“Can we at least agree to share what information we find?” Theron adds, his voice quiet.
“Information?”
He tips his head. “Information regarding the pursuits that might bring you to this library.”
I swallow. He’s never used that tone with me, a distant, emotionless timbre that plants clear expectations between two people—politics and propriety, nothing more.
My body hums with the magic still swirling through me. It isn’t fed by anger now—it’s fed by grief, bright and hot and expected, like now that I’ve outright admitted what Theron and I are, my body unwinds in resignation.
No more lying. He knows what I want with regard to the magic; I know what he wants.
So I don’t tell him I have the key. At least, not directly.
“We should continue to Ventralli,” I manage. “As soon as the treaty is signed.”
Theron’s brows launch skyward, understanding written in shocked lines over his face. When I don’t elaborate, he snorts in incredulity and runs a hand through his hair, pausing with his eyes on the floor, his shoulders stiff.
“You’ll see,” he starts, “when the chasm is opened, that everything I’ve done has been to keep you safe.”
I didn’t think it possible to hurt more than I do, but an ache thuds in me, pounding where my heart should be.
“Idon’t need to be safe. I needWinterto be safe.”
Theron drops his hand and looks at me. “You’re more than that kingdom.”
He’s trying so hard to be sweet, to be the Theron I fell for in Bithai. But sweetness isn’t all I want anymore. I want . . . Winter. I want someone who thinks of protecting Winter first and me second. Not the other way around.
“No,” I say. “I’m really not.”
Theron gapes at me, but snaps away his shock with a curt shake of his head.
He turns and marches toward the door without another word.
I watch him go, waiting for my grief to rear so high it paralyzes me, waiting to crack into pieces and fall apart. And at one point in my life, I think I would have. But knowing what he wants with the magic chasm, I feel more certain than I have in a long time.
There is very little that I would choose over keeping Winter safe.
And Theron isn’t one of those things.
I reach into my pocket as the door shuts behind him. My fingers close around the key, a resolved, firm grip. I have one of the keys. I have a way to—
The old metal grinds against my skin, and I know as soon as I touch it that I was wrong. Whatever magic these keys possess—it isn’t simple; I don’t have it figured out.
Numbness launches up my arm, spreads across my chest,sends me toppling to the floor. I can’t do more than reel as I tumble, too annoyed at myself for touching the key to be scared.
“My queen!” Henn’s face darts into view. His lips move, saying something to me, but the magic is swift, a mad rush of sizzling nothingness that yanks a shadow over my eyes.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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Meira
THE MAGIC COATSme in chill through a tangle of confusion that amplifies when a voice lights me up, a sun rising over night-drenched landscape.
“The magic must not be reached by someone of corrupt heart. No, their heart must be pure—no, good—no, no, none of those. The magic must be reached by someone of ready heart. They must be ready. And these tests—these tests will make them ready.”
