BooksBarbecue
Back Witchshadow Save as PDF
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

Goddess, what must it be like, to walk through life unfeeling. A true absence of emotion, no Threads that bind or break or build to ever pull her up or pull Gretchya down. A life without pain … And a life without love. But people were Threads, and every time Gretchya had denied her own, the less human she had become.

“Where will you go?” Gretchya asked without turning.

“Back to Praga. Where I’ve been planning to go all along.”

“You cannot. Hell-Bards block the way. I have seen the map you brought.”

“I have evaded Hell-Bards before.”

Gretchya peered back. “And what is in Praga?”

“Who is in Praga.” Iseult lifted her eyebrows, challenging her mother to press on. “Safi.”

Gretchya didn’t. Instead she said, “In that case, I can be of no help to you.” She swept into her tent. The flap swung with brisk finality.

And a laugh crinkled in Iseult’s lungs again. A laugh fed by flames because her mother had not changed and never would. It was good to know that—and even better to leave with a certainty there was no reason to stay.

With a sharp nod for the hunters now claiming positions before the tent, Iseult turned on her heel and set off to find Owl.

THIRTY-THREE

Iseult’s anger did not last. She wished it would—goddess, she wished it would. It was so much easier with that heat to keep her moving. So much clearer with that burn to sharpen her eyes.

But anger required energy, and Iseult had none left to give. After days on the run, her insides had been scooped out. She was a human-shaped husk. When she finally stumbled into the healer’s tent nestled beside a larger expanse of dark stone wall, familiar Earthwitch Threads awaited within, as did the Threads of an Airwitch healer.

Iseult entered at the tent’s closed flap. Heat rolled over her. Heat and darkness lit by lanterns. Firewitched, of course, just as other magic items filled the tent, clustered on crude shelves: Painstones, jars of Earthwitch healer salve, bottles of Waterwitch healer draughts, and countless tools she did not recognize.

At the opposite corner beside a smokeless brazier, Owl sat upon a low table. On one side was the healer, young and amply curved within her furs. On the other side was Alma, smiling a false smile at Owl—who smiled right back, her Threads rosy with pleasure, her eyes locked on Alma’s face, as if she had never seen anyone more captivating. As if she’d never adored anyone more in her life.

Because of course that was how it would happen. Owl had known the Threadwitch apprentice for less than an hour, but already she was enamored. Alma’s perfection could be denied by no one, not even an injured child. Or especially not by an injured child on whom Alma plied her fake, forced, perfectly performed smile.