“Surrounding this place, keeping us hidden. Now they can sense me, and with that burst of magic—”
“Fallor,” Vi finished.
“Fallor?” Taavin looked to her. “Adela’s right-hand man?”
“He’s after me,” Vi answered hastily. “Wait… Who did you think it was?”
“The Swords.”
“The what?” As soon as the question left her lips, Vi remembered a brief conversation they’d had in her tent when she’d first begun to demand information from him. “The Swords of Light? The Faithful’s militia?”
“They’re after me.”
The door rattled again, preventing Vi from asking the thousand questions swirling in her mind about the Swords of Light.
“Get ready to run.” Taavin grabbed her hand. “Durroe sallvas tempre dupot. Durroe watt radia dupot.”
Light spiraled out from him. Vi recognized the chants to deceive ears and eyes.Radia, to hide.Tempre, to mask?Dupot… she’d never heard that word before. Had she? Her mind was in a haze, still sluggish from her injuries and whatever magic was still making her ears ring.
Glyphs surrounded Taavin, condensing onto his left wrist like bracelets. She knew what he was doing, and yet… Vi was struck with awe.
He commanded the magic with a deftness she’d never seen before—not from any sorcerer from any discipline. It put even the poetic nature by which her parents could command the elements to shame. It was more than sorcery, it was art—as breathtaking as a virtuoso musician or master dancer. The magic wasn’t just an extension of Taavin.
ItwasTaavin.
The door to the shack was kicked in. Two men stood framed at the threshold, ice crackling around them, reaching inside of the shack. The remnants of the dying fire were snuffled and Vi’s eyes worked to adjust to moonlight only.
One man was unknown to her, a nameless and bloodthirsty face. Her focus remained locked on the other: Fallor. The red of his hair and shimmering dots that lined his brow were unmistakable to her now. She’d know them by daylight, moonlight, and nightmare.
His eyes narrowed slightly, sweeping across the shack and past where Vi and Taavin were hidden.
“Search it,” Fallor commanded. The nameless man stepped forward into the small space as Fallor remained in the doorway.
Vi bit back a shout of pain as she was tugged into motion. Taavin seized the opportunity, sprinting past Fallor in the doorway. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance.
Taavin twisted to slip through, but Vi was caught-off balance. She tripped over her own feet; there was still a disconnect between her body’s movements and her brain. Taavin pulled at her arm as Vi tried to convince her limbs to move properly.
Barely, just barely, her side brushed against Fallor’s giant arm.
The man turned his head, moving on instinct—there could be no other description for how fast he lashed out. She’d touched him, and that meant the magic that had extended from Taavin to her, now extended to Fallor.He could see them.
Fallor’s arm slammed against her middle, knocking the air from her lungs. It pressed further into Vi’s abdomen as he pulled with bone-crushing might.
Vi looked to Taavin, watching his eyes widen slightly as she was ripped from his grasp. He was still moving in the other direction, hand around her wrist. But Fallor was too strong. She felt weightless as she was hoisted into the air. Taavin’s fingers slipped from Vi’s and she watched as he disappeared, the magic now concealing him from her without their contact.
“Found you,” Fallor growled into her ear, a stomach-churning glee making the words all the more terrifying.
Chapter Two
“Juth—”A large hand clamped around Vi’s mouth before she could finish the chant.
“I think not.” Fallor turned to his comrade. “There’s another, get him.”
“Adela only wanted her.”
“She’ll want this one,” Fallor assured him with a confidence that shook Vi to her core.
They knew who Taavin was. That was the only explanation. Otherwise Fallor would’ve focused only on her.
