Page 1 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

Every thread begins long before it is woven…

My nails dig into the cold, rocky dirt, still damp from the rain that couldn't wash away the scent of iron. In for three, out for three. I ignore the jagged stones biting into my palms, the physical pain a dull distraction from the void behind my ribs.

The cold here cuts through my clothes and hits bone…and yet, I feel nothing.

He is gone.

I can barely let the thought settle before I am retching, my stomach twisting into a knot of grief and bile. I close my eyes, feeling every bit the fragile, broken thing my parents always feared I was. I can’t do life without his strength. Without his voice. And now…

Tears create muddy paths through the blood on my cheeks before the wind dries them. What good is this magic, this starlight, if I'm forced to stand in the dark? What good is this power if it couldn't stop the end?

My arms tremble, and I give in. Princess or not, I curl into a ball in the middle of this bloodied nowhere and let the silence take me.

Chapter 1

Raea - Hours Earlier

The emergency launch into space leaves me clinging to Ryker. He is the only thing grounding me. Just sitting, I feel heavy.

My body trembles against Ryker, his arm wrapped around me. He hasn’t let me go since I⁠—

What is it I even did? My magic came from nowhere and everywhere at once. I didn’t even think, it just…was.

All I know is that every second counts. We have to get Kuron to the palace healers.

An unholy, deep growl comes from below, making the hair on my arms stand on edge. Ryker tenses beside me. We hold our breath when another growl fills the cabin. Slowly, we peel apart. His shirt is nothing more than charred cobwebs where my heat burned through. I’m surprised any of the fabric remained—none of the others did. My mind clings to the ruined shirt, desperate for anything normal while somewhere in my mind, I know we are in more danger.

In my peripheral vision, an onyx mist pours from the vents. It crawls along the floor like a living thing that doesn't want to be seen. Sgya’s energy travels up my spine, but I still haven't figured out how to summon that starlight on command.

I don’t dare shift my gaze from Ryker. His sapphire eyes are swirling with silver specks, darkening as he focuses on the threat. I subtly tilt my head toward the mist. His hand tightens on mine as if to say, “I know.”

We are still seated in the extra seats located in the bay, having been too overwhelmed and exhausted to move further into the living quarters, but now I’m second-guessing myself. We are too far from any weapons or help.

The transport slows as we break free from Zayla's atmosphere, and a low, broken groan echoes from the cabin.

The mist is only two feet away when the stomp of boots sounds from the hallway. Before the guards can reach us, the shadows I didn't see coming devour us from behind, plunging us into eternal, unyielding darkness.

"Ryker," I choke out, "don't listen to anything it says."

My body hums with energy, warding off the chill burrowing into my bones. Within a breath, insidious whispers scrape against the iron dome of my mind.

Ryker pulls me into his lap, his grip around my chest is unrelenting. "Don't listen, Raea," he whispers into my ear. "I'm here."

“Another failed attempt. She won’t be happy, little light,” the mist taunts.

Distantly, I hear screams. I can't tell if they are in my mind or in the transport, but they are the kind of screams that precede a deafening silence.

“You can’t run from us,” a cold voice says. The cabin fills with the skittering, rhythmic click-clack of talons on alloy, followed by the thrashing of a beast.

A cocoon of white swirls surrounds us. I don't know if I summoned it or Ryker did, but the shadows fall away. I lift my head to see Ryker has gone unconscious as the mist creeps back, waiting. Another snarl and the clank of metal proves this isn't in my head—there is a beast aboard.

I kiss Ryker once, praying the gods wake him, and stand. My gown, which usually makes me feel regal and pretty, is now a hindrance. But this is what Trysten trained me for—fighting in gowns, in corsets, while exhausted.

I turn from Ryker, shielding his body with mine, and face the horror. Shrouded in mist, a humanoid demon crouches across the seating room. Its eyes are twin crimson beacons. It tilts its head with glee as I realize the source of the screams. Dark blood drips from razor-sharp teeth protruding from a lipless, mutilated mouth that looks as if its teeth have ripped away the skin from its face. Its pasty grey-blue skin is corpse-like, and four pointed ears sprout from its head. Two smaller ones near the front, two taller near the back. Oily strands of onyx hair are slicked back atop its head, or at least what is left of it, with sores and bald spots covering the majority.

Fear, like I have never known, presses down on me. Is this what we will be facing in the war?

It stands, revealing hands that are nothing but exposed bone and black, skittering talons. Dark, wet blood coats its naked form, and when it takes the first step toward me, my breath hitches. Its horrific mouth pulls into an eerie grin.