Theo was pinned to the wall, the exposed edge of a saber at his neck. “This was never part of the deal!” he shouted, and even Roa heard the grief in his voice.
Roa reached out with her mind, desperate to brush against her sister’s. But there was no response. Essie only stared at her.
“I hear there are worse things than uncrossed spirits.”
Roa tore her gaze from her sister to find Rebekah approaching the cage now, the Skyweaver’s knife unsheathed at her side. Essie glared up at her through the bars.
“My father doesn’t just collect artifacts,” she went on. “He also collects stories. When Theo told me about your predicament, that you needed the knife, I searched his library. I found the account of something called acorrupted spirit.”
Essie isn’t corrupted,thought Roa, shivering despite herself. Corrupted spirits were deadly; her sister’s spirit was just uncrossed.
“The story said that if the soul of the deceased is trapped here for too long, unable to cross, it eventually becomes a horror.” Rebekah gripped one of the cage bars with her free hand, peering inside, as if she wanted to see such a thing. As if hoping Essie would turn into a monster right before her eyes.
Roa’s chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. “Please. Give her back.”
Rebekah sheathed the Skyweaver’s knife, turning away from the cage. “Not until I’m absolutely certain of your loyalty.”
“I’ll do whatever you want. I swear it,” Roa said. “Just let her go.”
“Enough.” Rebekah’s voice sharpened and her eyes narrowed. “Begging doesn’t become a queen. Do as you’ve promised, and your sister will go free.”
When the blades withdrew, Roa sank to the floor, staring at Essie. Caged. Trapped. Taken from her again.
“The Relinquishing is five days away.” Rebekah moved slowly toward Roa. “If you deliver the location of the passage to me in three days, I’ll give your sister back.” She held out the sheathed Skyweaver’s knife in both hands. The embossed steel glinted in the firelight. “Do we have a deal?”
Roa’s gaze locked with Essie’s.
Everyone had a weakness, and Rebekah had found hers.
“Yes,” Roa whispered.
“Three days,” said Rebekah, passing her the knife. “Deliver it to me by midnight.”
Roa’s fingers curled tightly around the sheath. It was colder than any steel she’d ever held.
Death cold.
The Last Relinquishing
Every Relinquishing, when the night descended and her household gathered around the heart-fire, the girl crept into the parlor, set a candle burning in the window, and waited for her sister to come.
She always came.
But every time, she seemed a little less like herself.
On the last Relinquishing, as the dawn crept in, the girl sat by the calm waters of the quarry, plaiting her sister’s curls in the dark.
“I think I’m disappearing,” said her sister.
The girl stopped braiding. “What?”
“I don’t know what I am anymore. A hawk? A girl? Or somethingelse?”
She shivered. The girl told herself it was just the cold air.
“I don’t know where I belong.”
“You belong with me,” said the girl, reaching for her hands, linking them hard in her own. “You’re my sister. And a daughter of the House of Song.”
