Safire turned and ran for the summit. As the lightning flashed around her, she carved her way through the trees. When the woods opened up and the ground leveled out, she saw them. Or rather: saw the shining silver blade, gripped in the hands of the empress.
Eris knelt before a stone slab, chained to the rock like some kind of sacrifice.
A whole meadow stood between them. And into that meadow, stepping between Safire and Eris, were a dozen Lumina soldiers, all drawing their weapons.
Her heart beat fast and hard in her lungs. She knew she couldn’t get to Eris in time. Knew she couldn’t get to Eris at all.
“Eris!” Her voice battled the wind and rain as she drew the Skyweaver’s knife. It wasn’t a throwing knife, but that didn’t matter.
Despite the wind and rain, despite the distance across that meadow, Eris looked up.
She saw her.
The empress saw her, too. Safire heard Leandra give a command. Saw the soldiers start toward her. But Safire’s eyes were on Eris. She squeezed the hilt of the Skyweaver’s knife hard in her hand.
And then she threw it.
Forty-Eight
The Skyweaver’s knife landed right next to Eris, the blade stuck halfway into the dirt.
The moment before Safire called her name, she’d already succumbed to despair. No matter what she did, they were going to take her hands. Going to watch her die here, at the top of the scarps. Why bother fighting anymore?
But then Safire called her name. And Eris looked up.
And everything changed.
With the knife in the dirt beside her, Eris now had what she needed to set the Shadow God free.
She just had no way to get to him.
The spindle is unnecessary, her mother had told her.
But even if Eris could manage to cross without it, there was the stardust steel manacle locked around her right wrist, keeping her trapped on this side of the mists.
The empress turned away from the sight of Safire, smiling victoriously. She’d already won.
As the Severer rose, gleaming in the rain, Eris looked to the girl across the meadow. A girl who stood weaponless in the face of the armed and swarming Lumina, staring back at her.
Safire had come for her.
And though it terrified her, Eris suddenly realized there was one way to go Across. But only one.
Which was why, when the Severer came down, whistling through the air, she didn’t scream. Didn’t despair.
Eris watched it happen—let it happen—before she ever felt it: the steel splitting her flesh, then tendons, then bone. She saw it split her right hand from her wrist. The hand she used to steal and spin and weave.
The stardust cuff went with it, falling to the stone. Into the blood that was already pooling.
Eris stared, stunned into paralysis, just for a moment.
And then her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.
Remember who you are.
Eris looked from her severed hand to the knife stuck in the dirt.
My daughter. Day’s hope. Your father’s heir.
Eris wasn’t alone.
She’d never been alone.
Leaning down, she grabbed the knife with her left hand—her free hand—then reached Across with her will alone. To her surprise, the mists rose around her, silver and shining, beckoning her away from the horrors of this place.
Eris walked straight into them.
Forty-Nine
The pain came all at once, bringing with it the full truth of what Eris had done. Of what she’d lost. As she stepped through the mists and into the labyrinth, she stumbled and fell. Crying out at the overwhelming shock of it, dropping the knife to the floor.
Her right hand was gone.
Gone.
It was only when someone grabbed her shoulders that Eris came back to herself. To the pain and the blood and the knife on the ground. And then: to the man standing over her.
“What have you done?” said Crow, his face white as the scrin’s chalky cliffs.
“I brought you the knife.” Eris stared at him, cradling the bleeding stump of her arm in her lap. “It was the only way.”
Crow fell to his knees, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my child.” And for the first time, Eris let herself hear those words. My child. She belonged to someone. She was wanted. Crow cupped her face in his hands, staring into her eyes. “This was not your burden to bear.”
I choose to bear it, she thought, remembering her mother staring down the empress with pity in her eyes, in spite of everything that had been taken from her. Remembering Day and all the others who’d borne the burden of something far bigger than themselves.
The labyrinth blurred around her. Eris felt suddenly dizzy. She tried to focus on Crow, tried to find herself in his face the way Skye found him in hers. But he was slipping away from her. Everything was slipping away from her.
She’d lost too much blood. She was going to bleed out here, far away from the world, without a chance to say good-bye. . . .
Crow pulled her against him, holding her gently. And as she slipped a little farther, Eris thought: How nice it is to be held.
“I can’t restore it,” he whispered. “But I can give you this. . . .”
He changed then, back into that shadow she’d first known him as. The darkness engulfed her and as it did, the pain trickled away. She was ready to let go, to walk alone to Death’s gate, when suddenly the shadows turned back into a man, and Eris found herself still on her knees, in her father’s arms.
Eris looked down to find her severed wrist healed into a rounded stump. As if years had passed. She lifted it, staring. And while it was still a grievous shock to find her hand gone, there was no more pain. No more blood.
She was alive.
Crow kissed the crown of her head and let her go. He stood, picking up the knife. For several heartbeats, he stared at it, his eyes bleeding to black. And then, with a deafening cry, he smashed it at his feet.
Fifty
Safire heard the blade come down. Heard the horrifying sound of splitting flesh and bone, and felt her heart split with it.
“Eris . . . ,” she whispered, and suddenly it didn’t matter that eight Lumina had her surrounded, or that they were closing in.
She needed to get to Eris.
Safire scanned the rain-drenched soldiers, her blood humming, ready to fight. All she had to do was disarm one of them. She did a quick scan and chose the youngest one—likely to be the most inexperienced—and had just lunged for him, fists swinging, when the storm took a sudden turn.
The ground shook. Lightning struck the meadow in several places at once, blinding her for the second time, the charge raising the hair on her arms. When her vision cleared, all eight Lumina soldiers were dead on the ground. And someone stood beside her.
Safire looked up to find Eris, her pale hair twisting about her face in the storm, her green eyes glowing. “But you . . .” Safire looked down, her heart stopping. Not only did Eris have a missing right hand, the wrist had already healed.
Safire started to reach for her when a sudden scream shattered everything. Both of them turned toward the sound. A shadow blacker than Kozu now stood across the meadow, growing bigger, gathering the dark around it, absorbing the power of the storm. Lightning flickered through the shadow, illuminating the silhouette of a man.
Unsure and afraid, Safire reached for Eris’s left hand, holding on tight.
“The Shadow God is free,” murmured Eris. “He’s come to make things right.”
Leandra fell to her knees before him, begging. Her scream was followed by another sound—the horrifying crush of several bones at once.
The lightning and thunder stopped.
The darkness broke.
When Safire looked again, someone was walking up the path and into the meadow. She stared determinedly toward the god of shadows, like he was the only thing she saw.
“That’s my mother,” whispered Eris, more to herself than to Safire.
/> At the sight of her, the Shadow God seemed to remember himself. He turned away from the empress, lying broken in the dirt, and began to walk toward the woman.
He halted suddenly, trembling. As if he—a god of chaos and destruction—was about to weep.
The woman didn’t stop. Her pace quickened as she called his name.
He took a step toward her. Then another. With every step he took, he became less of a shadow and more of a man. Finally, the woman closed the space between them. They stood there, staring at each other for a long time. And then, slowly, the Shadow God reached to touch her, taking her face in his hands.
Fifty-One
SIX WEEKS LATER
Safire ducked as the waster swung straight for her head, whistling as it did. It was twilight, and the rooftop was lit by the glow of several lanterns.
“I’m going to the training grounds today,” Asha said, stepping back, almost to the edge of the roof. She flicked her wrist, spinning her wooden training weapon. “We’re starting to build soon. I want you to look at the plans for the new school and tell me what you think.”
“I’ll try,” said Safire, thinking of all the things she needed to do before she and Roa left for the scrublands tomorrow.
It had been several weeks since the Shadow God defeated Leandra. After witnessing the demise of the god of tides, Safire had flown straight to Axis, only to discover that Roa had already broken herself and Dax out of the empress’s prison.
Because Roa was brilliant like that.
“Sorrow misses you,” Asha pressed.
Safire nodded, only half listening. Thinking instead of Eris.
She’d invited the former Death Dancer back to Firgaard, but Eris refused. With the Lumina scattered and the empress dead, there was so much work to do, and her place was in the Star Isles.
Safire understood. After all, she had a place, too—here in Firgaard.
That didn’t mean it didn’t sting, though.
Back when Eris was just an uncatchable thief stealing precious objects from under Safire’s nose, she’d loathed the girl. Now, she longed for that familiar presence trailing her through the palace halls. But no pirate thief watched her from the shadows anymore. She hadn’t heard a word from Eris since the day they’d said good-bye.
Now candidates for a new government were in the process of being chosen in the Star Isles and while Dax returned tomorrow to help oversee the vote, Safire and Roa were traveling to the scrublands with more rations. Dagan and other fishermen from the Star Isles had sent a second supply of salt fish, along with sacks of wheat and boxes of vegetables to tide the scrublanders over until the new seeds yielded their first harvest. Due to the fisherfolk’s generosity, Roa’s father was almost fully recovered, and the physician had reported that Lirabel and her baby were healthy again.
Asha swung her waster, scattering Safire’s thoughts.
In the golden light of the lanterns, Safire lunged for her cousin, who quickly and easily darted out from under her.
Though they were the same height and build, Safire had always been stronger, faster, and lighter on her feet. Asha was good at hunting and taking down prey. Safire was good at hand-to-hand combat. Today, though, Asha caught Safire’s blows easily.
She stepped back, frustrated. Normally she’d have broken through all of Asha’s defenses by now.
“You should take him with you,” Asha said as she stepped out of range of Safire’s next swing, deflecting it easily.
“Who?”
“Sorrow.” Asha shook her head, lowering her waster. “Haven’t you been listening?”
Safire stepped back, wiping sweat from her brow as Asha frowned. Beyond them, Firgaard’s copper domes and filigreed towers glowed warmly in the light of the rising sun.
“Ever since we returned from the Star Isles,” Asha continued, “you haven’t been yourself.”
This, Safire told herself, was due to the fact that she was no longer the king’s commandant. She had no duties, and therefore no routines. She felt adrift.
“Saf.” Asha knocked Safire’s waster out of her hand. It landed with a soft thud among the stones, bringing her out of her thoughts.
Safire glanced around the palace courtyard below, to see if anyone had seen her easy defeat, but it was dawn. The palace staff were only now rising from their beds.
It was just Safire and Asha here.
And then, suddenly, her legs were kicked out from under her. Her back hit the ground. Safire winced at the pain, then looked up to find Asha crouching over her, the tip of her waster pressed hard against Safire’s collarbone.
Safire stared up at her cousin, stunned by the trouncing.
Asha met her gaze, equally stunned.
In all their years of training, Asha had never beaten her.
“New move,” Asha explained. “I’ve been practicing with Torwin.”
Safire frowned up at her. “Wonderful. You can tell Torwin it worked. Now get off.” She was about to shove her cousin, when something at the roof edge made both of them look up.
The dragon king was climbing the steps to the terrace. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows and his curls were a mess, catching the sunlight. He looked as if their fighting had woken him, and he’d come to chase them back to bed.
“Perfect. An eyewitness.” Asha smiled at Safire. “Now you can’t deny it when I tell everyone I beat you into the dirt.”
This time, Safire did shove her.
“Asha?” said Dax. “Can you give Safire and me a moment alone?”
Asha’s smile disappeared. She glanced at Safire, who looked quickly away, toward the Rift mountains.
“It won’t take long.”
Grabbing both wasters, Asha dismissed herself. As she passed Safire, she said, “Come to the training grounds before you leave for the scrublands.”
Safire nodded.
In the quiet that followed her departure, Dax came to join his former commandant at the edge of the roof.
Safire looked down at her feet.
She and the king had barely exchanged five words since the day of their argument, when Dax stripped her of her title. Whenever they were alone together now, a stilted silence seemed to wedge itself between them. Safire had been keeping her distance, trying to escape it.
“I think we should talk about what happened in the Star Isles.”
Safire hugged herself, staring out over the city. “Really, Dax, there’s no need. I’d rather put it behind us.”
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
Safire glanced up, studying him. “What?”
It was Dax who looked away this time. “I should have trusted you. If I had . . .”
“You were in a horrible position, Dax. You did what you thought was necessary. I understand.”
“No. It’s more than that.” He caught her gaze with his own. “Let me explain myself.”
Safire nodded for him to go on.
“That first day in Axis, I saw the hope in Roa’s eyes when Leandra gave her that seed. In that moment, I swore to do whatever was necessary to ensure those seeds were delivered to the scrublands. I couldn’t fail them again. I couldn’t fail Roa again. But my determination to not fail . . . it came with a cost. And that cost was you.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never been more ashamed of myself than when I didn’t believe you. I should have trusted Eris because you trusted Eris. I’ve been trying to think of a way to make it up to you, but I’m not sure there is one. I failed you, and I’m sorry.”
Safire stood there, speechless and staring.
“I’d like to restore you to your former position of commandant,” he said. “If you still want it, that is.”
Safire was about to say yes, of course she wanted it. Commanding the king’s army, training his soldats, protecting him and the queen . . . it was what she was meant for.
She opened her mouth to say so, but something stopped her.
You haven’t been yourself, Asha had said.
Was it because she was
no longer Dax’s commandant? Or was it something else? After all, Asha had proven she didn’t need Safire anymore. She had Kozu, the First Dragon, to protect her. She had Torwin to stand at her back.
And Roa and Dax didn’t really need Safire, either. They had each other, not to mention their loyal guards, as well as the full support of the kingdom.
Safire looked past Dax, out over the city below them.
Once, this was all she wanted: a life free from fear in the place she called home, and the ability to protect the ones she loved. Safire had spent her whole life wanting to belong in Firgaard, in the palace, with Asha and Dax. And while she knew she would always have a place here, would always be bound to her cousins by blood and friendship and love, she wondered, for the first time, if it was enough.
Or if her path lay elsewhere.
Because these past six weeks, Safire found herself longing for islands shrouded in mist. Found herself missing the sound of the sea. Found herself aching for a girl who’d once trailed her like a shadow through the palace halls.
“I do want it,” said Safire, looking up at Dax. “But I think there’s something else I want more. And the only way to know for sure is to go find it.”
Dax’s lips parted, but he must have seen in her eyes what she meant, because he smiled.
“Well then,” he looked past her, toward the Rift. “Here’s your chance.”
Safire looked where he looked. An ivory-scaled dragon flew through the sky, coming down from the training grounds, his pale wings outstretched.
“Sorrow,” murmured Safire, stepping closer to the edge of the roof.
It wasn’t long before Sorrow flew overhead. Seeing Safire, the dragon dived for the roof she stood on. Safire and Dax ducked, getting out of his way as he hit, sending stones skittering as he batted his panicked wings. Sorrow nearly went straight over the edge of the rooftop terrace, found his balance, then turned back, his talons gripping that same edge.
Cities made him nervous, and he trembled ever so slightly as he stared at Safire through intense black eyes.
The Sky Weaver Page 28