Stormcaster
Page 37
I am going to save him, too, somehow, Lyss thought. She was, after all, in the habit of making impossible promises and dreaming impossible dreams.
Spray needled her face, startling her. She thought it was rain, until she tasted the salt water on her tongue. That couldn’t be happening—she was too high above the water. But when she leaned forward, she could see that now the waves were crashing just below the top of the wall. The leading edge of the Boil had rolled closer, so that she could have reached out a hand and touched it.
The ocean was coming to her. The wind continued to howl, although now it sounded more like . . .
No, she thought. That’s impossible.
As she backed away from the edge, she breathed in the familiar scent of lodgepole pine and wet fur. When she turned, meaning to flee back into the safety of her room, she all but ran into a massive silver wolf with gray eyes. The wolf’s fur was matted with the wet, and she dripped seawater onto the stones. As Lyss stood frozen, the wolf shook, spattering the entire terrace with droplets.
“You are a long way from our mountain home, Granddaughter,” the wolf said.
Lyss began to tremble, until she was shaking uncontrollably. Her mother often told stories of visits from their ancestors, the Gray Wolf queens, in wolf form. They usually came in times of trouble, bringing wisdom and warnings when the Line was at risk, or change was coming.
The wolves had been the unseen guardians of her childhood. The wolves had walked when Hana died, when their father died, when the assassins had come for Lyss in Fellsmarch. When the wolves walked, her mother kept her close. In Lyss’s experience, the wolves always brought bad news, though she’d never seen them herself. Maybe it was because she was never meant to be part of the Line. Maybe it was because she’d not yet been crowned princess heir, though her mother had seen them several times in the year before her coronation.
Lyss took one step back, then another. As she did so, she felt rather than heard the sound of paws hitting stone as more wolves arrived. Soon the terrace was packed with them. She was surrounded by a sea of silver fur and glittering eyes.
“Who are you?” Lyss whispered, her teeth all but rattling together.
“I am Hanalea ana’Maria, your many-greats grandmother,” the gray-eyed wolf said. Another wolf stepped out from behind her, this one with green eyes. “And this is Althea ana’Isabella, also my granddaughter. We bring greetings from your ancestors, the Gray Wolf queens.”
“All right,” Lyss said, a stone of dread in her middle. “Why are you here?”
“We are here because the Line of Queens is broken, and you must pick up the pieces,” Hanalea said.
“What do you mean? Are you saying that my mother—that my mother is dead?” Lyss’s voice rose until that last word came out in a kind of shriek. Regret sluiced over her like a rogue wave, nearly knocking her off her feet. She’d refused to go home and mourn with her mother, and that had led to a cascade of misfortunes, ending in this.
But Althea and Hanalea were shaking their heads. “Not exactly,” Hanalea said. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“What do you mean, it’s complicated?” Lyss shouted. “A person is dead, or she isn’t.”
But that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Case in point—the bloodsworn, who seemed to be somewhere between. Were they saying that her mother had—had—
“Complicated is what happens when people don’t honor boundaries,” Althea said, curling her lips away from her teeth and looking down her nose at Hanalea. A murmur rose from the gathered queens, mingled agreement and dissent.
“That’s what we do, Thea,” Hanalea said. “We cross boundaries. How else could we offer counsel to the living queens?”
“That’s been tradition for more than a thousand years,” Althea said. “But this thing with Alger Waterlow—and now Raisa—it sets a bad precedent.”
Alger Waterlow? He’d been the founder, with Hanalea, of the New Line of Gray Wolf queens. But that was a thousand years ago.
“I chose love,” Hanalea said. “This New Line of queens was founded on love, and breaking the rules, and I stand by that choice. And that was the counsel I gave to Raisa.”
“That’s turned out well,” Althea said.
“The end of this story isn’t written yet,” Hanalea said. “The journey through it is important.”
Lyss felt like a mortal in one of the old stories watching the gods squabble over her future.
“Hey!” she said.
The two wolves turned to look at her, ears pricked forward. The other wolves shifted and murmured.
“Since you’ve come all this way, I would like to be included in the conversation,” Lyss said. “You’ve said that the Gray Wolf line is broken, but my mother isn’t dead—well, not exactly—but I still don’t know why you’re here, or what happened to my mother.”
“Raisa ana’Marianna was poisoned,” Hanalea said gently.
“Poisoned?” Lyss’s knees buckled, and she would have fallen, but the wolves pressed in around her, supporting her, keeping her upright. “When? And how? And by whom?”
“Three days ago,” Hanalea said. “We don’t know the answers to your other questions.”
Three days ago. Lyss had awakened from a sound sleep, in a panic. She’d had that dream again, the one that had haunted her ever since the summer Hana was killed. Everyone was dead, and she stood on Hanalea Peak, alone with the wolves.
Althea sat, wrapping her tail around her feet. “Raisa crossed over and joined us, thereby breaking her connection to the living Line. Then, what did she do, but she turned right around and went back.”
“She went . . . back?” Lyss clutched handfuls of fur to either side, but the queens didn’t seem to mind.
“Your father interfered,” Althea said.
“My—father?” Lyss whispered. “He was there?”
“It must be that troublemaking Waterlow blood,” Althea said. “First he arranged these trysts between Hana and Alger, and then he—”
“You have Waterlow blood, dear,” Hanalea pointed out drily.
“Highly diluted,” Althea said.
“Anyway, he healed your mother and persuaded her to go back and rejoin the living,” Hanalea said. “But now we have a problem.”
“My mother is alive!” Lyss said, her emotions in a whiplash of confusion. “How is that a problem?”
“The Line was broken,” Althea said. “And that means that, technically—”
“Not just technically,” Hanalea said. She looked into Lyss’s eyes. “That means that you—Alyssa ana’Raisa—you are now the Gray Wolf queen.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Augusten Burroughs
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author CINDA WILLIAMS CHIMA writes fantasy for teens of all ages, including the Heir Chronicles and the Seven Realms series. Her critically acclaimed books have appeared on numerous state awards lists. She lives in Ohio with her family, and she is always working on her next novel. Find out more at www.cindachima.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
BOOKS BY CINDA WILLIAMS CHIMA
THE SHATTERED REALMS SERIES
Flamecaster
Shadowcaster
Stormcaster
Deathcaster
THE HEIR CHRONICLES
The Warrior Heir
The Wizard Heir
The Dragon Heir
The Enchanter Heir
The Sorcerer Heir
THE SEVEN REALMS SERIES
The Demon King
The Exiled Queen
The Gray Wolf Throne
The Crimson Crown
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nbsp; COPYRIGHT
Endpaper illustration © 2009 by Disney Enterprises, Inc., from THE SEVEN REALMS SERIES by Cinda Williams Chima. Reprinted by permission of Disney Hyperion Books. All rights reserved. Additional map illustration by Laszlo Kubinyi.
STORMCASTER. Copyright © 2018 by Cinda Williams Chima. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art by Alessandro Taini
Cover design by Erin Fitzsimmons
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017962820
Digital Edition APRIL 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-238102-6
ISBN 978-0-06-281981-9 (international edition)
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-238100-2 (hardcover)
* * *
1819202122PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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