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Before he could plunge the sword, Dahvid dismissed the spell. The metal vanished a second before it could find flesh. Thugar instinctively dropped him, and as Dahvid fell, he reached for his very last tattoo. The two hands that Ware had drawn just before he died. One reaching from below the water and one from above. He did not know what would happen. Power thundered out from him.
A forceful wave that threw back anyone within twenty paces. Dahvid could feel his entire body vibrating with an almost painful surge of energy. The magic latched on to something in the distance. He couldn’t tell if it was Thugar, or the trees around them, or some other source. But his guess had been right. The spell was an exchange. His weakness for that waiting strength. His wounds for that offered wholeness. Whatever the source, he felt it flood his veins with pulsing life.
Dahvid snatched an abandoned sword and stood. Thugar Brood was scrambling away. The entire world had gone mute and colorless. He saw everything moving in slow motion. Brood was shoving his own men forward, urging them to fight in his place. Dahvid cut them down one by one, all without adjusting his stride. Navigated through them with a strength that was not simply restorative but an evolution of his power. A perfecting. He’d never been so strong.
Thugar was forced to turn. He swung once, backpedaled, and Dahvid began a sequence of his own. He did not need the scarlet traveler to know how it would all end. He swung low to high. Two darting lunges, a spin move, and then his borrowed blade found the belly of the dragon that had haunted his entire life. Thugar choked out blood. Dahvid held him close, twisting the metal, and then ripping it free. Their eyes met as Dahvid prepared the final blow.
“I will remember Ware. Long after you’re gone, his memory will live on.”
Dahvid plunged his sword into Thugar’s heart.
When he pulled it back, the man fell. It was done. There were a few skirmishes left, but his mercenaries held the hill. He knew he should oversee their entry into the family castles. Make sure that no one killed the servants or looted before the time to divide the spoils came.
But he didn’t care. He wanted Cath. He had left a small ring of guards with her. Back by the northern gate. He ran, fueled by the pulsing energy of Ware’s spell. He felt like he could sprint all the way back to Ravinia in this state. As he closed in on their location, he saw something had gone wrong. The guards weren’t watching for enemy approaches. They were all turned inward. Looking down. Muttering to one another. Dahvid shouted and they moved aside, allowing him through.
“Cath?”
She was on the ground. Wounded and bleeding and paler than he’d ever seen.
“Who did this to her?” He seized the collar of the nearest guard and dragged him down to eye level. “Tell me who did this! You were here to protect her. Who did this?”
He realized none of the men looked as if they’d seen battle. There were no signs of sweat or dirt or blood. Had they betrayed him? But the man stumbled back a step.
“Sir… I’m sorry, sir. There was no one. We were just… we were all standing here. She just fell, sir. She collapsed. All of those wounds appeared. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Dahvid collapsed back beside her. He pulled Cath in close and stroked her hair and could not admit that she was already gone. His eyes traced her wounds. That pulsing fury was building in his chest. They were lying to him. He’d kill them all for betraying him.
“These are sword wounds. If no one came, how could she…”
His voice trailed away. There was a strange bruise along her throat. A great thicket of black-and-blue skin. Like she’d been punched with a metal gauntlet. Looking down, he saw a horizontal gash across her thigh. Exactly where his wound had been before the magic healed him. His hands traced the lines of her body, finding each cut, remembering each of his own. It was like following a trail up a mountain to learn a truth that he could not bear actually knowing.
He began weeping. Into his hands. Into her hair. Crying over the body of the only person he’d learned to love since that horrible night. He knew what had happened, even if he didn’t know why. No one else had done this to her.
It had been the magic. It had been him.
41 NEVELYN TIN’VORI
Nevelyn glided through unfamiliar halls.
At least unfamiliar to her. Tessa Brood knew them well. The three connected castles felt endless. She could not even begin to fathom why one family could ever need all of this. She moved through the gilded rooms with great caution. She was unarmed. She’d intentionally removed Tessa Brood’s vessels and left them outside the gates. If she lost control of the girl, she didn’t want Tessa to have a way to defend herself.
A weapon wasn’t necessary. She was granted access purely because she was Tessa Brood. If a door was barricaded, the servants would quickly open it to allow her inside. Others peeked out from behind upturned furniture. Each time, she offered the same advice.
“Put down all of your weapons. Do not resist them. If someone comes, surrender.”
Everyone stared back in disbelief. She kept moving. There was no time to explain. She could only hope it was enough to save them from wasting their lives in defense of the Broods. Nevelyn was following Tessa’s internal compass to get to her father’s favorite study. She hoped to find Landwin there, and Ren Monroe with him. It was impossible to know how their part of the plan had progressed. Too many moving pieces. Too many variables.
She arrived at the second glass bridge.
Her mind stumbled over what she saw. It wasn’t what Tessa remembered, and Nevelyn understood why. All of the glass had shattered. As if an explosion had gone off. In the distance, where the bridge should have connected to the third castle, Nevelyn saw a gaping hole. Debris was everywhere. Some kind of duel had broken out here.
She picked her way carefully through the glass, but her mind stuttered again. The briefest of flickers. She saw her other self. The empty room. Garth was standing for some reason. She saw him pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He said something to her, but she could not make out the words. Could not afford to focus on them, because her grasp on the other world might slip.
Settle down. Stay in the moment. You have more to do.
Nevelyn shook the cobwebs of her mind. The bridge appeared. She crossed most of the way and was forced to leap over the spot where the foundations had split. There were shouts ahead. Great bursts of magic echoed down the hallway. She followed their sound and came upon a room that was in utter ruin. Theo Brood was there on the floor. She stared in disbelief. Why was he here? Had Dahvid brought him? Had their initial plan changed? He was struggling to sit up, one hand nursing an injured rib. His eyes landed on her.
“Tessa?”
