The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch #3)(94)

At King Aadil’s command, his bodyguards strode forward but faltered when a gesture from Althy pinned them to the walls of the cave.

With a roar, Aadil seized his sword and launched himself at us, his blade raised toward Althy’s face. But Kalen’s reflexes were faster, and his blade blocked the mad king’s blow. The Drychta ruler made another attempt, but a rush of Wind slammed him against the wall, knocking him out.

“The Faceless was an illusion intended to deceive Aadil as well as us,” Althy said, staring down at the Drychta’s prone form. “It seems not even he was aware that Druj was a mirage. What did the Faceless tell you, Tea?”

I stared where Druj had just stood. A stone jutted out of the limestone. No, not a stone. A Seeking Stone. A twisted crescent moon with inlaid stars had been carved into its center.

“The First Harvest isn’t here,” I said hoarsely, still brimming with the immense power that the Faceless had given me. It was too much too soon, and I had to release it. “It was never here to begin with. He fooled us this whole time. He—I—all this bloodshed, just to reach out to me—”

“Tea!” Kalen grabbed me as I slumped down. I could hear him barking orders at the others, no doubt sensing what was about to happen, but I no longer cared. There was a need inside me begging to be freed, the powers building until there was only exquisite pleasure until I had no choice but to burst.

And I did.

The ground before us tore open. The bones of beetles and roaches and spiders long dead scuttled out, freed by the potency of my spells, overrunning the walls. Larger skeletons followed suit, leopards and jaguars and people who had died in these mountains pushed their way out of the ground. A low moan rose from outside, and I felt rather than saw the dead blighted Drychta reconstitute themselves, this time under my reign. I heard the yells of fright, the sound of a thousand swords being drawn.

“Kalen,” I heard Zoya say. “I’m sorry.”

And then, without further warning, she drew back her hand and punched me.





“She fooled you all.” The Dark asha sounded weary. “I should know. She fooled me too.”

We remained rigid, with no choice but to cling to Tea’s every word. Wasn’t that what I wanted? I thought, angry. My bitterness must have shown, for she turned back to me. “Have you found the rest of the pages, Bard?”

“No.” The word tasted stale in my mouth.

Her black eyes gleamed, and her satisfaction was terrible to behold. “Good.”

“Tea,” Lord Fox began.

“The Hollows was a distraction. I knew, and I came anyway. She hoped that one of you would fall. Kance, Khalad, anyone I cared for who had come to repel the Drychta. She sacrificed the rest of the Drychta army for the chance to kill one of you and cause me further pain. She knew I would defend you. And she was right. And if this plan succeeded, then she wanted you to enter Drycht, to face a city full of nightmares.”

“‘She’?” Lord Fox demanded.

Lady Tea ignored him. “I weakened her, last we fought. I know I did. But she was wilier than even Usij. Usij was arrogant, not one to hide. His thoughts screamed to me all the way to Santiang, until my mind found that false pretender on the Daanorian throne and knew that it was he in disguise. But she—she was craftier. Where Usij disguised himself in the illusion of a royal emperor, she disguised herself as a woman I had loved and respected, so well that not even the Willows knew…” Her lip curled. “But then again, she always knew how to hide herself in Kion. She has been trained to hide there.”

What a sight it was to see commanders and soldiers and a king on their knees at the Dark asha’s feet, even as she wavered, like a strong enough wind might send her stumbling. “I am done with setting fire to cities,” she told them. “But I will bring harm upon your kingdoms nonetheless because there is no other way. Send my apologies to Queen Lynoria, Lord Selvyant, for no longer will asha be born from Arhen-Kosho—or anywhere else, for that matter. You will need to find other revenues beyond Murkwick’s runeberry patch, Your Majesty. Knox—I am sorry for the nanghait that you can no longer hunt.”

“Tea,” her brother pleaded, pained.

The bone witch coughed. There were flecks of blood on her sleeve when her hand came away. “I will be the last bone witch, Fox. Mykaela is gone. The Faceless will win when I am dead. My daeva will succumb to their baser natures without me, and you cannot handle both them and the blight. You know that I cannot let Druj live. And as for Daisy—well, my life for hers. Was that not what you encouraged me to do, Your Majesty?”

King Kance licked his dry lips and found his voice. “I remember what I said, Tea. But not like this.”

“You idiot.” Lord Fox’s voice was no louder than a whisper. “To hell with magic. To hell with the asha and the Willows and the rest of the kingdoms. To hell with me. I don’t want you to die.”

She smiled and placed her palm against his cheek. “I am already dying. There is a limit to shadowglass. It is like a hundred silver heartsglass, a hundred more ways to draw deeply of the Dark. I will not last the year. I will create shadowglass, or I will die. Sometimes it is that easy.”

There were tears on his face. He moved to speak, failed, tried again. “Who is she, Tea? Who betrayed us?”

She bent her head and told her brother a name.