Page 56

Several days? I frown and shake my head, trying to remember exactly what happened. But my mind feels the way it does in the minutes after waking from a particularly vivid dream, where at first the colors and sights and scents of the dream are so bold that I’m certain it must all be real, that the details of it will be forever imprinted on my mind. But the more I think about it, the more the details begin to blur, until I can no longer remember the names in the dream that had seemed so familiar, or why I was in a certain place, or what I was doing that had seemed so important.

There were dim, flickering lights and soft voices around me. There were Wraiths gathered about me, snarling, teeth flashing in the night. There was the feeling of toxins coursing through my veins, and powerful arms lifting me from the ground. But all these memories are dim, fading quickly.

“It’s good you’re awake,” Raven says, and I look at him again. “For a while, it seemed that your soul would return to the Eternal Tree.”

The faintest hint of relief is etched across his face, and only now do I realize that it means Raven had been afraid to lose me.

“I didn’t realize I came that close,” I finally say. My voice cracks, hoarse.

Raven notes the surprise on my face. “The poison of a Wraith is the fragmented quality of its soul. A corrupted immortality.” He nods toward the open door. “The tree, however, is eternal and pure. Like a tree in the mortal world, it cleanses, breathing in air that creatures exhale, feeding on that which is dying in order to return new life. You’ll be exhausted for a while longer, but you’ll live.”

My proximity to the tree must have helped heal me. I lean against the pillows and wince. Pieces of my memories are sharpening. The Wraith’s teeth sinking into my shoulder, the cry that had burst from my throat. Its mouth opening before me, ready to devour my soul.

My fingers come up to gingerly touch my injured shoulder, and I wince. The pain is still sharp, although when I glance down at it, I can hardly see the wound.

“Who sent those Wraiths after me?” I whisper. “There were so many.”

“Thorn,” Raven says.

Thorn.

“How?—” I start to say. “How do you know?”

“You disobeyed me, and went home instead of reporting immediately to me.” Raven nods. “Thorn followed you. He was not far from where the Wraiths attacked.”

I shake my head, guilt stirring in my chest. “I’m sorry—” I start to say.

Raven cuts me off with a brief hand gesture. “You survived,” he answers.

His statement is cool and simple, but I feel a tug of gratitude in my chest regardless.

“But—I don’t understand,” I say. “Étienne said he didn’t know who was responsible for giving the Wraiths this power. He gave me his Artifact, the bracelet. He was telling the truth.”

Raven nods at me. “It’s likely that his patron god kept him in the dark.”

I stare at him in disbelief. The god of Lies had wanted me dead.

“Why?” I ask. “What’s his purpose in doing all this?”

Raven looks away, his gaze distant. “I don’t presume to know,” he answers. “But Thorn has never believed in the link between mortals and immortals, in Harbingers. He has never liked the link between a Regent and their patron god, allowing the power of an immortal and the energy of a mortal to transmit between each other.” His eyes narrow. “Thorn has no interest in giving up his immortal powers to a successor. I presume that desire may have grown to claiming the powers of others.”

I swallow, thinking of Étienne. If this were true, what does Thorn even want with him? Would he plan to kill Étienne, too, and devour his soul when he was done using him as a Regent?

“What would that mean, then?” I ask. “Is he devouring the souls of Regents, for himself?”

He looks toward the door before glancing back at me. His brow is furrowed, as if in anger, and I realize that he’s mad at himself. “Remember that the gods exist only because we claim the energy of the mortal world. And the souls of the Regents who were killed never returned to the Eternal Tree.”

He doesn’t need to say it. Wraiths are not Harbingers—they are broken pieces of souls, hungering for mortal energy. And if what Raven says is true, it means Thorn has been using this trait of Wraiths to help him claim souls for himself, to consume their energy.

“Do the other gods know?” I ask Raven. “Do we tell them?”

“I suspect there are other gods working in tandem with him,” Raven answers. “Those who are tired of their dependence on your world.”

The immortal world is tilting, and not in our favor.

I straighten as much as I can in the bed. “If Étienne doesn’t know this,” I begin, “then maybe we can enlist his help in stopping Thorn. If anything, he might find out something useful for us—which others might be plotting the same. I can’t imagine he wants to be such a pawn for his patron god.”

“I know you want to trust him,” Raven says. “Perhaps it was a mistake, sending you to get closer to him.”