“Well then,” said the girl, snuffing out the candle, “we’d best get going if we’re going to reach the cliffs in time.”
Her sister beamed at her through the dark.
This time, the girl climbed the sheer rock, even as her legs shook. And though she was terrified, she jumped.
And jumped. And jumped.
Her sister held her hand and laughed the whole way down.
How she missed the sound of that laugh.
The fear didn’t lessen with each jump. The girl just didn’t care as much about dying as she cared about soaking up her sister’s presence. She wanted to spend these last moments doing whatever her sister wanted. Because when the sun came up, that would be it. Her sister would cross, as all souls must.
When the sky turned red, they climbed out of the water, their teeth clattering in the early-morning cold, and collapsed into the grass. The girl clutched her sister’s hand, staring deep into her eyes, not daring to look away, even to check the sky.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am without you.”
“You’re my sister. You’ll always be my sister.”
Not if you’re gone,thought the girl.
The air turned golden. Her sister looked to the sky, watching the sunrise over the cliffs.
The girl couldn’t look.
“Don’t leave,” she begged, watching her flicker and fade. Her vision blurred with hot tears.
When she blinked them away, her sister was gone.
Sixteen
Roa stood in the heart of enemy territory, with Essie perched on her shoulder, watching the dizzying spectacle of Baron Silva’s great hall.
In honor of the new dragon queen, Rebekah’s guests all wore Relinquishing masks. At least, that’s what Roa assumed they were supposed to be. But unlike the masks Roa’s people wore on the longest night of the year, these were a gaudy show of wealth. They were golden shimmering things, some inlaid with gems or sewn up with bright ribbons, each one distinct to match the wearer.
A thin, cackling man wore the snout of an elephant. A huge woman with ruby rings wore the face of a hyena. And standing alone, near the wall, a dark-haired young woman with glittering black eyes wore the face and horns of a dragon. It covered one whole side of her face, and half of the other.
Guests laughed as they showed off their masks, casting haughty glances at Roa, Lirabel, and Essie, who stood gaping atthe awful mimicry. This was not an attempt to honor Roa and her scrublander heritage. This was little more than a mockery.
“This is supposed to protect us from wandering spirits?” One woman smirked. “I never realized how superstitious they were.”
“So backward thinking,” agreed the man at her side.
Essie ruffled her feathers in irritation as Roa and Lirabel exchanged furious glances. The masks they’d been given—a cobra and a fox—were buckling in their clenched fists.
Relinquishing masks were simple, rudimentary things for a reason. Fashioned out of wood and painted all in white, they were intended to be plain, each one the same as the next, to confuse and repel the dead—not draw them in with their dazzling beauty.
More than this: the masks were only worn on the longest night of the year—which was still five days away.
“That’s right,” said Lirabel darkly, eyeing them all. “Keep laughing.”
But Roa couldn’t afford to let their condescension distract her. She needed to find a way to lose her guards so she could go in search of the knife.
“How humiliating this must be for you.”
Rebekah’s voice startled Roa. And Essie, too—her claws dug into her sister’s shoulder, making her wince. She might not be able to sense her sister’s emotions now, but from the way her weight shifted from claw to claw, Roa knew exactly how Essie felt about the newcomer. Roa stroked her wings, trying to soothe her.
“Rebekah,” Lirabel answered from Roa’s right. Her normally soft jaw was hard and clenched. “What a lovely dinner.”
