The boy unfolded his legs, which were cramped and sore. His mouth was so dry he could barely open it. He took a few minutes to gather his strength, then got to his feet and began hobbling toward the pool that Cinnaminson had showed him earlier. He carried the darkwand with him; he knew he would carry it everywhere from then on. Slowly, his legs regained their feeling and the cramps disappeared. He listened for signs of life as he walked, but there were none. Even as long as he had been sitting beneath the tree, he was still alone.

He wondered suddenly what had happened to Cinnaminson. She had told him she would come back to him at nightfall. She had promised.

He found the pool and dropped down on his hands and knees to drink. The water was cool and sweet, and he got back a little of his strength. When he had drunk his fill, he stood up again and looked around.

Where was Cinnaminson?

He exhaled in frustration. He didn’t like it that she was still gone. He never liked it when she was gone. Losing her was worse than losing his fingers . . .

He stopped himself, remembering suddenly the sensation of another’s hand guiding his as he shaped the tanequil’s limb into the darkwand, one that allowed him to work blindly, his eyes closed, his reliance on touch alone.

A piece of your body. A piece of your heart.

A terrible certainty swept through him, harsh and implacable, so traumatizing that he could not give voice to it, but only whisper it in the silence of his mind. He thought he had understood. He hadn’t. He assumed that the loss of his fingers was enough to balance the scales. It wasn’t.

Something more was required.

Cinnaminson.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-FIVE

Shadea a’Ru stood at the window of her sleeping chambers and looked out from Paranor’s towers over the forested sweep of the land beyond. The sun was rising, a soft golden glow in the east that silhouetted the jagged peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth against its bright backdrop and gave promise to the coming of a warm, languorous summer day.

Her lips compressed into a tight, angry line. It would not be such a good day for her. And less so for some others.