WE WERE SILENT for a long moment.
“He’s a spy,” Tem said, his voice quiet. “All along, a spy.”
I felt myself come out of the daze I had been trapped in. Something cold and heavy had settled in my stomach.
“We have to find him,” I said. My voice came out too quiet. “Maybe there’s another explanation—”
“Don’t be mad, Kamzin,” Lusha said. “He’ll only try to deceive us again. He’s a witch. There is no innocence in their hearts, only malice and treachery.”
“He rescued Mara,” I argued, but my words sounded feeble to my own ears. “Where was the malice there? He could have left him to die, but he didn’t.”
Mara shook his head. “Perhaps he thought I was useful somehow.”
“Kamzin.” Tem’s voice wavered as he met my gaze. “The witches were banished for a reason. They’re murderers and thieves—their power comes from a place of darkness.”
“Does the emperor know?” Lusha said. “Could he be part of this?”
“The witches will destroy everything he’s built, if they get their powers back,” Tem said. His voice was hoarse. “I doubt he even suspects.”
“He’s won the respect and trust of the court,” Mara said. “He will have learned many of the emperor’s secrets.”
Lusha gazed at the blank wall of the cave. “Including what the emperor has been seeking. The witches’ talisman. River will see that the emperor and his shamans never touch it.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Tem said. “The talisman is an object of great power—all the ancient shamans’ accounts say so. A power to remake the world—that’s how one described it. I think it’s likely River means to use it to break the binding spell.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. The wind howling outside somehow only magnified the silence.
“But that would mean . . .” Lusha’s face was pale as death. “Azmiri.”
At that word, I felt something break inside me. Azmiri, perched on its mountain overlooking the Southern Aryas—and the Nightwood. Azmiri, its neat, terraced farms stretching to the Amarin Valley, the very route the witches would take if they decided to invade the Empire.
They had once tried to burn the village to the ground, and had very nearly succeeded. What would they do this time, their powers unleashed and a two-hundred-year-old vengeance in their hearts?
“We won’t even have a chance to warn them,” Tem murmured.
I lowered my face onto my hand. Spots flitted across my vision, as if I was about to faint. I would have welcomed the darkness, but after a minute, it parted like a curtain.
Lusha was gazing at me with an unfamiliar expression on her face—something akin to pity. It made me want to shout at her or hit her—or bury my face in her neck and sob.
“Kamzin—” she began.
“Stop,” I said. “Just stop.”
I felt ill, and hot. Too hot. The storm was still raging outside, but I didn’t care. I walked out of the cave. No one called after me.
Stepping outside into the wind and blowing snow was like being struck by a charging animal. I staggered a few steps, only barely managing to maintain my balance. Then I stumbled headlong into the wind.
I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care. At one point, I tripped and fell, sliding down a small ridge. By chance, I found myself in a depression partially sheltered from the icy wind. I didn’t move. I merely lay where I had fallen and cried. Around me the wind howled and the snow pounded its tiny, insignificant fists against the mountain.
How could he do this? How could he lie to me?
On some level, I knew that it was a nonsensical question—if River was truly a witch, asking his reasons for betrayal would be akin to asking why the winter nights brought frost. I pictured all the things he had done—rescuing us from the fiangul, plucking me away from the ghosts, sacrificing part of his soul to save my best friend’s life. Cutting the rope on the ice wall. What had been the reason for it? Had he merely wanted to keep me at his side, to keep me loyal, so that I would help him? None of it made any sense. And now he was gone, and I could not ask him. He was gone, and I could not rage at him, or kiss him. I loved him and I hated him, but I couldn’t tell him.
Lusha found me a few moments later, still in the same position. She didn’t say a word, but merely helped me to my feet and led me back into the cave, her arm a gentle weight around my shoulders.
Something tickled my face in the darkness. My eyes opened, my hand reaching automatically to brush at—whatever it was. Something nipped me on the ear, and I caught the glow of tiny green eyes.
Ragtooth. He had been gone since River left. I pulled him to my chest, relieved that he had returned. The fox bore this for only a moment before struggling for freedom. He went to the mouth of the cave—I could see his small outline silhouetted against the night. He glanced over his shoulder, as if waiting for me to follow.
My heart began to pound. Lusha, sleeping next to me, murmured something as I sat up, but did not wake. Silently, I rolled my blanket up and gathered my pack. Then I slipped out of the cave.
I blinked at the view. It was the clearest night I had ever seen. The clouds were gone, chased away by the wind that scraped its chilly fingers over the mountain. The stars were so bright and so close I felt as if I were standing among them. I could reach out and catch one, trapping it between my palms like a firefly.
Ragtooth growled quietly. As soon as I had emerged from the cave, he had trotted down the slope, heading north. He was stopped now, looking over his shoulder at me.
I followed him.
But I had only traveled a short distance when I heard someone clear their throat. I started, whirling around. Lusha stood only a few steps behind me.
“Where are you going?” she said.
“I don’t know.” Lusha was a dark, ominous figure above me, her arms crossed and her long hair entwined with the breeze. “Ragtooth wants to show me something.”
“And you thought you’d bring your pack?” Lusha limped forward into the starlight. Her expression was almost wry.
My startled brain tried to come up with a response. “I—”
“You think he’s going to lead you to River, don’t you?”
I said nothing. I looked away, glad that the darkness would hide the flush creeping up my face.
“I can’t stop you,” she said quietly. “And I can’t follow you. None of us can. Do you know what that means? If you keep going, you’ll be on your own.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
She gazed at me. “You might think you know what it’s like to be alone in a place like this, but you don’t. There will be no one around to fix your mistakes. You’ll have to stop making them.”
I stared at her. “So you’re not going to argue with me?”
She let out a long sigh. “I’m tired of arguing. Aren’t you?”
I didn’t trust myself to reply. Instead, I simply stepped forward and wrapped Lusha in a hug.
She stiffened at first, likely out of surprise more than anything. Lusha and I did not hug—the last time had probably been when we were both too young to remember it, and no doubt at Father’s urging. But, after a little pause, she hugged me back, patting me awkwardly.
She pulled back and lifted her hand. A ribbon of darkness fluttered toward us—Biter. Lusha transferred him onto my shoulder. The raven gave her finger a gentle peck.
“He’ll go with you,” she said. “At the very least, if you lose your way and want to come back, he’ll lead you right.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Lusha paused. “You can’t stop River. He’s powerful, and he’s determined to get his way.”
“I know.” I shook my head. “But I have to try. This is my responsibility. I brought him here, didn’t I? If it wasn’t for me, he never would have come this far. If the Empire falls, if Azmiri—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
I wouldn’t have made it without you, Kamzin. For a moment I felt like screaming, or collapsing again into sobs. But I forced it down, down, until the fury and pain condensed into a weight deep inside me, small but impossibly heavy.
Lusha touched my face briefly. “None of this is your fault.” She stepped back. “Good luck.”
My eyes stung, but I nodded and turned to follow Ragtooth. Biter took to the air, weaving back and forth through the wind like a dark needle.
I turned back only once. Lusha was still standing where I had left her, arms folded, watching me. I could not make out her expression. She looked small from that distance. A childlike figure suspended between the immensities of sky and mountain. I turned away and hurried after Ragtooth.