’svizier.Why,youcouldbuyyourselfathousandarmieswiththis.”

Yrenehissed,“Youstillhaveustocontendwith.”“I suppose.”Duvapulledsomething fromherpocket.Another ring,crafted

fromstonesodarkitswallowedthelight.NodoubtsentdirectlyfromMorath.“Butonceyouputthison…you’lldowhateverIsay.”

“AndwhyshouldIever—”DuvarestedtheknifeagainstHafiza’sthroat.“That’swhy.”YrenelookedtoChaol,buthewassizinguptheroom,thestairsandexits.ThedarkpowertwiningaroundDuva’sfingers.“So,”Duvasaid,takingonestepdownthedais.“Let’sbegin.”Shemadeitasecondstepbeforeithappened.Chaoldidnotmove.ButHafizadid.Shehurledher body, chair and all, the entireweight of that golden throne,

downthestairs.RightatopDuva.Yrenescreamed,runningforthem,Chaollaunchingintomotion.Hafizaandthebaby,thebabyandHafiza—Croneandprincesstumbleddownthosesteepstairs,woodsnapping.Wood,

not metal. The throne had been painted, and now it shattered as they rolled,DuvashriekingandHafizasosilent,evenashergagcamefree—

TheyhitthestonefloorwithacrackthatYrenefeltinherheart.Chaolwas instantly there,notgoingforDuva,sprawledon theground,but

forHafiza,limpandunmoving.Hehauledherback,splintersandropesclingingtoher,hermouthgaping—

Eyescrackingopen—Yrenesobbed,grabbingHafizabytheotherarmandhelpinghimheaveher

outoftheway,towardatoweringstatueofaFaesoldier.JustasDuvaroseuponherelbows,hairloosearoundherface,andseethed,

“Yourottingpileofshit—”Chaolshotupright, swordangledbefore themwhileYrene fumbled forher

magictohealtheancient,frailbody.TheoldwomanmanagedtoraiseherarmlongenoughtogripYrene’swrist.

Go,sheseemedtosay.Duva climbed to her feet, long splinters embedded in her neck, blood

drippingfromhermouth.Blackblood.ChaolgaveYreneallofonelookoverhisshoulder.Run.AndtakeHafizawithher.Yreneopenedhermouthtotellhimno,buthehadalreadyfacedaheadagain.

Towardtheprincesswhoadvancedonestep.Herdresswas torn, revealing the firm, roundbellybeneath.Afall like that

withababy—Ababy.Yrene gripped Hafiza under her thin shoulders, hauling her slight weight

acrossthefloor.Chaolwouldn’tkillher.Duva.Yrene sobbed through her clenched teeth as she dragged Hafiza back and

backthroughthatgold-linedavenue,thestatueslookingonunfeelingly.Hewouldn’tsomuchasharmDuva,notwiththatbabyinherwomb.Yrene’schestcavedinatthelowhumofpowerthatfilledtheroom.Hewouldnotfightback.HewouldbuyYrenetime.TogetHafizaoutandtorun.Duvapurred,“Thiswilllikelyhurtagreatdeal.”Yrenewhirledbackjustasshadowslashedfromtheprincess,aimedrightat

Chaol.Herolledtotheside,theblastgoingwideandstrikingthestatueheducked

behind.“Suchtheatrics,”Duvatutted,andYrenehurried,slidingHafizatowardthose

distantstairs.Leavinghim—leavinghimbehind.Butmovementcaughthereye,andthen—Astatuecrashedintotheprincess’spath.Duvablasteditasidewithherpower.Goldshoweredtheroominchunksthat

thunderedatopthesarcophagi,thecrackingechoingthroughthechamber.“Youwillmake thisboring,”Duva tsked,andhurledahandfulofdarkness

towardwherehe’dbeen.Yrene stumbledas the roomshuddered,but shekeptupright.

Anotherblow.Another.Duva hissed, rounding the sarcophagus where she’d guessed Chaol was

hiding.Shefiredherpowerblindly.Chaolappeared,shieldinhand.Notashield—anancientmirror.Thepowerbouncedoffthemetal,shatteringglass,evenasitreboundedinto

theprincess.Yrenesawthebloodfirst.Onbothofthem.Thensaw thedread inhis faceasDuvawasblastedback, slamming intoa

stonesarcophagussohardherbonescracked.Duvahitthegroundanddidnotmove.Yrenewaitedonebreath.Two.She lowered Hafiza to the floor and ran. Ran right for Chaol, where he

panted,gapingatthewoman’sfallenbody.“What have I done,” he breathed, refusing to take his eyes off the too-still

princess.Blood sliddownhis face from the shardsof thatmirror, but nothingmajor—nothinglethal.

Duva,however…

Yreneshovedpasthim,pasthissword,totheprincessontheground.Ifshewasdown,shecouldpotentiallygettheValgdemonout,potentiallytrytofixherbody—

SheturnedDuvaover.Andfoundtheprincesssmilingather.Ithappenedsofast.Toofast.Duvalungedforherface,herthroat,blackbandsofpowerleapingfromher

palms.ThenYrenewasnotthere.Thenshewasonthestones,throwntothesideas

Chaolhurledhimselfbetweenherandtheprincess.Noshield,noweapon.Onlyhisback,utterlyexposed, ashe shovedYreneawayand took the full

bruntoftheValgattack.

63

Agony roared through his spine. Down his legs. His arms. Into his veryfingertips.

Worsethanithadbeenintheglasscastle.Worsethaninthosehealingsessions.But all he could see, all he’d seen,wasYrene, thatpower spearing forher

heart—Chaolhittheground,andYrene’sscreamshatteredthroughthepain.Getupgetupgetup“Such a pity all that hard work amounted to nothing,” Duva trilled, and

pointedafingerathisspine.“Yourpoor,poorback.”Thatdarkpowerslammedintohisspineagain.Somethingcracked.Again.Again.Thefeelinginhislegsvanishedfirst.“Stop,”Yrenesobbed,onherknees.“Stop!”“Run,”hebreathed,forcinghispalmsflatontothestones,forcinghisarmsto

push,tolifthim—Duvaonlyreachedintoherpocketandpulledoutthatblackring.“Youknow

howthisstops.”“No,”hesnarled,andhisbackbellowedashetriedandtriedtogethislegs

beneathhim—

Yrenecrawledawayastep.Another.Eyesdartingbetweenthem.Notagain.Hewouldnotendureseeingthis,endurelivingthisonemoretime.ButthenhebeheldwhatYrenegrabbedinherrighthand.Whatshehadbeencrawlingtoward.Hissword.Duvasnickered,steppingoverhissprawled,unmovinglegsassheadvanced

onYrene.AsYrenerosetoherfeetandliftedhisswordbetweenthem.Thebladetrembled,andYrene’sshouldersshookasshesobbedthroughher

teeth.“Whatdoyouthinkthatcouldpossiblydo,”Duvacrooned,“againstthis?”Whipsofdarkpowerunfurledfromtheprincess’spalms.No.Hegroanedtheword,screameditathisbody,atthewoundspushingin,

theagonydragginghimunder.Duvaliftedherarmtostrike—AndYrenethrewthesword.Astraightthrow,unskilledandwild.ButDuvaducked—Yreneran.Swiftasadoe,sheturnedandran,sprintingintothelabyrinthofcorpsesand

treasure.Andlikeahoundonascent,Duvasnarledandgavechase.

Shehadnoplan.Shehadnothing.Nooptions.Nothingwhatsoever.Chaol’sspine—Gone.Allthatwork…shattered.Yreneranthroughthepilesofgold,searching,searching—Duva’sshadowsblastedaroundher,sendingshardsofgoldflyingintotheair.

GildingeverybreathYrenetook.Shesnatchedashort-swordoffachestoverflowingwithtreasureassheran,

thebladewhirringthroughtheair.Ifshecouldtrapher,getDuvadownforlongenough—Alashofpowershatteredthestonesarcophagusbeforeher.Chunksofrock

soared.Yreneheardthethudbeforeshefelttheimpact.Thenherheadbleatedwithpain,andtheworldtilted.Shefoughttostayuprightwitheveryheartbeat,everybitoffocusshe’dever

mastered.Yrenedidnot lether feet falter.Shekeptmoving,buying themanysortof

time.Roundingastatue,she—Duvastoodbeforeher.Yrene careened into her, that short-sword so close to the princess’s gut, to

thatwomb—Shesplayedherhands,droppingtheweapon.Duvaheldfirm,armssnatching

aroundYrene’sneckandmiddle.Pinningher.Theprincesshissed,haulingherback toward that avenue, “Thisbodydoes

notlikesomuchrunning.”Yrene thrashed,butDuvaheldfirm.Toostrong—forsomeonehersize,she

wastoostrong.“Iwantyoutoseethis.Wantyoubothtoseethis,”Duvajeeredinherear.Chaolhadcrawledhalfwayacrossthepath.Crawled,trailingblood,hislegs

unresponsive.Tohelpher.Hestilled,bloodslidingfromhismouthasDuvasteppedontothewalkway,

pressingYreneagainsther.“ShallImakeyouwatchmekillhim,ormakehimwatchmeputthatringon

you?”Andevenwiththatarmshovedagainstherthroat,Yrenesnarled,“Don’tyou

touchhim.”Bloodonhisgritted teeth,Chaol’sarmsstrainedandbuckledashe tried to

rise.“It’stoobadIdon’thavetworings,”DuvamusedtoChaol.“I’msureyour

friendswouldpayhandsomelyforyou.”Agrunt.“ButIsupposeyourdeathwillbeequallydevastating.”

DuvaloosenedherarmfromYrene’smiddletopointathim—Yrenemoved.Shestompeddownontheprincess’sfoot.Rightontheinstep.And as the princess lurched, Yrene slammed her palm into the woman’s

elbow,freeingthearmacrossherthroat.SoYrenecouldwhirlanddriveherelbowstraightintoDuva’sface.Duvadroppedlikeastone,bloodspurting.Yrene lunged for the dagger at Chaol’s side. The blade whined as she

whipped it free of its sheath and threw herself atop the stunned princess,straddlingher.

Aimedthatbladehigh,toplungeintothewoman’sneck,toseverthathead.Bitbybit.

“Don’t,”Chaolrasped,thewordfullofblood.Duvahaddestroyedit—destroyedeverything.Fromthebloodcomingoutofhismouth,uphisthroat…Yrenewept,thedaggerpoisedovertheprincess’sneck.Hewasdying.Duvahadrippedopensomethingwithinhim.Duva’sbrowsbegantotwitchandfurrowasshestirred.Now.Shehadtodoitnow.Drivethisbladein.Endit.Endit,andperhapsshecouldsavehim.Stopthatlethalinternalbleeding.But

hisspine,hisspine—Alife.Shehadswornanoathnevertotakealife.Andwiththiswomanbeforeher,thesecondlifeinherwomb…Thedaggerlowered.She’ddoit.She’ddoit,and—

“Yrene,”Chaolbreathed,andthewordwassofullofpain,soquiet…Itwastoolate.Hermagiccouldfeelit,hisdeath.Shehadnevertoldhimofthatterriblegift

—thathealersknewwhendeathsatnear.Silba,ladyofgentledeaths.ThedeathshewouldgiveDuvaandherchildwouldnotbethatsortofdeath.Chaol’sdeathwouldnotbethatsortofdeath.Butshe…Butshe…Theprincesslookedsoyoung,evenasshestirred.Andthelifeinherwomb

…Thelifebeforeher…Yrenedroppedtheknifetothefloor.Itsclatteringechoedovergoldandstoneandbones.Chaolclosedhiseyesinwhatshecouldhaveswornwasrelief.Alighthandtouchedhershoulder.Sheknewthattouch.Hafiza.ButasYrenelooked,assheturnedandsobbed—Two others stood behind the Healer on High, holding her upright. Letting

Hafiza lean down beside Duva and blow a breath onto the princess’s face,sendingherintoundisturbedslumber.

Nesryn.Herhairwaswindblown,hercheeksrosyandchapped—AndSartaq,hisownhairfarshorter.Theprince’sfacewastaut,hiseyeswide

ashebeheldhisunconscious,bloodysister.AsNesrynbreathed,“Weweretoolate—”

YrenelungedacrossthestonestoChaol.Herkneestoreontherock,butshebarelyfeltit,barelyfeltthebloodslidingdownhertempleasshetookhisheadinherlapandclosedhereyes,rallyingherpower.

Whiteflared,buttherewasredandblackeverywhere.Toomuch.Toomanybrokenandtornandravagedthings—

Hischestwasbarelyrising.Hedidnotopenhiseyes.“Wakeup,”sheorderedhim,hervoicebreaking.Sheplungedintoherpower,

butthedamage…Itwasliketryingtopatchupholesinasinkingship.Toomuch.Toomuchand—Shoutingandstepsallaroundthem.His lifebegan to thin and turn tomist aroundhermagic.Death circled, an

eaglewithaneyeuponthem.“Fightit,”Yrenesobbed,shakinghim.“Youstubbornbastard,fightit.”Whatwasthepointofit,thepointofanyofit,ifnow,whenitmattered—“Please,”shewhispered.Chaol’schestrose,ahighnotebeforethelastplunge—Shecouldnotendureit.Wouldnotendureit—Alightflickered.Insidethatfailingmassofredandblack.Acandleignited.Abloomofwhite.Thenanother.Another.Bloominglights,alongthatbrokeninterior.Andwheretheyshone…Fleshknitted.Bonesmoothed.Lightafterlightafterlight.Hischestcontinuedtoriseandfall.Riseandfall.Butinthehurtandthedarkandthelight…Awoman’svoice thatwasbothfamiliarandforeign.Avoice thatwasboth

Hafiza’s and … another. Someone who was not human, never had been.SpeakingthroughHafizaherself,theirvoicesblendingintotheblackness.Thedamageistoogreat.Theremustbeacostifitistoberepaired.Allthoselightsseemedtohesitateatthatotherworldlyvoice.Yrenebrushedherselfalongthem,wadedthroughthemlikeafieldofwhite

flowers,thelightsbobbingandswayinginthisquietplaceofpain.Notlights…buthealers.

Sheknewtheirlights,theiressences.Eretia—thatwasEretiaclosesttoher.ThevoicethatwasbothHafizaandOthersaidagain,Theremustbeacost.Forwhattheprincesshaddonetohim…Therewasnoreturningfromit.Iwillpayit.Yrenesaidintothepainanddarkandlight.AdaughterofFenharrowwillpaythedebtofasonofAdarlan?Yes.Shecouldhaveswornagentle,warmhandbrushedherface.AndYreneknewitdidnotbelongtoHafizaortheOther.Didnotbelongto

anyhealeralive.Buttoonewhohadneverlefther,evenwhenshehadbeenturnedintoashon

thewind.TheOthersaid,Youofferthisofyourownfreewill?Yes.Withmyentireheart.Ithadbeenhisfromthestart,anyway.Thoseloving,phantomhandsbrushedhercheekagainandfadedaway.TheOther said, I chosewell. You shall pay the debt, Yrene Towers. And I

hopeyoushallseeitforwhatittrulyis.Yrenetriedtospeak.Butlightflared,softandsoothing.Itblindedher,withinandwithout.LefthercringingoverChaol’shead,her

fingersgrappledintohisshirt.Feelinghisheartbeatsthunderintoherpalms.Thescrapeofhisbreathagainstherear.

There were hands on her shoulders. Two sets. They tightened, a silentcommandtoliftherhead.Yrenedid.

Hafizastoodbehindher,Eretiaatherside.Eachwithahandonhershoulder.Behindthemstoodtwohealerseach.Handsontheirshoulders.Behindthem,twomore.Andmore.Andmore.Alivingchainofpower.All thehealers in theTorre,youngandold, stood in that roomofgoldand

bone.

Allconnected.AllchannelingtoYrene,tothegripshestillheldonChaol.Nesryn andSartaq stood a few feet away, the formerwith a handover her

mouth.BecauseChaol—ThehealersoftheTorreloweredtheirhands,severingthatbridgeofcontact,

asChaol’sfeetmoved.Thenhisknees.And thenhis eyes crackedopen, andhewas staringup atYrene, her tears

ploppingontohisblood-crustedface.Heliftedahandtobrushherlips.“Dead?”“Alive,”shebreathed,andloweredherfacetohis.“Verymuchalive.”Chaolsmiledagainsthermouth,sighingdeepashesaid,“Good.”Yreneraisedherhead,andhesmiledupatheragain,crackedbloodsliding

awayfromhisfacewiththemotion.Andwherethatscarhadoncesliceddownhischeek…onlyunmarredskin

remained.

64

Chaol’sbodyached,butitwastheacheofnewness.Ofsoremuscles,notbrokenones.

Andtheairinhislungs…itdidnotburntobreathe.Yrenehelpedhimsitup,hisheadspinning.Heblinked, findingNesrynandSartaqbefore themas thehealersbegan to

file away, their faces grim. The prince’s long braid had been cut in favor ofloose,shoulder-lengthhair,andNesryn…itwasrukleathersshewore,herdarkeyesbrighterthanhe’deverseen—evenwiththegravenessofherexpression.

Chaolrasped,“What—”“Yousentanotetocomeback,”Nesrynsaid,herfacedeathlypale.“Weflew

asfastaswecould.Weweretoldyou’dcometotheTorreearlierthisevening.Theguardswererightbehindus,untilweoutranthem.Wegotabitlostdownhere,butthen…catsledtheway.”

Abemused,puzzledglanceoverher shoulder, towherehalfadozenberyl-eyedcatssatonthetunnelsteps,cleaningthemselves.Theynoticedthehumanattentionandscattered,tailshigh.

Sartaqadded, smiling faintly, “Wealso thoughthealersmightbenecessary,and asked some to follow. But apparently, a great number more wanted tocome.”

Consideringthenumberofwomenfilingoutafterthevanishedcats…Allofthem.Allofthemhadcome.

BehindChaolandYrene,EretiawastendingtoHafiza.Alive,clear-eyed,but…frail.

Eretia clucked over the elderly woman, chiding her for such heroics. Buteven as she did, the woman’s eyes were bright with tears. Perhaps more, asHafizabrushedathumboverEretia’scheek.

“Isshe—”Sartaqbegan,jerkinghischintowardDuva,sprawledonthefloor.“Unconscious,”Hafizarasped.“Shewillsleepuntilroused.”“EvenwithaValgringonher?”NesrynaskedasSartaqmadetopickuphis

sister from the stone floor. She blocked him with an arm across his middle,earninganincredulouslookfromtheprince.Therewerecutsandscabsonbothof them, Chaol realized. And the way the prince had moved—with a limp.Somethinghadhappened—

“Evenwiththering,shewillremainasleep,”Hafizasaid.Yrenewasjuststaringattheprincess,thedaggeronthefloornearby.Sartaqsawit,too.AndsaidquietlytoYrene,“Thankyou—forsparingher.”Yrene just pressedher face againstChaol’s chest.He strokedahanddown

herhair,findingitwet—“You’rebleeding—”“I’mfine,”shesaidontohisshirt.Chaolpulledback,scanningherface.Thebloodytemple.“Thatisanything

butfine,”hesaid,whippinghisheadtowardEretia.“She’shurt—”Eretia rolledhereyes.“Good to seenoneof thisputyououtofyourusual

spirits.”Chaolgavethewomanaflatstare.Hafiza peered over Eretia’s shoulder and wryly asked Yrene, “Are you

certainthispushymanwasworththecost?”BeforeYrenecouldanswer,Chaoldemanded,“Whatcost?”Astillnesscreptoverthem,andevenYrenelookedtoHafizaasthewoman

extracted herself from Eretia’s care. The Healer on High said quietly, “The

damagewastoogreat.Evenwithallofus…Deathheldyoubythehand.”He turned to Yrene, dread curling in his stomach. “What did you do,” he

breathed.Shedidn’tmeethisstare.“She likelymadeafool’sbargain, that’swhat,”Eretiasnapped.“Offered to

pay the pricewithout even being toldwhat itwas.To save your neck.We allheard.”

Eretiawasclosetonothavingafunctioningneckherself,butChaolsaidascalmlyashecould,“Paythepricetowhom?”

“Not a payment,” Hafiza corrected, setting a hand on Eretia’s shoulder toquiether,“butarestorationofbalance.Totheonewholikestoseeitintact.Whospokethroughmeasweallgatheredwithinyou.”

“Whatwas thecost,”Chaol rasped. If she’dgivenupanything,he’d findawaytoretrieveit.Hedidn’tcarewhathehadtopay,he’d—

“To keep your life tethered in thisworld,we had to bind it to another. Tohers.Twolives,”Hafizaclarified,“nowsharingonethread.Butevenwiththat…” She gestured to his legs, the foot he slid up to brace on the floor. “Thedemonbrokemany,manypartsofyou.Toomany.Andinordertosavemostofyou,therewasacost,too.”

Yrenewentstill.“Whatdoyoumean?”Hafizaagainlookedbetweenthem.“Thereremainssomedamagetothespine

—impactingthelowerportionsofthelegs.Thatevenwecouldnotrepair.”Chaol glancedbetween theHealer onHigh andhis legs, currentlymoving.

Hewentsofarastoputsomeweightonthem.Theyheld.Hafiza went on, “With the life-bond between you, Yrene’s power flowing

intoyou…Itwillactasabrace.Stabilizingthearea,grantingyouabilitytouseyour legswheneverYrene’smagic is at its fullest.”He steeledhimself for thebut.Hafizasmiledgrimly.“ButwhenYrene’spowerflags,whensheisdrainedor tired,your injurywill regaincontrol,andyourability towalkwillagainbeimpaired. It will require you to use a cane at the very least—on hard days,

perhapsmanydays,thechair.Buttheinjurytoyourspinewillremain.”Thewordssettledinhim.Floatedthroughandsettled.Yrenewaswhollysilent.Sostillthathefacedher.“Can’tIjusthealhimagain?”Sheleanedtowardhim,asifshe’ddojustthat.Hafizashookherhead.“Itispartofthebalance—thecost.Donottemptthe

compassionoftheforcethatgrantedthistoyou.”ButChaoltouchedYrene’shand.“Itisnoburden,Yrene,”hesaidsoftly.“To

begiventhis.Itisnoburdenatall.”Yetagonyfilledherface.“ButI—”“Using the chair is not apunishment. It is not aprison,”he said. “It never

was.AndIamasmuchofamaninthatchair,orwiththatcane,asIamstandingonmyfeet.”Hebrushedawaythetearthatslippeddownhercheek.

“Iwantedtohealyou,”shebreathed.“Youdid,”hesaid,smiling.“Yrene,ineverywaythattrulymatters…You

did.”Chaolwipedawaytheothertearsthatfell,brushingakisstoherhotcheek.“Thereisanotherpiecetothelife-bond,tothisbargain,”Hafizaaddedgently.

Theyturnedtoher.“Whenitistime,whetherthedeathiskindorcruel…Itwillclaimyouboth.”

Yrene’sgoldeneyeswerestilllinedwithsilver.Buttherewasnofearinherface,nolingeringsorrow—none.

“Together,”Chaolsaidquietly,andinterlacedtheirhands.Herstrengthwouldbehisstrength.AndwhenYrenewent,hewouldgo.But

ifhewentbeforeher—Dreadcurledinhisgut.“Thetruepriceofallthis,”Hafizasaid,readingthepanic.“Notfearforyour

ownlife,butwhatlosingyourlifewilldototheother.”“Isuggestyounotgotowar,”Eretiagrumbled.ButYreneshookherhead,shouldersstraighteningasshedeclared,“Weshall

gotowar.”PointingtoDuva,shelookedatSartaq.Asifshehadnotjustofferedupherverylifetosavehis—“ThatiswhatErawanwilldo.Toallofyou.Ifwedonotgo.”

“Iknow,”Sartaqsaidquietly.Theprince turned toNesryn,andassheheldhis stare … Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new andtrembling.Butthereitwas,rightalongwiththecutsandwoundstheybothbore.“Iknow,”Sartaqsaidagain,hisfingersbrushingNesryn’s.

NesrynmetChaol’seyesthen.Shesmiledsoftlyathim,glancing towhereYrenenowaskedHafizaabout

whether she could stand. He’d never seen Nesryn appear so … settled. Soquietlyhappy.

Chaolswallowed.I’msorry,hesaidsilently.NesrynshookherheadasSartaqscoopedhissisterintohisarmswithagrunt,

theprincebalancinghisweightonhisgoodleg.IthinkIdidjustfine.Chaolsmiled.ThenIamhappyforyou.Nesryn’seyeswidenedasChaolatlastgottohisfeet,takingYrenewithhim.

HismovementswereassmoothasanymaneuverhemighthavemadewithouttheinvisiblebraceofYrene’smagicflowingbetweenthem.

NesrynwipedawayhertearsasChaolclosedthedistancebetweenthemandembracedhertightly.“Thankyou,”hesaidinNesryn’sear.

Shesqueezedhimback.“Thankyou—forbringingmehere.Toallofthis.”To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of

emotion.Sheadded,“Wehavemanythingstotellyou.”Chaolnodded.“Andweyou.”Theypulledapart,andYreneapproached—throwingherarmsaroundNesryn

aswell.“What are we going to do with all this gold?” Eretia demanded, leading

Hafizaawayastheguardsformedalivingpathforthemoutofthetomb.“Such

tackyjunk,”shespat,frowningatatoweringstatueofaFaesoldier.Chaol laughed,andYrenejoinedhim,slidingherarmaroundhismiddleas

theytrailedbehindthehealers.Alive,Yrenehadsaidtohim.Astheywalkedoutofthedark,Chaolat last

feltitwastrue.

SartaqtookDuvatothekhagan.Calledinhisbrothersandsister.BecauseYreneinsistedtheybethere.ChaolandHafizainsistedtheybethere.Thekhagan,inthefirsthintofemotionYrenehadeverseenfromtheman,

lunged for theunconscious,bloodyDuvaasSartaq limped into thehallwherethey’dbeenwaiting.Vizierspressedin.HasarletoutagaspofwhatYrenecouldhaveswornwastruepain.

Sartaqdidnot lethis father touchher.Didnot letanyonebutNesryncomecloseashelaidDuvaonalowcouch.

Yrenekeptafewstepsback,silentandwatching,Chaolatherside.Thisbondbetweenthem…Shecouldfeel it,almost.Likealivingbandof

cool,silkenlightflowingfromher—intohim.Andhetrulydidnotseemtomindthatapieceofhisspine,hisnerves,would

retainpermanentdamageforaslongastheylived.Yes,he’dnowbeabletomovehislegswithlimitedmotion,evenwhenher

magicwas drained.But standing—never a possibility during those times. Shesupposedthey’dsoonlearnhowandwhenthelevelofherpowercorrelatedwithwhetherherequiredcaneorchairorneither.

ButChaolwasright.Whetherhestoodorlimpedorsat…itdidnotchangehim.Whohewas.Shehadfalleninlovewithhimwellbeforehe’deverstood.Shewouldlovehimnomatterhowhemovedthroughtheworld.Whatifwefight?Yrenehadaskedhimonthetrekoverhere.Whatthen?Chaol had only kissed her temple.We fight all the time already. It’ll be

nothingnew.He’dadded,Doyou think I’dwant tobewithanyonewhodidn’thandmyasstomeonaregularbasis?

But she’d frowned.He’d continued,And this bond between us, Yrene… itchangesnothing.Withyouandme.You’llneedyourownspace;I’llneedmine.Soifyouthinkforonemomentthatyou’regoingtogetawaywithflimsyexcusesforneverleavingmyside—

She’dpokedhimintheribs.AsifI’llwanttohangaroundyoualldaylikesomelovesickgirl!

Chaolhadlaughed,tuckingherintighter.ButYrenehadonlypattedhisarmandsaid,AndIthinkyoucantakecareofyourselfjustfine.

He’djustkissedherbrowagain.Andthathadbeenthat.Yrenenowbrushedherfingersagainsthis,Chaol’shandcurlingaroundher

own,asSartaqclearedhisthroatandheldupDuva’slimphand.Todisplaythewedding band there. “Our sister has been enslaved by a demon sent byPerringtonintheformofthisring.”

Murmursandshiftingabout.Arghunspat,“Nonsense.”“Perrington is noman. He is Erawan,” Sartaq declared, ignoring his elder

brother, andYrene realizedNesrynmust have told himeverything. “TheValgking.”

StillholdingYrene’shand,Chaoladdedforalltohear,“Erawansentthisringasaweddinggift,knowingDuvawouldput iton—knowing thedemonwouldentrapher.Onherweddingday.”They’dleftthesecondringattheTorre,lockedwithinoneoftheancientchests,tobedisposedoflater.

“Thebabe,” thekhagandemanded,eyeson that torn-upbelly, thescratchesmarringherneckwhereHafizahadalreadyremovedtheworstofthesplinters.

“Thesearelies,”Arghunseethed.“Fromdesperate,schemingpeople.”“Theyarenot lies,”Hafizacut in,chinhigh.“Andwehavewitnesseswho

willtellyouotherwise.Guards,healers,andyourownbrother,Prince,ifyouwillnotbelieveus.”

TochallengethewordoftheHealeronHigh…Arghunshuthismouth.Kashin shoved to the front of the crowd, earning a glare fromHasar as he

shoulderedpasther.“Thatexplains…”Hepeeredathissleepingsister.“Shehasnotbeenthesame.”

“Shewasthesame,”Arghunsnapped.Kashin leveled aglareonhis eldest brother. “If you everdeigned to spend

anytimewithher,youwouldhaveknownthedifferences.”Heshookhishead.“I thoughthermorose from the arrangedmarriage, then thepregnancy.”GrieffloodedhiseyesashefacedChaol.“Shedidit,didn’tshe?ShekilledTumelun.”

A ripple of shockwent through the room as all eyes fixed upon him. ButChaolinsteadturnedtothekhagan,whosefacewasbloodlessanddevastatedinawaythatYrenehadnotyetknown,andcouldnotimagine.Toloseachild,toendure this…“Yes,”Chaolsaid,bowinghishead to thekhagan.“Thedemonconfessedtoit,butitwasnotDuva.ThedemonmadeitsoundasifDuvafoughteverysecond—ragedagainstyourdaughter’sdeath.”

Thekhaganclosedhiseyesforalongmoment.Kashin liftedhispalms toYrene in theheavysilence.“Canyou fixher? If

shestillsomehowremainsinside?”Abrokenplea.Notfromaprincetoahealer,butonefriendtoanother.Astheyhadoncebeen—asshehopedtheymightagainbe.

The gathering focused upon Yrene now. She didn’t let an ounce of doubtcurveherspineasshesaid,“Ishalltry.”

Chaol added, “There are things you should know, Great Khagan. AboutErawan.The threatheposes.Whatyouand this landmightoffer againsthim.Andstandtogainintheprocess.”

“Youthinktoschemeatatimelikethis?”Arghunsnapped.“No,” Chaol said clearly, unhesitatingly. “But consider that Morath has

alreadyreachedtheseshores.Hasalreadykilledandharmedthoseyoucarefor.And ifwedonot rise to face this threat…”His fingers tightenedonYrene’s.

“PrincessDuvawillonlybethefirst.AndPrincessTumelunwillnotbethelastvictimofErawanandtheValg.”

Nesrynsteppedforward.“Wecomewithgravetidingsfromthesouth,GreatKhagan.Thekharankuiarestirringagain,calledbytheirdark…master.”Manystirredatthetermshe’dused.Butsomeglancedtoeachother,confusionintheireyes, andNesryn explained, “Creaturesof darkness from theValg realm.Thiswarhasalreadyleakedintotheselands.”

Murmuringsilenceandrustlingrobes.But the khagan didn’t tear his eyes away from his unconscious daughter.

“Saveher,”hesaid—thewordsdirectedtoYrene.HafizanoddedsubtlytoYrene,motioningherforward.Themessagewasclearenough:atest.Thefinalone.NotbetweenYreneand

theHealeronHigh.Butsomethingfargreater.PerhapswhathadindeedcalledYrenetotheseshores.Guidedheracrosstwo

empires,overmountainsandseas.Aninfection.Aparasite.Yrenehadfacedthembefore.Butthisdemoninside…Yreneapproachedthesleepingprincess.Andbegan.

65

Yrene’shandsdidnottrembleassheheldthembeforeher.Whitelightglowedaroundherfingers,encasingthem,shieldingthemasshe

pickedupthesleepingprincess’shand.Itwassoslight—sodelicate,comparedtothehorrorsshe’ddonewithit.

Yrene’smagicrippledandbentasshereachedforthefalseweddingring.Asifitweresomesortoflodestone,warpingtheworldaroundit.

Chaol’shandsettledonherbackinsilentsupport.Shesteeledherself,suckinginabreathasherfingersclosedaroundthering.Itwasworse.SomuchworsethanwhathadbeenwithinChaol.Where his had been a mere shadow, this was an inky pool of blackness.

Corruption.Theoppositeofeverythinginthisworld.Yrenepantedthroughherteeth,hermagicflaringaroundherhand,thelighta

barrier,aglovebetweenherandthatring,andpulled.Theringslidoff.AndDuvabeganscreaming.Herbodyarchedoff thecouch,SartaqandKashin lunging forher legsand

shoulders,respectively.Teeth gritted, the princes pinned their sister as she thrashed against them,

shriekingwordlesslyasHafiza’ssleepingspellkeptherunconscious.“You’re hurting her,” the khagan snapped. Yrene did not bother to look

towardhimasshestudiedDuva.Thebodytheprincessslammedupanddown,overandover.

“Hush,” Hasar hissed at her father. “Let her work. Someone fetch ablacksmithtocrackopenthatdamnedring.”

Theworldbeyondthemfadedintoblurandsound.Yrenewasdistantlyawareof a youngman—Duva’s husband—sprinting up to them.Covering hismouthwithacry;beingheldatbaybyNesryn.

ChaoljustcontinuedtokneelbesideYrene,removinghishandfromherbackwithafinal,soothingrub,whileshestaredandstaredatDuvaasshewrithed.

“Shewillhurtherself,”Arghunseethed.“Stopthis—”A true parasite. A living shadow within the princess. Filling her blood,

plantedinhermind.ShecouldfeeltheValgdemonwithin,ragingandscreeching.Yreneliftedherhandsbeforeher.Thewhitelightfilledherskin.Shebecame

thatlight,heldwithinthenow-faintbordersofherbody.Someone gasped asYrene reached her glowing, blinding hands toward the

princess’schest,asifguidedbysomeinvisibletug.Thedemonbegantopanic,sensingherapproach.Distantly,sheheardSartaqswear.HeardthecrackofwoodasDuvadroveher

footintothearmofthecouch.There was only the thrashing Valg, scrabbling at power. Only her

incandescenthands,reachingfortheprincess.YrenelaidherglowinghandsonDuva’schest.Lightflared,brightasasun.Peoplecriedout.Butasquicklyasithadappeared,thelightvanished,suckedintoYrene—into

whereherhandsmetDuva’schest.Suckedintotheprincessherself.AlongwithYrene.Itwasadarkstormwithin.Cold,andraging,andancient.

Yrenefeltitsquattingthere.Squattingeverywhere.Atapewormindeed.“Youwillalldie—”theValgdemonbegantohiss.Yreneunleashedherpower.Atorrentofwhitelightfloodedeveryveinandboneandnerve.Notariver,butabandoflightmadeupofthecountlesskernelsofherpower

—somany theywere legion, all hunting out each dark, festering corner, eachscreamingcreviceofmalice.

Faraway,beyond,ablacksmitharrived.Ahammerstruckmetal.Hasarsnarled—thesoundechoedbyChaol,rightatYrene’sear.Halfaware,shesawtheblack,glitteringstoneheldwithinthemetalasthey

carefullypasseditaroundonavizier’skerchief.TheValgdemonroaredashermagicsmotheredit,drownedit.Yrenepanted

againsttheonslaughtasitpushedback.Shovedather.Chaol’shandagainbegantorubdownherbackinsoothinglines.Moreoftheworldfadedaway.Iamnotafraidofyou,Yrene said into thedark.Andyouhavenowhere to

run.Duvathrashed,tryingtounseatYrene’sgrip.Yrenepresseddownharderon

herchest.Time slowed and bent. Shewas dimly aware of the ache in her knees, the

cramp in her back. Dimly aware of Sartaq and Kashin refusing to offer theirpositiontosomeoneelse.

StillYrenesenthermagicflowingintoDuva.Fillingherwiththatdevouringlight.

Thedemonscreamedtheentiretime.Butbitbybit,sheblasteditback,blasteditdeeper.Untilshesawit,curledwithinthecoreofher.Itstrueform…Itwasashorrificasshe’dimagined.Smoke swirledandcoiled about it, revealingglimpsesofgangly limbsand

talons,mostlyhairlessgray,slickskin,andunnaturallylargedarkeyesthatragedasshelookeduponit.

Trulylookeduponit.It hissed, revealing pointed, fish-sharp teeth. Your world shall fall. As the

othershavedone.Asallotherswill.Thedemondugclawsdeepintothedarkness.Duvascreamed.“Pathetic,”Yrenetoldit.Perhapsshespokethewordaloud,forsilencefell.Distantly,thatbondflowingaway…itthinned.Thehandonherbackdrifted

away.“Utterlypathetic,”Yrenerepeated,hermagicrallyingbehindherinamighty,

crestingwhitewave.“Foraprincetopreyonahelplesswoman.”The demon scrambled back against the wave, clawing at the dark as if it

wouldtunnelthroughDuva.Yrenepushedforward.Letherwavefall.Andasherpowerslammedinto that last remnantof thedemon, it laughed.

NoprinceamI,girl.Butaprincess.Andmysistersshallsoonfindyou.Yrene’s light erupted, shredding and cleaving, devouring any last scrap of

darkness—Yrenesnappedbackintoherbody,collapsingagainstthefloor.Chaolshouted

hername.ButHasarwas there, hauling her upright asYrene lunged forDuva, hands

flaring—ButDuvacoughed,choking,tryingtotwistontoherside.“Turnher,”Yrenerasped to theprinces,whoobeyed.JustasDuvaheaved,

andvomitedovertheedgeofthecouch.ItsplatteredYrene’sknees,reekingtodeepest hell. But she scanned the mess. Food—mostly food, and speckles ofblood.

Duvaretchedagain,adeep,chokingnoise.

Onlyblacksmokebrokefromherlips.Sheretchedagain,andagain.Untilatendrildribbledontotheemeraldfloors.AndastheshadowsslitheredoutofDuva’slips…Yrenefeltit.Evenasher

magic strained and buckled, she felt the last of that Valg demon vanish intonothing.

Abitofdewdissolvedbythesun.Herbodybecamecoldandaching.Empty.Hermagicdrainedtothedregs.Sheblinkedupatthewallofpeoplestandingaroundthecouch.The khagan’s sons now flanked their father, hands on their swords, faces

grim.Lethal—withrage.NotatYrene,notatDuva,butthemanwhohadsentthis

totheirhouse.Theirfamily.Duva’sfacerelaxedonanexhaledbreath,colorbloomingonhercheeks.Duva’shusbandtriedtosurgeforheragain,butYrenestoppedhimwithan

upheldhand.Heavy—herhandwassoheavy.Butsheheldtheyoungman’spanickedstare.

Whichhadnotbeenonhiswife’sface,butthebelly.Yrenenoddedtohimasiftosay,Iwilllook.

Thenshelaidherhandsonthatround,highwomb.Senthermagicprobing,dancingalongit—thelifewithin.Somethingnewandjoyousansweredback.Loudly.ItskickrousedDuvawithanooph,hereyelidsflutteringopen.Duva blinked at them all. Blinked at Yrene, the hand she still laid on her

belly.“Isit—”Thewordswereabrokenrasp.Yrenesmiled,pantingsoftly,reliefacrushingweightinherchest.“Healthy

andhuman.”DuvajuststaredatYreneuntiltearsfilledandflowedfromthosedarkeyes.Herhusbandsankintoachairandcoveredhisface,shouldersshaking.

Therewasaflurryofmotion,andthenthekhaganwasthere.Andthemostpowerfulmanontheearthfell tohiskneesbeforethatcouch

andreachedforhisdaughter.Crushedheragainsthim.“Isittrue,Duva?”Arghundemandedfromtheheadofthecouch,andYrene

resisted the urge to snap at him about giving the woman some space to sortthroughallshe’dendured.

Sartaq had no reservations. He snarled at his elder brother, “Shut yourmouth.”

ButbeforeArghuncouldhissaretort,Duvaliftedherheadfromthekhagan’sshoulder.

Tears leaked down her cheeks as she surveyed Sartaq and Arghun. ThenHasar.ThenKashin.Andlastlythehusbandwholiftedhisheadfromhishands.

Shadowsstilllinedthatlovelyface,but—humanones.“It is true,”Duvawhispered, her voice breaking as she lookedback to her

brothersandsister.“Allofit.”Andaseverythingthatconfessionimpliedsankin,thekhagangatheredherto

himagain,rockinghergentlywhileshewept.Hasarlingeredbythefootofthecouchasherbrotherspressedintoembrace

theirsister,somethinglikelongingonherface.HasarnoticedYrene’sstareandmouthedthewords:Thankyou.Yrene only bowed her head and backed towardwhere Chaolwaswaiting.

Not at her side, but sitting in his chair next to a nearby pillar. Hemust haveasked a servant to bring it from his suite when the tether between them hadgrownthinasshebattledwithinDuva.

Chaolwheeledover toher,scanningherfeatures.Buthisownfaceheldnogrief,nofrustration.

Onlyawe—aweandsuchadorationitsnatchedherbreathaway.Yrenesettledinhislap,andheloopedhisarmsaroundherasshekissedhischeek.

Adoorslammedopenacrossthehall,andrushingfeetandskirtsfilledtheair.

Andsobbing.TheGrandEmpresswassobbingasshethrewherselftowardherdaughter.

ShemadeitwithinafootbeforeKashinleapedin,grabbinghismotherbythewaist,herwhitegownswayingwiththeforceofherhaltedsprint.ShespokeinHalha, toofast forYrene tounderstand,herskinashenagainst the jetblackofherlong,straighthair.Shedidnotseemtonoticeanyonebutthedaughterbeforeher asKashinmurmured an explanation, his hand stroking downhismother’sthinbackinsoothinglines.

TheGrandEmpressjustfelltoherkneesandfoldedDuvaintoherarms.AnoldachestirredinYreneatthesightofthatmotheranddaughter,atthe

sightofbothofthem,weepingwithgriefandjoy.ChaolsqueezedhershoulderinquietunderstandingasYreneslidoffhislap

andtheyturnedtoleave.“Anything,” the khagan said over his shoulder to Yrene, the man still

kneelingbyDuvaandhiswifeasHasarat last swept in toembraceher sister.Theirmother just enfolded both princesses, kissing the sisters on their cheeksand brows and hair as they held together tightly. “Anything you desire,” thekhagansaid.“Askit,anditisyours.”

Yrenedidnothesitate.Thewordstumbledfromherlips.“Afavor,GreatKhagan.Iwouldaskyouafavor.”

Thepalacewasinuproar,butChaolandYrenestillfoundthemselvesalonewithNesrynandSartaq,sitting,ofallplaces,intheirsuite.

TheprinceandNesrynhadjoinedthemonthelongwalkbacktotheroom,ChaolwheelinghischairclosetoYrene’sside.She’dbeenswayingonherfeet,andwastoodamnedstubborntomentionit.Evenwentsofaras toassesshimwiththosesharphealer’seyes,inquiringafterhisback,hislegs.Asifhewastheonewho’ddrainedhispowertothedregs.

He’dfeltit,theshiftingwithinhisbodyasmightywavesofherpowerflowedintoDuva.Thegrowingstrainalongpartsofhisbackandlegs.Onlythenhadhelefthersideduringthehealing,hisstepsunevenashe’dgonetoleanagainstthewoodenarmofanearbycouchandquietlyaskedthenearestservanttobringhischair.Bythetimethey’dreturned,he’dneededit—hislegsstillcapableofsomemotion,butnotstanding.

But it did not frustrate him, did not embarrass him. If this was to be hisbody’snaturalstatefortherestofhislife…itwasnotapunishment,notatall.

Hewasstillthinkingthatwhentheyreachedhissuite,mullingoverhowtheymightworkoutascheduleofhimfightinginbattlewithherhealing.

For he would fight. And if her power was drained, he’d fight then, too.Whetheronhorsebackorinthechairitself.

AndwhenYreneneededtoheal,whenthemagicinherveinssummonedhertothosekillingfieldsandtheirbondgrewthin…he’dmanagewithacane,orthechair.Hewouldnotshrinkfromit.

Ifhesurvivedthebattle.Thewar.Iftheysurvived.He and Yrene found spots on the sorry replacement for the gold couch—

whichhewashonestlydebatingbringingbacktoAdarlanwithhim,brokenbitsand all—while Nesryn and the prince sat, carefully, in separate chairs. Chaoltriednottolooktooawareoramusedbyit.

“Howdidyouknowwewereinsuchtrouble?”Yreneaskedatlast.“Beforeyoulinkedupwiththeguards,Imean.”

Sartaqblinked,stumblingoutofhis thoughts.Acornerofhismouth lifted.“Kadja,” he said, jerking his chin toward the servant currently setting a teaservice before them. “She was the one who sawDuva leave—down to thosetunnels.She’sinmy…employ.”

Chaolstudiedtheservant,whomadenosignthatshe’dheard.“Thankyou,”herasped.

ButYrenewentonestepfurther,takingthewoman’shandandsqueezingit.

“Weoweyoualifedebt,”shesaid.“Howcanwerepayyou?”Kadjaonlyshookherheadandbackedoutoftheroom.Theystaredafterher

foramoment.“Arghun is no doubt debatingwhether to punish her for it,” Sartaqmused.

“Ontheonehand,itsavedDuva.Ontheotherhand…shedidn’ttellhimatall.”Nesryn frowned. “We need to find a way to shield her, then. If he’s that

ungrateful.”“Oh, he is,” Sartaq said, and Chaol tried not to blink at the casualness

betweenthem,orheruseofwe.“ButI’llthinkonit.”ChaolrefrainedfromrevealingthatonewordtoShen,andKadjawouldhave

afaithfulprotectorfortherestofherlife.Yreneonlyasked,“Whatnow?”Nesrynranahandthroughherdarkhair.Different.Yes,therewassomething

whollydifferentabouther.SheglancedtoSartaq—notforpermission,but…asifreassuringherselfthathewasthere.ThenshesaidthewordsthatmadeChaolgladhewasalreadysitting.

“MaeveisaValgqueen.”It all came out then. What she and Sartaq had learned these past weeks:

stygianspiders,whowere reallyValg footsoldiers.Ashape-shifterwhomightbeLysandra’suncle.AndaValgqueenwhohadbeenmasqueradingasFaeforthousandsofyears,hiding from thedemonkings she’ddrawn to thisworld inherattempttoescapethem.

“ThatexplainswhytheFaehealersmighthavefled, too,”YrenemurmuredwhenNesrynfellsilent.“WhyMaeve’sownhealercompoundliesontheborderwiththemortalworld.Perhapsnotsotheycanhaveaccesstohumanswhoneedcare…butasaborderpatrolagainsttheValg,shouldtheyevertrytoencroachherterritory.”

How close the Valg had unwittingly come when Aelin had fought thoseprincesinWendlyn.

“ItalsoexplainswhyAelinreportedanowlatMaeve’ssidewhentheyfirstmet,”Nesrynsaid,gesturingtoYrene,whosebrowsbunched.

ThenYreneblurted,“TheowlmustbetheFaeformofahealer.Somehealerof hers that she keeps close—as a bodyguard.Has let everyone believe to besomepet…”

Chaol’s head spun. Sartaq gave him a look as if to say he understood thefeelingwell.

“What happened beforewe arrived?”Nesryn asked. “Whenwe found you…”

Yrene’s hand clenched his.And itwas his turn to tell themwhat they hadlearned,whattheyhadendured.ThatregardlessofwhatMaevemightplantodo…ThereremainedErawantoface.

Until Yrene murmured, “When I was healing Duva, the demon …” Sherubbedatherchest.He’dneverseenanythingsoremarkableasthathealing:theblindingglowofherhands,thenear-holyexpressiononherface.AsifshewereSilbaherself.“ThedemontoldmeitwasnotaValgprince…butaprincess.”

Silence.UntilNesryn said, “The spider. It claimed theValgkingshad sonsanddaughters.Princesandprincesses.”

Chaolswore.No,hislegswouldnotbeabletofunctionanytimesoon,withorwithoutYrene’sslowlyrefillingwellofpower.“We’regoingtoneedaFire-Bringer, it seems,” he said.And to translate the booksHafiza said shewouldgladlyhandovertotheircause.

Nesrynchewedonherlip.“AelinnowsailsnorthtoTerrasen,anarmadawithher.Thewitchesaswell.”

“Or just theThirteen,”Chaolcountered.“The reportsweremurky. ItmightnotevenbeManonBlackbeak’scoven,actually.”

“It is,” Nesryn said. “I’d bet everything on it.” She slid her attention toSartaq, who nodded—silent permission. Nesryn braced her forearms on herknees.“Wedidnotreturnalonewhenweracedbackhere.”

Chaolglancedbetweenthem.“Howmany?”Sartaq’s face tightened. “The rukhin are vital enough internally that I can

onlyriskbringinghalf.”Chaolwaited.“SoIbroughtathousand.”Hewas indeed glad he was sitting down. A thousand ruk riders…Chaol

scratchedhisjaw.“IfwecanjoinAelin’shost,alongwiththeThirteenandanyotherIronteethManonBlackbeakcanswaytoourside…”

“Wewill have an aerial legion to combatMorath’s,”Nesryn finished, eyesbright.Withhope,yes,butsomethinglikedread,too.Asifsheperhapsrealizedwhatcombatingwouldensue.Thelivesatstake.YetsheturnedtoYrene.“AndifyoucanhealthoseinfectedbytheValg…”

“We still need to find a way to get their hosts down,” Sartaq said. “LongenoughforYreneandanyothers toheal them.”Yes, therewasthat toaccountfor,too.

Yrenecutin,“Well,asyousaid,wehaveAelinFire-Bringerfightingforus,don’twe?Ifshecanproduceflame,surelyshecanproducesmoke.”Hermouthquirkedtotheside.“Imighthavesomeideas.”

Yreneopenedhermouthasifshe’dsaymore,butthesuitedoorsblewopenandHasarbreezedin.

HasarseemedtocheckherselfatthesightofSartaq.“ItseemsI’mlateforthewarcouncil.”

Sartaq crossed an ankle over a knee. “Who says that’s what we’rediscussing?”

Hasar claimed a seat for herself and adjusted the fall of her hair over ashoulder. “Youmean to tellme the ruks shitting up the roofs are just here tomakeyoulookimportant?”

Sartaqhuffedaquietlaugh.“Yes,sister?”TheprincessonlylookedtoYrene,thenChaol.“Iwillcomewithyou.”Chaoldidn’tdaremove.Yrenesaid,“Alone?”“Notalone.”Themockingamusementwasgonefromherface.“Yousaved

Duva’s life.Andours, if she had grownmore bold.”Aglance toSartaq,whowatchedwithmild surprise. “Duva is thebestofus.Thebestofme.”Hasar’sthroatbobbed.“SoIwillgowithyou,withwhatevershipsIcanbring,sothatmysisterwillneveragainlookoverhershoulderinfear.”

Exceptinfearofoneanother,Chaolrefrainedfromsaying.ButHasarcaughtthewordsinhiseyes.“Nother,”shesaidquietly.“Allthe

others,”sheaddedwithastark lookatSartaq,whonoddedgrimly.“ButneverDuva.”

Anunspokenpromise,Chaolrealized,amongtheothersiblings.“So you will have to suffer my company for a while yet, LordWestfall,”

Hasarsaid,butthatedgedsmilewasnotassharp.“Becauseformysisters,bothlivinganddead,IwillmarchwithmysuldetothegatesofMorathandmakethatdemonbastardpay.”ShemetYrene’s stare. “And foryou,YreneTowers.ForwhatyoudidforDuva,Iwillhelpyousaveyourland.”

Yrene rose, her hands shaking.And none of them spoke aword asYrenereachedHasar’s seat and threwher arms aroundherneck tohold theprincesstightly.

66

Nesrynwasutterlydrained.Wantedtosleepforaweek.Amonth.But she somehow found herself walking the halls, aiming for Kadara’s

minaret.Alone.Sartaqhadgonetoseehisfather,Hasarjoininghim.Andthoughitcertainly

wasnotawkwardwithChaolandYrene…Nesryngavethemtheirprivacy.HehadbeenuponDeath’sthresholdafterall.Shehadfewillusionsaboutwhatwaslikelyabouttotakeplaceinthatsuite.

Andthatshe’dhavetofindquartersofherown.Nesrynsupposedshe’dhavetofindquartersforafewpeopletonightanyway

—starting with Borte, who’d marveled at Antica and the sea, even as they’dsweptinasfastasthewindscouldcarrythem.AndFalkan,who’dindeedcomewith them, riding as a fieldmouse in Borte’s pocket,Yeran none too pleasedabout it. Or so he’d seemed the last time she’d seen him at the Eridun aerie,Sartaqchargingthevarioushearth-mothersandthecaptainstorallytheirrukhinandflyforAntica.

Nesrynreachedthestairwellleadinguptotheminaretwhenthepagefoundher.Theboywasoutofbreathbutmanagedagracefulbowashehandedheraletter.

Itwasdatedtwoweeksago.Inheruncle’shandwriting.Herfingerstrembledasshebroketheseal.Aminutelater,shewasracinguptheminaretstairs.

Peoplecriedoutinaweandsurprisewhenthereddish-brownruksailedoverthebuildingsandhomesofAntica.

Nesrynmurmured to thebird,guidinghim toward theRunniQuarterwhiletheyflewonasalt-kissedbreezeasfastashiswingscouldcarrythem.

ShehadclaimedhimuponleavingtheEridunaerie.Hadgonerighttothenests,wherehehadstillwaitedforariderwhowould

neverreturn,andlookeddeepintohisgoldeneyes.HadtoldhimthathernamewasNesrynFaliq,andshewasdaughterofSayedandCybeleFaliq,andthatshewouldbehisrider,ifhewouldhaveher.

Shewonderediftheruk,whoselateriderhadcalledhimSalkhi,hadknowntheburning inhereyeshadnotbeenfromtheroaringwindashe’dbowedhisheadtoher.

Thenshe’d flownhim,SalkhikeepingpacewithKadaraat theheadof thehostastherukhinsailednorthward.RacedtoAntica.

And now, as Salkhi landed in the street outside her uncle’s home, somevendors abandoning their carts in outright terror, some childrendropping theirgames to gawk, then grin—Nesryn patted her ruk on his broad neck anddismounted.

Thefrontgatestoheruncle’shousebangedopen.And as she saw her father standing there, as her sister shoved past, her

childrenpouringoutinashriekinggaggle…Nesrynfelltoherkneesandwept.

How Sartaq found her two hours later, Nesryn didn’t know. Though shesupposedaruksittinginthestreetofafancyquarterofAnticawassuretocauseastir.Andbeeasytospot.

Shehadweptandlaughedandheldherfamilyforuntoldminutes,rightinthe

middleofthestreet,Salkhilookingon.Andwhenheruncleandaunthadcalledthemintoatleastcryoveragood

cupoftea,her familyhad toldherof theiradventures.Thewildseas theyhadsailed, the enemies their ship had dodged on their voyage here. But they hadmade it—andhere theywouldstaywhile thewar raged,her fathersaid, to thenodsofheruncleandaunt.

Whensheemergedfromthehousegatesatlast,herfatherclaimingthehonorofescortingNesryntoSalkhi—afterhe’dshooedoffhersistertogomanagethatcircusofchildren—Nesrynhadhaltedsoquicklyherfatherhadnearlyslammedintoher.

BecausestandingbesideSalkhiwasSartaq,ahalfsmileonhisface.Andontheother sideofSalkhi…Kadarapatientlywaited, the two ruks aproudpairindeed.

Herfather’seyeswidened,asifrecognizingtherukbeforetheprince.Butthenherfatherbowed.Deeply.Nesryn had told her family—in moderate detail—what had befallen her

amongst the rukhin. Her sister and aunt had glared at her when the variouschildrenbegantodeclarethatthey,too,wouldberukriders.Andthentookoffthroughthehouse,shriekingandflappingtheirarms,leapingofffurniturewithwildabandon.

She expected Sartaq to wait to be approached, but the prince spotted herfather and strode forward. Then reached out and clasped his hand. “I heardCaptainFaliq’sfamilyhadatlastarrivedsafely,”Sartaqsaidbywayofgreeting.“IthoughtI’dcometowelcomeyoumyself.”

Something swelled in her chest to the point of pain as Sartaq inclined hisheadtoherfather.

SayedFaliq looked likehemightverywellkeeloverdead,either from thegestureofrespectorKadara’smerepresencebehindthem.Indeed,severalsmallheadsnowpoppedbehindhislegs,scanningtheprince,thentheruks,andthen

—“KADARA!”Herauntanduncle’syoungestchild—nomorethanfour—screamedtheruk’s

nameloudenoughthatanyoneinthecitywhodidn’tknowthebirdwasonthisstreetwasnowwellaware.

Sartaq laughed as the children shoved past Nesryn’s father, racing for thegoldenbird.

Hersisterwasontheirheels,warningspringingfromherlips—Until Kadara lowered herself to the ground, Salkhi following suit. The

childrenhalted,reverencestealingoverthemastheyreachedouttentativehandstowardthetworuksandstrokedthemgently.

Nesryn’ssistersighedwithrelief.ThenrealizedwhostoodbeforeNesrynandtheirfather.

Delarawentred.Shepattedherdress,asifitwouldsomehowcoverthefreshfood stains courtesy of her youngest. Then she slowly backed into the house,bowingasshewent.

Sartaqlaughedasshevanished—butnotbeforeDelaragaveNesrynasharplookthatsaid,Oh,youaresosmittenit’snotevenalaughingmatter.

Nesryngavehersisteravulgargesturebehindherbackthattheirfatherchosenottosee.

HerfatherwassayingtoSartaq,“Iapologizeifmygrandchildren,nieces,andnephewstakesomelibertieswithyourruk,Prince.”

But Sartaq smiled broadly—a brighter grin than any she’d seen him givebefore.“Kadarapretends tobeanoblemount,butshe’smoreofamotherhenthananything.”

Kadarapuffedherfeathers,earningsquealsofdelightfromthechildren.Nesryn’s fathersqueezedhershoulderbeforehesaid to theprince,“I think

I’llgokeepthemfromtryingtoflyoffonher.”And then theywere alone. In the street. Outside her uncle’s house. All of

Anticanowgawkingatthem.Sartaqdidnotseemtonotice.Certainlynotashesaid,“Walkwithme?”Swallowing, with a backward glance toward where her father was now

overseeing thegaggleofchildrenattempting toclimbontoSalkhiandKadara,Nesrynnodded.

Theyheadedtowardthequiet,cleanalleybehindheruncle’shouse,walkinginsilenceforafewsteps.UntilSartaqsaid,“Ispoketomyfather.”

Andshewondered,then,ifthismeetingwasnottobeagoodone.Ifthearmytheyhadbroughtwas tobeorderedbackto itsaeries.Or if theprince, the lifeshesawforherselfinthosebeautifulmountains…ifperhapstherealityofthat,too,hadfoundthem.

Forhewasaprince.Andforall that she lovedher family, forall that theymadehersoproud,therewasnotonenobledropofbloodintheirlineage.HerfathershakingSartaq’shandwastheclosestanyFaliqhadevercometoroyalty.

Nesrynmanagedtosay,“Oh?”“We…discussedthings.”Herchestsankatthecarefulwords.“Isee.”Sartaq stopped, the sandy alley humming with the buzzing bees in the

jasmine that climbed the walls of the bordering courtyards. The one behindthem:theback,privatecourtyardbelongingtoherfamily.Shewishedshecouldslitheroverthewallandhidewithin.Ratherthanhearthis.

ButNesrynmadeherselfmeettheprince’seyes.Sawhimscanningherface.“I told him,” Sartaq said at last, “that I planned to lead the rukhin against

Erawan,withorwithouthisconsent.”Worse. Thiswas gettingworse andworse. Shewished his faceweren’t so

damnunreadable.Sartaqtookabreath.“Heaskedmewhy.”“Ihopeyoutoldhimthatthefateoftheworldmightdependuponit.”Sartaqchuckled.“Idid.ButIalsotoldhimthatthewomanIlovenowplans

toheadintowar.AndIintendtofollowher.”Shedidn’tletthewordssinkin.Didn’tletherselfbelieveanyofit,untilhe’d

finished.“Hetoldmethatyouarecommon-born.Thatawould-beHeirofthekhagan

needstowedaprincess,oralady,orsomeonewithlandsandalliancestooffer.”Herthroatclosedup.Shetriedtoshutoutthesound,thewords.Didn’twant

toheartherest.ButSartaqtookherhand.“Itoldhimifthatwaswhatittooktobechosenas

Heir,Ididn’twantit.AndIwalkedout.”Nesrynsuckedinabreath.“Areyouinsane?”Sartaqsmiledfaintly.“Icertainlyhopenot,forthesakeofthisempire.”He

tuggedher closer, until theirbodieswerenearly touching. “Becausemy fatherappointedmeHeirbeforeIcouldwalkoutoftheroom.”

Nesrynleftherbody.Couldonlymanagetobreathe.Andwhenshetriedtobow,Sartaqgrippedhershoulderstightly.Stoppedher

beforeherheadcouldevenlower.“Neverfromyou,”hesaidquietly.Heir—he’dbeenmadeHeir. To all this. This land she loved, this land she

stillwishedtoexploresomuchitached.Sartaqliftedahandtocuphercheek,hiscallusesscrapingagainstherskin.

“Weflytowar.Muchisuncertainahead.Saveforthis.”Hebrushedhismouthagainsthers.“Saveforwhat I feel foryou.Nodemonarmy,nodarkqueenorking,willchangethat.”

Nesrynshook,lettingthewordssinkin.“I—Sartaq,youareHeir—”Hepulled back to studyher again. “Wewill go towar,NesrynFaliq.And

whenweshatterErawanandhisarmies,when thedarkness is at lastbanishedfromthisworld…ThenyouandIwillflybackhere.Together.”Hekissedheragain—abarecaressofhismouth.“Andsoweshallremainfortherestofourdays.”

Sheheardtheoffer,thepromise.Theworldhelaidatherfeet.Shetrembledatit.Whathesofreelygave.Nottheempireandcrown,but…

thelife.Hisheart.Nesrynwonderedifheknewherhearthadbeenhisfromthatveryfirstride

atopKadara.Sartaqsmiledasiftosayyes,hehad.Soshewrappedherarmsaroundhisneckandkissedhim.It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the

wind,likeamountainspring.Hetastedlikehome.Nesrynclaspedhisfaceinherhandsasshepulledback.“Towar,Sartaq,”she

breathed,memorizing every line of his face. “And thenwe’ll seewhat comesafter.”

Sartaqgaveheraknowing,cockygrin.Asifhe’dfullydecidedwhatwouldcomeafterandnothingshecouldsaywouldeverconvincehimotherwise.

Andfromthecourtyardjustawallaway,hersistershouted,loudenoughfortheentireneighborhoodtohear,“Itoldyou,Father!”

67

Twoweekslater,itwasbarelydawnwhenYrenefoundherselfonthedeckofafine,massiveshipandwatchedthesunriseoverAnticaforthelasttime.

Theshipwasabuzzwithactivity,but shestoodat the rail, andcounted theminaretsofthepalace.Rananeyeovereveryshiningquarter,thecitystirringinthenewlight.

Autumnwindswerealreadywhippingtheseas,theshipbobbingandlurchingbeneathher.

Home.Theyweretosailhometoday.She hadn’tmademanygood-byes, had not needed to.ButKashin had still

foundher,rightasshe’driddentothedocks.Chaolhadgiventheprinceanodbeforeleadinghermareontotheship.

Foralongmoment,Kashinhadstaredattheship—theothersgatheredintheharbor.Thenhe’d saidquietly, “Iwish I hadnever said aword to youon thesteppesthatnight.”

Yrenebegantoshakeherhead,unsureofwhattoevensay.“Ihavemissedhavingyou—asmyfriend,”Kashinwenton.“Idonothave

manyofthem.”“Iknow,”shemanagedtogetout.Andthenadded,“Imissedhavingyouas

myfriend,too.”Forshehad.Andwhathewasnowwillingtodoforher,herpeople…ShetookKashin’shand.Squeezedit.Therewasstillpaininhiseyes,limning

hishandsome face, but…understanding.Anda clear, undauntedgleamashebeheldthenorthernhorizon.

The prince squeezed her hand in return. “Thank you again—forDuva.”Asmallsmiletowardthatnorthernsky.“Weshallmeetagain,YreneTowers.Iamcertainofit.”

Shesmiledbackathim,beyondwords.ButKashinwinked,pullinghishandfromhers.“Mysuldestillblowsnorthward.WhoknowswhatImayfindontheroadahead?Especiallynow thatSartaqhas theburdenofbeingHeir, and I’mfreetodoasIplease.”

Thecityhadbeeninanuproaraboutit.Celebrating,debating—itstillragedon.Whattheotherroyalsiblingsthought,Yrenedidnotknow,but…therewaspeace in Kashin’s eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seenthem. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspokenagreementthatwentbeyondNeverDuva.ToperhapsevenNeverUs.

Yrenehadsmiledagainattheprince—atherfriend.“Thankyou,forallyourkindness.”

Kashinhadonlybowedtoherandstrodeoffintothegraylight.Andinthehoursincethen,Yrenehadstoodonthedeckofthisship,silently

watching the awakening city behind it,while the others readied things aroundandbelow.

For longminutes, shebreathed in the sea and the spices and the soundsofAnticaundertherisingsun.Tookthemdeepintoherlungs,lettingthemsettle.Let her eyes drink their fill of the cream-colored stones of the Torre Cesmerisingaboveitall.

Even in theearlymorning, the towerwasabeacon,a jutting lanceofhopeandcalm.

Shewonderedifshewouldeverseeitagain.Forwhatlayaheadofthem…Yrenebracedherhandsontherailasanothergustofwindrockedtheship.A

windfrominland,as ifall thirty-sixgodsofAnticablewacollectivebreathto

sendthemskitteringhome.AcrosstheNarrowSea—andtowar.The ship began to move at last, the world a riot of action and color and

sound, but Yrene remained at the rail. Watching the city grow smaller andsmaller.

Andevenwhen thecoastwas littlemore thana shadow,YrenecouldhaveswornshestillsawtheTorrestandingaboveit,glintingwhiteinthesun,asifitwereanarmupraisedinfarewell.

68

ChaolWestfall tooknoneofhis steps forgranted.Even theones thathadsenthimrushingtoabuckettohurlupthecontentsofhisstomachforthefirstfewdaysatsea.

But oneof the advantages of travelingwith a healerwas thatYrene easilysoothedhisstomach.Andaftertwoweeksatsea,dodgingfiercestormsthatthecaptainonlycalledShip-Wreckers…hisstomachhadfinallyforgivenhim.

HefoundYreneat theprowrailing,gazing toward land.Orwhere the landwould be, if they dared sail close enough. Theywere keeping far out as theyskirted up the coast of their continent, and from hismeetingwith the captainmoments before, they were somewhere near northern Eyllwe. Close to theFenharrowborder.

NosignofAelinorherarmada,butthatwastobeexpected,consideringhowlongthey’dbeendelayedinAnticabeforeleaving.

ButChaolpushedthatfromhismindasheslidhisarmsaroundYrene’swaistandpressedakisstothecrookofherneck.

Shedidn’tsomuchasfreezeatthetouchfrombehind.Asifshe’dlearnedthecadenceofhissteps.Asifshetooknoneofthemforgranted,either.

Yrene leanedback intohim,herbody looseningwithasighasshe laidherhandsatopwherehisrestedoverherstomach.

It had taken a full day afterDuva’s healing before he’d been able towalkwiththecane—albeitstifflyandunevenly.Asithadbeeninthoseearlydaysof

recovery:hisbackstrained to thepointofaching,everystep requiringhis fullattention.Buthe’dgrittedhis teeth,Yrenemurmuringencouragementwhenhehad to figure out various movements. A day after that, most of the limp hadeased, though he’d kept the cane; and a day later, he’dwalkedwithminimaldiscomfort.

But even now, after these two weeks at sea with little for Yrene to healbeyondqueasystomachsandsunburns,Chaolkept thecaneintheirstateroom,thechairstoredbelowdecks,forwhentheywerenextneeded.

He peered over Yrene’s shoulder, down to their interlaced fingers. To thetwinringsnowgracingbothoftheirhands.

“Watchingthehorizonwon’tgetusthereanyfaster,”hemurmuredontoherneck.

“Neitherwillteasingyourwifeaboutit.”Chaol smiledagainsther skin. “HowelseamI toamusemyselfduring the

longhoursthanbyteasingyou,LadyWestfall?”Yrene snorted, as she always did at the title. But Chaol had never heard

anythingfiner—otherthanthevowsthey’dspokeninSilba’stempleattheTorretwoandahalfweeksago.Theceremonyhadbeensmall,butHasarhadinsistedonafeastafterwardthatputtoshamealltheothersthey’dhadinthepalace.Theprincessmighthavebeenmany things,but shecertainlyknewhow to throwaparty.

Andhowtoleadanarmada.GodshelphimwhenHasarandAedionmet.“For someone who hates being called LordWestfall,” Yrene mused, “you

certainlyseemtoenjoyusingthetitleforme.”“You’resuitedtoit,”hesaid,kissingherneckagain.“Yes,sosuitedtoitthatEretiawon’tstopmockingmewithhercurtsyingand

bowing.”“EretiaissomeonewhomIcouldhavegladlyleftbehindinAntica.”

Yrenechuckled,butpinchedhiswrist,steppingoutofhisembrace.“You’llbegladforherwhenwegettoland.”

“Icertainlyhopeso.”Yrenepinchedhimagain,butChaolcaughtherhandandpressedakisstoher

fingers.Wife—his wife. He’d never seen the path ahead so clearly as he had that

afternoonthreeweeksago,whenhe’dspiedhersittinginthegardenandjust…knew.He’dknownwhathewanted,andsohe’dgone toherchair,kneltdownbeforeit,andsimplyasked.Willyoumarryme,Yrene?Willyoubemywife?She’d flung her arms around his neck, knocking them both right into the

fountain.Wheretheyhadremained,totheannoyanceofthefish,kissinguntilaservanthadpointedlycoughedontheirwaypast.

Andlookingathernow,theseaaircurlingtendrilsofherhair,bringingoutthosefrecklesonhernoseandcheeks…Chaolsmiled.

Yrene’sansweringsmilewasbrighterthanthesunontheseaaroundthem.He’dbroughtthatdamnedgoldcouchwiththem,shreddedcushionsandall.

IthadearnedhimnoshortageofcommentsfromHasarwhenitwashauledintothecargohold,buthedidn’tcare.Iftheysurvivedthiswar,he’dbuildahousefor Yrene around the damn thing. Along with a stable for Farasha, currentlyterrorizingthepoorsoldierstaskedwithmuckingoutherstallaboardtheship.

AweddinggiftfromHasar,alongwithYrene’sownMuniqihorse.He’dalmost told theprincess that shecouldkeepHellas’sHorse,but there

was something to be said about the prospect of charging down Morath footsoldiersatopahorsenamedButterfly.

Stillleaningagainsthim,Yrenewrappedahandaroundthelocketshenevertookoff,savetobathe.Hewonderedifhecouldhaveitchangedtoreflecthernewinitials.

NolongerYreneTowers—butYreneWestfall.

Shesmileddownatthelocket,thesilvernear-blindinginthemiddaysun.“IsupposeIdon’tneedmylittlenoteanylonger.”

“Why?”“BecauseIamnotalone,”shesaid,runningherfingersoverthemetal.“And

becauseIfoundmycourage.”Hekissedhercheek,butsaidnothingassheopenedthelocketandcarefully

removedthebrownedscrap.Thewindtriedtoripitfromherfingers,butYreneheldtight,unfoldingtheslenderfragment.

Shescannedthetextshe’dreadathousandtimes.“Iwonderifshe’llreturnfor thiswar.Whoevershewas.Shespokeof theempire like…”Yreneshookherhead,moretoherself,andfoldeditshutagain.“Perhapsshewillcomehometofight,fromwherevershesailedoffto.”Sheofferedhimthepieceofpaperandturnedawaytotheseaahead.

Chaol took the scrap from Yrene, the paper velvet-soft from its countlessreadingsandfoldingsandhowshe’dhelditinherpocket,clutchedit,alltheseyears.

Heunfoldedthenoteandreadthewordshealreadyknewwerewithin:Forwhereveryouneedtogo—andthensome.Theworldneedsmorehealers.Thewavesquieted.Theshipitselfseemedtopause.ChaolglancedtoYrene,smilingserenelyatthesea,thentothenote.Tothehandwritingheknewaswellashisown.Yrenewentstillatthetearshecouldnotstopfromslidingdownhisface.“What’swrong?”Shewouldhavebeensixteen,nearlyseventeenthen.Andifshehadbeenin

Innish…Itwould have been on herway to theRedDesert, to trainwith the Silent

Assassins.ThebruisesYrenehaddescribed…ThebeatingArobynnHamelhadgivenheraspunishmentforfreeingRolfe’sslavesandwreckingSkull’sBay.

“Chaol?”

Forwhereveryouneedtogo—andthensome.Theworldneedsmorehealers.There,inherhandwriting…Chaol lookedup at last, blinking away tears as he scannedhiswife’s face.

Everybeautifulline,thosegoldeneyes.Agift.Agiftfromaqueenwhohadseenanotherwomaninhellandthoughttoreach

backahand.Withnothoughtofiteverbeingreturned.Amomentofkindness,atugonathread…

AndevenAelincouldnothaveknown that insavingabarmaid fromthosemercenaries, in teachingher todefendherself, ingivingher thatgoldand thisnote…

EvenAelincouldnothaveknownordreamedorguessedhowthatmomentofkindnesswouldbeanswered.

Not just by a healer blessed by Silba herself, capable of wiping the Valgaway.

Butbythethreehundredhealerswhohadcomewithher.The three hundred healers from the Torre, now spread across the one

thousandshipsofthekhaganhimself.Afavor,Yrenehadaskedof theman in return for savinghismostbeloved

daughter.Anything,thekhaganhadpromised.Yrenehadkneltbeforethekhagan.Savemypeople.Thatwasallsheasked.Allshehadbegged.Savemypeople.Sothekhaganhadanswered.With one thousand ships from Hasar’s armada, and his own. Filled with

Kashin’sfootsoldiersandDarghancavalry.And above them, spanning the horizon far behind the flagship on which

Chaol andYrenenowsailed…Above them flewone thousand rukhin ledby

SartaqandNesryn,fromeveryaerieandhearth.An army to challengeMorath, with more to come, still rallying in Antica

underKashin’scommand.Twoweeks,ChaolhadgiventhekhaganandKashin,butwith the autumn storms, hehadnotwanted to riskwaiting longer.So thisinitialhost…Onlyhalf.Onlyhalf, andyet the scopeofwhat sailedand flewbehindhim…

Chaol folded the note along its well-worn lines and carefully set it backwithinYrene’slocket.

“Keep it awhile longer,” he said softly. “I think there’s someonewhowillwanttoseethat.”

Yrene’s eyes filled with surprise and curiosity, but she asked nothing asChaolagainslidhisarmsaroundherandheldhertightly.

Everystep,allofit,hadledhere.From that keep in the snow-blastedmountainswhere amanwith a face as

hardastherockaroundthemhadthrownhimintothecold;tothatsaltmineinEndovier, where an assassin with eyes like wildfire had smirked at him,unbrokendespiteayearinhell.

Anassassinwhohadfoundhiswife,ortheyhadfoundeachother,twogods-blessedwomenwanderingtheshadowedruinsoftheworld.Andwhonowheldthefateofitbetweenthem.

Everystep.Everycurveintodarkness.Everymomentofdespairandrageandpain.

Ithadledhimtopreciselywhereheneededtobe.Wherehewantedtobe.Amoment of kindness.Froma youngwomanwho ended lives to a young

womanwhosavedthem.That shriveled scrap of darkness within him shrank further. Shrank and

fracturedintonothingbutdustthatwassweptawaybytheseawind.Pasttheonethousand ships sailing proud and unyielding behind him. Past the healers

scattered amongst the soldiers and horses, Hafiza leading them, who had allcomewhenYrenehadalsoaskedthemtosaveherpeople.Pasttherukssoaringthroughtheclouds,scanningforanythreatsahead.

Yrenewaswatchinghimwarily.Hekissedheronce—twice.Hedidnotregret.Hedidnotlookback.NotwithYreneinhisarms,athisside.Notwiththenoteshecarried,thatbit

ofproof…thatbitofproofthathewasexactlywherehewasmeanttobe.Thathehadalwaysbeenheadedthere.Here.

“Will I ever hear an explanation for this dramatic reaction,”Yrene said atlast, clicking her tongue, “or are you just going to kissme for the rest of theday?”

Chaolrumbledalaugh.“It’salongstory.”Heslunganarmaroundherwaistand staredout toward thehorizonwithher. “Andyoumightwant to sit downfirst.”

“Thosearemyfavoritekinds,”shesaid,winking.Chaol laughed again, feeling the sound in everypart of him, letting it ring

clearandbrightasabell.Afinal,joyouspealingbeforethestormofwarsweptin.

“Come on,” he said to Yrene, nodding to the soldiers working alongsideHasar’s men to keep the ships sailing swiftly for the north—to battle andbloodshed.“I’lltellyouoverlunch.”

Yreneroseontohertoestokisshimbeforeheledthemtowardtheirspaciousstateroom.“Thisstoryofyourshadbetterbeworthit,”shesaidwithawrygrin.

Chaolsmiledbackathiswife,atthelighthe’dunknowinglywalkedtowardhisentirelife,evenwhenhehadnotbeenabletoseeit.

“Itis,”hesaidquietlytoYrene.“Itis.”

FIREHEART

Theyhadentombedherindarknessandiron.She slept, for they had forced her to—had wafted curling, sweet smoke

throughthecleverlyhiddenairholesintheslabofironabove.Around.Beneath.Acoffinbuiltbyanancientqueentotrapthesuninside.Drapedwithiron,encasedinit,sheslept.Dreamed.Drifted throughseas, throughdarkness, through fire.Aprincessofnothing.

Nameless.Theprincesssangtothedarkness,totheflame.Andtheysangback.Therewasnobeginningorendormiddle.Onlythesong,andthesea,andthe

ironsarcophagusthathadbecomeherbower.Untiltheyweregone.Untilblindinglightfloodedtheslumbering,warmdark.Untilthewindswept

in,crispandscentedwithrain.Shecouldnotfeelitonherface.Notwiththedeath-maskstillchainedtoit.Her eyes crackedopen.The light burned away all shape and color after so

longinthedimdepths.Butafaceappearedbeforeher—aboveher.Peeringoverthelidthathadbeen

hauledaside.Dark,flowinghair.Moon-paleskin.Lipsasredasblood.Theancientqueen’smouthpartedinasmile.

Teethaswhiteasbone.“You’reawake.Good.”Lovelyandcold,itwasavoicethatcoulddevourthestars.From somewhere, from the blinding light, rough and scar-flecked hands

reachedintothecoffin.Graspedthechainsbindingher.Thequeen’shuntsman;thequeen’sblade.

Hehauledtheprincessupright,herbodyadistant,achingthing.Shedidnotwanttoslidebackintothisbody.Struggledagainstit,clawingfortheflameandthedarknessthatnowebbedawayfromherlikeamorningtide.

But the huntsman yanked her closer to that cruel, beautiful face watchingwithaspider’ssmile.

Andheheldherstillasthatancientqueenpurred,“Let’sbegin.”

THESERIESCONTINUESIN2018

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Yetagain, I’mfacedwith thedauntingprospectofconveyingmygratitude forthemanywonderful people inmy lifewhomade this book a reality. Butmyendlessloveandthanksgooutto:

Myhusband,Josh:Youaremylight,myrock,mybestfriend,mysafeharbor—basically, my everything. Thank you for taking such good care of me, forlovingme,forjoiningmeonthisincrediblejourney.Yourlaughismyfavoritesoundintheentireworld.

ToAnnie:Yousatwithmeforthemonthsittooktowriteandeditthisbook,sopartofmefeelslikeyournameshouldbeonthecover,too,butuntiltheystartgivingcaninecompanionswritingcredits, thiswillhave tosuffice. I loveyou,babypup.Yourcurlytail,yourbat-likeears,yourgeneralsass,andtheunfailingpepinyourstep…Allofit.Here’stowritingmanymorebookstogether—andmanymorecuddles.

To my agent, Tamar: Ten books in, and I’m still unable to convey howgratefulIamforallthatyoudo.Thankyou,thankyou,thankyouforbeinginmycorner,forworkingsodamnhard,andforbeinganall-aroundbadass.

To Laura Bernier: Your guidance, wisdom, and excitement for this bookmadeworkingonitsuchadelight.Thankyousomuchforallofyourhardworkandedits—andforhelpingmetotransformthisbook.

To the global team at Bloomsbury, for being the best goddamn publishingteamontheplanet:BethanyBuck,CindyLoh,CristinaGilbert,KathleenFarrar,

NigelNewton,RebeccaMcNally,SoniaPalmisano,EmmaHopkin, IanLamb,EmmaBradshaw,LizzyMason,CourtneyGriffin,EricaBarmash,EmilyRitter,GraceWhooley,EshaniAgrawal,AliceGrigg,EliseBurns,JennyCollins,BethEller,Kerry Johnson,Kelly deGroot,AshleyPoston,LucyMackay-Sim,HaliBaumstein,MelissaKavonic,OonaPatrick,DianeAronson,DonnaMark,JohnCandell,NicholasChurch,AnnaBernard,CharlotteDavis,andtheentireforeignrightsteam.Thankyou,asalways,forallthatyoudoformeandmybooks.I’mhonoredtoworkwitheverysingleoneofyou.

To JonCassir,Kira Snyder,Anna Foerster, and the team atMarkGordon:Youguysarethebest.I’msoecstaticthesebooksareinyourhands.

To Cassie Homer: Thank you x infinity for everything you do. You areabsolutely fantastic. To David Arntzen: You’ve had our back since the verybeginning.Thankyou for all of your hardwork and kindness.And amassivethank-you to the incomparableMauraWogan andVictoriaCook, aka the bestlegalteamaround.

ToLynetteNoni: I am so, so happy thatwe’ve gotten to know each othersincethatSupanovaafewyearsago!Thankyoutothemoonandbackforallofyourhelpwiththisbook,forbeingageniusbrainstormingpartner,andforjustbeingyou.

ToRoshaniChokshi:Tobeginwith:You’rerightupmywall.Thankyouforthe laughter, the solid advice, and for being an actual ray of sunshine. I’mhonoredtocallyoumyfriend.

ToStephBrown:Youaremypartnerinfangirling.Thankyouforallofyoursupport—andforyourfriendship.ItmeansmoretomethanIcanpossiblysay.Can’twaitforournextLotRmarathon(#FellowshipoftheDrink).

To Jennifer Armentrout for being one of the most welcoming, warm, andgenerouspeopleI’veevermet,toRenéeAhdiehforthedinnersthatneverfailtomakemesmileandlaugh,toAliceFanchiangforbeingafellowfangirlandanall-around joy to know, and toChristinaHobbs andLaurenBillings for being

twoofmyfavoritepeople.ToCharlieBowater:Where do I even start?Thankyou for the spectacular

map(s), thankyou for the art that continues toblowmymind and inspireme,thankyouforeverything.Ican’teventellyouwhatanhonoritistoworkwithyou,andhowmuchyourartmeanstome.

To Kati Gardner and Avery Olmstead: Thank you from the bottom of myheart for your thoughtful feedback and insight—I can’t begin to tell you howinvaluable itwas,andhowmuch it shaped thisbook.Andbeyond that, itwassuchadelighttogettoknowyouboth.

To JackWeatherford,whoseGenghisKhanand theMakingof theModernWorldforeverchangedmyviewofhistoryandprovidedsuchinspirationfortherealmofthekhaganate.AndthankyoutoPaulKahn,forhisbrilliantadaptationoftheSecretHistoryoftheMongols,andtoCarolineHumphrey,forherarticle,“RitualsofDeathinMongolia.”

Tomyparentsandmyfamily:thankyouforallthejoy,love,andsupportyoubringintomyworld.Tothenewestadditiontomyfamily,myniece:Youhavealreadymademylifebrighterbybeinginit.Mayyougrowuptobeonefiercelady.

Amassivethank-youtomyamazingfriends:JenniferKelly,AlexaSantiago,Kelly Grabowski, Vilma Gonzalez, Rachel Domingo, Jessica Reigle, LauraAshforth,SashaAlsberg,andDiyanaWan.ToLouisseAng:Atthispoint,Ifeellikeabrokenrecordwhenitcomestothankingyouforallthatyoudo,butthankyousomuchforbeingsosupportiveandmarvelous.

Andtoyou,dearreader:thankyouformakingeverybitofhardworkworthit,andforbeingtheloveliestgroupofpeopleI’veevermet.Iadoreyouall.

BloomsburyPublishing,London,Oxford,NewYork,NewDelhiandSydney

FirstpublishedinGreatBritaininSeptember2017byBloomsburyPublishingPlc

50BedfordSquare,LondonWC1B3DP

FirstpublishedintheUSAinSeptember2017byBloomsburyChildren’sBooks

1385Broadway,NewYork,NewYork10018Thiselectroniceditionpublished2017

www.sarahjmaas.comwww.bloomsbury.com

BLOOMSBURYisaregisteredtrademarkofBloomsburyPublishingPlc

Textcopyright©SarahJ.Maas2017Mapcopyright©CharlieBowater2017

Exclusiveeditionartwork©Merwild/CoralieJubénot

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AllrightsreservedNopartofthispublicationmaybereproducedor

transmittedbyanymeans,electronic,mechanical,photocopyingorotherwise,withoutthepriorpermissionofthepublisher

ACIPcataloguerecordforthisbookisavailablefromtheBritishLibrary

ISBN9781408887974

eISBN9781408887967