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A smirk stretches Myrzeth’s lips as his words hit their mark, but I choose to watch Amyrah’s face instead. Pale, but determined.Stay strong, my girl.

Her long hair bounces around her shoulders as she shakes her head. “You speak only lies.”

The Foremost turns to regard her. “Oh?”

“My only desire is to see this ténesomni broken. I could not care less about my own comfort.” She turns from him to the valefolk. “Don’t you see? Where there is true light, darkness fears to dwell.” Her clear eyes probe the faces of her people, desperate for them to understand, to believe. But they are too enslaved by fear to do anything so radical.

A collective roar splits the air. The kaligorven advance a few paces on the valefolk. Cries of alarm ring out as they approach, but when Myrzeth holds up his hand, they halt. I frown. How has he managed to control them—the very beings that have held us in bondage for centuries? It is absurd.

“Careful, dear niece. They do not appreciate your sentiments.”

She pushes her shoulders back and projects out into the night. “We should not be afraid of them. Don’t you see? One little word, one littlelight,is enough to ruin them.”

I close my eyes to hold back the tears. Is this how Ellehra looked as she made her final stand?

It was. I know it was.

Screams erupt from the far end of the gathering. The kaligorven are attacking.

My eyes dart to Myrzeth, no hint of surprise visible on his placid face.

“Do you see the price of your careless words yet, Amyrah?”

Her lip trembles.

“Peace, friends,” Myrzeth addresses the beasts, and the onslaught stills. Anxious energy pulses through the throng. “I feel your rage as if it were my own. This girl cannot be allowed to keep offending you in this manner. If it would appease you, I would offer her in exchange for your favor.”

No . . .

My soul is being burned right out of me, leeched from my body with excruciating pain. I will myself to move forward, but the gravelly voices of the kaligorven rise as a wall of ice to halt me.

We accept.

A mad rush of wind assails the clearing, prompting more screams from the valefolk. The Shrouded push themselves through the heart of the mob with alarming speed and spread themselves out in an oblong circle around the edge of the platform.

Through a small gap, I see Amyrah’s white face shaking with fiery determination.

Myrzeth hops off the stage and backs out of the ring slowly. “Do you have any final words?”

Her mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound. She tries again, but all she manages is a broken whisper. “I am not afraid.”

But they are not just darkness. They are living creatures, flesh and blood and tooth and claw. Her gift may protect her from shadows, like Ellehra’s did, but it will do nothing to hinder a physical force.

No one can survive this.

I gape at her, paralyzing denial making all this seem like a terrible, terrible dream. When her hands shudder up to her hair and her fingers run down the long strands, smoothing both the lock of hair and her mind with it, I wake up.

Elyon, give me strength.

As my brother-in-law raises his hand and turns his wrist to release the dozens of blood-thirsty kaligorven, my legs find their power. I throw myself into the circle right as the brutes’ claws dig into the earth to propel them toward her.

With more force than I could have anticipated, I lunge at my daughter and shove. I feel her body pressed briefly into my palms and wish to Elyon that I could keep her that close forever. But she lurches away from me, tumbling off the platform and out of the Shrouded’s reach. Her scent lingers in the gap she left—earth and rain and sweet blossoms all dancing together. When I look up, I see an infinitesimal flash of her horror-stricken eyes before I am swallowed by the ténesomni.

45. Belwyn

BELWYN

THE MOMENT BEFORE the kaligorven descend, Amyrah’s light flickers. Terror tries to drag me down to the earth.