Weapons are drawn from both sides, but I contain my shadows, afraid to reveal myself. As a woman produces daggers of ice from thin air, Isobel blasts a gust of air into her face.
My head is still reeling from the transfer between locations, but Chiyo grabs my arm. “Run,” she signs. She gestures over her shoulder to where Isobel and Sloan are fighting the Zenith members. Ava joins us in running through the immense corridors, toward where I know we can find an exit from the castle.
My lungs already burn from running. We careen around a corner, and Ava yanks me back to jump in front of me, her sword raised to block another blade. Chiyo flings a dagger into someone’s eye, and I resist the urge to close my own. I turn as I sense a presence behind me. A man almost double my height comes at me with a long sword. There’s no point in holding back, so I let loose a ripple of my shadows. It’s enough to stall him before Ava’s sword slices across his stomach.
Then we’re running again. I try desperately tofeelfor Tiernan’s aura. For Winnie’s. It isn’t until we round another corner, so close to the exit, that an overwhelming sense of both Winnie and Tiernan rushes into me. It’s strong enough that I’m certain I can jump right to them.
“Grab Ava!” I shout to Chiyo as I snatch her hand back just as she’s about to throw a dagger at a new attacker. Chiyo grabs Ava’s hand, and we go tumbling into the abyss.
Chapter 63
The momentI’m taken across the encampment beneath the Paramount plateau, an entire hour before planned, I know that the sovereign has lied about my part in this so-called ritual. And, of course, the time I told the Dreamwalker when she appeared to me last night is now incorrect. The searing realization that the entire escape plan may be out the window squeezes my lungs as I continue across the land beneath the castle plateau.
The dark sky is streaked with purple, the low sun glowing weakly on the horizon. But already, the stars are visible, and the encampment is shrouded in darkness save for speckles of magelight.
The closer we get to the entrance of the forest, to Fiada Purlieu, the faster my heart beats. I’ve been cynical about the existence of the Veil, especially given that there is nothing out of the ordinary about the appearance of the forest, but something feels off.
My mind screams at me to flee as we get closer. A large bonfire illuminates the area, including several guards and a few other figures up ahead. One is obviously the sovereign. He’s flanked by Lynx and Radika, Lynx’s mask more ominous in the wavering flames nearby. Two thick, wooden posts have beenerected before the forest entrance, a body bound to each of them, their hands secured behind their backs.
A book that looks old enough to fall apart, bottles of potions, and other artifacts sit on a stony table—an altar of sorts. My eyes trail from the table to the two bound figures. Tiernan’s head is slumped forward as if he’s unconscious, but the other captive looks at me with pleading emerald eyes and tears streaming down her face.
Neris.
The breath whooshes out of my lungs and my knees buckle, but I stand my ground. A soldier nudges me, and I stumble forward to face the sovereign, whose lips stretch into that oily smile. His eyes are darker than usual, as are the veins standing out on his neck.
“I’m glad you could make it, Lady Gwyneth,” he says lightheartedly, as though we’re taking a morning stroll through the castle grounds. “Get ready to witness the sacrifice of the Shadow Wielder, and the opening of the Veil!” His eyes seem demented tonight; too wide, too dark. His grin is unsteady, wild.
My heart stills for a moment.Opening?He’d said he was going toclosethe Veil! To end the blight. I shouldn’t be surprised that a man like Rheon would blatantly lie this way.
“Not only will there be a sacrifice, but a transference of power,” Rheon continues. “Your Ordinary friend is about to become a Wielder, if all goes according to plan.”
Two Zenith members step out from among the rest of the soldiers, a large knife in each of their hands. Neris draws an audible breath as a blade is held to her throat. The other soldier grabs Tiernan by his hair, forcing his head back, and the man’s eyes fly open, consciousness crashing into him. He immediately stiffens as he realizes his predicament, remaining statue still as the soldier also holds a knife to his throat.
“Winnie,” Neris whimpers.
I look frantically at the sovereign.
“Balance requires sacrifice,” he says.
It’s a phrase I’ve heard from the Purists as well.
“Once the Shadow Wielder’s soul exits, his powers will transfer from him and cling to Reneris.”
My eyebrows furrow. That doesn’t even make sense.
Yet Radika pulls a silver stiletto from her robes and strides toward Neris, who doesn’t dare to move and risk the soldier ending her life. Chanting loudly in a strange language, she holds Neris’s arm still. With one hand, Radika begins carving something into the flesh just below the short sleeve of Neris’s dress.
Neris cries out in pain, and it takes everything in me not to run to her rescue, but Radika continues, calm as if she’s simply drawing on canvas. She then tucks the thin weapon away and snaps her finger.
The potion she’d been mixing that day in the infirmary floats from the makeshift altar and lands smoothly in her waiting palm. As she uncorks the bottle, I grapple for something to do, anything that would stop whatever’s about to happen. I cannot let her give Neris that potion; I cannot let Tiernan besacrificed,whatever that entails.
“Stop!” I shout as Radika places the bottle against Neris’s tightly sealed lips.
All eyes turn to me.
“I have something you want.” My voice cracks, coming out breathless. I pull my pocket watch from my trousers and hold it up for everyone to see. “It’s a stone. I heard it’s of great value. As an amplifier.”
The sovereign perks up, intrigued.
