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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

She bared a grin as terrifying as the dark-giver’s had been. “Far away where you will never find her.” She sheathed her knife and with a grunt that quickly became a moan, she ducked beneath the dead girl and hauled her stiffening body onto her back.

“Do … not … follow!” she ground out, and Aeduan nodded again, his empty hands still high. Yet as Gretchya set off through the storm, he sensed smells closing in. Purists that would intersect with her at any moment. That would, he had to assume, try to stop her as their master desired.

So Aeduan knew what he had to do: he might not be able to find the dark-giver, but he would keep her mother safe. And he would not fail her as he had failed his own.

FORTY-EIGHT

Safi had never seen Iseult cleave before. She knew her Threadsister could do it, just as she knew what witchery lived inside her and how much Iseult grappled with it. It was bad enough being Nomatsi on a continent that feared them, but her magic linked to the Void had only made people treat her like a demon wherever she went.

She wasn’t a demon, though. When Safi had possessed her full magic, she’d seen the truth inside Iseult’s heart: a wicked power, but not a wicked girl.

And she’d never been more certain of that than now, with snow falling around her and her ears still ringing from the crash. She saw it in the way Iseult landed in the clearing, imbued with Windwitchery and graceful as a moonrise. And she felt it in the way Iseult looked at the newly cleaved witches beside her, relief mingling with something frantic.

Their skin boiled with tar. Their eyes had gone black, though they didn’t attack, they didn’t move. Iseult controlled their minds, their magics, and their bodies. Two pistols lay useless on the snow before them.

Safi wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. Nor when she started running. All she knew was that she was suddenly stumbling over the ground toward her Threadsister. “You’re here, you’re here. I don’t know how, but you’re here.”

“Stop.” Iseult rocked back a step. The Windwitches rocked back too. Her golden eyes latched on to Safi, panic spinning brighter. “If I release them, they’ll die. I-I … don’t want to kill.” A pause. “Them or you.”

“So don’t release them.” Safi slowed, feet unwilling but brain understanding. “Why must you?”

Behind her, Caden rasped, “I’ve seen you control Cleaved before.” He attempted to rise. Then toppled back to the snow, his injured leg crumpling beneath him. Yet when Safi tried to help him, he waved her off. “Can you do what you did in the palace?”

“I don’t … w-want to. Besides.” She gave a dry, familiar Iseult laugh. “I-it hurts.” She lifted her hands, wrapped in bloodied bandages.

Safi gasped. “You’re wounded.”