1
The town of Warich burned in the distance. The fires had only grown as they’d slipped away from the death and chaos, sailing down the river that cut through Meru. The Pillars were putting their fearsome might on display for all to see, sending a message that would rock the very foundations of five kingdoms for years to come.
But Eira’s focus wasn’t on the distant carnage. Or the fact that the boat that she had escaped on with her friends was presently sailing in theoppositedirection of where they had been intending to go. Or the countless pains that were still setting in following their frenzied flight from the coliseum.
None of that mattered.
The entire world had condensed in a second, reduced to the woman standing before her.
She was about Eira’s height and also of narrow frame. Hair as fine as moonbeams and nearly the same platinum shade cascaded over her shoulders, perfectly straight and catching the slightest breezes as if she were some kind of ethereal specter. Eyes the same color as the ice in the deep mountains narrowed slightly as she tilted her head back, looking down her nose.
“Hello, Eira.”
All Eira could do was croak in response. She opened and closed her mouth, several times, but no words formed. Her mind was empty—a void where all thoughts had once been.
This was some kind of hallucination, brought on by a day that just wouldn’t end. Her family might have just died. The leaders of her empire probably perished in a ball of fire. Cullen had been stabbed through trying to save her. Everything she thought she knew was crashing down around her.This couldn’t be real.
“Nothing to say before you die?” A slight smirk stretched across the woman’s face, curling thin lines into her cheeks, as though this particular expression of smug confidence was one she had repeated thousands of times, to the point that it was forever etched onto her visage.
“You—you’re…”
The woman’s gaze shifted slightly, looking over Eira’s shoulder. Eira had completely forgotten Ducot was just behind her at the helm. “They always blubber, don’t they?”
Whatever reaction Ducot had wasn’t vocal, so Eira missed it.
“You’re Adela,” Eira whispered, finally mustering two thoughts together.
“Yes.” Adela shifted her grip on the cane. It was made of ice, the same as her right arm and left leg, judging from the icy boot that extended out from beneath her pant leg. “I know who I am. But the real question is, do you know whoyouare?”
Before Eira could respond, Adela moved. It wasn’t sudden, or quick. She practically strolled across the deck to cover the gap between them. But Eira didn’t even try to flee. She just…watched as the deadly woman who had been little more than a blank slate in her dreams approached.
Adela came to a stop a step from her. Reaching out with her hand of ice, she gripped Eira’s chin, turning her head left and right. Eira was reminded of how the merchants inspected livestock fresh off the boats in the market of Oparium. But thewhole dreamlike oddity of the situation had her allowing it to happen. It dulled the biting chill of Adela’s fingers.
As Adela conducted her inspection, Eira did the same. Their hair was of similar shade. Eira’s perhaps a touch more golden, but Adela’s silvery hue could be from age, or the moonlight. Their noses were different; Eira’s had a bit of a bulb at the end of hers compared to the sharp point Adela’s narrowed into. But their eyes…
It was like looking into a mirror.
The part of her that had been wondering for months tried to reach out. Would Adela’s magic feel like her own? Eira attempted to extend her magic, forgetting it was no longer there. The ghost of her former power provided her with the illusion of magical pulses she knew should be there. But they weren’t real sensations.
Her magic was gone. She’d sacrificed it trying to bring down Ulvarth by closing his channel. Little good it had done. He’d orchestrated the downfall of the royals with such thoroughness that he didn’t even need his power.
The cold from Adela’s hand was finally reaching the bone of her jaw. Eira fought chattering lips. Her magic was no longer there to fend off the cold, either.
Adela released her and stepped to the side, rounding her. “You said she was a Waterrunner.”
“I did,” Ducot answered.
“She shivers.” Adela’s voice from behind had a chill racing up Eira’s spine.
“You have that effect on people.” Ducot had the same tone as when he reported to the Court of Shadows. He was working with Adela—forher. The whole time he was at the court…everything he asked Eira about Adela, everything Eira had told him of her history, her fears…
The searing betrayal was the only thing that could cut through the cold that frosted the very air around Adela and sharpen Eira’s senses enough to bring her back to the present. Eira blinked, as though she were waking from a dream. The empty deck stretched before her.
“Where are my friends?” she demanded, voice firmer and more even.
“You should be more worried about yourself than them.” Adela finished her sharklike circling, coming to a stop again before Eira.
“What have you done with them?”
