I back up a step, unease curling low in my stomach, my attention caught between him and the firebird. “I don’t think we should be touching this.”
He loosens his grip, dragging the back of his arm across his brow. “I know what this is. I’ve been looking for it for a very long time.”
“Looking for what?”
“I heard there was something hidden on this ridge. I’ve spent years looking for it, but I never came across this cave until today.” A strange look crosses his face. “As I said before, what are the odds?”
I shudder. There’s something in his tone that unsettles me, but it isn’t only that. It’s the weight of the air itself, and the way magic presses in, pulsing against my skin.
That’s what it is. I realize it with a slow certainty. It’s not some kind of sense of death lingering from before. It’s magic. My kind of magic. I didn’t recognize it at first because I’ve never felt it anywhere else, or on anything or anyone but me.
But this place…this place issaturatedwith it.
“What is this something that’s hidden?” I dare to ask, though I already fear the answer.
He levels his gaze on me. “It’s something connected to Culling Day and whatever it was that destroyed our sky and our gods. I believe it holds the key to restoring everything.”
I press my lips together, then shake my head. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” he asks, his tone edged with challenge.
“Because someone would know if something like that existed. Someone would have already come looking for it, and they would have used it.” I lift a hand before he can interrupt. “I know what you’re going to say. Not if they were from the Order, because the Order doesn’t want the sky restored. And—”
“No,” he cuts in. “What I was going to say is that until a few months ago, this ridge was fully warded. They couldn’t have reached this cave even if they wanted to. And I doubt they would have exiled me somewhere this important if they knew.”
My eyes drop to the hidden compartment in the floor. “You have a point…”
“You don’t sound thrilled.”
“There’s just something about this place.” I hesitate, searching for words to explain it. “It almost feels like the walls have eyes, like the cave itself is alive and watching us, even though it has death written across its face.” A dry laugh slips out. “That probably makes me sound mad.”
“If you’re mad, then I am, too. I feel those eyes on me as well.” He nods toward the cave opening. “Bryn won’t even come inside.”
Only now do I notice the absence of the pine marten. She paces on the path beyond, her tail tapping the ground in agitation.
“I don’t much blame her,” I murmur.
“Well,” he says, turning back to the fissure, “the sooner you help me get this open, the sooner we can leave.”
I swivel back toward him. He looks up at me expectantly, and try as I might, I can’t bring myself to move toward the exit. Because ever since I saw him sitting alone in the back of that taproom, there’s been something just at the edge of my mind. A restless sensation I can’t shake.
You have seen this face before.
I cross the floor and sink to my knees beside him. We both take hold of the carved stone and pull. The lid comes away in a plume of dust. I cough, my eyes burning, the sound nearly drowning out a string of muttered curses.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, waving the dust aside.
Taliesin scowl gives me all the answer I need. “It’s not here. Someone beat us to it.”
17
“Idon’t see the issue. Whoever took it will have the same goal.” I sink back on my heels, frowning at the unexpected devastation on his face. There’s more to this than what he’s saying. “Unless the only reason you’re doing this is to clear your name. Or worse.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Is this something you could use against the Order? Against the people of Caer Draen?”
He huffs a bitter laugh. “One moment, you’re so alike it hurts. The next, your existence is nothing but an insult to hers.”
“My existence is aninsult?” I push to my feet, hands balling into fists. “Well, I genuinely, with every bone in my body, hate you, Taliesin Wynn.”
“Your insult falls flat, necromancer. Seeing as you’re spineless.”
