The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(71)

I screamed, and this time the walls shuddered and collapsed. Rocks toppled toward us, Kalen and Fox and me. I closed my eyes. Briefly, in that expanse between fainting and waking, I saw a vision: Kance on a white horse, his army charging into an unending tide of Drychta—transformed, blighted Drychta.

When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting by the cave’s entrance, my teeth chattering. Kalen—alive and breathing—was by my side. He hastily pulled the hood from my head, his worried, brown eyes staring into mine. Khalad put his hand on my shoulder, scanning my heartsglass and breathing a loud sigh. “She’s scared and a little confused, and there’s a burn on her hand, but there’s nothing else wrong with her.”

“Tea?” Kalen asked hesitantly, gently nudging my face toward his. “Are you all right? You stumbled out of the mountain and fell. You’re crying… What happened in there?”

I hugged him tightly, my tears wet against his cheek. “I couldn’t accept.” I touched his jaw, his nose, his hair, every inch of him that my numbed hands could reach. “I failed, and I am so, so glad I did.”





“Why do you help her?” Lord Fox was angry, his ire directed at the Gorvekai leader. Fists clenched, hands straying toward the sword at his hip, every line of his body threatened violence. “She failed your test. Why would you show her how to wield shadowglass? Are you that desperate to see your prophecy fulfilled that you would give her your secrets rather than wait for someone worthy?”

“Why do you think your sister isn’t worthy?” Lord Agnarr was calm, more concerned with the bowl of tea between his hands than Lord Fox’s fury. We sat around a hastily built campfire as we waited out the night—enough time to beg mercy from whatever god would listen. We were to cross paths with the Odalian army the next day, and Lord Fox’s request for at least one good night’s sleep for our soldiers was a demand by the time his words filtered through the generals.

Lord Rahim had quietly volunteered for the first watch, suggesting two asha for every shift after his. Lady Zoya, however, showed no signs of wanting to rest. She reclined against a boulder, watching the exchange.

“Weren’t her letters proof enough? Why do you have so little faith?” Lord Agnarr asked.

Lord Fox glowered. “I can no longer trust her actions.”

“Do you intend to slay her before she finds the First Harvest?”

He hesitated. He attempted to speak, but the words died before I heard them, and he trailed into silence.

The Gorvekai glanced at Lord Khalad, who appeared deep in thought. “And what of you, Forger? You fought with her, shared her hopes and fears. Do you feel the same?”

The white-haired man blinked and shook himself out of his thoughts. “I do trust her, milord. I would not have forged lightsglass for her if I didn’t.”

“But you have your own motives for wishing her success, don’t you?” The Gorvekai’s voice was like stroking fur.

“I’d rather not talk about it, milord.” The fire fanned its shadows across Lord Khalad’s face.

“The night can overwhelm,” the older man murmured. “There is good reason to fear those who wield too much of the Dark. I have seen many succumb to its lure, witnessed noble natures corrupted under its direction. But I have also seen some struggle to rise above its attraction. I am sorry for your other sister, Lord Fox. Lady Tea grieves too.”

“I cannot forgive her.” Lord Fox remained unbending.

“But do you still love her?”

The familiar looked away, and that was answer enough. “Why do you help her? She failed your trial.”

The man smiled, his expression sympathetic, almost pitying. “Because she didn’t, General Pahlavi. She passed.”





17


I slept for twelve hours straight, woken only by the smell of hot soup Likh brought into my room. I feared I might wake to find myself still in that dreaded cave or that the strange visions within might somehow have escaped to find me in my nightmares. But when I woke, Kalen’s fingers clasped mine, his palm folded over my smaller one.

“Was it real?” Likh asked quietly, watching me devour the meal. “You mentioned a fire in Kion. Surely nothing in that mountain was capable of burning your hand. The torches?”

My injury stung, wrapped in a bandage stuffed with herbs and other medicines. “I don’t know. You’ll need to question Agnarr. But I understand why so many people fail the mountain’s test. I’m sorry to be one of them.”

Likh scowled. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. Why would he subject people to that kind of trauma?”

“Because they have to be sure.” I had come away from Stranger’s Peak with more than a singed grip. “Gorvekai know the ingredients to shadowglass but cannot wield it on their own. The spell in the wrong Dark asha’s hands makes the world worse, not better. They need someone willing to sacrifice every ambition for it. I couldn’t.”



“But of course you’d refuse! Kion burning, being told you would die—what did they expect?”

I was silent.

“Agnarr wants to meet with us again once Tea feels up to it,” Khalad said.

“I’ll be ready as soon as I change this,” I said, lifting my hand. “It’s starting to smell.”