Two of the Summoners take off at a run, abandoning their master, while the third falls to my weapon, another clean slice to the throat. A quick death. Darkness stirs ahead, Shades drawn by violence. I feel only minor panic as I wonder if the same thing is happening on the other side of the bridge. The pillar of light should keep the other Shades from witnessing said violence, and if my Summoners obeyed the directive I left with Sloth and Inana, they should be doing their best to calm the Shades from whatever they may sense coming from here. My tether to Sloth is weak, stretched wide across the light, so I can’t be sure.
All I can focus on is Henderson. The biggest problem here.
I push the corpse of his Summoner to the side and gather up the archer’s weapon. It’s been years since I’ve shot a bow, but muscle memory has me nocking the arrow with ease. I aim it at Henderson.
The man still hasn’t managed to stand, and now he releases the hilt of his sword, rolling onto his back with his palms raised in surrender. “Graves—”
“Did you really think this was going to go your way?” I say, stalking a step closer. “Did you think I’d let you threaten my Summoners and not turn the threat back on you? Did you thinkyou’dbe the one to incite violence tonight?”
“You can’t shoot me,” he rushes to say. “You’ll break your vow.”
“No, I can’t shoot you.” My eyes flick to the shape that rushes toward us, mask askew, eyes wide. It’s Henderson’s favorite Summoner, and as Abigail dives over his body, shielding him from me, I let my arrow fly, piercing her in the back.
Henderson cries out, but I don’t stay to see if the wound is fatal. With how many Shades swarm onto the bridge, finally coerced into enough of a frenzy to step upon it, his crew’s chances of survival are now in their hands. I rush back through the pillar of light, nearly knocking Inana down in the process.
She stumbles back, and I hold out my arm to steady her. “What…what happened over there?” Her eyes rove my face. “Wait…That’s a lot of blood.”
“It isn’t mine. Come. We can’t go that way anymore.” My eyes dart to the wagon. Relief uncoils in my chest as I find this side of the bridge far calmer. The Shades remain gathered at the edge, but they show no aggression. Bard strums his mandolin, his soothing tune in stark contrast to my racing heart. Calvin is already encouraging the horses, a step at a time, to reverse.
I take Inana by the wrist and pull her forward, desperate to get away from here as soon as we can. My mind spins as I mentally plan our next best route. Fuck, we’ll have to take a godsdamned detour to the south—
“Dom,” Inana says, tugging her hand from my grip. I’m about to tell her this is no time to argue, but I find her attention isn’t on me or my momentary touch but the pillar of light. She holds a hand out to it, flinching back when her fingers make contact.
She turns her masked face to me. “Is it supposed to be this hot?”
“What do you mean?” I frown. It didn’t feel any warmer than usual when I raced through it, though maybe that’s because I’m a halfsoul. Heat doesn’t affect me the same way. Domes of light aren’t any warmer than the mildest rays of sunlight. Even the flames that light our swords are mild. Unless…
Dread fills my stomach as my eyes dip to the circle, glowing brightly beneath the pillar and illuminating every line, every glyph of the diagram. It looks the same as the one I draw to capture Shades, just with different symbols regarding the height and width.
No, not the same.
There’s a different glyph.
One relating to heat.
The bridge shudders. Shakes. “Get back,” I say, but it’s already too late.
The circle splits in half, the wood cracking, splintering.
I lunge forward, reaching for Inana.
She reaches back, fingertips brushing mine…
Before the wood drops out from beneath her, plunging her down, down, into the river below.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Inana
The first thing I feel is the cold.
The first thing I think isFuck, I’m going to die.
Then the current takes me, churning my body in its violent pull and dragging me under before I can gather a full breath. Something slams into my side, a piece of the bridge, perhaps, and the remaining air leaves my lungs.This is it,I think. Even if I could swim, it would do me no good. I can’t sense up from down, can’t seek the surface—
Icy air slices over my cheek, bared where my mask is askew. I steal a breath, clawing for something, anything, to cling to. Another heavy weight slams into me, and I grab for it. It’s a plank of wood from the bridge, and I lock my arms around it like my life depends on it. Bloody hell, it likely does. The plank keeps my head above water for the most part, though the current batters me, throwing me against rocks. Pain spears through my limbs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve shattered every bone in my body.
I blink, trying to make out anything but the water rushing all around me, but no matter which direction the current turns me, all I see is water, darkness, or sky. I can’t find the shore. Everything is moving too fast. Me, the water, the wood I cling to.
