“Because I watched it happen. Not only at the village when I first came upon you. But again later.”
“Later… How?”
To answer her properly, I need only one more confirmation. “Tell me: did you have a blade vision while you were on a rooftop in the Iron Kingdom?”
“Yes, but… I don’t understand.”
“It seems the blade’s cursed energy didn’t only pull you into a vision,” I say, watching carefully for her reaction. “It drew me to where you were. My mind left my body, and then I could see you, but it was clear you couldn’t see me.”
She’s breathless as she whispers, “You were drawn into the blade vision.” But she quickly shakes her head. “Not into myvision. You were drawn to where my body was. Not where my mind was.”
Softly, I ask, “Where was your mind?”
“That time?” She shudders. “I found myself on my knees in a field of charred earth that stretched as far as I could see. I was wrapped in white ribbons that tightened and tightened…”
My focus shifts to her right arm, picturing the blade now concealed by her cloak and the black runes that weren’t there the last time I saw her.
The dark blood bind now extends along the ivory ribbon.
I need to ask her about it, but her hand emerges from her cloak, rising to her throat, and what she says next makes my instincts prickle.
“The False Queen was there. She told me I’d be a pawn in her game of revenge.”
I control my reactionto this news.
If these blade visions are connecting Thyra to the False Queen’s spirit, then they’re far more dangerous than we can possibly know.
I remember Thyra’s scream at the time.I won’t be your pawn!
And the way she’d endangered herself.
Actions that were counter to the survival instincts she has demonstrated.
“You backed toward the edge of the roof,” I say. “You taunted death at the behest of the blade.”
Forced by the blade.
Controlled by a curse that controls us all.
What more will this blade have her do?
Even her command to me, when she told me to come for her, was spoken while her countenance was icy.Duringa blade vision. And therefore, without her full volition. Outside her own choices. Making her the pawn she said she didn’t want to be.
Ensuring my breathing remains even, I add, “You would have fallen if I hadn’t stopped you.”
“Youstopped me?”
“Using the thread that connects us.” I press my hand to my chest. “The thread connecting your heart to mine. It’s tangible. Solid and real.”
But is it counter to the blade’s malice?
Or is it a twisted part of the curse?
Will this thread give us a false sense of control, only to snap and destroy us when we need it most? Just as all three threads were caught in the snowstorm when Thyra was dying, and only the dark thread remained…
I am well practiced in controlling myself. Emotion will never overwhelm me. Even so, I bend to retrieve my blades, needing their weight at my back. A welcome weight. Unlikethe stone in my chest that grows heavier with every heartbeat.
Before I can crouch, Thyra reaches for me, her lips parted and her breathing suddenly troubled.
