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    The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set: Nocturne, Solis, Monstrum, Nemesis and Inferno
    The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set: Nocturne, Solis, Monstrum, Nemesis and Inferno
    The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set: Nocturne, Solis, Monstrum, Nemesis and Inferno
    Ebook1,815 pages29 hours

    The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set: Nocturne, Solis, Monstrum, Nemesis and Inferno

    By Kat Ross

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Nocturne, a wilderness of eternal night.
    Solis, a wasteland of endless day.

    It’s been a thousand years since the Avas Vatras tried to burn the world to ashes. A thousand years since they were imprisoned in the arid death zone called the Kiln. But revenge is a dish best served cold—even, apparently, by the children of fire. As war brews again, a young woman named Nazafareen must learn to control her own volatile power to stop the creatures whose mad king sundered the realm into light and dark.

    Praise for the Fourth Talisman

    "A historical fantasy that crackles with electricity... Ross plots with Olympian vigor, packing her alternate version of Persia with complex characters and a multilayered mythos. A complicated follow-up that pushes its cast to the physical and emotional brink." – Kirkus Reviews

    “If you haven't read this series, you definitely need to get on it. Like yesterday.” -Haddie’s Haven

    “The world of Nocturne and Solis is comparable to the expansive fantasy worlds found in epics by Tamora Pierce, Cassandra Clare, and Sarah J. Maas. With her lyrical prose, expansive world-building, and mastery of various voices, Ross is my new favorite for long-running fantasy epics.” –Crazy for YA

    “The world building is excellent. The book is fast-paced. What else can I say? Kat Ross hits another one out of the park.” –I Love a Good Book

    "Absolutely fantastic! From page one it just hit the ground running... Ross has managed to create something truly magical, beautiful and complex." –Rattle the Stars

    “Perfect for fans of City of Brass... As much as I loved the characters, I have to say the plot in this story stole the show. I could not put this book down. I loved it, I loved it, I loved it.” –Book Briefs

    “This series is an adrenaline rush.” –Books2Blog

    “A passionate and riveting action-packed fantasy that will draw readers into a world of danger, deception and powerful forces... Fast paced, exciting and with so much going on, Nocturne was a superb read and leaves me dying to delve into the next novel Solis as soon as I can!” –The Rest Is Still Unwritten

    “The storytelling is lush and the adventure had me burning the midnight oil.” –Love Books Group

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKat Ross
    Release dateMar 10, 2021
    ISBN9781734618440
    The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set: Nocturne, Solis, Monstrum, Nemesis and Inferno
    Author

    Kat Ross

    Kat Ross worked as a journalist at the United Nations for ten years before happily falling back into what she likes best: making stuff up. She's the author of the new Lingua Magika trilogy, the Fourth Element and Fourth Talisman historical fantasy series, the Gaslamp Gothic paranormal mysteries, and the dystopian thriller Some Fine Day. She loves myths, monsters and doomsday scenarios. Come visit her at www.katrossbooks.com!

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      Book preview

      The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set - Kat Ross

      The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set

      THE FOURTH TALISMAN BOXED SET

      KAT ROSS

      Acorn

      The Fourth Talisman Boxed Set

      First Edition

      Copyright © 2021 by Kat Ross

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      This story is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

      CONTENTS

      Map of Nocturne

      Map of Solis

      Nocturne

      1. Lacuna

      2. Faravahar

      3. Breaker

      4. The Scarred Man

      5. A Ship from the Sky

      6. Partings

      7. Night Flight

      8. Shadow and Flame

      9. Something Wicked

      10. To Samarqand

      11. An Ill-Fated Knife

      12. They Tried to Break the World

      13. Some New Devilry

      14. The Umbra

      15. Children of Fire

      16. A Fey Doorway

      17. The Shadowlands

      18. Thena and the Witches

      19. Footprints

      20. A Blade in the Dark

      21. Culach’s Folly

      22. Trapped

      23. The Brazen Bull

      24. The Storm

      25. A Pit of Vipers

      26. The High Holdfast

      27. A Message

      28. Bonded

      29. Daníel/Demetrios

      30. The Maiden Keep

      31. The Prisoner Herodotus

      32. Quarry

      33. An Unbroken Pitcher

      34. They Bend Light

      35. The Cold Cells

      36. Ghosts

      37. Parthenoi

      38. Names

      39. An Unlikely Savior

      40. Gerda’s Globe

      Solis

      1. Mistress

      2. The Maenads

      3. The Gambler

      4. A Scarlet Thread

      5. The Hard and the Soft

      6. The Stork’s Nest

      7. Visions

      8. The Viper

      9. Psyche and Eros

      10. A Handful of Dust

      11. Apollo’s Vengeance

      12. A Sickness of the Soul

      13. Summoned

      14. The Rock of Ariamazes

      15. Njala

      16. The Prodigal Son

      17. Child of Night

      18. Watcher in the Tower

      19. The Fourth Element

      20. Purified

      21. The Adept

      22. A Commission

      23. Crossroads

      24. The Serpent Crown

      25. North Star

      26. Nicodemus

      Monstrum

      1. Mother of Storms

      2. She Comes from the Depths

      3. Hyena at the Feast

      4. Sol Invictus

      5. Victor’s Stupid Plan

      6. Huntress Moon

      7. For the Love of Fair Caecilia

      8. Ash Vareca

      9. New Hope

      10. Such a Charming Monster

      11. A Meeting at the Mer

      12. Khaf-Hor

      13. The Language of Dust

      14. Black Pearl

      15. Breath of the Nahresi

      16. Meb the Shark

      17. The Traveler

      18. Megaera’s Even Stupider Plan

      19. Suncups for Julia

      20. We All Go a Little Mad Sometimes

      21. Lords of Sky and Stone

      22. Leap of Faith

      23. Shades of the Undead

      24. The Drowned Lady

      25. Look on My Works, Ye Mighty, and Despair!

      26. A Toast to the Departed

      27. Magnus the Rather Unpleasant

      28. Daughter of Storms

      29. What Rough Beast?

      30. The Last Laugh

      Epilogue

      Nemesis

      Prologue

      1. The Lost Prince of Val Tourmaline

      2. Reunions

      3. Kallisto’s Staff

      4. A Bargain

      5. The Ones We’ve Been Waiting For

      6. Apollo’s Arrow

      7. Victor’s Folly

      8. A Visitor from Beyond

      9. The Mask Falls Away

      10. To the Umbra

      11. Déjà Vu All Over Again

      12. Ashes to Ashes

      13. Mirrors

      14. The Battle of Delphi

      15. Caligula

      16. Cat and Mouse

      17. Death Becomes Her

      18. An Uneasy Alliance

      19. Thief of Hearts

      20. Weddings and Wind Ships

      21. A Gilded Cage

      22. The Horn of Helheim

      23. A Drop to Drink

      24. The Red Hills

      25. Spawn of the Kiln

      26. There Will Be Blood

      27. Collar Them All

      28. A Test of Faith

      29. The Beast at the Door

      Epilogue

      Inferno

      Epigram

      1. Red Dawn

      2. Flesh and Blood

      3. A Royal Repast

      4. Sacramentum

      5. Games

      6. The Five

      7. Icebjorn

      8. The House Behind the Veil

      9. The Drowned Lady

      10. Necropolis

      11. A Bargain

      12. The Viper’s Den

      13. The Last Thread Snaps

      14. Praetorian

      15. The Nahresi

      16. Warrior Witch

      17. Reborn

      18. Aelia

      19. A Sprig of Feverfew

      20. What a Wonderful World

      21. The Tyrant’s Revenge

      22. House Baradel

      23. The Holdfasts

      24. Sky Garden

      25. Feckless Daughter

      26. Domitia’s Epitaph

      27. The Sun God Speaks

      28. Anzillu

      29. Water Dogs

      30. To the Rock

      31. Caligula

      32. Reunions

      33. Pompeii

      34. Merchant Prince

      35. The Compact

      36. The Beginning

      The Fourth Empire

      About the Author

      Also by Kat Ross

      Characters in the Series

      Glossary

      NOCTURNE

      BOOK 1

      1

      LACUNA

      Nazafareen raised the hood of her cloak, tucking errant strands of light brown hair behind her ears. Cool air crept through the crack in the door, redolent of pine and spruce. She waited for six long heartbeats. Nothing stirred in the night. She knew Darius would be occupied in his workshop. Sentries patrolled the Valkirin border farther out, but with care she could avoid them. They weren’t looking for anyone leaving.

      She slipped into the shadows of the trees. Artemis the Huntress Moon rode at the farthest point of her long elliptical orbit, so distant she looked like another star in the inky heavens. Selene hid behind the mountains to the north. Only cool white Hecate peeked through the leafy canopy above, but she was the smallest of Nocturne’s three moons and cast the faintest glimmer of light.

      Nazafareen couldn’t see in the dark like the daēvas, who had been born to eternal night. She was a child of the sun—even if it was lost to her now. So she made her way with caution, soft rabbit-skin boots silent on the carpet of pine needles. The light of the lumen crystal in her window faded to a pinprick, then vanished altogether. She felt small and alone in the dark wood—but also blessedly free. Nazafareen had only left the Dessarian compound twice in her time among the daēvas, both occasions unsanctioned. They would never let her roam on her own. Her very presence there was a closely guarded secret.

      Once clear of the last line of houses, she relaxed a little. The forest was sparse and open, with little undergrowth to snag her feet. She passed stands of pale bonewood—the daēvas made armor from that—and spreading oaks, skirted shallow pools full of whistling frogs that fell silent at an alien presence. She took the same path she had last time, following a resonance almost too faint to detect, like a snatch of music on the wind.

      She climbed a rise. The forest thinned to open meadow and she got her first sight of Hecate, three-quarters full, floating above the distant mountains like a silver coin. Despite chafing at her confinement, Nazafareen had come to love the way the deep twilight softened the edges of things like a velvet cloak. The brightness of the stars and subtle coloring of the moons.

      The great forest of the Danai had never known the touch of summer or winter, spring or autumn, but the passage of the seasons could be tracked by the travels of Artemis the Huntress. Her orbit took a full year to complete but when she returned, her light supposedly made it almost as bright as true day—solar day. The tides would surge, covering the land for leagues. Nazafareen hoped to see that. Darius had told her what an ocean was, but she still found it hard to imagine so much water.

      She crossed the meadow and descended into a thickly wooded valley. Finally, she saw a greenish flicker through the trees ahead. Her steps slowed, the hair on her arms lifting.

      She had reached another sort of border.

      The gate to the Dominion waited ten paces ahead. It looked like a rectangular doorway with no frame—just a glowing hole in the night. The surface had the shimmery quality of running water.

      Nazafareen stepped closer. And closer still.

      Two months before, Darius had carried her through the gate in his arms, nearly dead from her own fey power. Breaker, they called her. A mortal with daēva blood and the ability to shatter magic. She had drawn too much of it.

      A lake. A green-eyed man with a scar and an evil sickness inside him. The crowns of trees burning like torches.

      She dimly remembered a battle. Her bond with Darius flaring to life and being snuffed out again when they passed through the gate to Nocturne. It was why the daēvas were hiding her. Because that green-eyed man was a Valkirin, the clan that lived in the mountains, and if he ever discovered she still lived….

      Nazafareen stared at the gate in queasy fascination. Her own world—her past—lay on the other side, but she had no memory of it. Darius said she’d broken a ward that contained a spell of forgetfulness. The backwash had wiped her own mind clean.

      I want to know who I was. Who I am. I have the right.

      She sighed, absently rubbing the stump of her missing right hand. It had been a stupid impulse to come here. Fleeing through the gate wouldn’t restore what was lost. Magic had erased her past and only magic could restore it.

      Darius seemed to think her condition was irreversible, but Nazafareen refused to accept that. Someone, somewhere, knew something and she intended to find them. Except that the daēvas wouldn’t let her leave. And part of her didn’t want to go. Not without Darius.

      She stood before the gate as Hecate set. The lunar night was nearly over. Soon Selene would appear, her bright yellow face heralding the dawn of the lunar day. It was time to return before they found her gone. She started back through the trees, the scant light growing dimmer by the moment. True night was coming, the brief period where none of the three moons was visible. The length of it varied from day to day. The daēvas called it the lacuna and it might last anywhere from a few seconds to an hour or more.

      Nazafareen scanned the sky. A thin veil of clouds had swept in. So much for starlight, she thought. Let’s hope it’s a short one tonight. She pulled her cloak tighter and retraced her steps through the valley, moving as quickly as she dared.

      Nazafareen paused at a soft sound behind her, like a breeze rustling the leaves—except that there was no wind. She wished she’d brought the lumen crystal. There were animals in these woods. Mostly small game, but Darius’s father Victor had seen wolves near the mountains. Her hand dropped to her belt knife.

      One of the frog pools shimmered just ahead. Hecate sank beneath the rim of the sky. The forest seemed to take a last, lingering breath of anticipation. She glimpsed an owl gliding from branch to branch in the canopy. And then the lacuna descended, as dark as the bottom of the sea.

      She’d always been safe at home with her lumen crystal when true night fell. Sometimes Darius came by and they played a board game with little wooden animals. The pieces had curving horns and barbed tails and different magical powers. All were cunningly carved to the smallest detail. Nazafareen usually won, though she often cheated when he wasn’t looking. A petty victory, but sweet nonetheless.

      She glanced up, hoping the clouds would pass. Just a little starlight to guide me…

      The dry rustling came again, behind her and low to the ground. Moving fast.

      Before she could blink, thick coils of scaled muscle wrapped her in an iron grip. Nazafareen grunted, scrabbling for the knife. Her fingers brushed the hilt too late. It slithered higher, pinning her arms. She fought to draw breath against a crushing weight on her chest. The knife slipped from her grasp as she tumbled down a muddy bank. Cold water closed over her head.

      Darius had warned her about the forest. She got the feeling he knew about her occasional wanderings. He hadn’t said so directly, or even asked her to stop. Perhaps he knew she needed to get away from time to time. That she’d go mad if she didn’t.

      There are snakes, he said. By the way.

      Of course, he’d neglected to mention how bloody big they were.

      Down they sank to the silty bottom. Nazafareen swallowed her panic and sought the Nexus, that place of nothing and everything where elemental magic could be touched. It wasn’t easy with the life being squeezed out of her, but she knew it was her last hope.

      She reached for earth and focused on the snake’s slender articulated spine. Darius would be able to snap it in an instant. She tried to do the same, bubbles of air slipping through her lips—the last air she might ever taste—but earth was the heaviest element to wield and she’d always been terrible with it. Once, as a lesson, he’d set her to moving grains of sand from one anthill to another. The ants had accomplished the same task much faster.

      A glint in the corner of her eye.

      Frail moonlight lancing through the water, touching…something.

      Her belt knife?

      Blood pounding in her temples, she reached for water—and felt it stir feebly in response.

      Come, she urged. Come!

      A weak current lifted the knife, drifting it toward her open hand. As soon as the hilt touched her palm, Nazafareen stabbed at the cold reptilian flesh, driving the blade deep. For an awful moment, the snake clenched tighter. She twisted the knife. And then the coils binding her loosened just enough to pull her arm free. A second later, she plunged the blade into the snake’s flat black eye. It sank away into the depths.

      Nazafareen dragged herself from the pond and lay on the bank, chest heaving. After long minutes, the frogs resumed their peeping song. She laughed softly, though it hurt. The Valkirins didn’t need to come after her. She was doing a fine job getting killed all on her own. If the lacuna had lasted a few seconds longer…. She rolled to her side, wincing. Then she stood and walked back to House Dessarian.

      Selene had risen in the west when the first outbuildings came into view. The walls were live white birch, their boles and branches weaving together like clasped fingers to form a leafy roof. Every sixth tree grew crookedly away from its neighbor halfway up the trunk, creating an oval window. The dwellings of House Dessarian were not laid out in orderly rows, the way she heard mortals built their cities. These were haphazard, most barely within shouting distance of each other. Most of the daēvas still slept and no one saw her slinking through the shadows like a wet cat.

      Finally, she reached the house they’d given her, smaller than the others but cozy enough.

      She opened the door—and found Darius sitting at her kitchen table.

      Daēvas looked much like mortals, if a touch…feral. There weren’t any obvious differences. It was more the way they moved. Lithe and graceful at rest, blurringly quick when they chose. They were stronger and healed faster. They could wield earth, air and water. But they had a weakness, a fatal one.

      Fire.

      Which was why the fourth element was banned in Nocturne. Why the daēvas made their home on the dark side of the world.

      Nazafareen masked her surprise at finding him there. Darius kept his wavy brown hair short, a holdover from his time as a soldier. As always, she found the intensity of his bright blue gaze disconcerting. He raised an eyebrow at her sodden cloak.

      Where have you been? he asked in a level tone.

      I felt like a swim, she said, daring him to contradict her.

      Fully dressed?

      It was a little cool out for my taste.

      Darius barked a laugh. You’re an awful liar. His expression grew serious. It’s not safe, Nazafareen. You know that. At least take me with you next time.

      She hung her cloak on a peg and sat down across from him.

      I’m sorry, Darius, but I feel a prisoner here. I know that’s my own fault. The Danai were kind to take me in. But I…I wanted to see the gate.

      He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. You went all the way to the gate? Are you mad?

      Just to see it. That’s all.

      Darius exhaled. To see it. Why?

      I don’t know. She felt suddenly angry—not at him. At everything. Curiosity. I don’t wish to talk about it.

      Darius looked away.

      Now you’ve hurt him.

      What’s that? Nazafareen asked in a softer tone, pointing to a cloth-wrapped bundle on the table.

      A gift. It’s why I came.

      May I see it?

      Of course.

      She felt him watching her as she struggled to undo the twine with one hand. Darius knew her too well to offer his help. Finally, she remembered her knife, holding the bundle in place with her stump and slicing it open. The cloth fell away.

      Oh. She looked up at him in delight. Darius, it’s beautiful.

      He smiled. It’s called an astrolabe. I made it from yew.

      Nazafareen turned the wooden sphere over in her hands. Three moons, each of a different size and distance, spun around it on circles attached to a polar axis.

      I’ll show you how to move them to correspond with the heavens, he said with a warm smile. Then you can track the return of Artemis.

      Nazafareen smiled back. There was something stern and unyielding in him that only seemed to soften when they were alone together. She fiddled with the astrolabe for a moment, sliding the moons around and around. It was a clever thing, and cunningly made. His skill with wood amazed her considering the short time they’d been there.

      Thank you, she said solemnly. It’s a wonderful gift. But I have nothing for you.

      His gaze held her. Let me teach you. I enjoy it.

      We’ve tried—

      It takes time. And you’re stubborn.

      Me? Nazafareen laughed. You make a boulder seem pliable. She thought of the snake. But perhaps it wouldn’t hurt.

      In truth, she desperately wished she could use elemental power like the daēvas. The Danai—Darius’s clan—were especially strong in earth. They nurtured the only forests in the world. The master craftsmen of House Dessarian and the six other houses made furniture and weapons and other items for trade, commanding premium prices for their products.

      Then let us begin with a simple talisman. Extinguish the lumen crystal and then light it again.

      They spent the next few hours practicing with air, which Nazafareen found the easiest element to work with. She’d grown more adept at finding the Nexus and could feel the torrents of power swirling around her. The difficulty lay in making them do what she wanted. She could manage the lumen crystal, but trying to move objects—even small ones like their game pieces—left her swearing through gritted teeth. Darius was patient as always, though the man could be relentless in his own quiet way. When she finally upended the entire board, not using the power, he laughed and slid his chair back.

      You’re tired, he said, rising. And I have work to do. He paused at the door. But I want you to promise me you won’t return to the gate alone.

      Nazafareen stared at him. She wanted to trust him. But the secrets he kept had become a chasm between them that grew wider by the day, even if he refused to see it. All her frustrations boiled over.

      Then tell me everything. She held up her stump. Tell me how I lost this.

      He flinched away from her gaze. I already have. We were soldiers—

      Yes, yes. I know the story by heart. Your words hardly vary when you tell it. But it rings false. What was the purpose of the bond? Who forged the cuffs and why? How did you come to be born in my world when your kin are here?

      For a moment, he looked as though he might speak. His eyes searched hers, but then a door seemed to close.

      It doesn’t matter, he said with quiet desperation. Truly it doesn’t, Nazafareen.

      She folded her arms. You may think you’re protecting me, but the not knowing is worse. Did I do something wrong? Was I some kind of monster?

      No. He turned away. Not you.

      2

      FARAVAHAR

      Darius strode into the darkness, hand instinctively dropping to his hip. No sword hung there anymore, yet in moments of anger, he found himself reaching for it just the same.

      I am no longer the satrap’s dog, sent out with a pat on the head to hunt and kill, he thought savagely. Those days are over.

      If only she would let it go. Darius would be happy to trade places with her. To not remember the horrors of the empire. If he’d cared to analyze his own reluctance—which he didn’t—he might have found a tangled thread of self-loathing at the heart of it. But Darius had learned from an early age to lock his feelings away and try to forget them. It was how he’d survived.

      So he went straight to his workroom and picked up a chisel instead, delicately chipping away at a piece of ash he was carving into a figurine. Bonewood swords and bows were the most popular items they traded with the Marakai, but Darius refused to make weapons.

      Nazafareen misunderstood. He hadn’t lied to her, not precisely. He’d told her they’d served as soldiers to a crumbling empire, what was called a bonded pair. How they had fought the undead Druj together, and even worse things. How Nazafareen had given her hand to save him—though he’d been vague about the details. And how Neblis, the daēva queen who controlled the Druj armies, had summoned her brother Culach through the gate that linked their two worlds. Nazafareen used her power to defeat Culach’s invasion but she’d paid a high price, losing her memories and nearly her life.

      It was all true.

      But her instincts were also correct. Darius had not told her everything.

      He paused, the piece of ash in his hand forgotten, and glanced at a small lacquered box in the corner where he kept his cuff. Pure gold and engraved with the image of a snarling griffin, the cuff was a talisman that required fire to work. Once, when Nazafareen wore its match around her wrist, the cuffs had contained their bond. He missed it desperately.

      If he told her the truth—all of it—she would see the bond as an evil thing, and he couldn’t bear that. So he had…glossed over certain things. And sworn his father Victor and mother Delilah to secrecy about it.

      Darius felt himself grow calmer as he shaped the piece of wood, using both tools and trickles of earth power. Working wood was the place where he lost himself, where he escaped from the simmering tension with Nazafareen. He loved her, perhaps too much.

      She thinks I love her for who she used to be, but in truth she was the same in all the ways that matter. If only she wasn’t so stubborn…

      A heavy tread on the stairs announced the arrival of his father.

      I’m heading out to the border, Victor said by way of greeting. I thought you might come.

      I’m busy, Darius replied, briefly glancing up and returning to his work.

      He’d said no repeatedly, but Victor wouldn’t stop asking. He was a large man, taller than Darius with broad shoulders and black hair. Victor still wore a sword, though the other Danai carried bows. He’d bought one for Darius from the Marakai traders. Darius didn’t want it. He’d given it to Nazafareen instead; even one-handed, she was deadly with a blade. Victor hadn’t been offended. Instead, he’d taken to sparring with her. The two were much alike in some ways.

      We could use someone with your skill, both as a tracker and fighter, Victor persisted. He glanced out the window. Galen is coming.

      Every day since they’d come to Nocturne, Victor led a patrol to the northern reaches of the forest, where the River Arnor marked the end of the Danai lands and the foothills of the Valkirin mountains began their sharp rise from the earth. Val Moraine, the ancestral seat of their enemies, lay a mere twenty leagues beyond the river. So far, the border had been quiet.

      It’s a chance to get to know your brother, Victor said.

      Half-brother, Darius replied. He and Galen had different mothers. Victor didn’t see it, but Darius got the impression Galen didn’t like him very much. And I’ve told you before. I don’t wish to be a soldier anymore, not even for you.

      His father sighed. We’re doing this to protect Nazafareen.

      Are you? Darius lay down the chisel and picked up a rasp. I wonder sometimes.

      Victor scowled, his dark brows drawing together. What does that mean?

      Never mind.

      Say it.

      Darius looked up. All right. You have a grudge against Culach and his entire holdfast.

      His father’s dark eyes flashed. Am I the only one who understands they’re still a threat? We should finish them now, while they’re weakened. But Tethys won’t listen. She’s afraid of starting a war.

      And you aren’t? Darius shook his head. Haven’t you had enough of fighting?

      And what about Nazafareen? Will she hide here forever? That’s no life.

      The words came too close to what Darius had been thinking himself. He could tell she was nearing a breaking point. Neither of them truly fit in here. The Danai tolerated her for Victor’s sake, but she was a mortal—and she had enemies.

      You’re right. Which is why I think we should leave.

      And go where?

      Darius had considered the matter carefully. Even if they went to a distant Danai settlement, she could still be found.

      The Isles of the Marakai.

      Victor frowned. Have you discussed this with her?

      Not yet. I’ll ask Tethys first. See if she can make arrangements the next time they come to trade.

      Running away, Victor said with flat disapproval.

      Call it what you will. At least she’ll be safe. He gave Victor a long look. Don’t tell her until I talk to Tethys.

      Victor shook his head. You keep too many secrets. It will poison you both.

      Darius glanced out the window to where Galen waited with a group of young daēvas. They worshipped Victor. He was a charismatic man, handsome in a brutal way, the hardships he’d suffered writ across his face. Victor was a near legend at House Dessarian. He’d vanished through the gate to the shadowlands more than two hundred years before and his sudden return—with a new wife and son, and mortal girl with strange powers—had caused quite a stir.

      Not everyone was glad to see him. Victor had recruited friends for his misadventure, most of whom hadn’t come back. But the younger daēvas—the ones who didn’t know better—were quite taken with him. Some had even started to wear swords in imitation of their returned hero. Darius knew Victor hadn’t told them the whole truth either.

      I’ll tell her about the Marakai tomorrow, he said.

      You should tell her all of it. Victor studied him. If she loves you, it won’t change anything.

      When Darius didn’t respond, he turned and headed back down the stairs, to Galen and the other Danai sentries. Darius watched out the window as they vanished like mist into the woods.

      He returned to the figurine he was carving. A bearded man with spreading eagle wings. It was one of the queer aspects of this world that it mirrored the one he had come from in many ways. The faravahar was the symbol of the Prophet, whom the mortals revered in Samarkand—just as they had in the empire. This piece would be shipped off through the Marakai to the Persian cities of Solis, where such religious trinkets were sold on the streets.

      Darius used to wear one around his own neck. He’d given it to Nazafareen when they’d ridden into the Dominion to find Victor. He still believed in the Way of the Flame—good thoughts, good words, good deeds—even if he hated the magi. Dark thoughts crowded in again.

      Darius picked up the chisel again.

      3

      BREAKER

      Nazafareen changed out of her wet clothes, pulling on a fresh tunic and trousers. She was still angry but more than that, she felt restless, unmoored. She despised sitting around doing nothing. Victor refused to let her join his patrols lest she be seen. She couldn’t learn to shape wood with only one hand. And her only real power was both useless and dangerous. Like the cuffs, the breaking magic drew on fire. Using too much had set a blaze in her own body, an inferno that was only extinguished when she passed through the gate to Nocturne.

      But she might have other talents she didn’t know about. It all came back to that. If nothing else, restoring her memory would make her feel whole again. Then she could decide where she belonged—Nocturne, or back in her own world.

      Nazafareen stared at the scattered playing pieces on the table. She was tired of being told what to do. Tired of waiting for others to move her about as they saw fit. If Darius wouldn’t tell her the truth, she’d find someone who would. Not Victor—he made excuses every time she sought him out. And Delilah, Darius’s mother, had never liked her.

      But Tethys…she might know things.

      Nazafareen had met the matriarch of House Dessarian only once, when Tethys came to inspect this mortal woman Victor’s son had dragged back with him. She’d uttered a few terse words of welcome, clearly insincere, and then taken her leave in a swirl of green silks. Nazafareen recalled her as tall and whip-thin, with an ability to loom that rivaled Victor’s.

      Tethys had never come again, but Nazafareen knew where she lived. So she gathered her courage and made her way through the woods to a glen where a ring of junipers poked like spears from the earth. The path led to a narrow gap in the trees. Nazafareen followed it through and paused, inhaling the mingled perfume of a hundred different plants. This must be Tethys’s night garden, though it seemed too simple a word for what she’d created. Nazafareen’s fingers brushed a tangle of vines with velvety, half-open buds—then yanked back as a hidden thorn pricked her thumb. She sucked on it and tasted blood. Better to look than touch, perhaps. All the flowers were dark, bruised colors: eggplant purple, wine red, violet blue. Fireflies flashed on and off in the undergrowth like tiny yellow lanterns.

      Nazafareen drew a steadying breath, awed by the fairytale quality of the place. At first glance, the garden seemed to have been left to run riot, but closer inspection revealed a master’s hand at work. A subtle order to the chaos. Nazafareen knew all the plants and trees in the Danai lands fed on moonlight. Exactly how was a jealously guarded secret.

      She found Tethys kneeling on a patch of newly-turned earth, planting seedlings with glossy heart-shaped leaves. Tethys had the same dark hair and bird-of-prey nose as Victor and looked only a decade older, although her true age was hundreds of years beyond a mortal lifespan.

      I’m sorry to disturb you, Nazafareen said, feeling like an interloper. I hoped we could speak.

      Tethys looked up at her, then patted the dirt with strong, calloused hands. You think I don’t know where you go? Her voice was dusty and hard as a dry riverbed. The gate you shattered is warded again. Someone approached it earlier and I’d reckon that someone was you, child.

      Nazafareen was twenty years old, but she supposed Tethys would see her as a child still. The daēvas measured such things differently. So Tethys knows. Well, of course she does.

      I’m sorry. I meant no harm.

      Tethys moved on to the next seedling, handling it as gently as a newborn infant. Had you stepped through, you could never return.

      I wasn’t planning on leaving. I only wanted to see it. And I never meant to shatter your wards in the first place. Nazafareen considered, then added ruefully, Or maybe I did. That’s the problem. I can’t remember.

      Tethys sighed. Come, help me. I cannot speak with you like this. I’ll get a crick in my neck.

      Nazafareen knelt on the ground next to her. Tethys held up a seedling.

      This is feverbane. The seeds are useful for spicing wine or curing evil humors in the blood. Take it.

      Nazafareen accepted the seedling with a reverent hand. She poked a hole in the dirt with her finger, then covered the roots and pressed the mound firmly around the fragile plant. Tethys nodded in approval.

      I would ask you some questions, if you’re willing.

      Tethys gave her a sidelong glance. And if I’m not?

      I’ll ask them anyway.

      The Danai woman smiled, a faint twitch of her thin lips. Go on, then.

      I know you helped make the ward I broke. Were my memories erased? Or simply sealed away? She hesitated, fearing the answer. Could they be restored?

      Tethys picked up another plant and eased it from the pot. Such a thing has never happened before. But I examined you quite thoroughly before you woke, when Darius first brought you here.

      Yes, he did tell me that. He said I couldn’t be cured.

      And that is the truth.

      Nazafareen’s heart fell.

      Not by me, at least, Tethys added.

      By who then?

      Tethys gave her a hard look. Are you sure you wish to know? Some people might see it as a gift. A chance to start life anew without the burden of regret.

      Nazafareen shook her head. If I have regrets, they are mine. And how can I learn from them if I don’t know what they are? No. I wish to learn the truth. She hesitated. Has Darius spoken of me?

      If you’re asking whether I’m privy to the secrets he keeps, the answer is no. Darius doesn’t confide in me. He may be my grandson, but we hardly know each other.

      Then who can help me?

      Tethys considered her question for a long moment. The Marakai are the strongest healers among us. Water is the essence of healing and that is their gift. They can accomplish wonders, but we are speaking of physical wounds. Your injury is to the mind.

      The Marakai. You mean the sea daēvas?

      Tethys nodded.

      But they might know a way?

      They might. Who can say?

      I think I must go ask them then.

      We send a delegation to the shore of the White Sea twice a year, to trade. I suppose you could go along next time.

      Nazafareen tamped down her impatience. And when will that be?

      Three more waxings of Selene, Tethys said placidly.

      So long?

      Tethys looked at her strangely. Long to you perhaps. Her tone sharpened. Do you have complaints about your treatment here? Are we such poor company?

      Not at all, Nazafareen said hastily. And I thank you for the offer. I suppose I’ll have to wait then.

      They planted the last of the seedlings. Tethys rose to her feet, brushing earth from her hands. She turned to Nazafareen.

      There is something else? she asked with a touch of asperity.

      What do you know about breaking magic?

      In Tjanjin, they call it huo mofa. It is a rare ability, and dangerous to the user. But I suppose you know that already.

      But where does it come from? Is there a way to use it safely?

      Tethys eyed her with pity. I don’t know the first. As to the second…better not to touch it at all, don’t you think? She looked pointedly at the path into the woods. You’d best run along now, child. You oughtn’t be wandering alone anyway.

      Nazafareen suppressed a sigh and made her farewells.

      That’s what they all said.

      She hurried along the dark path, lost in thought. Would Darius go with her to the Marakai? Would he support her in this? If not, she would go anyway.

      She threw open her front door and groped for the peg. Moonlight spilled in a broad shaft through the window. She smelled something, queer and cold, like the air just before it snows. That rarely happened in the Danai forest, their magic kept it from freezing despite the lack of sun, but sometimes a storm blew in from the Valkirin range that was too strong even for the daēvas to divert. Then she heard a soft creak from one of her chairs. So Darius had returned. Well, she would ask him now. No point in putting it off. And if he said yes, perhaps they could leave right away.

      Nazafareen reached for air and lit the lumen crystal—and froze.

      A man sat at her table, but it wasn’t Darius. He had long silver hair and a foxlike face. White leathers trimmed with fur covered him from head to foot. A long sword inlaid with jewels rode at his hip. He held her astrolabe in slender, pale fingers.

      Hello, mortal, he said.

      Nazafareen opened her mouth to reply and found she couldn’t draw breath. Something squeezed her lungs in a cold vise. He stood and walked over to her, frowning. He moved with the prowling grace of a daēva, but not a Danai. Not with those icy looks.

      They’ve found me.

      So young, he murmured, studying her face with luminous green eyes. A shadow of unease flickered across his features. Then his gaze fell to her stump and hardened. You’re the Breaker who burned my clan.

      Nazafareen heard the rasp of a sword leaving the scabbard. Black motes danced before her eyes. He had her pinned as neatly as the snake.

      How strong he was! She dimly sensed he was using air to hold her, to gag her, simple air, and yet it felt hard as marble. Frantic, she eyed her own sword. It leaned against the wall near the door. She strained and it toppled over, then began to slide ever so slowly across the floor.

      The Valkirin watched it with an amused expression.

      You cannot harm me now, can you? He raised his own blade. Again, she saw a shadow of regret cross his face, quickly stifled. I vow to make it swift. Swifter than the death you gave my cousins.

      The door to the room burst open with an explosive crash, nearly tearing free of its hinges from the violence of the blow. Darius rushed inside. His wintry gaze fell on the Valkirin. Earth magic surged in a roaring, bone-jarring tide. The ground convulsed beneath Nazafareen’s feet, clods of dirt scattering outward. The web of air snaring her fell away. She coughed, left hand clutching her throat. The Valkirin vaulted through the window. Darius followed.

      Nazafareen grabbed her sword and staggered out the door. The two daēvas streaked through the woods, the assassin’s white leathers bright in the darkness. She heard rumbles up ahead and dashed past a jagged crevice where the earth crumbled away into a deep sinkhole, the white tips of tree roots erupting like huge worms.

      At last she caught up with them. The Valkirin was trapped on an island of solid ground no more than ten paces wide. Darius stood on the other side of the crevasse. A trickle of blood ran from his nose, the price of throwing all that earth around. His face could have been carved from granite.

      You won’t leave these lands, he said with tightly controlled fury. Sheathe the blade.

      The Valkirin lowered his sword slightly but didn’t put it away.

      Let me kill her, he pleaded. It’s for the best. For your people and mine. She’s a danger to us all!

      Who sent you? Darius growled. Was it Culach?

      The assassin gritted his teeth as fingers snapped like kindling. He switched the sword to his right hand.

      Nazafareen ran toward Darius. She heard shouts as the other daēvas caught wind of the attack. Dark shapes pelted through the trees.

      I carry a message from Val Moraine, the Valkirin announced in a ringing tone. The Avas Danai are harboring a mass murderer. If you don’t hand her over—

      Darius crossed the gap between them in one graceful bound.

      And I have an answer, he said.

      Nazafareen tossed him her sword and he seized the spinning hilt just in time to parry a blow from the assassin’s own blade. There was no cautious circling. No testing of defenses. Instead, they hammered at each other, one blade of bonewood, the other of iron. The assassin was good, but Darius was better. Inch by inch, he pushed the Valkirin toward the yawning pit at his back.

      Then the assassin turned to Nazafareen. The ground gave way beneath his heels as he drew a huge breath and blasted it at her. She cried out in surprise as the wave of air lifted her off her feet and threw her backwards.

      Nazafareen! Darius cried.

      She hit the ground just in time to see the assassin aim a vicious kick at Darius’s knee. He raised his sword, smashing the hilt into Darius’s skull. Nazafareen heard it fracture with a sharp crack. The Valkirin brought his sword back again, this time for a killing stroke—when a black-fletched arrow punched through his chest.

      Nazafareen spun and saw Galen three paces behind her, bow in hand, his eyes wide.

      The assassin fell back, the glaze of death falling across his foxlike features. Blood bubbled around the arrow in his chest. Somehow he summoned the strength to speak—to her.

      You die, he gasped, staring at her with loathing. Or they all die.

      The words sent ripples through the crowd of daēvas. Victor leapt across the ragged crevice, face a thunderhead, and thrust his sword into the Valkirin’s heart.

      Nazafareen ran to the edge, but it was too wide and deep for her to cross. Darius lay sprawled in the dirt. Blood matted his hair, a black stain in the moonlight. She felt a stab of sheer terror until she saw his chest rise and fall.

      Don’t touch him! Tethys hurried over. He cannot be moved, not until I give what healing I can.

      Tethys sprang lightly across the gap and knelt beside Darius. Her eyes grew distant. Nazafareen felt complex threads of power weaving around both of them.

      What’s happened here?

      Nazafareen turned and saw Delilah, Darius’s mother, striding up. She looked nothing like her son except for the intense blue eyes. She’d always been thin to the point of emaciated, but Nazafareen suspected she was stronger than she looked. Delilah never came to see her. It was obvious she had no love of mortals.

      I found the Valkirin in my house, Nazafareen said. He was about to kill me when Darius came. Darius chased him and they…they fought.

      Delilah gave her a long look. Are you hurt?

      No, I’m fine.

      Victor drew his wife aside. They spoke in low voices. Delilah’s inscrutable gaze rested on Nazafareen.

      Well, if his mother didn’t hate me before, she certainly does now.

      When Tethys signaled it was safe to move him, two Danai brought a litter and gently maneuvered Darius back to solid ground. All Nazafareen’s earlier anger dissolved into stinging tears that she angrily scrubbed away with a sleeve. She trailed along behind as they carried him to Galen’s house, which was the closest. Tethys sat at Darius’s bedside and cupped his face, murmuring to herself. Darius stirred feebly, his eyelids fluttering. His face relaxed into sleep.

      He will need a great deal of rest, Tethys said, looking drawn and exhausted herself. I cannot say when he will wake.

      Nazafareen felt her heart unclench a little. Darius would live.

      Victor ran a hand through his dark hair. This provocation cannot go unanswered, Tethys. They violated our borders and nearly killed my son. I warned you this was coming. We should have acted long ago.

      Tethys drew herself up. You were gone for more than two hundred years, Victor, she said evenly. Things have changed.

      Have they? he sneered. They seem exactly the same to me. The Valkirins at our throats and House Dessarian doing nothing to put them down.

      How dare you? Tethys hissed. "You left me your…mess to deal with, which I did. But you have no right to second-guess how I run this house."

      Peace, mother, I’m sorry if I gave offense, Victor said, although he still managed to sound arrogant. But you heard what he said. If we don’t surrender Nazafareen, they’ll come in force. The survival of our house is at stake. His temper sounded close to catastrophically snapping. We know who’s behind this. Let me handle it.

      Tethys gave a humorless laugh. I know how you handle things, Victor. Like a rampaging bull.

      And what would you do?

      Tethys’s predatory gaze fell on Nazafareen. Go back to your house, girl, she said sharply. This is Danai business.

      Nazafareen steeled herself for battle.

      I won’t be treated like a child, not even by this ancient, powerful woman. Let her see this rabbit has teeth.

      It concerns me, Nazafareen said levelly. I have the right to know what you intend to do.

      Tethys opened her mouth to reply when Victor stepped up and laid a hand on her arm.

      She’s right, he said softly. There’s little use in keeping secrets now. He raised an eyebrow. Unless you intend to throw her to the wolves?

      Tethys pursed her thin lips. Give me more credit than that, she snapped. Very well. She can stay. But she’ll keep quiet.

      Nazafareen knew better than to argue the point. She sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed and tried to make herself small, which wasn’t difficult.

      As I was saying, Tethys continued, you seem to have forgotten the fact that they have Mina. We have Ellard. The whole purpose of the hostage arrangement is to keep the peace. It’s worked so far.

      Worked? He laughed mirthlessly. They just sent an assassin to kill Nazafareen in her own home. Would you call that a breach of the peace?

      Nazafareen covered a smile. Tethys was right—Victor snorted and bellowed and didn’t care who he trampled beneath his hooves—but she liked that he was standing up for her.

      It’s more complicated than you know, Victor, Tethys said quietly.

      What haven’t you told me?

      Over the last two years, some of us have gone missing. Vanished into thin air.

      A frown came over Victor’s darkly handsome face.

      How many?

      Four. Two from House Dessarian, a brother and sister, and one each from House Martinec and House Kaland. They’d gone to assess the far southern groves. It should have been no more than a week’s journey. When they didn’t return after two, scouts went looking. Not a trace was found. She glanced down at Darius, tucking the blanket around his shoulders with a gentle hand. And before you start hurling accusations, five Valkirins have vanished too—each one traveling alone. We blamed each other until it became clear we’ve both suffered losses.

      Victor let out a slow breath. The floor creaked under his bulk as he paced the room.

      How could you keep this from me?

      Because I didn’t trust you not to go rushing off again, Tethys said calmly. If something is indeed hunting daēvas, the clans need to stick together. Or at least not start a war.

      I agree, Delilah said.

      It was the first time she’d spoken.

      You don’t know the Valkirins— Victor growled.

      Delilah cut him off. I’m not suggesting we do nothing. But your mother is right. Action taken in anger and haste would be a mistake.

      Tethys gave Delilah a nod of approval. You’d do well to listen to your wife, Victor. She seems to have a modicum of sense. Do I trust the Valkirins? Of course not. They’re underhanded and ruthless. Violence is in their blood. But Val Moraine may have acted alone in this. Halldóra of Val Tourmaline is the most reasonable of the bunch. I’ll send a bird to her tonight. And then we must convene the Matrium. The other Houses should know of this. It concerns us all.

      Then do it quickly, Victor advised. Once Culach learns the attempt failed, he’ll send more to finish the job. He glanced at Nazafareen. The Valkirin was waiting for you?

      She nodded.

      Victor scrubbed a hand across his jaw. How did he know which house to go to? And how did he discover you were here in the first place?

      Everyone fell silent. Nazafareen avoided their eyes. Tethys already knew—well, she supposed the others deserved to hear it too.

      I was in the forest yesterday, Nazafareen admitted, shame making her cheeks burn. I know I shouldn’t have gone out alone.

      You shouldn’t have gone at all, Delilah muttered, casting her a baleful look.

      I don’t disagree, Tethys said dryly. But the girl isn’t to blame. If the Valkirin scout had seen her, he would have killed her on the spot. He’d be halfway back to the mountains before we found the body. He took a great risk coming into the heart of the settlement, and paid the price for it. Her gaze narrowed. No, it makes no sense. They found out some other way.

      You mean someone told them? Victor demanded.

      I don’t know. Tethys sighed. We’ve kept her presence a secret from the other Danai Houses and few here know the full story of what she did. But secrets have a way of slipping out.

      What about Ellard? He’s the obvious suspect.

      Nazafareen had seen him once, walking with Galen in the forest. Both moons were full and his silver hair had stood out like a beacon in the darkness. Heart racing, she’d run to Darius’s house. Then she learned that Ellard lived here. He’d been swapped as a hostage for Galen’s mother long ago and raised at House Dessarian.

      Ellard is bound by wards, Tethys said. Strong ones. I did it when he first came. If he took any action against us—in word or deed—I would know about it.

      And he wouldn’t anyway, Galen put in quickly. I’m with him all the time. I know him. It’s not Ellard, I promise you.

      It’s possible a spy slipped past your sentries, Victor, Tethys said. This assassin seemed to have no trouble.

      Victor grunted. I intend to find out who was on duty tonight. We’ll get to the bottom of this.

      What about the body? Delilah asked.

      There are herbs to preserve the flesh against decay, for a time at least, Tethys said. I’ll see he’s attended to.

      We’ll keep the corpse as a bargaining chip, Victor said decisively. They’re fussy about their fallen. I heard they have catacombs deep in the mountains dating back a thousand years. A city of the dead. They’ll want him back.

      Nazafareen wondered if the Danai returned their own dead to the earth. No one had died since she’d been there so she couldn’t say what their rites were. But it didn’t surprise her that the Valkirins preferred the cold embrace of stone. They had an icy look about them, with their silver hair and white skin. She imagined rows of pale warriors laid out in the darkness of the earth’s bones.

      Ellard says his name was Petur, Galen put in. That he’s from Val Moraine.

      Of course he is. Victor sounded irritated. Who else could be behind this but Culach?

      The way he spoke the name—like a curse—revealed a bitter hatred that had been carefully tended for years, centuries even. She wondered at its original source.

      Culach.

      She remembered him from the Dominion. He’d been large and frightening, but he’d carried her when she fell sick. She hadn’t been afraid of him then. The fear had come later, after he passed through the gate. He had…changed. Flames burned in his eyes.

      The thing inside him had wanted to take Nazafareen too, but she’d driven it back to whatever lightless depths it had come from. The memory raised gooseflesh on her arms.

      She’d thought Culach might be dead, but it seemed dead things had a way of coming back—no matter how deeply you dug the hole.

      4

      THE SCARRED MAN

      Snow beat against the invisible barrier of air sheltering the high holdfast of Val Moraine. The storms rarely paused, a result of the extreme geography on the eastern edge of the dark continent of Nocturne. The currents lifted moist air from the White Sea and carried it over the mountains, where it froze and turned to snow. Val Moraine had been carved out of limestone and glacial ice atop the highest precipice, a testament to the Avas Valkirin’s disdain for lowlander luxuries like breathable air.

      Even with the poor visibility, the view from the keep was spectacular. Just enough moonlight leaked through the cloud cover to reveal majestic peaks marching to the horizon, and beyond that, the dark, heaving mass of the sea.

      Culach could picture it in his mind’s eye with perfect clarity. He pulled the furs closer around his naked body. He couldn’t stand to wear leathers anymore. The worst of his burns had healed, but they’d left him with an exquisite sensitivity. The lightest touch lit his nerve endings on fire.

      His jade eyes faced the stone ceiling, but what he saw was the vast dome of the sky, the spray of stars, hard and cold as jewels in the velvet blackness. He spent his time in this way now. His greatest fear was that he would forget and then there would be nothing left but darkness. So he made sure to remember. To painstakingly summon up the smallest details of things. The luminous blue of the glaciers when Artemis returned from her travels. The pommel of his sword. His sister’s eyes.

      It angered him that he was already starting to forget her face, and yet he could call up the mortal girl’s with no effort at all. She was seared into his memory just as her unholy power had seared his flesh and bone.

      He heard light footsteps enter the chamber but didn’t turn his head.

      Go away, Culach said.

      The footsteps paused, then continued to his bedside. Her scent tickled his nostrils, spicy and feminine.

      I have food.

      Culach didn’t respond. He heard the rattle of a tray being set on the table near the door.

      Eat it or go hungry, she said. Your choice.

      He willed her to leave. She didn’t. Instead, he felt her watching him. Her hair would be in its usual tight braid, draped over one shoulder and brushing her hip. Mina only had two expressions in her repertoire. Haughty disdain, and a studiously blank one that said you were boring her to tears. He wondered which she wore now. Probably the first.

      You’ve done your duty. Now get out.

      You’re a pitiful creature, Culach, she said. I never liked you, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so easily broken.

      These last few days, she’d made a concerted effort to provoke him. Another of their strategies to get him out of bed. He rolled over and aimed his useless eyes at the spot he guessed her face to be.

      I never liked you either, Mina, though I suppose I should be grateful for small favors. At least I don’t have to look at you anymore.

      She snorted. Yes, you’ve said many times how ugly you find me. It would break my heart if only I found big blonde apes attractive.

      He laughed despite himself. It sounded harsh, a raven’s carrion cackle. Ah, Mina. I would never call you ugly. Well, only on the inside.

      In fact, she wasn’t ugly, just different from every other woman at Val Moraine. Mina was small and dark. He could have picked her up by the scruff of her neck like a kitten.

      Culach himself was tall even for a Valkirin. Like all his cousins, he had silver-white hair and green eyes. A winding scar bisected his jaw. That one was old. He’d acquired others of more recent vintage, but they were covered by the furs.

      He sat up, fingers fumbling along the floor. Far from icy, the summerstone gave off a pleasant warmth. That and the shields of air surrounding the holdfast were what allowed the clan to live at such high altitude.

      Where’s my water? he demanded. You moved it.

      Mina laughed. If I wished to torment you, I’d do more than hide your water. She pressed a goblet into his hand, careful not to touch his skin.

      Culach took a long drink, then lay back. He knew why she was really here and he wanted to make her leave before she pressed him about it. He wanted to hurt her.

      Did they tell you Victor has returned? he said. With his new bride?

      Mina didn’t answer, but her brittle silence confirmed he’d landed a blow. Even after all this time, she still pined for her old lover. He wasn’t surprised she hadn’t heard. Mina had no friends at Val Moraine.

      You lie, she said at last. Victor is dead.

      Sadly not. He brought a son home with him as well. Your bastard has a half-brother. His name is Darius.

      He heard Mina approach the bed. He wondered if she would slap him. Instead she simply sat on the edge. He held still, willing his expression to stone.

      Thank you for telling me, she said quietly, and Culach suddenly felt ashamed.

      There’s nothing you can do about my injuries, he snapped. If it’s all the same to you, lady, I’d prefer to skip this charade every day.

      This was the fifth afternoon Mina had come to his chamber with a tray. The eighty-third since he had been carried back through the gate by his brethren, broken and burned.

      And blind, though that wasn’t even the worst of it.

      It’s not my choice, she said. Your father charged me with trying to heal you and he’ll know if I don’t try. He seems to believe I have a gift for it.

      Culach wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of shifting away, of letting her know how much her presence bothered him, but it wasn’t easy. He could feel her body heat through the furs. Something brushed his arm like a spider web. He nearly jerked back before he realized it must be her braid.

      I’m beyond healing, he growled.

      Most likely, yes. But I’ve nothing else to do. Nor do you.

      This was true. Mina was a hostage. Traded for Ellard, Culach’s third cousin, to keep the peace with the Avas Danai. He’d felt a little sorry for her when she first came to Val Moraine, but that wore off quickly. Mina made no attempt to charm her captors. Quite the opposite. She was prickly and aloof. If she was lonely, she deserved it.

      Don’t presume, he snapped. And if you touch me, I’ll break your arm.

      She stood up and he nearly wept with relief.

      Fine. I’ll tell them you refused me again.

      Culach grunted.

      If you wish to starve yourself to death, you’re free to. Otherwise, the food is on the table. Don’t expect me to feed you.

      Her footsteps receded toward the door and he hoped she would leave, but then he heard the chair by the window creak as she sat down.

      I don’t want company, Culach said, in case she’d

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