Roa looked at the golden dragon Kozu left behind. Sensing danger, it spread its elegant wings wide. Yet it waited, perfectly still, for its rider’s command. As Rebekah shouted and her men swarmed, Dax hesitated from atop its back, looking to one person only. As if it broke his heart to leave her behind.
The sound of drawn steel made him tear his gaze from Roa. Dax bent low to the creature’s shoulder, clicking softly.
The dragon vaulted them into the sky.
Thirty-Four
“First you kill my men, then you let Dax get away?”
While Rebekah circled her, Roa stood in the middle of the carnage, exhausted and heartbroken and wanting her sister.
Rebekah’s fists were tight and trembling. Her hair hung limp along her face. And there were deep hollows carved beneath her eyes.
Unfortunately for Roa, one of the men had survived her attack and told Rebekah everything.
“What are you playing at?”
Roa hardly heard Rebekah. She was thinking of how she’d let Dax walk away. In letting him go, had she doomed Essie?
What have I done?
“I want to see my sister,” she said, turning to leave the garden.
Four armed men immediately blocked her way out.
“Seize her,” said Rebekah.
Roa drew the Skyweaver’s knife—her last remaining blade.
When they grabbed her arms, Roa tried to fight them off. She used her elbows and knees. She slammed her heels into their shins. But there were so many more of them, and they held her firm, prying the Skyweaver’s knife from her fingers. It fell to the earth with a thud.
“Let me go,” she hissed.
Rebekah picked up the knife, tucking it into her sash.
Just then, a pair of frantic footsteps sounded in the arcade. Hands went to hilts. All eyes turned to the sound, ready for a fight.
But it was just one of Rebekah’s men: a young man with light brown hair cropped close to his head. “Mistress.” He was out of breath and doubled over. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” Rebekah’s voice was razor-sharp.
“I think . . . I think you should come and see.”
They dragged Roa back through the empty royal quarters. She didn’t fight this time. There was no point. Rebekah had the Skyweaver’s knife, and Roa was surrounded and overpowered. She would have to wait for the right moment to escape and find Essie.
Torches burned in their sconces while the early-morning sunlight crept in, chasing the shadows out of the corridors. They passed the throne room and stopped when they came to the hall of fonts.
Seven fountains flowed throughout this roofless court. Between them grew geometrical gardens, full of trees and shrubs and flowers of all kinds. They stopped at the largest fountain, surrounded by a circle of bright yellow hibiscus in full bloom and half-shrouded by tall cedars.
As the gentle sound of falling water echoed through the hall, Rebekah stopped sharp.
Roa peered around her.
Essie’s cage lay before them. Only something was wrong.
It was mangled, the black bars twisted back, gaping open like the splayed rib cage of an animal.
Empty.
But it wasn’t the only thing wrong. Two bodies lay half-hidden behind the hibiscus bushes. Roa recognized the first one as the man who’d been carrying Essie’s cage into the palace. He and his comrade lay on the floor tiles, their necks snapped, just beyond the hibiscus.
There was no blood. No sign of a struggle. Whatever had done this had done it very quickly.
An ice-cold feeling spread through Roa.
“What happened here?” Rebekah demanded.
No one answered her.
It’s begun, thought Roa, looking to the rising sun. The Relinquishing was upon them. Today, uncrossed souls resumed their true forms and walked among the living.
Essie? Roa scanned the trees, the pools. Where are you?
She reached for the hum and found it gone.
That can’t be . . .
Roa reached again. But there was nothing there this time.
The hum was dead within her.
Rebekah looked from the broken cage to Roa. “Do you know what did this?”
Roa knew.
“A corrupted spirit,” she whispered.
They threw her into a room with no windows or bars.
Roa had never seen the inside of a cell. Scrublanders didn’t have things like cells or dungeons. This one was chilled and damp and dark. It smelled like rot and the only bit of light came through a sliver in the bottom of the door.
It was like a tomb of stone. Suffocating her.
Is this how Essie feels, every single day?
But it was the Relinquishing. And Roa had seen that empty cage.
Wherever she is, Essie is free of her bird form.
She banged on the door. When they ignored her, she banged louder, demanding to be let out. She had only today and tonight to find Dax. And in this windowless room, she couldn’t tell how much time was passing.
When her banging proved futile, Roa began to pace the grimy floor.
Essie, where are you?
She wanted her sister—the only one who could soothe the lonely ache in her. The one she belonged to.
But her sister wasn’t here. And Asha’s words had claws.
It’s your bond that’s keeping her captive.
When the door swung open, the red-gold glow from the dungeon bays flooded in. Rebekah stood in the frame, blocking the light and staring down at Roa. The Skyweaver’s knife was tucked into her sash.
She wasn’t alone. Behind her stood the seven councillors who’d been plotting against Roa in the library. The very same councillors Dax had locked up for treason.
Rebekah must have found their cells and let them out.
For what purpose?
“Time to go,” Rebekah said as four men entered the cell, grabbing Roa.
This time, she didn’t put up a fight, just let them drag her out.
“How much time has passed?”
Rebekah, who walked ahead of her, didn’t answer.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the city square.”
Roa went rigid. The city square was where Asha’s sentencing would have been carried out. It’s where the chopping block sat.
“Why?” she whispered.
“We’re going to offer the king something he can’t resist.”
Suddenly, Roa could see Rebekah’s next move. Could see just how she would manipulate the pieces on the board to ensure she got the outcome she wanted.
But Dax had proven himself equally good at manipulating pieces on a board. At games of strategy.
“He’ll know it’s a trap,” Roa whispered.
Rebekah smiled back at her so confidently, dread curled within Roa.
Thirty-Five
It was well past midnight when Rebekah and the king’s former councillors dragged Roa through the crowded streets, bound and gagged. All around her, she heard the shocked murmurs, the confused questions.
Where are they taking the queen?
Where is King Dax?
Everyone in the crowd wore Relinquishing masks. Carved of wood. Painted white. Hiding their identities and making it impossible to tell who was who.
Still, Roa searched them, looking for her sister.
You should all be in your homes, locking the doors, she thought as her gaze scanned the masked crowd. It was how she knew the faces behind the masks didn’t belong to scrublanders. Scrublanders would already be gathered around their heart-fires by now, their doors bolted, their lights snuffed.
As they dragged her, Roa heard Rebekah shouting up ahead, leveling her charges against the outlander queen, telling all of Firgaard what she deserved.
Roa didn’t need to hear the charges; she knew what she’d done.
Plotted to kill the king.
Let his enemies into the palace.
Utterly betrayed him and their friends and th
eir people.
Roa knew what she deserved.
Essie, where are you?
From somewhere in the crowd, she thought she heard someone call her name. But when she looked, Roa saw only blank masks, the firelight flickering over them.
“Roa, here!”
She looked again, trying to see. But the masks made everyone look the same.
Finally, Roa saw her.
Lirabel.
She’d pulled her Relinquishing mask down, just for a moment, allowing Roa to identify her.
Lirabel was fighting to get to her. Roa could have dug in her heels. Could have made it difficult for them to keep dragging her—at least until Lirabel caught up.
But then Rebekah would take Lirabel, too. Roa couldn’t let that happen. She’d promised to keep her friend safe.
Suddenly, the crush of the crowd overwhelmed them, and Roa lost sight of Lirabel. Her handlers dragged her onward, bruising her as their fingers drove into her arms. The moment they entered the public square, Roa saw the chopping block, its surface hacked with the sentences it had carried out. The wood was stained brown with blood.
Her stomach twisted at the sight of it.
Rebekah wouldn’t . . .
She couldn’t . . .
Beside it stood the broad-shouldered and brawny executioner. Both his hands gripped the hilt of the biggest, heaviest sword Roa had ever seen.
Her blood ran cold.
Rebekah’s men formed a ring around the chopping block, keeping the crowd at bay. One of her men grabbed Roa’s shoulders, forcing her to her knees so hard, the pain made her gasp.
The rope tying her wrists bit into her skin. Her gag cut into the corners of her mouth. Roa cast her gaze over the sea of masked faces, looking for one face more than any other . . .
Where are you, Essie? I need you.
“Tonight we put a traitor on trial!” Rebekah called to the crowd, her face glowing in the firelight.
Roa—who was losing feeling in her bound hands—looked up over the buildings and the city walls. A pale waxing moon hung over the Rift mountains beyond the temple walls, and the sky was lightening in the east.
“For sabotaging the safety of our city . . .”
Roa looked away from the sky, to the torches burning in the hands of the perplexed crowd. Like beacons of light.
“For plotting the death of the king . . .”
A movement in the square caught her eye. One person shoved forward, fighting their way through a crowd that didn’t know who to side with—their outlander queen, or the king’s councillors.
“We find Roa of the House of Song—”
“Let her go, Rebekah.”
Roa straightened, trying to see.
Just beyond the ring of men, the king himself pulled off his mask and dropped it at his feet. A storm of murmurs rose up from the crowd.
Dax, she thought, her heart twisting. You’ve played right into her hands.
The murmurs were getting louder and angrier now. At first it seemed to Roa that Dax had lost them completely by coming to his traitorous queen’s defense. Except . . . no.
More and more people stepped up to the king, in order to stand with him. The fury of Firgaard was turned not on Dax or even Roa, but on the woman who’d dragged their queen through the square and declared her a traitor, when the king was clearly safe.
The people of Firgaard were on Dax and Roa’s side.
The king was here. The tide was turning. Rebekah had lost. And yet, she didn’t seem concerned.
“As you wish.” Rebekah bowed her head slightly to Dax, then made her way to where Roa knelt. Roa felt the cold steel of a blade slide between her wrists as Rebekah sawed through the ropes.
Her hands came free.
Rebekah pulled Roa to her feet, then grabbed her wrist tightly, pressing the hilt of the Skyweaver’s knife into her palm and wrapping Roa’s fingers around it.
Roa looked up to find the girl’s eyes dark and glittering and full of vengeance.
“Now’s your chance to save your sister,” she said. And then, to Dax: “If you want her, come and fetch her.”
As the guards parted and Dax stepped through, Rebekah turned Roa toward the king and gave her a small shove. Roa stumbled, then looked up—right into the eyes of the boy she loved.
This was her plan all along, Roa realized. For me to kill him with all of Firgaard watching.
By ensuring there were witnesses to Roa’s murder of the king, Rebekah would get everything she wanted: Dax dead and Roa dethroned.
Rebekah had won.
Because soon the sun would be up and the Relinquishing would be over. Once it was, Roa’s chance to save Essie would be gone.
If Roa wanted to set her sister free, she needed to act, now, before the night was over.
Dax stepped in close, loosening her gag and pulling it down.
“I told you what I would do,” she whispered, staring up at him. “Why would you come for me? Why would you walk straight into a trap?”
“Because if it wasn’t for me, Essie wouldn’t be gone,” he said, brushing his thumb across her jaw. “And because this is destroying you.” He cupped her face in his warm, strong hands. “And because I love you.”
For a heartbeat, Roa saw that little boy sitting across the gods and monsters board. This was the end of their game. Roa had to make this move, and he was going to let her.
Roa’s eyes burned with tears as she looked to the lightening sky, then down to the white humming blade in her hands.
“I’m ready,” he said, as if seeing the thoughts in her eyes.
Roa lifted the knife.
And then a voice cut through the night.
“Where is my sister?”
Roa paused. Her heart began to hammer fast and loud in her ears.
She knew that voice.
Turning, she saw a girl step out of the crowd. She wore a sky-blue dress that came to her knees. Except for her hair—which was plaited—she seemed a mirror image of the queen.
“Essie,” Dax and Roa said at the same time.
But the hum was still silent. And as Roa reached desperately for their bond, she found it gone.
Instead, there was a gaping wound. An empty void.
As if this wasn’t her sister at all.
From behind the circle of Rebekah’s men, Essie saw Roa. Their gazes caught. And Roa saw that her eyes were no longer dark brown, but silver.
“There you are.” Essie smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smile. This was something colder and hungrier. “I’ve been searching all night for you.” Essie looked to the men separating her from Roa. “Let me pass.”
They didn’t. Instead, they drew their blades.
Essie’s smile twisted into a snarl. She raised her hand and when she brought it down, their necks snapped like twigs. The light in their eyes went dark. They crumpled to the ground.
Corrupted.
The word bled through Roa’s mind, even as she fought it.
No . . .
More men replaced them. These too went down, dropping to their knees. Their eyes went wide and their fingers clawed at their throats while Essie choked them to death without ever touching them.
When their bodies hit the ground, the silence in the square was thunderous.
Roa stared at her sister while the screams rose up, like a wave crashing from one wall to the other. The crowd pushed at one another, trying to get away from the horror standing at its center.
But this was still her sister, Roa knew. Still Essie. Only twisted. Poisoned. Changed.
Her spirit was corrupted.
Roa thought of the dead men beside that broken cage. Thought of what brought the House of Shade to ruin. Thought of the corrupted spirit that left no one in his family alive but his dog—a creature that didn’t know how to let go.
More than all of these things, Roa thought of the last Relinquishing.
I don’t want to be trapped anymore, her sister told her that night. I want to be free.
/> What if Roa had misunderstood?
What if, by not relinquishing Essie, Roa had kept her trapped, caged, unable to cross?
Now, when Essie tried to get to Roa, no one stopped her. “Did they hurt you?” That silver gaze was tender on her face.
Roa shook her head, reaching to touch her sister. Essie’s cheek was warm and soft and so familiar beneath her hand, it made Roa want to weep. She pulled her sister close, holding her tight.
With the hum silent, with their bond gone, Roa couldn’t sense her sister’s thoughts or feelings. Which meant Essie couldn’t sense hers either.
“I thought you wouldn’t find me,” Roa whispered, their cheeks pressed together.
“I’ll always find you,” Essie said.
“I thought you were gone.”
Essie shook her head and pulled away, looking into Roa’s eyes. “I’m here. And I won’t let anything separate us again.”
Roa turned to Dax. But her hand reached for her sister’s, gripping it tight. With their fingers woven, Roa memorized the warmth of Essie’s palm. The pulse beating in time with her own.
“I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her gaze locked with the king’s. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Dax halted, glancing from Roa’s hand—entwined with her sister’s—to her face.
“I never meant to break us,” she said, squeezing Essie’s hand, never wanting to let go.
As the unearthly knife hummed against her skin, she thought of her sister’s loud laugh and the sight of her bright smile and the comforting warmth of her spirit.
“Everything I know about love I learned from you,” she whispered, her vision blurring. “You taught me that sometimes love means holding on so tight.”
Her fingers tightened around the knife. A knife that loosed souls from their moorings.
With her sister at her side, Roa lifted the blade.
“And sometimes . . .”
The tears slid down her cheeks.
“Sometimes it means letting go.”
Turning away from the king, Roa plunged the knife into her sister’s corrupted heart.
Thirty-Six
The breath hushed out of Essie’s lungs. She looked down to the hilt of the Skyweaver’s knife, embedded in her chest. Her silver eyes widened. Her legs weakened.
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