Page 6 of Heart of the Shadow King

“Good. For I’m not offering.” I hold the crystal out to her. “Take your gift, witch. I want no part of it.”

“Ah, but I’ll not go until you keep it. Until you understand what it is you now hold in your hand. So, if you want a sure way to be rid of me . . .”

I resist the urge to fling it straight at her wrinkled face. But that would be too great a display of emotion. Instead, I growl, “Why go through all this trouble to bring it down here? What have you done to it? Infused it with some curse?”

“I’ve done nothing.” She holds up a hand, deflecting the accusation. “I took it from the pool after the moon had set. All the crystals that were in that water when the girl’s life was restored bear the same darkness inside. Until the debt is fulfilled, they will not shine clear again.”

“What will happen then?”

The old witch shrugs. “It’s not as though the pool gets used every second moon-turn. I was not alive the last time anyone dared attempt to reclaim a life. I have only that information which I have gathered from dubious sources.”

I inhale slowly, determined that when I speak my voice will be measured. “And how do I pay the price?”

“It will require a life. That is all I know with any certainty.”

“My own?”

“Let us hope not.”

“You’re a mad old woman. Why should I believe a word you say?”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t. But keep the crystal anyway. As a memento if nothing else.”

I look down at the stone. Its glow has intensified since resting in my palm, as though it absorbed my heat and now radiates it back at me. But in its center, the darkness seems almost to move. To pulse. An illusion? A trick? I’m not certain.

“How will I know—” I begin, raising my head. My voice breaks off. I blink once, twice. Turn to look about the empty space under the pale glow of the hanginglorstcrystals. I even stride around the stone wings of the dragon throne and peer into the shadowed space behind.

But Maylin is gone.

3

FARAINE

So, I am alone. Again.

Hael stands outside my door. I cannot feel her presence and have ceased straining my gods-gift to detect her. Following her breakdown on my floor, Hael walled herself up in layer upon layer of stone before informing me that she would keep watch. Then she made her escape. I don’t doubt she is there as promised. But reaching her is out of the question.

At some point during the day, I changed from my black robe into a more modest red gown with front laces which I could manage to put on without a maid’s assistance. Now I sit in a chair drawn up to an empty hearth. I do not know how to light the pale moonfire blaze that ordinarily keeps this room illuminated in silvery light. Yrt, the maid who once served me, has not shown her face. I do not know if she even survived thewogghaattack. Or perhaps she lost loved ones and is even now in mourning. Perhaps . . . perhaps . . .

Meanwhile here I sit. Useless. Separate.

Vor named me his queen while on the banks of that pool with the moon and stars bearing witness. Queen of all Mythanar. But what queen would sit idly by in her chambers, demanding care and coddling while her people pick up the pieces of their shattered lives? Surely there must be something I can do, some way I can help.

I start to rise only for another wave of dizziness to send me sinking back into the chair. Much of the pain which wracked my body since my reanimation has subsided, but I can’t seem to get over the faintness. And I’m hungry. Terribly hungry. A strange sensation considering I was dead mere hours ago. Separated from my body, on the brink of leaving this life, this world altogether. Somehow to feel such a base, physical need seems foolish. But it’s very real. I’m hungry. Ravenous even.

The lights illuminating the cavern of Mythanar fade asdimnesssets in. I lost track of the hours when I was . . . well, dead. If I’m not mistaken, it’s been a full day now since the attack and my great feat of magic. Possibly the last magical feat I will ever perform. I twist my crystal pendant on its chain. It’s been a part of my life since soon after my gods-gift manifested. I long for its familiar vibrating hum, the calm it’s always brought me when my powers grew too great to bear. But if I have no powers anymore, what need have I for calming crystals? I should be grateful. I should—

The door opens.

I turn in my chair, heart leaping. “Vor!”

He steps into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. And oh, gods bless him! He bears a covered food platter. He sets it down on a nearby table then turns to me. His eyes glint in the dimlorstlight. “You’re here,” he says. As though until that moment, he didn’t believe I would be.

Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. Not for food at least.

I rise from my seat and, ignoring the little bursts of pain in my feet, my chest, my limbs, hasten toward him. Vor opens his arms, gathers me to him, presses me close as I breathe him in. He still hasn’t washed or had his wounds treated, and he smells of death and blood, an unpleasant combination. But I won’t let him go. Because underneath those scents, he also smells ofVor.Strength and stone, heat and power. Everything that makes him the king and the man I adore. I bury my face in his chest, trembling as I cling to him.

At last he pushes me back just enough so that he can look down into my face. With a large, gentle hand, he smooths hair back from my forehead. His eyes study me, drink me in. Then he bends his mouth, lets it hover over mine just a moment before touching his lips gently to mine. Immediately the thrumming pulse of connection ripples to my core. Stronger than before, more needy, more insistent. I don’t know if it’s magic or pure instinct. I only know that I need him. All of him. As much as my body and soul can take.

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