She was right on both counts, but he was not sure the artifact, this dragonfly device, was worth it. For all they knew, its power to turn away the emperor’s great weapon was legend only. It could have simply been a metaphor, and victory against the sea kings, in those long ago days, achieved by more conventional means. Chelsa had acknowledged this argument earlier, but was not dissuaded. In fact, she was already climbing up the rubble, loose rocks clattering down the pile, seeking the hole that would allow her entrance to the burial wing of the Sealender kings.

LAURELYN’S GIFT

Karigan trudged on in her cloud of darkness. Silk appeared to be obeying her by making only perfunctory responses, if any, to those who greeted him in the corridor. He walked on with his shoulders slumped and head bowed.

She herself had almost walked right into a palace guard. She’d been between shadows and only half-faded. The guard’s shock gave her enough time to knock him over the head with her staff. It had been most satisfying, but she had to make Silk help her stash him away where he would not be found immediately. They tied him up and gagged him in a store room, and left him hidden behind stacks of broken chairs.

Had she hurt him worse than a bump to his head? A part of her hoped so. It also served to remind Silk that she knew how to use her weapon, and that she would not hesitate to do so.

So fogged and exhausted by using her ability for so long was she, that it was with some surprise she realized they had reached the grotto fountain. Only a few children played with boats in the water, their governesses looking on. She did not espy Arhys or Lorine. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if she did, as they complicated matters.

As for complications, the lighting around the fountain was generally dim, but she would have to cross spaces without concealing shadows. Silk forged on, oblivious to her dilemma, and she could not let him get too far ahead of her. There was nothing for it but to go.

She almost tripped over a boy who froze and stared wide-eyed at her. The taint of darkness rippled through her, took hold like a fever. She raised her staff. She would bludgeon him, and then he would not be able to tell anyone about her. The staff descended, the boy did not move. The urge to kill drove the staff down, but she pulled it away just in time, stumbling back.

Kill a child? She was going to kill a child? No, no, that was not her, but the darkness rode heavily on her shoulders.

The boy unfroze. “Nanny! Nanny!” he cried. “I seen a real ghost!”

Karigan did not wait to hear the governess’ reply, but ran. She ran as fast as she could to the nearest shadow and after Silk. She ran feeling sick because she’d almost killed that boy, and a part of her still hungered to do so.

This is not me, she told herself. But it is me, nonetheless.

• • •

Before they reached the chamber where Lhean was being held, Karigan grabbed Silk by the collar and hauled him aside to give him instructions. When he nodded in understanding, she dropped her fading. The burden of it evaporated so abruptly that she would have fallen to her knees but for her staff. She wished she could lay her head down on a cool pillow and close her eyes.

“It weakens you.”

“What?” She straightened. Silk was staring at her. Her face looked pale reflected in the blackness of his specs.

“Using the etherea weakens you,” he said.

“Don’t count on it.” She pushed him along before he could say more. Unfortunately, what he’d observed was true. She shook her staff to cane length—at least she would look like she needed it.

When they reached the door to the laboratory room, Silk told the guard, “I have brought Miss G’ladheon back to speak with the Eletian.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said. He eyed her bonewood, but since Silk made no issue of it, he did not question it. Karigan pretended to limp to reinforce the idea that it—and she—were harmless.

The guard opened the door, and Karigan followed Silk in. There was no second guard. Either Lhean was not deemed enough of a threat to require one, or the second guard had stepped away. In his cell in the back of the room, Lhean certainly did not appear to be a threat. He sat in his position of meditation, as she had seen before, appearing perfectly oblivious to the world.

Silk, in contrast, glanced sharply about, as if looking for a weapon or help. At this point he was supposed to request the keys from the guard. Instead, he ordered, “Guard! Take her!”

Karigan figured Silk would at some point attempt to take advantage, so she wasn’t entirely caught unawares. In the moment it took the guard to digest Silk’s order, she had shaken the bonewood back to staff length and was charging him.

His eyes widened as she came at him. He tried to tug his gun out of its sheath. She was tired of guns. They were noisy, nasty weapons. She was tired of being a target and more than willing to do some honest fighting.

The guard backed into a cabinet and the odd-shaped glassware within—cylinders, small pot-bellied pitchers, and tubes—clinked. He finally cleared his gun, but she was already on him. She struck the gun out of his hand, and he howled. She went for his head, but he ducked and the handle of her staff smashed through the glass door of the cabinet, shattering the contents. Broken glass spilled onto the floor.

The darkness and rage had diminished when she dropped the fading, but not entirely, and now it burned again, a fever. She whirled and tripped the guard with the bonewood as he tried to run after his gun. He skittered across broken glass, but did not fall.

Gun? Try this!

As he struggled to get his legs under him again and escape her, she struck him across the back. He dropped to his knees and tried to crawl away. She struck again. And again.