Page 32 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

We hurried into the stable yard just as a plume of dark feathers burst up from the expanse of forest between the stables and the mansion. Hundreds of ravens, maybe even thousands, swarmed through the bright autumn sky in obvious confusion. And then, cascading down the mountain from the house, came an urgent clangor of bells.

Ryder turned to find me, his expression fearsome. “Come with me. Stay close.”

I hurried up the mountain behind him, my legs like jelly after the hard morning. “What do those bells mean?” I thought of the Citadel going into lockdown, the tapestry of monsters hanging in the Ravenswood dining hall, and a stone of dread dropped into my stomach. “Is it the Mist?”

“Could be,” he replied tersely, but he said nothing else, not until we reached the broad stone drive that led up from the forest road to the mansion. A footman came barreling down to greet us.

Ryder stepped a little in front of me, his arm out as if to shield me. “What is it?” he snapped.

“It’s Lady Alastrina, my lord,” said the footman, eyes wide, face ashen. “She’s gone.”

At first the word didn’t make sense to me, like gibberish utteredby an infant.

“Gone?” Ryder said sharply. “What do you mean? Explain.”

The footman shook his head. “We were all gathering for luncheon, my lord, and were about to send for you, but then there was this great darkness that swept fast through the room, and it left everyone cold and confused, and when it was gone, so was Lady Alastrina. She’d vanished.”

Ryder stormed past him. “Nonsense. She simply left the room.”

“No, my lord,” said the footman, jogging alongside him. “She couldn’t have. It all happened so quickly—”

“She’s elsewhere in the house,” Ryder insisted. “She’s giving us all a laugh.”

But I didn’t believe that, and I suspected he didn’t either. The cloud of ravens still roiled in disarray above the treetops, calling out to one another—or to Alastrina, I thought, dizzy and cold. They knew she was gone and were trying to find her.

Inside the house, everything was chaos. Lady Enid was running from room to room, calling Alastrina’s name and searching every corner for her, shouting at the servants to do the same. Gemma hurried after her, trying in vain to calm her. She threw a helpless look over her shoulder at me, then gestured frantically toward Father, who was huddled in an antechamber off the dining hall along with everyone else.

It was infuriating that one of us had to be watching him at all times, but I gritted my teeth and went to him anyway. He was standing a little behind Lord Alaster, who faced a dark mirror framed with silver filigree. Another man’s tearful face stared back at him; the mirror, then, had been spellcrafted by a beguiler, turned into a conduit of communication with another mirror located miles away. I felt begrudgingly impressed; such mirrors were incredibly rare, as the magic required to create them was tremendous and, by all accounts,agonizing to conduct. The man’s image was watery and faint, and the pulses of magic coming off the mirror turned the whole room sour, making me think the man was very far away. But the sound of his voice was clear enough, and suddenly I recognized him: Uven Lerrick, a wealthy Anointed wayfarer who lived near Blighdon, on the southeastern coast.

“The same thing happened to us,” he was saying. From behind him came the sounds of crying and muffled shouts. “One moment we were all here, and the next, a great rush of shadows washed across the room, and I felt horribly cold, disoriented, my sight gone, my hearing gone. Then the shadows vanished, and my Dornen was no longer here. He just…hedisappeared, Alaster.”

Father’s expression was grave. “Two Anointed humans on opposite ends of the continent, both gone in an instant?”

“And in the exact same manner,” murmured Gareth. “One I’ve never heard of before, at that.”

“We’ll search the grounds for her,” said Ryder fiercely. “She’ll be here somewhere. Whatever happened is just some minor magical abnormality. The Mist, having a bad day.”

“And suddenly abducting people?” said Lady Kaetha, frowning. “One from hundreds of miles away?”

“The Citadel’s even farther away than that,” Lord Sesar pointed out, “and it’s got a sinkhole inside it. What’s happening at the Mist is unprecedented in recorded history. None of us can predict what the effects might be.”

I touched Ryder’s arm before he could stride away. “Wild a raven and send it to Rosewarren,” I suggested quickly. “And send one to the queen as well. If anyone else has disappeared, Yvaine or the Warden will know.”

Mara, I thought, biting down on the small, dear word. I was too embarrassed to request that Ryder ask after her specifically, but I thinkhe saw it in my face. He found my hand and squeezed it, my small hand held tightly in his own larger, calloused one for a brief second that left me flushed and unsteady. Then he left us, roaring at the servants to search the house, the grounds, the forest. Lord Alaster stayed where he was, staring in shock at the mirror, which had gone dark.

I raced after Ryder but stopped when I saw Gemma sitting on the floor in the receiving hall, holding a sobbing Lady Enid. Gemma’s face was gray, drawn. Whatever magic had swept through this house had pulled something from her, but she shook her head at me and said quietly, “I’m all right.”

I knelt and quickly hugged her. “Mara,” I whispered. “Do you think…”

“Mara’s safe,” Gemma said firmly. When I pulled back from her, her eyes shone at me like twin blue stars. “She’ssafe. Go. I’ll look after Father.”

I kissed her forehead and hurried outside. The ravens still circled overhead, casting hundreds of flittering shadows across the ground. Their cries were terrible, hoarse and despairing. I ran into the woods, as everyone else was doing, including each family’s servants. I ducked behind a tree before my lady’s maid, Hetty, could spot me. I didn’t want anyone coming with me and stoking the flames of my rising panic with their own. Shadows sweeping through the house, and in their wake, Alastrina gone? And Dornen too, from so far away, and I hoped no one else, though the sinking feeling in my stomach told me that was a futile thing to wish for.

The pine forest surrounding the Ravenswood estate was vast, the trees tall and ancient. Soon I couldn’t hear anyone else shouting for Alastrina; I was alone. I stumbled over ridges and through tangled thickets, looking everywhere for a gleam of shining black hair, a flash of pale skin. I called for Alastrina several times, but as the forest deepened and the trees thickened, every sound grew muffled and strange.Finally I fell quiet; the smothered, flat tone of my own voice was frightening me.

I came to a stop beside a fir tree with a trunk as wide as two broad doors. I leaned against it, reassured by its massiveness, and caught my breath, shivering a little. I looked up at the thick canopy, all those branches laden with needles, swaying and whispering in the mountain air. Very little sunlight managed to break through them, and the air was cool and damp. I looked through the trees for the mansion, but I couldn’t see a bit of it, nor of the outbuildings and stables. I could see only trees, and every one of them looked the same. I listened for the ravens; I heard nothing.

Cold feet of fear started climbing up my spine. Running off into a strange forest on my own suddenly seemed like the most foolish thing I could have done. And then, almost as soon as I’d thought that, I felt with absolute certainty that someone was watching me. Everything was so still, the air heavy against my skin. I was not alone.

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