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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

Ashyn was quite certain Cecil had no such tragic story behind his exile. As much as Ashyn tried to hold on to what she believed, that image wouldn’t go away. Of the man who’d been there. And then was not.

It was nearly dark now. As Faiban held the lantern, Ashyn knelt beside the corpse of a man past his sixtieth summer. Too old to be exiled.

The body was better preserved than most of the others. He must have lived into the winter, frozen until spring, just beginning to rot now. He still looked human. White hair. Lined and weather-beaten face. His dark eyes stared up in shock.

This man had seen death coming, as Ashyn knew from the vision he’d sent. She knew how he’d felt teeth rip into his throat. How he’d tried to fight. How his spirit had hovered there, watching his killer tear into his flesh, devouring it. His spirit had still been watching when his killer had died, choking on a finger bone.

Ashyn looked over at the second body. It lay only steps from the first. A woman. The fever had taken her. Ashyn had seen that in her vision. Wild-haired and crazed, she’d ripped the man apart, mumbling about venison, sweet venison, thanking the spirits for their mercy, and Ashyn realized she hadn’t seen a man at all—she’d thought she’d killed a deer.

“My lady?” Faiban whispered.

She looked up at him. How am I supposed to handle this? she wanted to ask.

Ellyn had warned her that death in the forest was not pleasant. Healer Mabill had said the same. Ashyn had paid little mind. Of course it wouldn’t be pleasant. Death never was.

Moria had understood. That’s why she’d insisted on coming along. I don’t need protection, Ashyn had said. I have my dagger. But that wasn’t the kind of protection Moria had meant. She’d understood what Ashyn might find, and she’d known her sister wasn’t prepared to deal with it. Not alone.

“My lady?”

Ashyn took a deep breath and rose. “Can you take both?” she asked the two volunteers.

“We’ll try,” one said as he pulled on his thick gloves.

“Good. Stay at the camp afterward. We’ll look about a little more before joining you.”

The villagers began to wrap the first body. Ashyn motioned to Faiban, and they headed into the growing darkness.