Contents ( 41)
- CAST OF CHARACTERS
- ACT ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- ACT TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- ACT THREE
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY NAFIZA AZAD
“SoulSeeds are a secret held only by the dryads and those to whom they are loyal,” Uaine elaborates. “It is what the humans would call a soul, and it contains everything we are, in the form of a seed. It is also the only way we can be moved from one place to another without dying.”
“Why do you need to go to your sister?” Croi angles the dryad a glance. “There’s no guarantee you will be able to find the HeartStone even if you take the risk and return.”
The dryad smiles slightly at her words. “My sister might be the protector of the Talamh HeartStone, but I am the only one who can sense its presence. The HeartStone and I are made of the same vein of magick, you see.”
“Not really, I don’t,” Croi replies, ignoring the dryad’s stiffening face. “Aren’t your sisters made of the same magick?”
Uaine presses her hand to her head as if Croi has made it hurt. “I cannot explain the intricacies of magick to you. You wouldn’t ask the sky to explain its existence to a little cloud.”
Croi makes a face at Uaine’s analogy. “Rude.”
“The question is, will you take my SoulSeed to my sister?” Uaine asks again.
“You’re willing to trust me with it?” Croi looks disbelieving.
“No, of course not,” Uaine says, shaking her head firmly just in case Croi doesn’t know what “no” means. “I will require your word.”
Croi wrinkles her nose and ponders. If she agrees to do what Uaine wants her to, she will just be exchanging one binding for another. Right now, though not insistent, she can feel the tug of the summoning spell in her bones. The pain that accompanies the spell pulses softly. While the summoning spell tugs at her, hurts her, Uaine’s binding would be a painless tether. If she gives the dryad her word, she will need to keep it. The Hag told horrible stories about the consequences of breaking one’s word. There are many, and they involve agony and humiliation. But to be able to move as she pleases, as she wishes… Is there anything she wouldn’t give for that?
“What will you do, little kin? Will you help me save the world?” The dryad stands in front of Croi with her hands on her hips, waiting for her answer.
NINE
CROI IS QUITE CERTAIN THAT she doesn’t really care for the fate of the world. It hasn’t treated her very well in the short time she has been alive, so she feels no compunction in ignoring its needs. What she can’t live with is the summoning spell.
Choose, the dryad says. As if there is a choice to be made. Is there anyone in any of the worlds who would choose to be a puppet?
“If you can break the spell…” Croi pauses, feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest. “I will do what you ask me to.”
Uaine’s lips stretch in a crafty smile, and she looks disturbingly pleased. Croi stares at the dryad, and beyond her she suddenly glimpses her destiny: dark and deadly, poised like a spider, waiting to engulf her in its web. She shakes herself and the image disappears.