Then she remembered her grandmother telling her that the Elfstones couldn’t be taken by force if they were to be of use to the holder. They had to be freely given.

Pancea Rolt Gotrin was waiting for Mistral to break down and do just that, and she would use Phryne as leverage. So if she wanted to make sure that her grandmother’s sacrifice in coming here with the Elfstones—in believing, even mistakenly, that this was the only way she could get them into her granddaughter’s hands—meant something, Phryne had to act now. She caught Mistral’s eye, a quick glance that revealed what she intended to do. She saw the look of dismay in her grandmother’s face and realized that there was something else at work here, something she had missed. But it didn’t matter. If there was even the smallest chance, Phryne knew she had to take it.

She leapt forward from the water’s edge toward the marker against which Mistral was pressed. She had a momentary glimpse of her grandmother’s arms raised in warning, stretched out as if to try to stop her. Then Pancea Rolt Gotrin was screaming and something as cold and heavy as frozen iron slammed into Phryne with immense force, knocking her off her feet.

She went down in a heap, gasping for breath, tried to rise, was struck again, and then everything went black.

WHEN SHE WOKE, she was lying on her back, staring up at the stalactite-encrusted ceiling of the cavern. Mistral sat a few yards off, her back against the stone marker, a weary look on her shade’s white face.

Child, I did not mean for this to happen.

Phryne took a moment to recall exactly what it was that had happened and failed. “What did she do to me?”

She has magic at her command even here, even in death. She used it to keep you from reaching me, to prevent me from giving you the Elfstones. I came here to ask for her help, trying to stay alive until you reached me. But my wounds were too much for either of us. Once dead, I asked her help again. But she would not give it. She wants the Elfstones for herself. I made the mistake of telling her early on that you would come for me, that I had left a message for you. She was waiting for you to come, knowing what I intended, determined that she would not allow it.

Phryne raised herself up on her elbows, trying to clear her head. Every part of her body ached from whatever the Queen had done to her. “Why can’t you just give them to me now? Right now, before she knows what you have done?”

Look behind you.

Phryne did, and she saw Pancea Rolt Gotrin perched atop her triangular marker, watching closely.