Page 43 of Vow of the Shadow King

They bound her. By the pulsing red light of the crystals, I see signs of her struggle, the abrasions at her wrists and ankles. She fought hard against whoever did this to her. But she fought in vain.

Gods above and below! She wasn’t very old. And beautiful. So beautiful. But of course, she was. Who would offer less than the most beautiful as a sacrifice to a god? Because that’s what she is. A sacrifice. Her body opened and bled dry. Her heart and other vital organs displayed on the crystals around her. Though she’s been dead for some time now, her face is still twisted in horror.

“What in the Deeper Dark is this?” Toz whispers at my shoulder.

Hael, on my other side, answers, “To enterva-jorrequires sacrifice. But . . .” She turns to me, her eyes stricken.

“What, Hael?” I ask. I can barely speak around the bile in my throat. “What do you know?”

“It is the teaching of the Children of Arraog,” she whispers. “To enterva-jorrequires a blood sacrifice. Awillingblood sacrifice.”

The three of us survey the tortured remains within that circle. There is no chance this woman offered herself willingly.

I turn in place slowly, trying to see out into the dark hall, to get some sense of the scope of this space, of the number of worshippers gathered here. I think of the stone woman in the lake. She had not joined these people in their dark ceremony. It’s as though the pulse ofvaradiated beyond this chamber to catch others in its dark energy.

“The ceremony ofva-joris sacred,” Hael says, her voice tremulous. “It is meant to be salvation. For all.”

“This is not salvation.” I turn harshly upon her, my lips drawn back in a snarl. “This is profane. Those people out there, out in the water? They’re trapped. Still mad. Still suffering fromraog,without even the relief of death.”

“If the sacrifice were performed correctly—”

I don’t wait to hear what else she will say. Turning from the desecrated body, I make my way back through the living statues. The only survivors of Hoknath’s ruin.

I feel as though I can see the ultimate fate of Mythanar unfolding before my mind’s eye.

17

FARAINE

There’s a stone wrapped around my heart.

I lie on my narrow bed, atop the piled furs. Above me, the ceiling is jagged with stalactites. There’s no canopy, no embroidered silver stars. Just me and that heavy, serrated stone, cast in gloomy extremes of shadow and highlight by the moonfire on my hearth. It’s all too easy to imagine those sharp, toothlike protrusions breaking, falling. Skewering me through the eye. Yet, I go on lying here. Over and over again, I imagine hairline cracks forming, followed by a growl as the stone begins to give. The little wobble right before the fall. And me. Immobile, unable to lift a hand to protect myself. Unable to roll away. Trapped beneath my inevitable doom.

My right hand grips my pendant, squeezing harder and harder. It doesn’t matter. Ever since escaping that dark chapel, I’ve not been able to feel its resonance. It’s been hours now since I staggered into this room, shut the door in Yok’s face, and leaned heavily against the wall. I’d struggled then to find the life of the crystals buried deep inside. Only silence answered.

I flatten my hand against my breast. My heart feels so heavy! So impossibly heavy, as though it will break right through me, fall out between my shattered shoulder blades, and hit the floor below with a thud. Summoning all my strength, I manage to roll onto my side and sit up. Both hands grip the edge of the bed even as sweat trickles down my forehead, my neck, between my breasts. I’m shivering, but my skin feels as though it’s on fire.

It’s the crystals. They did this to me. Thoseurzulstones down in the chapel. Blood-fed and pulsing with dark intensity. Their pulse petrified my heart. I don’t understand how. I don’t have to understand. I simply know.

Oh, gods!I would give anything for relief! My hand fumbles for my pendant again, raising it to the level of my eyes. I search intently for some spark of life inside. It’s too small. Too weak. I need . . .

I need a larger crystal.

A whimper on my lips, I push up from the bed, sway, catch my balance. Shuddering, I cross the room, barefoot. I wear nothing but a sleeveless white shift that only reaches my knees. The skin of my exposed limbs prickles with cold, but I don’t stop to grab a dressing gown. I need to get out of here. Now.

I grab the latch, turn it, throw open my door. Light from a nearlorstsconce falls on Yok’s face. The poor boy starts from his doze and blinks stupidly. “Princess!” he gasps. His gaze runs down my body then back up to my face. A flush stains his cheeks. “Princess, is . . . is something wrong?”

I cross my arms, hands knotting tight. “I wish to go to the gardens.”

Yok’s brow wrinkles. “Now?”

I nod.

“Princess, you cannot go out again. Not thisdimness.”

“The room is stifling. I need to walk.”

The boy shakes his head, his soft features hardening. “I’m sorry, but you must stay in your room. At least untillusterling. It’s . . . I believe it’s what the king would want.”

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