Page 35

TYCHO

As Malin and I ride along, I’m so deep in thought that I don’t realize the raindrops trickling between the trees have turned to ice. When frost forms on our reins, Malin unstraps his bow.

“Tycho,” he says sharply. “Is it the one you know?”

For a moment, I’m not sure. My heart is a steady thrum in my chest, and I grab my own bow, just in case. The rain has turned to sleet around us, a cold wind sending the freezing droplets into our eyes. I shiver.

But then I recognize the feel of Nakiis’s magic. I hang the bow back over my shoulder. “It’s him.”

And then, because I’m tired and annoyed and my conversation with Malin has shaken too many shadows loose in my thoughts, I put two fingers in my mouth and blow a shrill whistle.

I don’t even see him coming. The black shape just suddenly appears between the trees, slamming into me so hard that I’m knocked off Mercy’s back. There’s a moment of complete weightlessness, followed by a painful meeting with the ground that rattles every bone in my body. We go skidding ten feet through the muddy mountainside until we come to a stop against a tree.

Nakiis lands on my chest again. This time he’s only got one hand on my throat. “I told you no whistling,” he says.

“Trust me, I’m already regretting it.” I wince and reach over my head to yank a branch out of my armor.

“Let me know if I should shoot him,” calls Malin.

“Eh, probably not,” I call back.

Nakiis draws back, affronted. “ Probably not?”

“Well, you did knock me off my . . .” I begin, but my voice trails off. The scraver is bleeding from a long wound under his ribs. It looks older, because the edges are crusted with scabs that look infected, though knocking me off my horse probably reopened it.

He’s bruised, too—at least, I think he is. His gray skin is mottled with darker splotches along his ribs and down one arm.

“You’re hurt,” I say in surprise. Rain continues trickling through the trees, but like before, Nakiis is all but pinning me to the ground. “Did someone shoot you? Let me up. I can help you.”

He casts a glance at Malin, and I add, “He won’t shoot you either. Tell him, Mal.”

“I won’t shoot,” he says flatly, but it’s not very convincing.

Nakiis sits back on his heels while I pull another twig out of my armor and sit up. I’m probably lucky he didn’t break my neck.

Now that I can look at him fully, I notice that wound on his ribs doesn’t look like an arrow strike anymore. It looks like a slice from a blade. His trousers are streaked and stained, too. They look like they’ve been patched and repaired in several spots. He’s also missing one of the weapons he wore the last time I saw him.

I lift a hand and nod toward the slice on his chest. “Do you want me to heal it?”

“You cannot.”

My eyebrows go up. “Iishellasan steel?”

“Yes.”

I glance at the empty sheath along his thigh. “Did someone take it from you?”

“Xovaar.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and we stare at each other in the rain for a bit. When I shift my weight, his entire frame goes tense, his wings flickering like he’s ready to take flight.

“Relax,” I say. “At least let me fix the bruising.”

When he doesn’t move further, I roll onto my knees and reach for his arm, where the worst of the bruising is. The first arrow wound from Malin is almost fully closed, but it’s still swollen and hot like it’s also infected. The sparks and stars flare in my blood, but like before, it’s obvious when healing begins, because the tension eases out of his frame.

“What happened?” I say, as the mottled bruising begins to melt away.

He stares back at me wordlessly, and an icy wind whips between us. I shiver—then realize the magic in this one feels different from his. I let go of his arm and scrabble to get a hand on a weapon, but Nakiis slaps a hand around my wrist, his claws digging in.

“No,” he says. “She is with me.”

But on the path, Malin already has an arrow nocked.

Nakiis glares up at him. “If you loose that arrow, soldier, I will not leave a wound for you to heal.”

“I’m not shooting!” Malin snaps. “But what was that?”

My heart is still pounding, but I stare back at Nakiis. “ She. There’s another scraver here?”

“Yes.”

I cast my gaze upward, into the trees. At first, I see nothing, but it’s only because I’m looking for a dark shape, a pair of night-colored wings like his. But then I spot a shimmer of purple well overhead, and I swallow.

“I see her,” says Malin, and Nakiis growls.

“Put away your bow,” I tell him, hoping I’m making the right choice.

He does.

The scraver is too far to see much detail at all, but I remember a scraver with purple markings on her skin crouching beside little Nora when the queen helped heal her injuries.

“She was in Briarlock,” I say.

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

Nakiis doesn’t answer this either, but magic carries her words down to me anyway.

— My name is Igaa, magesmith.

“Well met,” I call up to her. When my eyes return to Nakiis, I say, “She’s friendlier than you are.”

His eyes narrow, but he lets go of my wrist. I rest my fingertips against the broad muscle of his chest and let the magic work again.

He must have been in more pain than he was letting on, because he lets out a breath, and this time, his frame sags as the bruising disappears. I reach for the knife wound, and he shakes his head.

“Let me try,” I say. “Maybe I can heal the infection.”

After a moment, he nods again, and I lightly rest my fingertips over the wound. He hisses a breath, his fangs bared, but he’s very still.

I wasn’t really sure my magic would do anything at all, but the infection does begin to dissolve away, the swelling lessening.

“This looks like it’s days old,” I say to him. “I told you before. If you need help, you can come to me. I’ll help you.”

Nakiis says nothing, but from above, Igaa says, — I told him to return to you.

I glance up at her. “Do you know why Xovaar attacked him?”

—He knows Nakiis can identify many of the remaining magesmiths. Xovaar’s human allies do not know everyone the king has shared his magic with.

I turn that around in my head, and I look back at the injured scraver in front of me. The bruising is entirely gone, along with the arrow wound across his bicep, though that one left a scar. The knife wound is seeping blood, but the pus and infection are gone.

I don’t look at any of that, though. I’m studying his face. “You’re protecting me again.”

Nakiis scoffs and looks away. “Someone has to. The king’s magic is known, but he is surrounded by armed guards and soldiers. One could question their loyalty, but it would be hard for a small number of scravers to attack him successfully.” He pauses and glances at Malin, then back to me. “ You are not as protected.”

“You said that Xovaar wants what was taken. Does that mean he’s trying to reclaim magic somehow?”

He’s silent for a moment, regarding me.

Igaa’s voice finds me again—or maybe it finds us both.

— Trust him, Nakiis.

I snort under my breath and shift my gaze back to Nakiis. “Maybe she’s the one who should be my friend.”

“Are we friends, Tycho?”

There’s a note in his voice that gives me pause. It reminds me of that moment in the tent with Rhen, when he practically asked the same thing.

Before Rhen betrayed me by telling Grey what I’d confided in him.

“I think we could be,” I say.

He glances up at Igaa, then looks back at me. “You knew my father,” he says. “You knew the scravers were once treaty bound to remain in the ice forests of Iishellasa.”

“I know you left Iishellasa—and Iisak followed.”

Nakiis nods. “The last queen of Syhl Shallow would have been within rights to punish us both for breaking the treaty. She didn’t capture me, but she captured my father.”

“Yes,” I say. “But Grey negotiated for his freedom. And now that Lia Mara is in power, she wouldn’t restrict the scravers to Iishellasa. I told you that.”

“You did tell me,” he agrees. “And I believed you.” He glances up toward Igaa. “I returned to the ice forests with this news. Many were wary. Many did not believe it. But I convinced a small number to join me. To see.” He pauses. “And we found you embroiled in a battle.”

“Briarlock,” I say.

“Yes.”

I think of what happened in that battle, the way the scravers appeared to help—and then fled immediately. They must have been wary of Grey’s magic—or Lia Mara’s rule. But then the king and queen did nothing to go after them, because they wouldn’t. “So those scravers who helped us in Briarlock are the ones on your side,” I say.

“Yes.” Ice forms on the bark of the trees nearby. “Xovaar was not among them. He came later, when it became clear that we could cross the Frozen River without repercussions.”

— He resents the treaty , Igaa adds from above.

Nakiis nods. “We may have magic, but humans have us outnumbered. In the past, we lived in peace—and shared our magic, using Iishellasan steel. In the beginning, scravers did not realize humans would inherit the magical properties of our steel—but as I said, we were at peace. This was considered a blessing. But eventually, tensions grew among the magesmiths and the humans—and therefore among the scravers as well. When a human child died in the conflicts, the scravers were banished to Iishellasa, and the magesmiths fled Syhl Shallow. Again—the scravers meant no harm to humans, but we were treaty bound to remain in the ice forests. As time went on and previous queens refused to allow us to cross the Frozen River, many scravers grew to resent the treaty. Many of us wanted to leave.”

I’m studying him. “Is that why you left?”

“Yes.” He pauses. “But I meant no harm. I sought out a magesmith, as we were once allies. I thought perhaps we could approach the queen of Syhl Shallow together.” Another pause, and more ice forms around us. “But the magesmith tricked me, trapping me with her magic, using my power for her own will.”

With a start, I realize what he’s talking about. “Lilith,” I say.

The magesmith who nearly destroyed Emberfall. Who tortured Rhen and Grey. Who provoked the war between both countries.

Nakiis nods. “Yes. I did not keep this a secret—and perhaps I should have. Many of the others refuse to risk any further strife. They have no desire to live in peace with any of you. They simply want what was taken—so it can never be taken again.”

“But how?” I say—and as soon as I say the words, I know how.

“By killing you. Any magesmith they can find. Anywhere they sense the presence of magic. Anywhere they believe they may find a scrap of charmed steel.”

I already know Nakiis himself sensed my magic in the woods, when I was traveling with Malin. And it’s likely the other scravers sensed it when I was with the soldiers, too.

I think of everyone who has a ring of Iishellasan steel. Noah. Jake. Lia Mara. Princess Harper has one, but she doesn’t wear it often. But there are several artifacts in the castle there, just like they have here.

As I work this through, Malin says, “But if they’re only after the magic, why are they attacking innocent people?”

“The scravers know that magic is no longer welcome here. We are outnumbered. The best way for Xovaar to drive any magesmiths out of hiding is to convince more humans that magic is dangerous. On the other side of the border, that has been easy—Emberfall already has a bitter past with magic. But once Xovaar learned that the Truthbringers were also working against your king here in Syhl Shallow, he knew he would have allies on this side of the border as well.”

“The Truthbringers are willing to let their own people die, just to get rid of magic?” says Malin.

“Yes,” I say, realizing that they’ve been doing that all along. I think of Callyn in the hallway, mentioning the rumors that Grey was interrogating more citizens. I remember Alek standing in the throne room, the way he rallied enough people against me that Grey demanded the return of my rings that very instant. “They were willing to let the queen die, just to get rid of magic. They’re willing to go to war. Again.”

Nakiis nods. “Discontent toward the king has never been so high. A time will come when the scravers can rely on the Truthbringers to kill him—or Syhl Shallow will drive him out, and they can do it themselves. Either way, the attacks will continue until the magesmiths are revealed. I try to stop them when I can, but you saw how many of us were in Briarlock. We are few.” He pauses. “They are many.”

“Is this why you want my help? To stop Xovaar?”

“If it were him alone, I would not need your help. But there are hundreds who believe as he does. He is not the problem, Tycho. Now that the scravers have escaped the ice forests, they will not stop until they ensure that we cannot be trapped again.”

Hundreds. Hundreds of scravers attacking people on both sides of the border, trying to eradicate magic.

All while the Truthbringers are trying to do the same thing.

As much as I hate the discord between me and Grey, I know what I need to do. “I need to tell the king.”

“The king cannot help,” says Nakiis.

“He has magic ,” I say sharply. “And he’s had a lot more practice than me.”

“I will not bind myself to your king,” Nakiis says. “And he cannot stand against them alone.”

He’s said something like that before, and it makes me stop short. “Is that what you intend to do? Bind yourself to me ?” I hesitate, trying to work it out—and I realize what he said about the magesmith Lilith. “Does it let me access your magic?”

He says nothing, and I think back to the time we met, when I was fifteen, when his father had just been killed in the battle against Lilith. I remember begging Grey to heal his wounds, and as soon as it was done, Nakiis fled.

He hasn’t answered, so I move closer. “It does, doesn’t it?” I say. “That’s what happened before. That’s how she trapped you.”

Nothing.

“Please,” I say desperately. I look up at Igaa, beseeching. “Please just tell me.”

For a moment, neither of them speak, and the only sound is the light rain filtering through the trees.

But Nakiis finally says, “Yes. You would have access to my magic.” He pauses. “Not just mine. All of ours.”

I wait as the implications of that sink in.

“That is how Lilith was able to hold such a grip on Emberfall for so long,” Nakiis adds. “Once the link is forged, it cannot be broken until one of us dies.”

“So I’d have your magic forever,” I say.

“Or until he kills you,” Malin says.

Nakiis screeches at him, and it’s so shrill that we both wince. “Or until he uses that magic to trap me , soldier.” Ice slicks the entire length of the tree now, and I can see his fangs. “Until he realizes just how much power he has, and then my people suffer because of it.”

Malin inhales sharply, ready to fire back, but I step forward and grab his arm.

“Stop,” I say quietly. “Stop.”

Because I suddenly understand. Nakiis’s hesitation, his wariness, his reluctance—they all make sense.

And considering everything I’ve gone through, it should never have taken me this long.

I forgave Prince Rhen because I know a bit of what he endured from Lilith. I knew she tortured him, and she tortured the king—all using magic. When Prince Rhen had me chained up on that wall, I knew he was making a terrible choice to protect his people.

I never really thought about what Nakiis might have endured at Lilith’s hands—or how that would affect him now.

He had an arrow through his wing, and he barely let me near him. He barely lets me near him now .

I keep my voice low, because I know he’ll hear me. “I told you before,” I say. “If you need my help, I’ll help you. I won’t steal your power. I won’t trap you.” I pause and glance up at Igaa. “I’ll help you and your people.”

He regards me through the rain, but the ice begins to melt.

“But you have to let me help you,” I say. “If scravers are killing people and we could stop it, we should stop them now .”

“ Now? They will try to kill you, Tycho. As soon as they know. The magic will not be subtle. They will feel it, and they will attack. There are still too many of them, and far too widespread. We must bide our time.”

“Then I’ll tell Grey. He can call up the army, and we can—”

“There is a reason these attacks are isolated and widespread,” Nakiis says. “Your army cannot march on them.” He pauses. “And once you have this power, you will be more powerful than your king. If you tell him, he will not be an ally. He will lock you away where I cannot get to you.”

I inhale sharply to reject the very idea of that—but I can’t. “Nakiis, tell me what you want. How do we move forward from here?”

“I am not ready to lend my magic to yours. Until then, I will continue doing what I can.”

“You could be killed before you’re ready,” I say.

At that, his frame seems to sag, and his wings droop, just a little. “Indeed,” he says. “So could you.”

Now it’s my turn to sag. As always, my life is bound to someone else’s problems. He will lock you away where I cannot get to you.

I want to deny it, but I can’t. Grey would. He absolutely would.

But maybe I do have one option. I look at Nakiis. “If we have to wait, then I need you to send word to Emberfall.”

“To Emberfall!” He actually sounds affronted.

“Yes. Prince Rhen’s guards wouldn’t let you get close to the castle, but you could get to Jax. I need you to find him and tell him why I’ve been detained.”

He stares back at me, his eyes black and implacable.

When he says nothing, I rush on. “Please. Nakiis, please . I beg of you. I have no way to send word. He has no idea what’s happening.” To my surprise, my chest tightens, and I try to shake it off. It doesn’t work. “ You won’t let me help. Grey won’t let me leave. I know you’re at risk, too. I know you’re trying to stop Xovaar. Maybe I have no right to ask. But Jax is alone, and the other soldiers already think he’s a target. I don’t . . . ? I don’t even know—”

I break off sharply, because I can’t finish that sentence. The rain pours down, and I have to swallow.

I don’t even know if he’s alive.

“Tycho.” The scraver’s hand falls on my shoulder, his claws pressing into my skin. A whip of wind blasts around us. “I will go.”

I don’t have a chance to say anything in response. Before I’ve even realized he’s agreed, before I even have time to give him a proper message , his wings snap wide, and he’s gone.