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“No,” I groaned. “I need that. Bring it to me.”
After a couple of beady blinks, he hopped over to the stray parchment and nudged it with his beak, pushing it back toward me. Slowly but surely, the paper slid across the stone floor until it rested close enough for me to grasp. Would it tell me that they were nearly here? That I only needed to hold on a little longer?
With renewed hope, I stretched, my fingertips pinching the parchment. I pulled it inside, my grip shaky but firm. My heart drummed a frantic beat as I unrolled it, tilted it toward the meager light, and squinted at Malyr’s handwriting.
Anoaley,
I am writing this from our camp right outside of Ammarett, where every deathweaver, pathfinder, and fate of fighting age is waiting on my command to breach the keep, but we cannot do it without you. We need a distraction from within. Steal my gift. Wield my shadows. Unleash my darkness on them and show them how you sparkle as you make your way from the dungeon to the keep. We will come through the main gate for you.
We love you. Come back to us.
P.S.: Do you remember what I told you the night at the kjaer, when you and I spoke by the creek?
A chill crept into my fingers, stiffening my knuckles until the parchment noisily crinkled in my grip. They wanted me to… steal Malyr’s gift? Wield his shadows? Fight my way up to the keep?
I’d never done any of those things!
Ignoring my rioting nerves, I took a deep breath. What had he told me by the creek? We’d spoken about a great many things. Sebian’s scars. The night his family died. Trust. The salt amulet that he’d—
“You are not the damsel in distress you make yourself out to be,”Malyr’s voice resonated, as if whispered right beside me, his belief in me like a caress to my soul. It always had been.
I clenched the parchment, grounding myself in the urgency of his words. How long ago I’d been taken, I couldn’t say, but I knew it wasn’t enough time to organize a successful siege. They probably couldn’t get through Ammarett’s defenses without great losses—and likely not for the wanted outcome.
This was on me.
A shiver of doubt invaded my nerves. I was no warrior; had never held a sword, had never killed. Had never truly lived through the hardships of war.
But I had endured pains, scars, and injustices all the same. Had survived the attack on Tidestone when others around me had died. Had fought for myself when I hadn’t even known who I was. I had lifted a curse, saved a prince, gained the admiration of many… and the hearts of two men.
I glanced back down at the note.
We love you.
Come back to us.
Focusing on my void, I raised my absorbing hand toward theanoa.The more I communed with the shadows within the raven, the more his feathers ruffled. Two dissolved into black plumes, making my heart give a whomp against my ribcage. Yes, that was it! They slithered through the metal curtain, streaming into me, deeper, deeper—
A sharp, unyielding pain flared up in my chest, like claws tearing across my internal organs, scratching and scraping. I recoiled, pulling my hand back as if burnt, breaking my focus entirely. Such pain…
The raven suddenly cocked his head, attention going to the pathway from which he’d come. Then I heard it.
Footsteps.
With a hurried gesture, I shooed him away. “Go. Go and hide.”
If he understood the situation or merely the urgency in my voice, I couldn’t say, but he hopped away. Retreating into a dim corner, his black plumage blended seamlessly with the enveloping shadows.
I quickly tore up Malyr’s letter. Hands shaky, I stuffed the pieces into my mouth, desperately chewing the dry, pulpy texture. Each shred scraped down along my esophagus, making me choke, making me cough, but I managed it all down.
The orange hue of the fire once more flickered and elongated along the wall, making my heart race. Until one of the two men I wanted dead the most stepped into the small cavern that held my prison.
Then, my heart stopped.
Lord Brisden stood before my cage, his chin held impossibly high, considering how his eyes had to strain as he looked down at me where I sat on the floor. But he wasn’t alone. A jailor walked up beside him, putting a bowl on the ground before he pulled a knife from the sheath on his belt.
I peeked into the bowl. Ash.
My stomach clenched.
