Cygnus’s eyes drift shut, and I can tell he’s fighting for every breath.“Takeussstothhhewater,”he slurs.
I finally understand.
Wobbling upright, I seize his good arm and one leg. Then—agonizingly slow—I drag him toward the gleaming onyx surface. It’s all I can do to get him knee-deep into the shallows. When we’re semi-submerged, I wait, shivering.
“What now?”
No answer from Cygnus. His eyes are closed, his face expressionless.
I realize he’s lost consciousness again. “NO!” I shake his shoulders, and when that fails, I slap him as hard as I can.
“Comeback!” But he won’t rouse.
I look down at the water, and a wild idea seizes me. I drop to all fours, plunge my face into the lake, and start gulping down the icy contents as fast as I can. The taste of mud and ten-thousand-year-old bat shit almost upheaves my stomach, but I clamp down on it with an iron will.Keep going.
Another gulp. Another. I drink until my stomach is bursting, then pull up and gasp for air.
It’s working.It worked.I giggle in hysterical shock as warmth spreads from my stomach, like the first rays after a storm. I don’t know why or how, but the river is healing me. Strength surges back into my limbs. Then, like a familiar oldfriend, power bubbles through my skin, pooling in my palms. For once, I welcome the heat.
I hurry toward Cygnus. His life force has faded to embers, an emaciated ghost of a soul. I place a palm on his chest and bid my Talent to flow.
It’s not until it’s over that I realize I’m weeping.
After carrying Cygnus to the shore, I wait a long time for him to stir.
When he finally does, it starts slow: a twitch in his feet, a slight shift of his torso. Then finally he groans, reaching toward the wound on his shoulder.
“I’m not sure that’s done healing,” I say quietly. “You’ll want to be careful.”
Cygnus sits up and looks over at me. Swallows. Then he says roughly, “I should have told you they were down here.”
I burst out a laugh of complete disbelief. “You knew they were waiting for us?”
“Yes.”
If we hadn’t just cheated death, I would throttle him. As it is, I just sink my head into my hands. “All right—answers. Now. What is this place? How did the magic water just save us?”
Cygnus sighs, meeting my eye. “What do you know about the Everwell?”
My brow furrows. “Nothing?”
“Well…” He hauls in a deep breath. “The Everwell is believed to be the source of all magic. Legends say it was gifted to the Elves thousands of years ago by the Goddess Elowyn, and they built a temple and a series of gates to protect it.
“The entrances to the spring are guarded with spellcraft, so that only Elves with pure intentions can ever approach it.That, up there”—Cygnus gestures toward the portal we tumbled through—“is an Everwillow. To humans, it’s a regular tree. But Elves used to travel back and forth between the spring and Evermore regularly. After the war, Verdin ordered all Everwillows to be chopped down, during the same time he was hunting down fyrehounds. But there is still one in the queen’s garden, maybe as a trophy. Or maybe not. I’m not sure Davina or Rodrick even realize its significance.”
“You said only Elves can enter?” I ask, instinctively glancing at his ears. They’re rounded.
Cygnus notices the glance and brushes his earlobe self-consciously. “My mother was Elven. She was born here in the Hartlands, a few years before the Dornik invasion, and grew up during the Long War. Apparently, she had some personal grievances against the Elven royals. So she worked with Verdin selling secrets and became his most valuable spy. The information she leaked enabled the invasion of the Hartlands and eventually the fall of Evermore.”
His words leave me dumbstruck.
Out of all people, Cygnus is thelastperson I would expect to share my heritage. I can’t decide how I feel about it. Relieved? Angry? The idea of his mother selling Elven secrets fills me with a mix of disgust and pity for Cygnus.
“Where is your mother now?” I finally ask.
“She was killed by King Rodrick. I don’t know why, but he grew suspicious of her. I was only an infant at the time, and the only thing I know about my father is that he was human. Rodrick took me in as a ward of the Crown. I assume my father is or was someone powerful, and he wanted me close enough to control.”
I swallow, allowing this revelation to wash over me. “Did you…” I have so many questions, I’m not sure where to start. “Did you always know what you were?”
