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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

They reached the top of the falls. The boat pendulumed up, up, over a lip of man-assembled stone, then finally into the Origin Well, where it splashed down, bouncing, bobbing, listing, and spinning. Vivia couldn’t hold on any longer. Take me, she told the water, and she let its warm, pure touch embrace her. Then haul her overboard and down.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The walk back to the palace was a smear of cobblestones and cold, filthy feet. Of night revelers and bored guards. Other than a few pointed questions to Leopold—How do you know Iseult is in danger? How do you know where she is?—Safi strode in silence.

It would seem Leopold’s spies had discovered a Wordwitched map used by Hell-Bards, and it would seem that the young Nomatsi girl named Owl was marked upon it. “If Owl is near the Solfatarra, we can assume Iseult is too—and Hell-Bards are right behind them.”

“But how can they be inside the Solfatarra?” Safi asked once they were ensconced inside the torchlit tunnel again. She and Leopold had grabbed their slippers from the chest, deposited their cloaks, and then continued onward in bare feet toward the baths.

“I do not know.” Leopold’s cheeks ticced slightly in the torchlight. “Pray they change course before they reach the lake and find all routes cut off.”

“Damn it all,” Safi snarled. “We need one of those Hell-Bard maps. Can your spies get one?” Each of her steps was long. Several times, she even kicked into a half jog—and Leopold kept pace with her. Yes, Hell-Bard shadows still splintered her bones, but they were a cursory annoyance. A weak pain compared to the bright, flaring light of Iseult at the Solfatarra. Iseult surrounded by Hell-Bards.

“Maybe.” Leopold’s skin shone from the moisture in the air. “But if they cannot get one, then we cannot risk asking a Hell-Bard. You must remember that they can, at any time, be controlled and punished.”

Safi’s pace stuttered. She had not considered this. In her usual self-centered conceit, she had completely forgotten that as soon as she vanished from the palace, Henrick would turn his wrath on the people he could hurt in her stead.

The first people Henrick would punish would be Safi’s own guards—her lead guard, Lev. Then he would turn to anyone else who’d ever contacted with her. Caden. Zander. The healer at the Keep.

Her feet stopped beneath her. Mist coiled, while ahead, the first pillars of the bath shimmered in wan light.

Leopold’s pinched expression told Safi he understood. “As long as we tell them nothing,” he said gently, “then Henrick’s torture will yield nothing. He will stop as soon as he realizes that.”

Safi didn’t agree. Henrick might be an adept leader and a strong emperor—she couldn’t deny that—but he also did whatever he needed to maintain power. She had felt it, she had seen it.