“Then let’s go!” I yell.
Vallan returns. I have no idea where he went or what he gathered, and it vexes me.
“Come on, we’re wasting time,” I tell my mates.
Skartovius puts his palms against the floor. Slowly, my shadow curls away from my body, as does Vallan’s and Garro’s. They merge together, coalescing into a large inky circle of darkness that shimmers and pulsates.
Skar closes his eyes to make the destination known. I know how shadowwalking works now, and he needs to lock onto a living being’s shadow to “walk” into.
Luckily, he’s just seen Jinneth and Old Endolf through Garroway’s mouse’s eyes. He has them fresh in his head and knows their exact location, so it shouldn’t be a problem to—
“Something’s wrong,” Skartovius growls. His eyes shoot open, a thread of confusion on his brow.
“What do you mean?” I ask impatiently. My blood runs cold at his expression.
He steps onto the roiling shadow on the floor . . .
And nothing happens. His boot connects with solid marble past the shadow portal.
“Fuck.” He bares his teeth in a grimace.
Skartovius Ashfen is not a man unaccustomed to getting what he wants. To see him immediately frustrated pains me, makes me angry. “What’s going on, Skar?”
“Something is blocking my portal.” He shakes his head, flabbergasted. “I-I can’t bring us to the Firehold.”
“What?” My exasperation flares. “What do you mean you—”
“I mean what I said, dammit!”
The shadows lose their focus, snapping away from the floor and righting themselves along our bodies. In seconds, the useless portal has vanished completely.
“Oh fuck me True,” I moan. My hands go to my head. I’m on the verge of a meltdown. “Wh-What do we do?” My gaze scans each handsome face, everyone at a loss.
Vallan goes into action first. “I’m getting the carriage. Be ready at the front.” He takes off before anyone can stop him, the huge man’s lumbering steps echoing in the distance as he leaves the room again.
It’s a good idea: Since we can’t do this automatically, we’ll have to do it manually.
I spin on Skar. His brow is creased, eyes dancing like he’s thinking hard about what might be happening.
“Has anything like this happened before?” I ask. “What could possiblyblockyour portal?”
“No, this is new. No idea what’s causing it.” His voice is clipped, tinged with wrath and rage.
The Lord of Manor Marquin is ready to explode.
“Could you be drained from reading my thoughts?” Garroway asks.
“I feel fine now. Recovered.”
“Aye, Master, but your hold over me is, erm, tenuous and stretched more than ever before.” He says the second half gently, trying not to further Skar’s temper.
With a simple grunt, Skartovius turns away from us. “I suppose it’s possible.”
He sounds embarrassed. Ashamed he’s failed. Noticing the stiffness in his shoulders, I put a hand on his arm and he slowly turns. “It’s my fault,” I say.
His eyebrows arch.
“If I’d never given Garroway and you my Loreblood, your connection to each other would be strong. We wouldn’t be wondering—”
