Page 27 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Like my mesmer now, the ring was used to invade memories and dissolve thoughts or past events in the minds of others. But it would not leave even a glimmer of the memory behind. It could completely build a new life story, with new, deeply rooted memories. The old memories were lost to oblivion.

The consequences for selfish use or overuse meant a slow death.

“The Withering?” I looked up from the page.

“I’ve read the term several times and take it to mean a disease. One that slowly kills you from the inside out. Seems the more you use the Norns’ gift without their blessing, the more the path to death narrows and shortens.”

My stomach rolled. “What if . . . what if I’m not truly the one fated to use the ring, and I am merely part of the bloodlines?”

“We will know if you touch it, Mal.” Niklas flipped the page, pointing to a passage at the top. “But after reading this, I do not need to wonder if the ring will be yours. You are already showing signs of these abilities the more your mesmer grows.”

A lump knotted in my throat as I reread the accounts of past queens’ mesmer use, specifically of memory walking. I’d already walked with Kase through his mind. The ability to shadow memories, to restore a mind to its original state after being altered by another source of magic.

The queens of old did not use bone dust or breath to steal memories. In fact, those ways were considered primary, almost infantile sources of their mesmer. Queens, instead, resorted to touch; to blood connections as I’d done with Kase.

Except, the last queen was vowed, and it seemed her Alver vow gave her the power to merely use her desire to invade numerous heads at once. She stole memories not by touch, but by summoning the thoughts from her enemies’ heads.

“Almost like what you did with the skyds,” Niklas said softly as he watched my finger track the lines. “Shadows, much like Kase uses, invaded multiple heads at once in Skítkast. When the ring dons your finger, I’ve no doubt you will do all it says.”

But that was where my fear lived. If these were accurate, the power of the ring was terrifying. I reread the noted gifts. “The power to steal the memory of fate?”

Niklas lifted one shoulder. “Could be a way to alter fate. We know such power exists. Think of King Valen. His fate was changed by a fate worker.”

“But this.” I pointed to the most intriguing and frightening line. “What is this? Death to forget a life? Niklas, if one had the power to steal memories from bleeding Death, it would make someone practically invincible.”

Power could be the most terrifying thing of all. Folk fought wars for it, killed for it, tortured in its name.

“It does not seem like it can be done for personal use,” Niklas pointed to a line I’d skimmed over.

True enough. The ring did not make one immortal.

“Still, if you could do it for others, your warriors could die, and you could pull them back.”

“It is interesting, isn’t it,” Niklas said. “But there are consequences and limits to all mesmer. Even here—” He pointed to another passage with a sketch of the ring and runes on the band. “This hints that memory mesmer is more like fate mesmer than anything. The rune markings coat the whole band, but their size makes room for only four marks total.”

“Why does that matter?”

“I think,” he’d said, holding the ring close for inspection, “with the ring, you take mesmer from all the fated powers. Death. Look, this mark on the bottom is an inverted life rune. It’s literally the mark of death. Then here.” He rubbed his thumb over the drawing of a mark on the side of the ring. “But here is the rune for harvest, or a symbol of rewards from past actions. What does this symbolize?”

When I shrugged, Niklas rolled his eyes. “Our past, Malin. The past!”

Niklas made sure I believed his theories of the other two. A rune for knowledge in the present, he insisted meant a connection to the fate of our current life. Then the final rune was a mark of wisdom and moving forward.

“The future,” Niklas said. “Each of these runes means something related to fate. You have pieces of the Norns.”

“I suppose we’ll need to test it,” I said. “If you’re on the brink of death and I can bring you back, then perhaps I have the power to steal you from Death’s memory after all.”

Niklas and I fell into silence. I did not want the responsibility of taking a power capable of stealing memories from Death and fate. It seemed dangerous, tempting, and a gift that would be sought by the greedy and vicious forevermore.

But on the other hand, Ivar had murdered to keep the ring. Doubtless he knew the gifts the true heir would gain. He’d continue to use its protection until his bloodline was the last standing claim to the throne.

My fear of the queen’s ring did not matter.

We needed to find it. Soon.

CHAPTERNINE

THE NIGHTRENDER