BooksBarbecue
Back Witchshadow
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

The Bloodwitch named Aeduan returned to his body cold and supine. As the tides of possession receded, his senses expanded. Sunlight warmed his face. Snow melted against his arms. He shivered, and nearby, someone moaned. Crisp spring water and salt-lined cliffs.

In a heartbeat he had rolled to his feet. Two more heartbeats and he was over the shallow snow to Evrane’s side. Her eyelids cracked apart, squinting against a midday sun. Her teeth chattered.

“Aeduan,” she croaked, reaching for him with cold-chapped fingers. He hastily scooped his arms beneath her. She needed warmth—they both did—and a memory unfurled in his mind of this silver-haired monk doing the same to him all those years ago in a tent burned to ember and ash.

“Why,” she asked as he hauled her to him, “do I feel like I was eaten by a sea fox?” She leaned heavily on his shoulder. Her Carawen cloak was soaked and torn.

“It’s a long story, Monk Evrane.” He inhaled deeply, letting his magic pummel to the surface. Strong and alive and entirely his own. Mountain ranges and cliffsides. Meadows laced with dandelions and truth hidden beneath snow. The Truthwitch was near. And alongside her was a flicker of his own scent. A flash of blood upon a silver taler that Iseult had had the foresight to reclaim.

It made him smile.

The older monk frowned, and her dark eyes, the lashes snow-flecked, ran over Aeduan’s face as if he were only just coming into focus—or as if she were only just realizing they were in a snow-draped forest clasped in cold. “We are not at the Monastery, are we?”

“No.” He withdrew slightly and helped her rise. “But the Cahr Awen are near, and we should find them.”

She smiled, amused and slightly vicious—but wholly her own and untainted by dark waters. Unsullied by an Old One returned. And as Aeduan guided her toward the trees, toward the truth hidden beneath snow and a silver taler draped in blood, he couldn’t help but match her grin.

Evrane was herself again, and as ruthless as ever.

With that truth to warm him, he braced himself firmly against her. Then two rolls of his wrists, a crack of his neck, and together with his mentor, the Bloodwitch named Aeduan set off into the winter’s light.

FIFTY-FIVE

Vivia stood at the edge of the Origin Well and watched the Dalmotti fleet, mere specks on an ocean bright with sunshine. Any moment now, they would sail past the horizon. Any moment now, and she could finally breathe.

Beside her was Vaness, also watching the Jadansi. Her gown had finally stopped dripping, though her hair still hung in long, damp hanks. Since ascending the rough stairs to the Well, Vivia had said nothing. Vaness had said nothing. They had simply marched across the plateau and taken up sentry above the Nihar coastline.