The distance between them felt even greater than the others. How deep in the jungleswasthe Vathan capital? They’d been told the way, but Mariah was a little ashamed to admit how little she’d listened. She reached down that bridge of shimmering golden light, whispering softly into the void.
“Sebastian?”
Silence answered her. But she kept pushing forward, deeper down the bridge.
She felt something. Another presence, a conscience. Solid and steady and sure and as familiar to her as the back of her own hand.
It was also different. Where warmth had once leaked from every crevice, he was now withdrawn. Closed off and reserved and walled away.
Mariah pressed her mind against that wall of stone. “Sebastian?”
He stirred. But still, he did not speak.
His emotions struck her like a great wave, pushing her back and sending her gasping for breath.
Sadness. Defeat. Humiliation. Shame. Fear. Anger. All of it swirled up on a dangerous riptide, eddying throughout the space between their minds.
Nausea roiled in Mariah’s gut. She preferred Quentin’s chaos to this wrenching, pulsating rawness.
She fought against the current, fighting for a foothold. “Sebastian,” she finally managed. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
There was another breath of silence, and for a moment she worried he wouldn’t answer. That he would ignore her, lost in the hollows of his own grief.
She finally felt his consciousness turn to her, finding her amidst the storm.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I failed. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Failed how? What’s going on?”
But that was it. There was no more from him. He closed down, unable to kick her out, but not willing to speak, either.
Icy fear slid between Mariah’s ribs like a well-honed blade.
She couldn’t imagine many things that would leave Sebastian like this. And in Vatha, no less. They’d been permitted access to the archives; they’d obviously made progress with the king. What could’ve possibly gone so wrong in a matter of days to suddenly have him like this?
Gods, she wanted to help him. She wanted to shift forms and fly as fast as she could to Vatha. The beast growled and begged as much, magic flickering off her skin.
Memories of that letter flickered in her mind. Of Andburgh, reduced to ash and smoldering ruins.
Of her mother, lifeless in the bloodstained grass, a sacrifice to a god who craved only power and chaos.
She had to end this. Not just for herself, but for all of them. Every single person—both in her life and without—who had lost something to the darkness that had been slowly seeping into this world for thousands of years.
“I’m going to Andburgh to finish this,” she said softly into the void, knowing he could hear. “I will need you, if you can join me. But if you can’t, I need you to be strong. Like you always are. Take care of Ciana, and I will find you when this is done.”
She pulled back, flinging herself through space and time. Somewhere—maybe in her imagination—she thought she heard a bellowed voice, someone telling her towait.
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She’d done enough waiting. She would do no more.
Mariah slammed back into her body with a gasp and a shudder, panting into the crisp mountain air. She opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight, fighting past the urge to throw up as the horizon dipped and swayed.
It took a few minutes for her stomach to settle, for the world to stop roiling, for her heart to stop thundering in her chest. There was a tentative tap on the glass behind her. Andrian knelt just inside the open window, watching her with concern etched across his brow. In his hand was a glass of water, the few cubes of ice tinkling.
Mariah took it, swallowing the contents thankfully. She handed it back to him mostly empty, the cold liquid soothing something that still burned in her chest. Andrian reached through the open window, wiping a few lingering drops from her chin with his thumb, and she didn’t resist the urge to lean into his touch.
“What now,nio?”
Mariah blinked, drawing in a deep breath.
