Page 12 of Shadow's Heart

Which path looked least deadly? The gusts cooled some of the lava to form a blackened skin, so a blocked path might yet open. But how thick was each skin? She toed a rock, and it crumbled to reveal a piping center.

She attempted her mist again but couldn’t produce even a wisp. When she needed her abilities most, the plague had stifled her mist, and this prison had bound her tracing.

The sorcerer limped into view, surprising her with his speed. The sweating brute must’ve run headlong after her. “You’re going to get killed out there.”

“Better than youdiningon me. I’d rather burn to death.”

“I don’t know—we might’ve worked out something meaningful.”

Ugh.When he shifted on his feet, she said, “Poor sorcerer, did my brother not give you a chance to grab your boots? You must already be feeling the heat.”

Fury flashed in his bloodshot gaze. “I was raised to cross hot sand with my feet bare. Doesn’t mean I like to feel the burn. Do not enter that field.”

“Protective of yourbait?” His vow would compel him to keep her in sight. She’d heard horror stories about the type of oath he’d made. There was no way to reverse or resist it. Because of such a vow, Lothaire had nearly destroyed his queen’s soul.

The sorcerer said, “I know much about this realm. If you make it past these flames, you’ll meet the undead. Legions of them live here. You have no hope without me.” His palms flickered again. “Imight keep you alive for a time.”

“I run now, but I won’t always. Your vow means you’re a dead man. With luck, I’ll watch you fall to these flames.”

No more delaying. She turned from him to the labyrinth.Focus. Calm. Reason.

This was simply another world and another adventure. She hadn’t chosen this challenge, but she would meet it nonetheless.

She leapt down into a flaming gauntlet and reminded herself,All the worlds should fear me.

The vampire sprinted away from him so quickly that she must have fey blood. Explained the ears.

Before he had even decided to, Silt doggedly followed between runnels of lava flow. Every footfall was agony, and not just from the heat or his new knee injury. Withdrawal intensified with the force of a sandstorm.

Sweat dripped from his forehead to sting his eyes. He tasted the salt as he heaved air thick with smoke and sulfur. Rocks shredded the soles of his feet, blood trailing him in the soot.

How had he come to this?Stumbling about like a sickly human.Ironic. He’d sought out smoke for so long; now clouds of it seared his eyes and lungs.

But his need for revenge drove him to pursue her. Over eons, Silt had been an acolyte of retribution. Once harmed, one harmed in turn. Once tricked, one tricked. Spreading downward, that chain of pain forged on with iron certainty.

After he’d accepted that he would never have a family, the chain had begun to resemble ancestry to him, and he revered it. Mirceo Daciano and his sister were cursed to become new links.

No match for the vampire’s speed for now, Silt kept her in sight as she made steady headway. Unlike him, she was a study of focus as she dodged the red rapids. Whenever lava cornered her, she would pump her arms, gather more of that mind-blowing velocity, and vault across flames.

Though Silt had often been in life-threatening predicaments, he’d always brushed them off. Now anxiety filled him as he watched her. No wonder he’d only tried to quit opium once before. His hands shook, his heart pounding. And he couldn’t drag his gaze off that vampire.

As ifshewere the source of his tension.

Concentrate, Silt.He staggered up a rise; the crust cracked beneath one foot. Just before he sank to his calf in lava, he gave a yell and sprang forward. Back on firmer ground, he squinted to lock his sights on her once more.

This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done, other than breaking the laws of the Lore in the first place. Setting oneself up as a deity for mortals to worship had ensured punishment.How far from godhood I’ve fallen. . . .

The vampire suddenly jerked her head right, focusing on something.

Miles away, lava surrounded three other prisoners. They waved their arms and screamed for help as flames lapped at their boots. Their guises flickered from mortal to animal and back. Shifters. They’d probably preyed on humans to earn their way here.

Kosmina slowed, a smudge of soot on her face. Did she appear sympathetic toward the trio? More likely, she dreamed about their blood. At her age, she must be thirsty after these hours of exertion.

He called, “Your dinner’s about to be well-done!”

She flashed him a look of rancor. After a beat, she pressed on. As the shifters’ screams followed her, she stiffened but didn’t slow. . . .

For what must have been hours more, Silt labored his way onward. Sweat coated him, his body shedding toxins as his strength dwindled. Lucky breaks and near misses intermingled with misery.

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