Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(67)

I shrug, careful to keep my face expressionless. “Who knows. But do you think you can use it?”

“I can, but the question is whether I should.” Graylin lets his hand drop and looks hard at me. “Maddie, Brekken betrayed us. You know that.”

No, he didn’t, I want to say.

Marcus did.

I can’t meet Graylin’s eyes, so I look down at my hands instead, fidgeting against my jeans. “I know. But if there was something wrong with the magic, couldn’t you feel it?”

“Maybe.” His voice frays, agitation creeping in. “But I don’t know where this came from. I don’t know anything anymore. I thought I could heal Marcus myself and look what’s happened—”

His voice cracks, and he falls silent, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. I can’t seem to breathe as I watch him try to collect himself.

There’s a very specific kind of splintering feeling that comes with seeing the people you trust fall short or fall apart. They are the ones who are supposed to take care of you. I’ve felt it twice in a major way, with Mom and with Marcus, and a hundred lesser times, whenever Dad was too tired to see that something was wrong, or my teachers ignored the ugly chants that followed me around the playground. I know it’s not Graylin’s fault; I can’t expect him to stay calm and collected when his husband won’t wake. But I still feel very alone in this moment.

After a long time, Graylin speaks. “I’ll try to use this magic.” He closes his fingers around the dish, his eyes flickering between it and Marcus. “But no promises.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, a new wave of exhaustion rolls over me, stronger than any of the ones before. If I stay here any longer, I’ll keel over in my chair, and I won’t be any use to Marcus then. Not that I am now, but still. I stand.

“Get some sleep,” Graylin tells me as I head for the door. “It’ll be okay.”

But he doesn’t sound convinced.



I’m walking back to my room when I catch a glimpse, out of the corner of my eye, of movement outside the window. Instinctively, I freeze, then inch closer, keeping to the side of the frame so that if whoever—or whatever—is on the lawn decides to look up, they won’t see me.

My heart contracts when I see a familiar small figure skirting the trees, her pale hair shining in the moonlight. Taya. She looks over her shoulder every few seconds, and sticks to the shadow of the trees, like she doesn’t want to be seen. She has some kind of tool or weapon in one hand, but I can’t make it out at this distance.

Hot anger curls suddenly through my insides. She knows the Solarian is on the loose. It’s already attacked her. She saw what happened to Max. So what is she doing? Without wanting to, I imagine her lying in the infirmary, bandaged and unresponsive.

My heart lurches, and before I can think, I’m running down the stairs, through the entrance hall. There are guards at the front door, two of Sal’s guys who look at me with concern, but I wave them off and they let me go. How did Taya get past them? The Byrnisian dagger and Fiorden revolver that I carry now at Graylin’s request bounce awkwardly against my hip.

The grounds are damp from all the Silver Prince’s manufactured storms during the last few days, fog clinging to the ground and shrouding the distant mountains; but the night is clear and the stars shine overhead. I get out onto the lawn just in time to see Taya vanish into the woods. Knowing that the guards are probably watching me, I make myself walk, not run, after her.

Once I’m among the trees, the night noises billow up around me, much louder than on the lawn. Frogs, crickets, owls, wind in the pines. Somewhere far off, there’s a plaintive howl, a howl that might be a dog, a coyote, a wolf even.

I stop just past the tree line, not wanting to go farther in without knowing where Taya is, or to yell and advertise my location to whatever else is lurking in the woods. I stand very still, hold my breath and listen for any noise that doesn’t belong to a night on the mountain.

Then I hear it. A sound that is now burned into my memory forever. The metallic, rhythmic thump and whoosh of a shovel and dirt.

What the hell?

My eyes adjust to the dark as I start walking again, trying to be careful where I put my feet, to be as silent as I can. I recognize this spot, I realize with a sinking feeling. I’m nearing the same place where Graylin and I went my first night here. Just like then, the forest noises die down in the clearing, like even the bugs and frogs and owls know that something is deeply wrong.

Taya. Taya is standing in the clearing, shovel in her hands. Even though it’s obvious what she’s doing, it still takes a second for my brain to put it together. To process. A pile of soil beside her and the shovel flashing in the weak moonlight.

Just like when I found her in the library last night, part of me wants to walk away. Leave and pretend I never saw anything at all, that nothing has to change between us.

But I can’t. Because she’s digging up the Solarian.

“What are you doing?” I ask. It’s only a whisper, but it cuts through the air in the silent clearing. Taya stops, her head snapping up. There’s dirt and mud on her face and in her hair.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink when I walk up. Not until I grab the shovel and pull it from her, my hands shaking; then her hands fall and she takes a step back from me. She’s shaking too, and I don’t know if it’s from cold or fear or something else entirely.