“I’ll help him. Can you go south, help the people there?” Stark says, nodding toward the far side of the city, where the other city gates sit.
“I’m on it.”
Anassa and I sprint toward the city’s southern limits.
Stark was right to send me here—a frantic mass of people are gathered at the smaller southern city gates, but an overturned cart is blocking the doors from opening wider than the span of two people shoulder to shoulder.
“Make way!” I scream, and heads whip around to look at me. The sight of Anassa barreling toward them gets everyone’s attention, and people scramble out of my way.
Without the mental link with Stark, I reach for Daemos impelling instead of my shadows, going for power instead of precision. With a shout and a swipe of my arm, I blast the cart away from the doors.
Right away, guards and citizens are back at the doors, pulling them wide so that the escape route is clear.
It feels like hours later when the shaking finally stops. We get as many people out as we can. My mind is so tired from magic use and exertion that I can barely form words.
Outside the city, Anassa trudges up a short slope, weariness clear in her every movement, so that we can get a vantage point on the ridge of a hill. I project an image of our view to Stark so that he knows where to find us, and then I drop our connection again, slumping over Anassa’s back and letting myself half jump, half fall to the ground.
Anassa curls her body around me, her panting breaths making her sides quake even as they warm me against the cold.
I gaze down the hill blearily.
Linsfall is a wreck.
The collapsing buildings are like a jumble of broken teeth, painful and ugly. Some of the timbered buildings are still on fire. Flames lick over the piles of rubble as we gaze at the ruins. And there at the city’s center, at least five city blocks wide, sits the massive hole that erupted where the goddess statue once stood.
Up until now, it’s been possible to focus only on what the people around me need immediately. On injuries and rescues and calming panic.
I almost let myself forget about the event that started all this.
I reach for my pack, slip my hand inside. For better or worse, the new Tear is still there.
The Tear for destruction, I think to myself and shiver.
Fucking hell.
“The priestess?” I send through the bond to Stark now.
“I’ve retrieved her from Noemi. We’re coming to you.”His response washes through me, and with it a flash of his location: I glance up to see him comingout of what’s left of the city gates, the old woman’s frail figure still in front of him on Cratos.
They streak across the landscape until they reach us, and Stark dismounts with far more grace than I could muster.
The old woman comes down next, still bound by tendrils of Stark’s shadow magic.
My voice is steely as I step up to look her in the eye.
“Mother Priestess. Time to start fucking talking.”
54
MERYN
The night sky carries a dull glow as Linsfall burns. There are shouts of suffering and children crying. And the Mother Priestess, wrapped tight in bands of shadow, smiles at me with flame reflected in her eyes.
It’s a beautiful smile. A gentle smile. And that alone turns my bones to ice. Then she says, “What more is there to say? King Killian’s armies are on their way. He’ll have the Tear in his possession before long, even if I’ve failed him.”
My magic immediately responds, whipping through my veins. I advance on her. “IsKilliancoming? Here?”
Her eyes are wild, her face savage. She starts to laugh, the sound manic and bone-chilling. Stark grabs her by the shoulder and shakes. “Answer your queen!”
