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Back Send Me Their Souls Save as PDF
Chapters (38)
  1. Copyright
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. Epilogue
  36. Acknowledgments
  37. About the Author
  38. Crown of Bones, by A.K. Wilder

Malachite settles against a far wall, chin down in his armored collar, the same pose I always saw him with in Vetris: his intimidating waiting pose. Fione sits across from Yorl sipping more tea, her bowl ever so slightly shaking as her fingers do. Nervous. How could she not be? The fate of her beloved depends on this last bit. The fate of the world, maybe, depends on it.

Lucien and I sink against the wall, sitting with each other and against each other, our hands intertwined tightly. It’s so quiet, so dim, a moment suspended in time. I wonder if the history books will talk about this someday. If we succeed, if we destroy the Bone Tree or the Glass Tree or both and change the world, will the books talk about this still, gray moment—the moment before everything changed? No. They’ll talk about everything else—the battles, the struggles, the deaths, the rise and fall of kingdoms. But not this. This will be lost to history.

This belongs only to the five of us.

Somewhere along the way as we wait and worry and wait, my head falls on Lucien’s broad shoulder, and, exhausted by thought, the embrace of sleep pulls me under.

23

23

BETRAYAL
LIKE DEATH

I know what this cold, salted darkness is now. The ocean.

In my dream it’s all around me, pressing down hard on every inch of my skin. In dreams I don’t breathe, but even so, I know it’ll be fine if I try. The water breathes for me, passing through slits in my neck I’ve made with magic.

Magic.

I look down, down into the murky darkness all around me, to see white beneath me. White fur, white scales, glowing softly against the depths of the ocean. I’m riding a valkerax. No—not me. A girl with wooden fingers is riding a valkerax.

Varia.

I’m in her mind again, the two of us connected by the blood promise and the Bone Tree and my dream.

Far and away in the water other spots of white scales glow, a rainbow tint valiantly radiating out from their manes against the crushing black. Hundreds of them. Hundreds of glowing white spots in the water, all churning in one direction. The current is strong, and sometimes the valkerax have to change course against its furor, but the goal remains the same. All of them, swimming toward something at once.