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Chapters (61)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. Ashyn: One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Moria: Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Ashyn: Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Moria: Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-one
  24. Twenty-two
  25. Ashyn: Twenty-three
  26. Twenty-four
  27. Twenty-five
  28. Twenty-six
  29. Twenty-seven
  30. Twenty-eight
  31. Twenty-nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Moria: Thirty-one
  34. Thirty-two
  35. Thirty-three
  36. Thirty-four
  37. Thirty-five
  38. Thirty-six
  39. Thirty-seven
  40. Ashyn: Thirty-eight
  41. Thirty-nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-one
  44. Forty-two
  45. Forty-three
  46. Forty-four
  47. Forty-five
  48. Forty-six
  49. Forty-seven
  50. Forty-eight
  51. Forty-nine
  52. Moria: Fifty
  53. Fifty-one
  54. Fifty-two
  55. Fifty-three
  56. Fifty-four
  57. Fifty-five
  58. About the Author
  59. Back Ad
  60. Credits
  61. About the Publisher

“There,” Barthol said. “It’s done. We’ll drag him into the village square now, so the others may see what happens to those who neglect their duties.” He looked at Ashyn. “I hope that was a lesson learned, Seeker. The same fate will befall anyone who assists your escape or allows it to happen. Go back inside with your cur and your boy, and be thankful I don’t make you clean up the mess.”

Forty

Forty

Ashyn was playing capture-my-lord. The game was going nowhere and had been since they began, not because they were both astoundingly good players but because, frankly, neither had any interest under the circumstances.

It was an act. After what happened to the poor guard—and after Barthol threatened Ronan—Ashyn knew they had to convince their captors that they had settled in and would cause no trouble. Even now, as Ashyn moved her pieces, her fingers trembled, remembering the guard.

“Don’t,” Ronan murmured. “Don’t think about it. You ought not to have witnessed that.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she said.

“You ought not to.”

“It’s not just seeing it. I feel as if I caused—”

“You didn’t,” Ronan said. “He chose to join them. Perhaps he had no option. Perhaps his family is here, and they threatened them, but even if I give him the benefit of the doubt, it was still his decision to hold a Seeker captive. And it was mine to use him in our escape.”

“I don’t think it would have mattered,” she said softly, gaze on the board. “Even if you escaped, Barthol would have killed him as an example.”

“I think Barthol just likes killing,” Ronan muttered. “And having others watch. He’s a sadistic—”

Tova leaped up. Ronan rose, fingers slipping to his side, reaching for his missing blade. His hand clenched, empty, and he moved forward, gaze fixed on the door. It opened.

Something raced through the open door. Something long and black, and Tova bounded forward with a happy bark. The black blur hit him and took him down, and they rolled together, light fur and dark, as Ashyn stared.

It looks like . . . It cannot be . . .

She lifted her gaze slowly, almost not daring to look back at the door, certain she would not see what she—

Moria walked through.

There were others with her. Ashyn didn’t see them. Her mind stopped there: Moria walked through.

She saw her sister’s face, sweat-stained and hard, her blue eyes blazing fury. Moria spotted her and her rage evaporated in a flicker of shock. Then she raced across the stone floor.

Ashyn threw her arms around her sister. The fierce hug lasted a moment before Moria pulled back, holding Ashyn at arm’s length, frowning again as her gaze traveled over her.

“Are you all right? Have they hurt you?”