Rooke paused at the bottom of the stairs, focused on the artifacts, but not coming any closer.
“Last night is…”
His eyes caught on mine.
“A bitfuzzy. And while I hate to point out the obvious, there are only two of them. You seem to have misplaced something, Storme. A veryimportantsomething.”
“We lost the Crown at Gravespire,” Ryland admitted, “Gravelock’s soldiers ambushed us outside the room where they were stored. We were almost free when one of them snatched the Crown and vanished.”
Kaden’s body shuddered, the words hitting him like a physical blow. Obviously, the Crown was crucial; maybe its power tied the Triune together. Not that any of us knew how these things actually worked.
Well, not thatIknew how these things worked.
“We still have two,” Varian said quietly, his eyes on Rooke. “Which means Gravelock can’t unite the Triune into a weapon. Which buys us some time.”
“Time that won’t matter, in the end. The Crown gives that bastard dominion over everyone,” Rooke murmured, his face growing paler by the minute. “You. Me. Even your precious queen. With the Crown on his head, Gravelockcould have Anaria kneeling before him with a flick of his finger.”
Rooke was staring out the windows as wind and snow lashed the glass.
“The Crown is the most critical piece of the Trinity, and losing it…we need that piece.”
“What about these two?” I cast my hand over the objects on the table. “What do they do?”
“Legend says the Mirror is made from a shard of moonlight, spelled to show the bearer that which they most desire. But the relic can also be used as a weapon, casting powerful illusions, realistic enough to convince even the most skeptical minds of a warped reality. One of my ancestors was powerful enough to use its power to travel between realms.”
Like he was forcing himself, Rooke drew a shuddering breath, pulled his gaze from the window, then in two long strides, closed the distance between himself and the relics. When he stopped in front of the table, the air in the room bent in around us, the walls of the castle shifting in and out of sight.
Kaden’s presence was affecting the artifacts. Or their magic was responding to him. Not a surprise, perhaps, given they were created for his bloodline, but still, the effect was disconcerting. Even the air tasted brighter, tinged with enough ozone to sting my eyes, burn my lungs.
This was so very dangerous, what we were doing. Playing with forces not meant to exist.But better us than Gravelock, I told myself.Better we hold the key to the world’s destruction than a madman determined to burn everything to the ground and laugh in the glowing ashes.
God, Torin was right. These fucking things should be under lock and key.
“And that one?”
I was afraid to get any closer, not with the sheer amount of power churning off them in great, choking waves.
“The Thorn, they say, was forged from the breath of a dying god, made not for creation, but for the fundamental principle of ending. Magic, flesh, life itself, that blade is capable of nullifying the magic of anything it touches—when used with intent,” Rooke explained in a hushed voice.
“Oh, it definitely does that,” Var muttered.
“Remember,” Kaden said, “in the world of magic, intention is as powerful a weapon as any sword or any army. That blade can sever oaths and curses, even the most binding ones.”
“And turn Fae soldiers into primordial soup,” Varian muttered, shooting me a sidelong look.
Okay, now Idefinitelydidn’t want to be anywhere near these things.
“Then what do we do?” Ryland’s voice was laced with frustration. “Hide them? Use them? If Gravelock takes them back, we’re fucked, Rooke, totally fucked.”
Kaden didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out a shaking hand, grasped the Thorn—the point so sharp the blade seemed to sing, then—before I could shout a warning—dragged that gleaming edge across his palm.
“Stop,” I hissed, lunging for him, “you can’t afford to spill any more blood. You already lost too much last night.”
Rooke ignored me, tipping his slashed palm sideways over the Thorn, then the Mirror, blood dripping in a steady stream onto both artifacts, chanting softly in a language I didn’t recognize. Thick stone walls around us disappeared completely, until we stood on a windswept island, buffeted by a whipping storm.
For a moment I was lost, swept away in the strangenessof not being rooted to the world, then Ryland was there, wrapping strong arms around me, crushing me tight to his chest, blocking out the cold that stole the air from my lungs.
Air that grew heavier, darker, unbreathable, the longer Kaden chanted.
