Broken Web

by Lori M. Lee

  Another soul brightens before me, familiar somehow, but I don’t know why. My thoughts are a chaos of confusion. All I can focus on, all I can feel, is their anger—to tear the souls from others, to make them suffer as they have suffered, to share their despair.

  Do it, a voice whispers within me, silken and dark. Take his soul.

  Then another voice, barely audible, hisses, “Sirscha!”

  My eyes fly open. The souls remain, orbs of light caught within the glimmering web of my magic. But standing before me, just as tightly snared, is Theyen.

  With a gasp, I release all the souls at once. I stumble away, heart pounding, head spinning, as Theyen collapses to his knees. The souls wink out of existence, their emotions fading into murmurs and then whispers and then blessed silence.

  All around us where the souls had been, there is only a large swath of bare earth, the trees containing them having disintegrated into ash.

  My hands shake as the realization of what I’d nearly done crashes around me. “Theyen,” I begin.

  His head snaps up, eyes flashing. He lunges for me. His body slams into mine, and all the air rushes from my chest. We both fall backward. I brace for impact, but it doesn’t come.

  Instead, the edges of the shadow gate close around us as the Soulless’s magic is ripped from me, like claws torn from flesh.

  TWENTY

  My back arches as I scream. But in the utter silence of the gate, with my other senses muffled, all I feel is the pain. My fingers gouge into Theyen’s back. My soul feels like it’s being torn in two. Nausea roils in my stomach. Through it all, Theyen’s arm remains firm around my waist. After what feels like an eternity, my back slams into something hard and wet as the shadow gate spits us out.

  I gasp at the impact. The discomfort is minuscule, compared to the ache deep in my bones after being torn from the Soulless’s reach. My shoulder blades throb dully as I attempt to regain my breath. My stomach lurches again, and I’m glad I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.

  Above me, Theyen groans in discomfort. He landed with one arm around my waist, and the other braced beside my head to keep from crushing me. Grimacing, he rolls to the side so that we’re lying next to one another. For a moment, all we can do is pant up at the black sky that, judging by the puddle I’m lying in, is currently pouring. I blink rain from my eyes and open my mouth to allow the cool droplets to dampen my tongue and aching throat.

  Theyen stands first, cursing as he swipes a hand over his soaked clothes. His circlet sits slightly askew over his damp hair. I try to focus on his silhouette, but the rain blurs my vision.

  Sisters, I think, fresh horror rising within me. In the Dead Wood, I’d lost all sense of myself. I hadn’t even noticed Theyen’s arrival. All I knew was the unrestrained fury raging within those souls. Is that what it’s like for them, trapped in those trees? A tremor races through me.

  I swallow again, my heart pounding in my ears, nearly drowning out the rain. “You came for me.”

  “I’m already regretting it,” he says, extending his hand.

  I squint against the rain and accept his assistance. He pulls me to my feet but doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs me close enough that I can see the raindrops collect on his ivory lashes. He glares, his gray skin creating the illusion that he’s been chiseled from stone. There’s something in the intensity of his gaze that I haven’t seen since the first time we met: uncertainty. As if he doesn’t quite know me.

  His fingers tighten around mine, coming just shy of painful. I clench my teeth, my hackles rising. “Let me go. Or I will make you.”

  He eases his grip but doesn’t release me. “You didn’t seem to know what you were doing, and since I took you by surprise, I will overlook it this once. But the next time you lose control like that, don’t think I won’t stop you.”

  We share a taut moment of silence, the threat hanging between us sharp as a blade.

  I’d like to see you try. The words hover behind the cage of my teeth, the memory of rage fighting to gain ground.

  But with effort, I push it back. He’s right. I nearly killed him. If I lose control like that again, I would want him to stop me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. I try to relax my muscles, but every part of me is still wound too tightly. “Thank you for coming after me.”

  His lips tighten, nostrils flaring on a sharp inhale. Rainwater slides over the angles of his cheeks and nose, settling into the crevice of his lips. His fingers are firm around mine. His grip, the ground beneath my feet, and Saengo’s flame burning steadily within me help calm the chaos of my thoughts. I am here; I am still myself, and, wherever we are, the Soulless can’t reach me.

  At last, Theyen releases me and steps back. He turns without a word, his boots squelching through mud and wet grass. I have no idea where we are, the darkness and the rain blotting details into amorphous shadows. Eventually, my eyes adjust, and I can make out the shapes of evergreens, their needles speckled with water droplets.

  Abruptly, my stomach heaves. I double over, gagging. My head spins, and my heart drums against my ribs. I brace my palms against my thighs, drawing deep, long breaths as the rain pelts the back of my head.

  Is this a side effect of gripping all those souls? When the hammering in my temples dims, I straighten slowly, groaning.

  “It’s from the shadow gate,” Theyen says.

  I press my palm to my stomach. “That’s never happened before.”

  “Because I was careful not to take you over too great a distance. The farther we travel, the longer you spend within the gate. For those born without the craft, it can put a strain on their bodies. Spend too long within the gate, and eventually, you lose all comprehension.”

  My fingers rub my forehead. “Well, that’s good to know. Where are we?”

  “Somewhere safe,” he says, and proceeds ahead.

  I follow, hugging myself. The rain is warm, given we’re still in the summer months, but my back is soaked and the rest of me is following. “How did you know I was at Spinner’s End?”

  “I caught up with Saengo in the grasslands.”

  My hand shoots out, grabbing his sleeve. “Where is she?”

  He stills, his head turning just enough to tell me, “En route to her father. I left two of my soldiers with her. She’ll send her falcon when they arrive to confirm her safety.”

  Relief rushes through me, and I release him. “Thank the Sisters.”

  With a wyvern and his ability to open shadow gates, few people can cross the continent as swiftly as Theyen can. I wonder how common the craft is. Do those with the ability visit strategic locations across the continent just to be able to travel there by gate? It’s brilliant, really. It would also be a dangerous, useful skill for any assassin or spy.

  The shadowblessed would have people believe they’re content inside their mountains, but Theyen is always well informed about the goings-on of other kingdoms. That’s no coincidence.

  “Have you been to Vos Talwyn?” I ask, curious.

  “No.”

  I’m not certain he’s being truthful, but I’ve also never heard of Kazan diplomats entering the city. The queen has always received them in Vos Gillis.

  Ahead of us, the trees part to unveil a small cabin. The cloud cover doesn’t reveal much, but I can make out shuttered windows and the slope of a roof, slick with rainwater. A sconce hangs beside the front door. Its light doesn’t extend far in the downpour, only a dim, golden glow, like diffused starlight.

  A safe house, I assume. It’s well hidden, and if we’re on top of a mountain somewhere in Fireborn Queens territory, which I assume we are, then no one will find me. The only question is: Am I being kept here to protect me, or to protect others from me?

  He unlocks the door and pushes it open on silent hinges. It’s dark inside, but my craft doesn’t sense any other souls aside from forest creatures sheltering from the downpour, nor do my other senses pick up on anything amiss. So I follow Theyen inside, glad to be out of th
e rain.

  “I’m keeping count, Sirscha Ashwyn.” He shuts the door. The sound of the rain diminishes to a quiet patter against the roof. “You owe me your life, several times over. It is a debt that you will repay me someday.”

  I slowly take in the darkened house. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of owing anyone a life debt, but he isn’t wrong. “I thought that first time was out of friendship.”

  “I suspect friendship isn’t meant to involve so much threat of painful death.”

  “Saengo would disagree,” I mutter. “Why are we here?” I spot a hearth with a heaping pile of wood stacked beside it. I feel around on the mantle, rewarded when my hands find a tinderbox.

  There’s a shuffling sound as he removes his boots. “Because no one can know I saved you. This place is warded against shadow gates, and no one knows it exists save for my family.”

  “Am I a prisoner?” I ask. This place isn’t exactly difficult to escape from.

  He scoffs. “If you wish to leave, then by all means, but I can’t guarantee anyone you come across won’t try to kill you on sight. House Yalaeng has issued a warrant for your capture, wanted alive if that’s any consolation.”

  I frown, but I focus on my task until a healthy fire illuminates the cabin’s interior. The simple space is more modest than what I’d expect from such a distinguished clan. It’s furnished with a bed and dresser in one corner, a small kitchen and pantry in the opposite corner, and a square table with four seats at its center.

  Satisfied, I stand to remove my boots and line them up against the wall beside Theyen’s. “Why are you risking your alliance for me?”

  “I don’t do it for you,” he says curtly. He removes his sodden jacket and drapes it over the back of the nearest chair. “It’s in my clan’s best interests not to allow the only two soulrenders on the continent to conspire with each other. We’ve enough of a threat from just the one.”

  “I wasn’t conspiring with him.” I give him a summary of what I realized on board the queen’s ship—that she possesses a talisman that contains his familiar—and then of my discovery at Spinner’s End. In order to destroy the talisman, I must find a way to strengthen my craft.

  He regards me with a skeptical tilt of his brow. If Theyen is genuinely acting in his clan’s best interests, why wouldn’t he turn me over to his mother, the High Queen? Theyen is annoying at best and insufferable at worst, but he is, in my limited experience, an honorable man. Even if he makes me want to punch him.

  “Why didn’t you use shadow magic on the ship? You could’ve easily secured me enough time to acquire the talisman.” In fact, I don’t recall any of the shadowblessed using shadow magic in Tamsimno.

  “Don’t be so dense, Sirscha. Haven’t you figured it out yet? Why would Queen Meilyr’s offer to meet expire at sunset?”

  I tilt my head. “I’ve only ever seen you use your craft at night. Shadowblessed can’t use magic during the day?”

  “Shamanic magic rests on having a familiar. Shadow magic rests on the sun. Rather, the absence of it. Every dawn renders us as powerless as any human.”

  “Not completely,” I say, remembering soaring above clouds on the back of a wyvern. “And who says humans are powerless? They thrive without any magic at all, day or night.”

  Theyen’s lashes flutter, like he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “In any case, my alliance with House Yalaeng is in question now that you so grandly and publicly exposed yourself to all three kingdoms in one fell swoop.”

  My shoulders bunch around my ears as I settle down before the fireplace. The reminder doesn’t help the sick feeling in my stomach. I feed another log to the growing flames, letting the dry heat warm my fingers.

  Theyen moves into the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinet pantry, he begins unearthing hidden caches of salted meat and root vegetables that look like they haven’t been here all that long. How often is this place in use that it should be regularly stocked?

  I watch him, turning my soaked back to the heat to hopefully dry more quickly. “Queen Meilyr has returned to Vos Talwyn. I hope this means your allies didn’t suffer too greatly.”

  He locates two plates, looking mildly resentful at having to serve me. “There will always be a cost on either side. When the queen’s ship was spotted passing Vos Gillis, it was accompanied by only a handful of other ships. It seems the bulk of her navy is missing.”

  “Sank?” I ask, my heart wrenching. So many Evewynian lives, most of them simply following the queen’s orders.

  “Not confirmed,” he says, his tone indifferent. It sets my nerves on edge, but when he hands me a plate, I take it without a word. To my surprise, he settles on the ground beside me before the fire.

  His crown is still crooked, his damp hair dripping down his neck and into his collar. “Maybe their ships were too heavily damaged by the wyverns and their own ballista, and they sank in a storm. Maybe they’re marooned somewhere in the middle of the sea. What matters is that people are dead because of Queen Meilyr. And now, thanks to you, the Nuvali and Kazan are gathering forces to fortify the borders between our kingdoms. Princess Kyshia won’t be able to hold her father back from open war much longer.”

  Although I chew the food in my mouth, I can’t taste much of it past my anxiety. “Queen Meilyr is awaiting reinforcements from her ships in the north. She will try to take the river again once they arrive in Vos Talwyn.”

  “Did he tell you this?” he asks, contempt dripping from his words. “If the Fireborn Queens and our allies are focused on the Empire at our northern borders, there will be fewer to stand against the queen in the south when she returns. We cannot fight on multiple fronts. Kazahyn is already a fractured kingdom. There are too many clans and too many long-held grudges. There will never be a true alliance.”

  “But it’s happened before.” The Yalaeng Conquest is recorded as the only time in Kazahyn’s history when the clans united against a single purpose—to protect their lands against the shamans.

  “That was a very long time ago. Now, just getting certain clans into the same room with one another without bloodshed would be a miracle. As it is, the Fireborn Queens are already being pressed to decide between our alliances with other Kazan clans and my marriage alliance with House Yalaeng.”

  “You will pick Kazahyn.” I can’t imagine Theyen would ever prioritize a marriage he never wanted with a shaman princess over the shadowblessed clans.

  “I will,” he says simply.

  “What have you heard from the Ember Princess?” I ask.

  He gives me an annoyed look. “I’ve said enough. My clan’s business is not yours.”

  “Fair enough,” I say, shoving the last of the food into my mouth. Having something in my stomach helps to settle it a bit. His lip curls, but given our circumstances, the last thing I care about is how I eat. “I don’t know much about politics. My only goal is to stop the Soulless.”

  “Spoken with the kind of ignorance I’d expect from someone unused to responsibility or the consequences of their actions.” He stands to return his empty plate to the kitchen sink.

  I glare at his back. “The kingdoms have hated each other for nearly as long as they’ve existed. You can’t pin that on me.”

  Theyen turns from the sink to face me, and although his movements are slow, his expression is tight with anger. “But you made it worse by lying.”

  “What should I have done, Theyen?” I ask, my voice rising. “Told everyone what I am so that they could kill me sooner rather than later? I had to enter the Empire to learn about the Soulless, which would’ve been difficult if the whole continent was hunting me.”

  “You should have had some foresight when you decided to kill Ronin.”

  I draw a furious breath. I killed Ronin because I didn’t think I had another choice. He’d become corrupted, believing the only way to find peace would be to destroy the kingdoms altogether. Not to mention, he’d been trying to kill me and nearly succeeded.

  And yet. I cou
nt my heartbeats, breathing slowly through my nose until my pulse calms. Hadn’t I had a similar thought? If only I’d shown Ronin mercy, if only I’d struck to injure, not to kill.

  I force myself to say, “I should not have killed Ronin. At least not then.”

  “Little good that does us now.”

  “If you’re so angry with me, then why are you helping me?”

  “Because like it or not, Sirscha, you are an asset in this war, and I would rather have you on my side.”

  “Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of winning me over.”

  We glower at one another, the silence threaded with frustration. If Saengo were here, she would know how to soothe the tension. Sisters, I miss her.

  “I have been in contact with Prince Meilek,” he says abruptly, evidently just as eager as I am to move on. He retrieves his jacket from the back of the chair and drapes it over his arm since it’s still damp. “I will deliver you to him in two days’ time. He’s hiding in Evewyn, so we’ll have to wait for him to reach the rendezvous point.”

  I stand, setting my plate on the mantle. In truth, I’d like his help retrieving the talisman from Queen Meilyr. The task would be easier with Theyen’s abilities, even if he’s never been to Vos Talwyn. But he’s already risked too much by helping me escape Spinner’s End. The Fireborn Queens are suffering because of me. I can’t ask any more of him, not when I already owe him a life debt.

  “Are you leaving now?” I ask.

  “I’ve been gone too long as it is.” He doesn’t say goodbye or anything else as he opens the front door. The scent of fresh rain and wet grass sweeps inside, making the fire jump in the hearth. Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

  I ensure the door is locked and the windows tightly shuttered. Then I strip out of my wet clothing and lay them out near the fire to dry. I spend the next hour pacing, thinking of all the things that need doing once we’re in Evewyn. I didn’t have enough time at Spinner’s End, but part of me is relieved. The experience in the Dead Wood left me shaken, and there’s no telling what might’ve happened had I stayed within the Soulless’s influence.