WE TRAVELED NORTHWEST, CUTTING OUR OWN PATH across the wild land, with spring keeping us company. Rainstorms brought forth more flowers until orange, pink, and blue blossoms dusted the rolling hills. Though Hal Farheard no signs of Nismae, with her at our backs the road wasn’t an option until we were well clear of Orzai. I got used to being cold and to sleeping curled up against Hal for warmth while he kept watch. Some part of me was never able to stop looking for Ina, for flashes of light peeking out from the shadows. During the days we mostly walked in silence, Hal with an ear tipped behind us, and me always scanning the horizon for white wings.
A few nights after our escape, I sat stirring the meager coals of our fire, not quite ready to go to sleep.
“It’s quiet out there,” Hal said, almost as if he could hear my thoughts.
“I know.” But the truth was that silence didn’t offer me any comfort either. What if the quiet came from Ina stalking us through the woods, frightening away the wildlife? The pit of dread in my stomach deepened the longer I thought of it. If we saw her, we’d have to run. And while I was afraid of her returning me to Nismae, I was also angry—and that frightened me more. She had the right to be upset with me for what I’d done, but she hadn’t needed to hurt me at every turn after that. Part of me wanted to strike back, too.
“It makes me feel like Ina could be nearby when it’s quiet like this,” I said.
“Has she always been . . . so ruthless?” Hal asked, adding a few more small sticks to the fire.
I pondered his question. Ina’s desire to be elder of Amalska had started long before she met me. She’d always wanted more for her village and herself but never had the means—until she took the dragon as her manifest.
“I suppose she’s always been ambitious,” I said. I touched the bandage on my wrist where her courting bracelet had once pressed comfortingly on my skin. Thanks to her revealing my gift to Nismae, my hand would never work the same way again.
“Is her ambition why you love her so much?” he asked, his voice soft, the low flicker of firelight reflected in his eyes.
I might have thought the question rude if not for the innocent way he asked it, like the notion of love itself was an utter mystery to him. Ina’s ambition was part of her, but certainly not what accounted for the way she used to make me feel. Every moment with her had been charged with desire. Close had never been close enough. She made me feel light and alive. Colors were brighter, food tasted better, and the world was full of possibility with her beside me.
Now, the memories were bittersweet, tainted by the darkness of all that had come after.
I had been a fool.
“I don’t love her anymore,” I told him. And while I hadn’t known it until I spoke the words, they were as true and firm as the earth beneath our feet. I could never go back to that kind of innocent devotion.
Hal scratched at the dirt with a stick, taking a few moments before asking his next question. “Do you think you’ll ever feel that way about anyone again?”
“I don’t know.” I wanted to love again, but never wanted to be so in thrall to someone that I couldn’t see them clearly. I never wanted to be so close to a person that I couldn’t hold on to my convictions when they were near. That was what Ina had done—obliterated any ability I had to think, to feel in anything other than extremes, robbing me of the wisdom to use my magic only for the greater good and fear the consequences of doing otherwise. So here we were.
“I hope I might,” he said so quietly I wasn’t sure I’d heard him properly.
Our eyes met and locked for a moment, heavy with all we’d suffered together. Part of me wanted to believe the spark that had jumped between us when we first touched had meant something. More of me wanted to be careful not to feel too much.
I looked away first.
“I’ll take first watch.” He stood up and left the fireside instead of settling into his usual place beside me.
I sighed and lay down, pulling my cloak more tightly around me. The nights had grown shorter, and I needed what sleep I could get before Hal woke me to take the second watch. I tried not to think about what he’d said earlier about wanting to fall in love. He didn’t know how terrible it could be. Still, unwanted thoughts kept rising—the crisp, fresh smell of him after we’d found a good place to bathe; how contagious his laugh was; what it might feel like if he touched me as tenderly as Ina used to.
Spindly trees reached for the sky, providing little shelter around us. I’d already sung my vespers at sundown, and now a creek murmured nearby, its susurration a delicate counterpoint to the sounds of nighttime insects and calls of other animals. Even though I was grateful to be outdoors again instead of trapped in Nismae’s miserable tower, trying to fall asleep never seemed to go well for me.
At least I no longer dreamed of Ina or woke with her dream kisses tingling on my skin.
We were safe. We had escaped. We were headed for Corovja with the hope of locating the Fatestone. The chances of Nismae or Ina finding us with someone as canny as Hal keeping watch were very, very small. I could sense him nearby and was comforted by his presence.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to dredge up memories of safety and warmth. Standing with Miriel over a potion, watching the practiced way her fingers drew the symbols of the gods to enchant it. Lying alone in a meadow on my mountain as the afternoon shadows grew long, listening to birdsongs and the sounds of animals readying for sleep. Singing vespers that no one else was there to hear, my heart taking flight on the notes.
Just as I found the quiet place between wakefulness and dreams, an owl hooted.
I huffed and turned over, annoyed that it had broken my brief moment of peace. I didn’t know anything was wrong until echoes of the owl’s hoot sounded in the distance, followed by a chorus of two-note poorwill calls, then the fluttering of what sounded like a hundred sets of wings as they fled the area. Familiar footsteps hurried through the underbrush toward me.
Hal.
I scrambled to my feet, suddenly wide awake.
“It’s the dragon,” he said, his knife drawn.
Fear crackled through me like lightning. Once she saw us, she wouldn’t have trouble catching us. “We have to leave. Now.”
It appeared that when it came to Ina and me, one of us would always be chasing the other.
Now it was her turn.
Hal and I hastily scattered the coals of the fire, then hurried deeper into the forest.
The heavy beat of wings sounded over the trees.
“Run,” I choked out, trying to pitch my voice low. The words had barely left my mouth when fire lit in the treetops, illuminating Ina in dragon form.
“Go!” I shouted, and took off.
Hal dashed alongside me, leaping over obstacles in his path as nimbly as a deer. Overhead, Ina’s wings blotted out the moon, and then cinders showered from the treetops and the smoke thickened. Green spring growth was not meant to burn.
“We have to find shelter,” I said, coughing. “Somewhere she can’t follow.”
It seemed completely futile. The forest was thin and scrubby, the ground rocky between the trees. Even the smoke of the burning saplings provided little cover to obscure her view of us. I followed the creek, stumbling over fallen branches and rocks in the dark, hoping that the water might have carved out some small place we could disappear. Hope rose in my chest like a soaring bird, and then fell away as I burst through a final line of trees and onto the rocky shore of a lake.
I cast a glance back. Behind us, owls gathered on the bottom branches. They dropped to the ground, shaking off their manifests and drawing blades from their belts as soon as they were in human form.
We were trapped. There was nowhere left to run.
Ina swooped in front of us, hovering over the water. Her beating wings sent ripples of moonlight dancing across the glassy surface. Another plume of fire bloomed from her jaws, close enough that it warmed my cheeks and left scorch marks on the rocks just a few paces away.
“Fine! Kill me!” I screamed. “Take your revenge!” I didn’t want to die, but I was tired of this game—and death would be preferable to being returned to Nismae.
She roared in response, a vicious sound that split the night.
“She’s not going to kill you. You’re only of use to them alive,” Hal said from behind me.
He was right. She didn’t advance, but the group of Nightswifts slowly tightened the circle around us.
“Don’t come any closer,” Hal warned them, drawing his hunting knives.
“You shouldn’t have betrayed us,” the leader of the group said.
I didn’t recognize him—Nismae had been wise enough to send people who would have no sympathy for us. These weren’t the Nightswifts with whom I’d broken bread and shared stories; they were people who had been on missions during the brief time when I’d visited their headquarters.
Hal kept his chin up. “It’s not betrayal to protect the life of someone who did the same for you.”
“Then we’ll take you both down,” another one snarled.
Ina landed on the shore of the lake, her neck arched and ready to strike.
“Give me a knife,” I said to Hal. I wasn’t going to let the Nightswifts hurt Hal because of me. Together we’d fight back.
Hal handed me one of his blades without question. The gesture of trust galvanized me, and I raised the weapon to stand my ground.
Hal lifted his arm and a gust of wind burst out of nowhere, kicking gravel and dirt into the eyes of the Nightswifts. They shouted and staggered back, but one of them recovered quickly enough to pull a throwing knife from the strap across her chest and take calculating aim. Hal shifted the direction of the wind and threw her off balance, but the others were already regrouping and drawing new weapons. He wouldn’t be able to hold them back for long.
A few of the Nightswifts broke away from the group, aiming blows at me meant to disable and threaten, not to kill. I staggered backward, splashing clumsily into the edge of the lake, realizing too late that they’d managed to separate me from Hal. More and more of the Nightswifts gathered, pushing me back until I stood knee-deep in the water. They’d cornered me, leaving Hal to face off with Ina. As powerful as he was, he was no match for her. His magic was enough to hold off the Nightswifts, but not a dragon.
My heart raced. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t be in two places at once. I couldn’t stop Ina, and I didn’t have time to write our way out of trouble.
Ina advanced on him, withholding her fire in favor of using brute strength. She rose onto her hind legs and slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground.
“Hal!” I yelled. I knew Nismae would want them to capture me alive, but I wasn’t sure Ina felt the same way about Hal.
The circle of Nightswifts around me tightened.
I dropped to my knees and clumsily pricked one of the fingers on my right hand with Hal’s knife. Blood began to drip and my magic surged. I opened myself fully to the Sight, barely able to hold back as my magic writhed in its eagerness to pour out and shape the future. I didn’t want to risk writing anything, but I had to somehow use the power of my blood to get us away.
All around me the life of this remote place pulsed, from the gentle glow of the trees to the swirling depths of the lake. I wished it was a river and that we could jump in and be swept away. I wished the water god might put their arms around us both and carry us west to Corovja, but that was not the way water ran from here. I wished that I belonged to the water god, so that they might treat me as family.
The cut on my hand throbbed. I was out of time. I stumbled to the edge of the lake and let my magic pour into the water along with my blood.
I had never done magic this way before, directly from my body.
Without the precision of ritual.
Without control.
I sketched the symbol of the water god beneath the lake’s surface, trying to still my panic and weave into the magic a sense of calm, of promise, of good things—even as the battle heated around me.
An arrow splashed into the water beside me. The Nightswifts drew closer.
My hold on the tendrils of magic streaming out of me broke, taking with them the power of wind and water and all my wishes for something—anything—that would get us out of here.
“What the Hells is that?” one of Nismae’s warriors shouted.
They backed away from me as the ground began to rumble.
“Fly!” another said.
The air filled with beating wings as the warriors took their manifests.
Even Ina launched into the sky.
“Asra!” Hal turned to me in surprise, his eyes widening as he caught a glimpse of something behind me. I followed his gaze. The surface of the lake rippled and rose, swelling into a wave. It rushed toward us, building into a wall that loomed high enough to block out the moon hanging full and round over the horizon.
He ran toward me, and I barely had time to grab him with my uninjured arm before the wave crashed over us. We tumbled under the water in the dark until I had no idea which way led to the surface. A powerful current tugged us down until my lungs felt as though they might burst. How had this been the result of my cry for escape? Just as I began to choke, certain I would drown, we broke through the surface atop another wave, both of us gasping for breath.
Water surged beneath us, mingling and reshaping until we sat astride a massive horse made of liquid and darkness, its mane bleeding shadows into the night. The magic of my blood held the constructed creature together, giving it form and strength. Hal held me from behind with one arm wrapped around my waist, grabbing a fistful of the horse’s mane in his other hand.
Ina roared behind us, and a plume of flame scorched over our heads. My heart rose into my throat.
The horse’s powerful hindquarters gathered, then launched us into the sky. Ina gave chase, spouting fire. Her wings carried her swiftly, and when I cast a fearful glance over my shoulder, it was just in time to see her snap at the water horse’s tail only to come away with a mouthful of empty shadows. We needed to go faster.
I shut my eyes tightly. All I had to draw on was my own magic—or Ina’s.
There was no time to be moral.
I yanked power out of her, hard. With a yelp of surprise she faltered, tumbling several lengths down until she righted herself.
I used the stolen power to feed the water horse more energy, and we ascended to a dizzying height. Behind us, Ina roared, but she couldn’t keep up. Just before she vanished from sight, she turned back toward Orzai while the horse galloped northwest with great beats of its shadowy wings. Relief washed through me, quickly followed by an ache that spread through my bones until all I could do was hang on.
“It’s so beautiful, Asra,” Hal murmured, his breath warm on my cheek. I opened my eyes to a dark world painted by the moon. Our altitude was far too great to see any signs of life below, but a river glistened beneath us, a silver ribbon of reflected light. Soon the horse cut to the north and hills began to gently roll beneath us. But the farther away we traveled from the lake, the smaller the horse became. We sank in the sky until its watery hooves skimmed the treetops, and then finally, it set us on the ground and faded away into nothing. Its wings were all that remained, the shadows mingling and whirling around me until I could barely see Hal. They re-formed into a cloak that settled around my shoulders—a cloak made of darkness.
I fell to the ground, trembling.
“Asra!” Hal sank down beside me and put his hand on my forehead.
“I’m fine.” My teeth chattered. Fever had already taken me, as it always did when my magic caused me to age. I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen since I hadn’t written anything, but apparently any use of my blood for powerful magic was going to shorten my life either way.
“You don’t seem fine,” he said, concerned. “And this cloak . . . what is it?” He took his hand from my forehead and ran his fingers curiously over a corner of the black fabric. “My Sight isn’t anywhere near as strong as yours, but it looks a little like Nismae’s cuffs. I can’t really sense you while you’re wearing it.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It somehow formed from the last of the water horse’s magic.”
“No sense looking a Sight-blocking gift cloak in the mouth, I suppose!”
I laughed weakly, which quickly devolved into a cough.
Hal sat back on his heels and thought for a moment. “What can I do to help?”
Somewhere beyond the shivering and the ache and the warm cloak of shadows closing around me, I was more grateful for him than I had ever been for anyone. He always asked. And listened. It was more than Ina had ever done. More than Miriel, either.
“Find us somewhere safe to rest,” I said. “Then help me get there.”
“I can do better than that. Put your arm around me.” He knelt beside me so I could hook my uninjured arm around his neck, then picked me up as though I weighed nothing.
“I hope we aren’t going far,” I mumbled into his chest. But I couldn’t help closing my eyes and giving in to the security of being carried. I felt safe in his arms and warm in the cloak. If I could just stop shaking, I’d be able to rest.
I slipped in and out of consciousness until he set me down. He settled me on the ground and tucked my cloak more carefully around me to keep out the wind, then lay down near me. Though the night wasn’t terribly cold, I continued to shiver as the fever tried to burn its way out of my body. I had felt better when Hal was carrying me, but now that comfort was gone.
“Hal?” I whispered.
“Hmm?” He reached over and laid a cool hand on my forehead.
It felt so good. I took a shuddering breath. “Can you keep me warm?”
“Of course.” He turned on his side and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.
I told myself I didn’t feel anything when he did.
I lied.