Rhazat laughed and offered Klia a hand up, kicking her foot out of the stirrup so Klia could mount behind her. “What a thing to say! Come, you must be starving. And perhaps a clean set of clothes. You smell like smoked eel, my dear.”

“Go to the crows,” Klia growled.

“Well, you may not be hungry, but I am.” Smiling, Rhazat crooked a finger and Phania rose in the air with a despairing cry that choked off as the necromancer’s hand closed around the back of her neck. Hanging there in that impossible grip, she closed her eyes and set her jaw, a soldier to the end.

“Let her go!” Klia shouted.

Rhazat arched a brow at Klia. “Yes, I am famished!” With that, she pressed her lips to Phania’s brow in an almost motherly kiss. Phania shuddered in her grip, then went limp. It was over in an instant and Rhazat draped the dead woman over her saddlebow like a deer. “Shall we go? Please, there’s still room for you up here.”

Klia glared up at her, silently refusing.

Rhazat nudged Moonshine into a walk. “Very well, you can walk. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, and I believe you’re out of food. Come along, my dear princess, you must eat, if not for your own sake—”

“I know!” Klia snapped, following her toward the gate. No wonder Rhazat didn’t bother with locks. She didn’t need them; this whole horrible place—whatever it was—was a prison.

Perhaps I’m already dead and beyond Bilairy’s gate.

Klia pushed the thought away, reasoning that if she was dead, this necromancer wouldn’t be working so hard to keep her alive.

Doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, Alec followed the river up into the grassy hills. There were no birds singing, no trees, not even a breeze to stir the dead air. It was neither hot nor cold, but vaguely muggy. It was still early morning, if you could trust the light in this place, but he felt like he’d been walking for days without food or water.

“Please, Illior, don’t let me die in this awful place,” he whispered hoarsely, nearing the end of his strength. Perhaps the Lightbearer had heard him, for a few moments later he noticed something very strange ahead of him—a patch of blackness hovering in the air just off the road, rippling like a silk scarf in a breeze.

He approached it cautiously, suspicious but desperate. Could this be how he’d gotten here, through some sort of rent in the air? Stopping within arm’s reach, he stared into the center of it, but it showed only blackness. As he stood there, baffled, it rippled again, brushing his face and chest—