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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

In moments like this, it was easy to see she had once been human. Ancient things made new again.

With a sigh, Iseult dragged her attention east, toward Arithuania. East toward safety. The most direct route would take her and Owl down this mountain and to a long lake, crescent shaped and vast. Once Iseult and Owl crossed that, they would be on the Windswept Plains.

At the northern tip of the lake, an imperial hunting lodge stood filled with the unmistakable symbol for Cartorran soldiers and Hell-Bards. And at the lake’s southern tip was a sprawling imperial sulfur mine. Neither route was ideal.

The weasel offered an impatient squeak, and the image of Owl’s collar filled Iseult’s mind. Because, of course, as long as Owl wore it, the Hell-Bards would keep hunting. All the way to the fallen republic of Arithuania. All the way to its fallen capital of Poznin.

Iseult glared anyway. “You know I can’t remove it.” The collar could not be sawed, it could not be hammered, it could not be picked, and it could not be magicked. Iseult had tried everything. And unlike Hell-Bard protection wards, where Iseult could see the very Threads of protection at work, she could sense no magic upon the collar.

In fact, if not for the faded appearance of Owl’s Threads and the invisible wall they hit whenever she tried to use her Earthwitchery, Iseult would never have even known the device was magical. She would have thought it nothing more than a simple piece of wood.

Iseult spread her fingers between the red X that symbolized Owl to the ridge above the crescent lake. “Twenty leagues,” she estimated.

That was two days on horseback to figure out the collar and remove it. Or two days to come up with a better plan.

The weasel chittered, a wickedly gleeful sound. She wanted to travel now and wanted to be the one to wake Owl. Iseult shook her head. “Let her sleep. We have time.”

And you? the weasel seemed to ask. Will you sleep?

“Yes,” Iseult lied, though she knew the weasel didn’t believe her. Yet the slithery creature had never had any solutions to offer—the nightmares had never plagued her, after all. She had killed for pleasure as a human; she killed for pleasure as an animal. And after a few moments of watching Iseult map the next day’s route, the creature slunk outside to enjoy the night.

FOUR

Never had Vivia Nihar seen such extravagance. The Floating Palace of Azmir was a lesson in minimalism compared to the Doge’s mansion on the edge of Veñaza City. The glass walls alone must have taken a hundred witch artisans to create, and the gardens—so lush were they that even with Plantwitches to tend and coax, they must have required decades for the assembly.