Page 142 of Bloodwitch

But when she reached for the Abbot’s bleeding Threads, Aeduan lunged at her. “No.” He knocked her arm, and in that same instant, the Abbot’s sword whistled through the air. Right where Iseult had been.

A wisp of cold wind brushed against her. Then Aeduan was hauling Iseult backward, sideways, out of reach. Until they were the ones standing before the cave—and there was no missing just how fast the battle was thundering toward them now. Half-speed, if not more.

“Run,” Aeduan commanded, pushing Iseult behind him. “Run and do not look back.”

“I can cleave him,” she tried.

“Can… but should not. You do not want his mind inside yours.”

So Aeduan had figured that out then.

“I will handle Natan.”

“No.” Iseult gripped his forearm. “Come with me. I didn’t save you so you could die again.”

“I will be right behind,” he said, and she realized there would beno changing his mind. So she nodded and patted the bloodied coin beneath her shirt. “Find me.”

“Always,” he promised, and for a brief pause in the chaos, he looked into her eyes. So pale, so blue. When she had seen those eyes in Veñaza City, she had thought they were the color of understanding.

She had been right.

“Te varuje,” she told him. “Te varuje.”

Then Iseult did as Aeduan had ordered, and she ran.

FIFTY-SIX

The cavern had changed since yesterday. An ice-bridge now spanned overhead, cold coiling off it, while a harsh wind blustered and kicked.

How wind could build underground, Safi had no idea, but she suspected it wasn’t natural—and that it had something to do with the voices filling the darkness far across the cavern. Distant, echoing sounds that tangled inside her gut. That seemed to call to her, even as she knew such a thing made no sense.

Nothingin this place made sense.

Beside Safi, the Hell-Bards tried to catch their breaths while Vaness lay limp upon Zander’s shoulder.

“You know,” Caden said between gasps, “we have a saying in the Ohrins.Over the falls and into the rapids.That’s what this feels like, Safi. Where the hell have you taken us?”

“I too,” Lev panted, raising a hand, “would like an answer to this question.”

“Magic,” was all Zander offered, his mouth agape as he ogled the blue-lit door.

“I don’t know,” Safi admitted. “I found it by accident while I was evading the flame hawk, and now…” She shrugged, a helpless gesture—because really there was nothing else she could say.

“Well, where does it go?” Caden squinted into the darkness,inching closer to the cliff’s edge. “Those soldiers will find us eventually, you know. Assuming they aren’t already on their way. We need to get moving.”

“Magic,” Zander repeated, louder now, and pointing at the door. “Magic.”

“Yeah, Zan.” Lev patted his shoulder. “We know.”

Wind thrashed harder, pulling at Safi’s hair, and the distant voices pitched louder—loud enough for her to catch a single word:Threadbrother.

Safi snapped her gaze toward it, straining to see, straining to listen. Because that word had been shouted in Nubrevnan. And it had been shouted in a voice she knew.Hisvoice, even though he’d died in an explosion two weeks ago—

“Safi,” Caden said. “Are you listening?”

It can’t be,she thought, head shaking. It can’t be him. Merik’s dead, he’s dead.And yet, that voice had sounded exactly like she remembered from theJana. Just like she remembered from that night on a dusty road.

And these winds—could they be his?