It takes a moment to for his words to sink in. I’ve only just dragged myself out of sleep, in a place I don’t know, with a man I don’t trust, far from the comfort of Caer Draen. I can almost hear the castle bells still, almost smell the warm bread drifting through its halls. But onlyalmost. Instead, I am damp and cold, and the man I’m meant to kill is glaring at me.
“I see,” I say. “You’re still chasing the thing you believe will bring back the stars.That’swhat you’re choosing to focus on right now.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head instead of making a perfectly reasonable observation.
“What the fuck else would I focus on?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I muse, pushing to my feet and flinging the cloak into his face. “Getting off this godsdamned ridge so wecan go our separate ways? Avoiding whatever catastrophe my dream self—or whoever she was—warned you about?”
He huffs a dry, humorless laugh. “No avoiding it now, necromancer. We’ve well and truly met. The wheels are already turning.”
“I’ve had enough of your insults,” I snap, ripping my pack from his hands. “I’m getting off this ridge. We’re going our separate ways. And unless you want me to use my death magic on you, you won’t try to stop me. Because this time, you don’t have your fucking chain.”
“Fine with me,” he says, folding his arms. “Can’t say I’m surprised you’d turn your back on the stars. Seeing as you’re—”
“Nothing like her.” I roll my eyes. “Trust me, you’ve made that clear. Enjoy your obsession with a woman who doesn’t even exist.”
Anger heats my blood as I stalk toward the mouth of the cave. I can feel his eyes on me, tracking my every step, counting down the minutes until he’s finally rid of me. Leaving him here means failure. I doubt the High Swynwragedd will ever forgive me for returning without him. But I just can’t do it.
A full night’s sleep has burned the haze from my mind. I see more clearly now, and I no longer feel torn. I want no part in this. I won’t spend another day around the exile, all to get into his head, so I know him well enough for my magic to work against him the way the Order demands.
I want to go home.
At the cave’s mouth, I pause. The light catches on the stone as I glance over my shoulder. He’s still there, and that ancient darkness has returned his eyes. And while I didn’t see it at first, I do now. He’s every bit the exile they named him.
“Goodbye, Taliesin Wynn,” I whisper. “I pray to our dead gods we never meet again.”
When I step outside, thecrackof a twig is my only warning.
Figures emerge from either side of the cave, cloaked in gray that melts into the stone. Traitor marks decorate every throat. Someone roughly grabs my arms from behind. A rope of iron coils around my middle while another wraps around my legs, trapping me in place before I can draw a single breath.
My heartbeat roars in my ears. The tracks Taliesin noticed were fresher than he believed. These rebels knew we were inside, and they were waiting. I walked right into their trap by coming out alone. If Taliesin had stepped out first, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Knowing him, he’s as likely to kill them—and me—than allow himself to be stopped.
A tall elven woman pushes to the front of the rebels, coils of red hair spilling over her shoulders like fresh-spilled blood against her pale gray cloak. She sweeps the fabric aside to reveal the sword hilt at her hip, then taps it idly with one long painted nail. Her brow arches as she takes me in from head to toe.
“You must be the necromancer,” she says, her deep voice rolling like distant thunder. “Can’t say you’re what I expected.”
I want to demand how she knows who I am, but I suspect she won’t give me a straight answer. Instead, I ask, “What do you want with me?”
She smiles. “You’ll see.”
Taliesin steps outside.
He’s practically vibrating with fury, sword raised, jaw locked tight, eyes blazing as they rake over the rebels, like he’s branding each of their faces into memory. So even if they best him today, they’ll never be forgotten.
“Taliesin Wynn,” the rebel says smoothly as she turns to face him. “How good of you to join us.”
“Let her go,” he snaps.
“We will,” she replies, “but we have an important matter to discuss with you, and I’m afraid we needed something to ensure your cooperation.” Her smile widens. “I’m sure you can’t blame us. We didn’t have a good feeling about your habit of disposing of people with your ice.”
“Then threatening me wasn’t a smart move,” he says, his voice dropping into a growl.
“We’re not threatening you.” Her gaze flicks toward me. “We’re threatening her.” The iron rope tightens around my middle. “And I can promise you’ll want to hear what we’re offering.”
His eyes snap to mine quicker than a heartbeat, something unreadable in his expression. Then they return to the rebel, narrowing. “You have one minute to explain. And if I don’t like what you have to say, my ice will be the least of your worries.”
