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But didn’t they? The Bone Quarter, surrounded by impenetrable mists, held all that secondlight.
“Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.”
The Northern Rift was wreathed in mist, too, Bryce realized. A tear between worlds—a thin place. And the riverbank where she’d landed in this world … it had been misty there, as well.
“Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer … She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.”
Vesperus peered at her bare feet, the rock beneath. “Theia never learned how to access the power I cached beneath my palace. She had no choice but to leave it there, buried in the veins of this mountain. Her loss—and my gain.”
Oh gods. There was a fucking firstlight core here, far beneath their feet—
Vesperus smiled. “You really should have killed me when you had the chance.”
Light shot up the Asteri’s legs, into her body. A blinding flash, and then—
Vesperus’s red mouth opened in joy and triumph, but no sound came out. Only black blood.
Bryce blinked at the crunch. The wet spray. The glint of silver that appeared between Vesperus’s shining breasts.
The firstlight flowing up the Asteri’s body shivered—and vanished.
Nesta had plunged Ataraxia right through Vesperus’s chest.
26
Ithan didn’t deserve to exist. To breathe.
And yet here he was, sitting in the back of a car as they approached the docks at Ionia. Here he was, praying the Hind hadn’t sold them out and that the ship would be waiting to bring them to Pangera.
Kin-slayer. Murderer. The thoughts echoed through his very bones.
Ithan had killed the one person who might have led the Valbaran wolves to a different future, an alternative to Sabine.
It didn’t matter that it had been accidental. He’d ripped out her throat. And decapitated her in the process of removing his fist.
To save his friends, he’d done this unspeakable, unforgivable thing. He was no better than the Hind.
Ithan caught a glimpse of his reflection in the car window, and hastily turned away.
* * *
Ataraxia had slain the Middengard Wyrm—but there was no indication the blade could also kill an Asteri. That anything, in any world, could do that except for Apollion.
“Get out of range—” Bryce warned Nesta, but the warrior snarled at Bryce, “She was keeping you talking until she got an opportunity to kill you with that cache of light, you fool.”
Black blood dribbled from Vesperus’s lips. “You are indeed a fool, girl.”
The power slipped from Bryce’s grip as Vesperus placed a hand at Ataraxia’s tip and shoved. The sword punched back through her chest. The movement was hard enough that Nesta stumbled, shock whitening her face.
Slowly, Vesperus turned. Smiled at Nesta. Then down at the gaping hole between her breasts, already healing. All that firstlight was grade A healing magic. Taken in such a big dose—
“Ataraxia didn’t work,” Nesta breathed, shock still stark on her face. “The Trove—”
“Do not summon the Trove,” Azriel ordered. “Don’t bring it near her.”
Nesta shook her head. “But—”
“Not even for our lives,” Azriel snarled.
