Chapters (70)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Map
- Epigraph
- BEGINNINGS
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- PART II
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- TRICKSTER
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Also by Susan Dennard
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
No, not a pile—it was a throne. Aeduan remembered it, even if he could not recall where or how. Her feet dangled, and her cold-flushed face had creased into a frown. Her head turned. Her hazel eyes met Aeduan’s.
She grinned.
He tried to drop to his knees, tried to turn away and summon any power he could, but he was too late—just as he had been a thousand years ago.
And just as it had happened a thousand years ago, stone erupted against him. Bricks from the tower, pebbles from the ground, boulders and rubble and soil filled with worms. They crashed around him, hard and unyielding, until he was fully encased. Until his legs, his arms, even his head could not move.
Not again. His lungs collapsed. His vision crossed. Not again, not again. He had been held like this before, and then the blade had pierced through. Not again, not again.
He wriggled and pried, he shoved and hissed. But his Bloodwitchery—even with the first soul’s help—was no match for Saria’s magic. She strode into view, walking like a queen. A familiar black bird stood on her shoulder. Its beak clacked, and no, no, no. Aeduan remembered that sound too.
But this was not that moment, and Saria held no Paladin blade. It was only her and the bird and the silence of a wintry forest. She raked her ancient gaze up Aeduan’s stone-bound form. “You were never the worst of them, but you still chose wrong in the end.”
“Free … me,” Aeduan gritted out. Stone compressed his throat. Each breath tasted of nightmares. Not again, not again.
“I will.” She nodded. “Eventually. When I feel certain you’ve chosen correctly this time. I think you already have, but I prefer to have a guarantee. So consider this a reminder of what I can do to you.”
Before Aeduan could ask what that meant, the Rook leaped off Saria’s shoulder. Two quick flaps, and the bird thunked onto Aeduan’s head. Vaguely, Aeduan’s magic sensed forest fog atop freedom. Then the Rook squawked, a sound to rattle in his eardrums and shake the stones that chained him.
It was the sound he’d heard just before his death. Before pain and shadow overwhelmed him. Before the waters of a thousand years had dragged him down. Except this time, there was no Rook King to say, It was not supposed to be this way. There was only his bird, gloating and gleeful.
And suddenly understanding notched into place. Why the Rook King had been waiting for Evrane when she’d awoken. Why he had said, It is good to have you back.