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Krandel smiles wryly, letting the insult bounce off him. “He simply wishes you not to make a fool of yourself.”

Or of him,I think bitterly. But I say nothing.

“You know the significance of Sola Vinari. You understand the risk in angering the Shrouded.”

The lantern bangs against my thigh as I step toward him. “No, I don’t. You forget I was five at the last one. And maybe that’s a good thing, because I seem to be the only person who recognizes that there was something really wrong with the scene back there.”

Nonplussed, Krandel’s lithe form advances to match me, his tone hardening. “The girl is not your concern. You should be focusing on your responsibility as son of the Foremost, not on the impulsive gallantry that led you here.”

I part my lips in protest, but Krandel holds up a palm.

“Look around, Belwyn. Can you not see how deep the shadows have become? The kaligorven are very near now. They expect complete subjugation at the Reckoning, and if they find something amiss, they will unleash their fury on us, as they did thirteen years ago.”

I feel my resolve slipping. What do I know of the solas and the kaligorven, or the way things need to be? Nothing. I scan the forest behind me with misgiving, but thoughts of the girl being out there alone give me courage. Shaking my head sharply, I turn my back on Krandel.

“And what about the girl? She won’t be there. I can’t leave her to fend—”

An iron grip clamps around my forearm. Warning exudes from the man’s touch. “Amyrah Cantar does not matter. She is nothing. You are the eldest son of the Foremost. Your duty is to your father, and the Shrouded will know if his house is not in line.”

We stand locked together, as still as stone, for a tense moment. I seethe and consider yanking myself free, but I know I cannot overpower or outrun Krandel. It is useless.

The hunter perceives the change in my eyes and releases me. “Good man.”

I rub my arm and scowl.

“And now, before anything else unfortunate happens, let’s get you to that ceremony.”

Pride bruised by my swift defeat, I follow Krandel in fitful silence. I hate my cowardice as much as I hate my father. And yet, as the ceremonial grounds come in sight, I have something I didn’t before.

A name.

6. Amyrah

AMYRAH

RAINDROPS PRICK MY FACE like icy needles from the sky. My eyes flutter open. Springy moss and leaves form a damp cushion under my head. The scent of wet dirt fills me, and I dig my stiff fingers into the cool earth.

What happened?

I recall hearing a scream issue from the region of my chest, but it didn’t sound human. It had to be from something else, not me. My body aches everywhere, as though I’ve flung myself through a hundred fists and elbows. Or were they flung at me?

And I remember running. A wild, frantic chase. No, not a chase. An all-consuming need to find someone.

Not someone.My father.

Astrangled sob escapes me. What happened to him?

I swallow and try to make my mind focus, but my thoughts are a muddled blur. What knocked me out? There was a sudden blindness and then ... silence. Groaning, I press a palm to my forehead. It feels like I collided with a wall.

With painful effort, I push myself up and look around. Nothing but stoic trees, quivering ferns, and oblivious fungi encircle me. It seems I am alone, although I cannot shake the feeling of being watched.

A breeze picks up, and the treetops, obscured by obsidian darkness, converse among each other with whispers and creaks. Water slips off their leaves and slaps the soggy ground. The droplets on my skin become icy cold. I wrap my arms around my knees to ward off the chill, but my body shakes uncontrollably. I think of my cloak, which I left to dry on the line back home. The drizzle persists, becoming steadily heavier until my clothes are drenched, and my hair snakes in ribbons across my forehead. Water dashes in rivulets down my face, mingling with my tears.

I have to get up. I have to get moving.

But to what purpose? I have no idea where to begin the search for my pada. Continuing in the pitch-black night could be suicidal. And there is the unthinkable possibility he isn’t even alive. My gut twists so sharply, I feel I will be sick. The sensation soon abates, but only because something much more sinister has taken its place.

Maybe I should stay here, let myself sink into the earth, let the darkness claim me.