BooksBarbecue
Back Witchshadow
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph
  6. BEGINNINGS
  7. PART I
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. PART II
  45. THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. THIRTY-NINE
  48. FORTY
  49. FORTY-ONE
  50. FORTY-TWO
  51. FORTY-THREE
  52. FORTY-FOUR
  53. FORTY-FIVE
  54. FORTY-SIX
  55. FORTY-SEVEN
  56. FORTY-EIGHT
  57. FORTY-NINE
  58. FIFTY
  59. FIFTY-ONE
  60. FIFTY-TWO
  61. FIFTY-THREE
  62. FIFTY-FOUR
  63. FIFTY-FIVE
  64. FIFTY-SIX
  65. FIFTY-SEVEN
  66. TRICKSTER
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. Also by Susan Dennard
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

Oh, her father might have stowed away everything that Jana had loved—art and threadbare rugs and all the books she’d held most dear. But he hadn’t been able to erase the hallways where she’d walked with Vivia. The garden where she’d read aloud tales of little foxes and their foes. The windows against which she’d placed her head and cried in shattered silence when she’d thought no one was watching.

And Serafin hadn’t been able to erase the memories. Jana’s soft voice, Jana’s soft smile, Jana’s soft hand on Vivia’s brow. Every night, she had come into Vivia’s room and whispered I love you, I love you, Little Fox, more than life itself.

Vivia suddenly found it hard to breathe. Her chest was swelling and heat was sweeping up from her toes. Soon the bludgeoning would begin. Soon her heart would be too crushed to breathe.

“No slowing,” Yoris barked at her, and Vivia battled the urge to scream at him. Her fingers flexed straight against her thighs. She focused on her lungs, begging them to billow. Begging her heart to move. Become a bear, Vivia. Become a bear. She wished Stix were there. She wished everything had gone as she’d hoped in Dalmotti and that the Doge hadn’t chased her across a sea.

She wished her mother were there. I love you, Little Fox, more than life itself.

Vivia had hurt her crew, she’d hurt Cam, she’d hurt the Empress of Marstok—and for what? So she could be marched across her father’s lands and reminded of how much he hadn’t wanted her in the end. How the only person who had wanted her was dead and gone and lost beneath Noden’s waves.

Vivia was going to explode. This weight punching her chest was going to crush her, and then Yoris would win. Dalmotti would win. Because of course she could fix nothing. When had she ever fixed anything? She’d fled Lovats a traitor. She’d fled Dalmotti a criminal. No regrets, keep moving. No regrets, keep moving.

“Come on,” Yoris barked, and Vivia realized that she had stopped walking. That her gaze had become so fixed on the Well, on the fox’s ears, that her knees had locked and she might pass out. She felt Cam’s eyes burning into her, but she dared not look at the boy. Dared not look at anyone or anything. This would pass. The attacks always passed. Her heart always eventually regained its shape, and her lungs always eventually resumed their work.

She forced her feet to move after Yoris, faster. Faster. Until she was practically on his heels and pushing him into a half jog down a switchbacking trail to the green valley below, a place filled with life that should have thrilled her. That would thrill her once this attack finally slowed.