The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(108)

The akvan reared up and screeched. No longer under anyone’s control, it thrashed across the shoreline, its head shaking in agony.

Kalen had already collapsed, gasping into the sand. Altaecia staggered forward. Her uninjured hand was tracing another symbol. The Wind rune appeared around Likh.

“I am sorry, my dear,” Altaecia said sadly. “But we do what needs to be done.” She raised her arm.

The blow never came. Her hand dropped uselessly to her side as she stared down at her chest, where my knife had run her through.

Blood bubbled from her mouth, and my mentor fell. Weeping, I removed the dagger from her body, sinking to my knees before her. She had been responsible for so many atrocities. She had poisoned me, doomed Likh, caused so much death… Still, I couldn’t stop crying.

Altaecia made a soft wheezing sound and turned her face toward me, an eternity of regret etched onto those well-loved features. “Oh, my dear,” she sighed, and died.

I wept, huge, wrenching sobs that shook me to the core, a sudden grief that I had not felt since Polaire’s death. Except Althy didn’t deserve my tears. She didn’t deserve anything.

And yet…

Likh continued to sleep, her face pale but still human. When Altaecia had died, the remaining tatters of the Blight rune surrounding her had died along with the older asha. Druj collapsed, unmoving, and I prayed she was dead.



I felt weak, drained of energy. It had taken everything I had to break free from her control, and even more to kill Altaecia.

“Tea.” Kalen crawled toward me.

“Y-you’re hurt,” I stammered.

“I’ll live. Likh and Khalad—”

“They’re breathing, at least.” But Likh’s heartsglass was palpitating wildly, silver blending into yellow and brown and red.

So complete was our focus that there was no sound but our beating hearts. Neither of us was aware of the akvan until it was upon us, when it was almost too late. The akvan’s deadly tusks sang through the air and I only had time to see its roughened mouth and teeth coming at us before everything became a blur.

Kalen was faster. He rolled over, placing himself between me and the akvan’s yellowed incisors.

Though no longer under my conscious control, the azi also planted itself in the path of the akvan’s attack. Teeth tore through its body, and my daeva shrieked. At the same time, its own three heads pitched forward, and its tail whipped, snapping into the akvan with such force that its neck was nearly severed by the attack. The other daeva fell to the ground dead. Then the azi collapsed. One of the akvan’s tusks had struck true, goring into its body and finding its heart.

The pain was overwhelming. I shrieked, clutching at my own chest as the agony tore through me as I felt the azi’s death throes. My nails dug into my own skin and drew blood. I could not bear this. I would die here, gasping and bleeding into the sand, though it would take so very long to die.

But as I spasmed, I felt the azi nip between us, at the bond we shared, and gently break free from my grip. The pain faded immediately, but the azi continued to shudder. Fatal as its wound was, it continued fighting for life.

Tea!

Fox was still in my mind but fainter, weaker. His thoughts could not gain enough traction to fall into mine like they once could, but I ignored him. I couldn’t concentrate on him now. Not when everyone was dying. And Kalen—

At the akvan’s final gambit, Kalen had time to set up only one small Shield rune. His wounds were too deep, too severe. I pushed my hands against the injury, trying to stanch the blood spilling out of him.

Not Kalen. Never Kalen.

“Tea,” he choked.

We were so close to escaping. We were so close to Tresea, to starting new lives…

If I had ignored the Odalians’ war with the Drychta…

If we had never gone to Mithra’s Wall…

If I had never stood before Stranger’s Peak and asked the Gorvekai if I was worthy enough…

“Tea…”

“Don’t move!” The words came out angry, panicked. I would not lose Kalen. I had refused shadowglass, refused the mountain solely so I could keep him. I would not lose him now. The visions promised I could keep him if I refused shadowglass. I looked around for something to aid my efforts.

Druj was gone. Sometime during the fight, she had fled, leaving only the dying and spiriting away Altaecia’s body as she did.

“I told you,” Kalen managed to say, coughing up blood, “that I would protect you.”

“Not like this,” I sobbed. “Don’t move. I’ll heal you. I will.”

His smile was beautiful. He’d seen enough bloodshed and injuries on the battlefield to realize what was coming. “I know you will.”

“We’ll hide.” So much blood. “Let Mykaela find another apprentice. Let them take care of the rest of the daeva. I want a small house by the shore, where no one can bother us.” I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I pressed harder. “Or by the forests. We’ll grow our own food and herbs. No one will know our real names.” Harder. “Or we can travel. We’ll see the rest of the world and wear different faces.” Harder.

“I would like that,” Kalen whispered. “A house with you. Traveling. Everything, with you.” He laid a hand on top of mine. “I would like…daughters, with your eyes and your terrible singing voice. I am so sorry, Tea.”