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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

But whatever she wanted Iseult to see, Iseult wasn’t finding. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “You’ll have to tell me what’s bothering you when they remove the gag…” Iseult trailed off. Movement had caught her eye—a shape crawling across the floorboards. A trick of the night’s shadows, except now Owl was grunting behind her gag and straining against her bonds.

Then an image formed in Iseult’s mind. An image of Owl and Iseult roped to the cots. The weasel.

Iseult’s chest swelled. Her eyes swelled too as tears, hot and sandy, pushed at them from behind. But she made no sound, no movement. She simply watched as the weasel slunk around the stove past Corlant, past Aeduan … She paused at Evrane and sniffed.

“No,” Iseult whispered. “Leave her.” Beside her, Owl had gone completely still, completely silent. Her eyes bulged, her Threads stained yellow with worry.

“Leave her,” Iseult whispered again, shouting the command directly into the weasel’s mind.

The animal ignored her and with movements slow as tar, she began tampering with something on Evrane’s belt. Every pop of the fire sent Iseult’s heart into her mouth. Every flicker in Evrane’s Threads made her brace for a fight.

But the woman never awoke, and after an eternity of patience, the weasel finally had whatever it was she wanted. Then she was streaking away from the monk toward Iseult and Owl.

When she finally reached them, Iseult saw what the weasel had clutched in her tiny jaws: the Hell-Bard map.

Wicked Cousin, indeed, Iseult thought.

“Can you chew through these cords?” Iseult shook her wrists against their bindings. But the weasel ignored her, and with painfully slow movements, she unfurled the map and dug in her nose. Iseult squinted and strained. In the night, all the lines and dots morphed together.

The weasel chattered her teeth and shoved in her nose again—and this time, Iseult was able to make out what the map revealed.

Dots. Tens of them, right beside a familiar red X. The Hell-Bards from Praga had almost arrived, and for once, Iseult welcomed them. They would be her distracting right hand.

“How far?” Iseult asked, and the weasel replied with a vision of sheep pens.

They were almost outside then, which meant Iseult needed to move. Now.

The weasel sensed this and leaped up Iseult’s body. She chewed through the cords at Iseult’s wrist before scampering to Owl. Blood roared into Iseult’s deadened limbs while she clumsily swooped up the map. Seconds later, Owl was free too. “We must be quiet,” Iseult whispered before pulling the gag from Owl’s mouth.

Instantly the girl began coughing. She couldn’t help it—the sudden pale horror in her Threads made that clear. She also couldn’t stop it, even when Iseult clapped a rough hand across her mouth.