Fire and Lightspinning glyphs exploded around her. The Pillars who tried to move for her tore at their throats, faces turning purple as Cullen stole their air. Eira finally broke free of the writhing mass of death and escaped through the narrow alleyways of Risen.
She followed a trail of blood that went toward the river. It was roughly the direction Ulvarth had limped off in. But, more than that, she couldn’t imagine where else a coward like him would go. He wouldn’t return to the Archives—not with them compromised. There was nowhere else in Risen that would be safe. He could be planning on running down the river, perhaps all the way to Ofok, where he could regroup with help from Carsovia.
Unfortunate for him that his best chance gave her an advantage. He was running right to the arena that would be of Eira’s choosing—somewhere with ample water. He’d know it, too, which meant he’d have to be fast about it.
Breaking free of endless buildings framing her sides, Eira burst into the afternoon sunlight. The sounds of the combatbehind her were little more than a whisper now. Her pace slowed, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia hitting her.
With a turn of her head, she was faced with the building that had first housed the champions upon their arrival in Meru, while Risen was still in lockdown. It was strange to see the building still standing. Part of her had expected it to be destroyed alongside everything else that had once been a part of the tournament. But…this was different.
She shifted her weight and her attention. The line of blood droplets she’d been following continued off to the left. It wrapped around a building and out of sight, no doubt continuing to the water and a boat that Eira was certain would be there.
But something…somethingkept her from following it. Her focus returned to that stately manor house. The place where she’d first met the Court of Shadows. Where she’d found the dagger.
Yewin.
Eira hadn’t thought of the woman in ages. She’d first met her as Mistress Harrot, the kindly, if a little bit strange, matron of the manor they were staying in. But then Eira had learned of Yewin’s past. Her association with Ulvarth and that she had been Ferro’s birth mother. The woman was loyal to a fault.
Eira started for the manor house.
If she was wrong…Ulvarth would get away. If he had fled on a waiting vessel, he could be anywhere along the river. He’d know she could use her magic to catch up, so he’d no doubt stop off at any point. Switch boats before she could see. Any number of possibilities.
Yet, none of them compelled her to follow that blood trail. It felt too…easy. Too predictable. And, more than anything, it wasn’t flashy enough. Ulvarth was a showman. He loved a narrative, and what was a more poetic ending then their finalshowdown being in the place where his challenge had been laid months ago?
The door was ajar, like an invitation.
Eira let herself inside.
An invisible battalion of memories assaulted her. The manor was exactly as she remembered. Smudges clung to the banister from where everyone dragged their hands over as they went downstairs for meals. The still air was filled with the smells of the elfin’s incense and oils, mingling with the perfumes of the Twilight Kingdom. Even a chest had been left behind in the entry. Forgotten in the haste of leaving for the Champion’s Village.
Time had stopped here. If she closed her eyes, she could force herself back into those hours whittled away strolling the gardens and pacing the halls. Jumping at shadows, literal and metaphorical.
She still remembered every creak of the stairs. Every step she could confidently place her weight on, and which ones would groan if she put her foot in the center rather than one of the struts. The door to what had once been the Solaris quarters was open.
Had they closed it when they’d left?She couldn’t remember. She halted, straining her ears and her magic, listening across the echoes that lingered in the house. There were voices on voices…but none were Ulvarth. Not from these walls, at least.
Bracing herself and drawing her magic, Eira rounded the doorframe.
He stood at the far back of the room, arms folded behind his back. Armor was still strapped in pieces to his body. Eira didn’t know if it was fully useless, broken as it was, or not. But, at the least, there were obvious faults for her to strike first.
Ulvarth turned slowly. His features were barely visible against the light streaming around him. Yet, she could feel the moment their eyes locked. Just as she had earlier.
“I’ve begun to think that you’re right.” The words startled her. Eira flinched, drawing an ice dagger into her palm, stance sinking. “You and I are bound by Yargen’s red lines of fate.”
“Then I will be glad of my destiny to kill you.”
“No, Eira…you will be but another to fall. I will see they paint you as a coward when your body is never found. Meru will never know the truth. All they will have are my stories, and they will curse your name for centuries to come as the woman who tried to kill the Champion and failed.” His words were little more than glancing blows, falling harmlessly around her feet. Eira kept her focus. He was stalling…but for what? Reinforcements, likely. She needed to strike. “Everyone you once held dear will?—”
The second he began speaking again, Eira lunged toward him. At the same time, movement registered in the corner of her left eye.
Pivoting, she threw herself off-balance, avoiding the strike from the new assailant. A needle-point dagger whizzed by her shoulder—the strike having been intended for the middle of her back. There was a living shadow behind her. Plumes of smoke radiated off its shoulders as though it were a nightmarish figment of a shift user’s creation.
No…not a living shadow.
Eira’s eyes widened.Harrot—Yewin. The woman was covered head to toe in soot from the hearth. She’d coated herself in it to blend in with the darkened stones. Small wonder Eira had missed her on entry.
Her boot scraped across the floor as Eira recovered her balance from the dodge. Shifting her grip on her dagger, Eira reached for Yewin’s throat with her other hand. The wiry womanwas easy to subdue. Eira positioned herself behind Yewin, her dagger point pressing into the woman’s throat.
“Clever, I grant you,” she snarled. “But did you honestly think that would be enough to kill me?”
