Page 45 of Crown of Wrath

Maeve

My world is seen from a bird's-eye view. It’s nothing but a tiny island made of black sand, and on it stands Cole Cyrus. There’s no one I care more about than him. I’m glad he’s here so that he can’t be hurt, but if he left, I would recreate him. I could keep him safe here like that.

The effigy made of black sand wipes the tear from his cheek. I’m content here. Hidden in the void, everyone is just waiting for me to call them. I reach out for Da, and he appears, dressed in the same farmer’s clothes that I found him in. He has the same look in his eye that I remember from my childhood—that sparkle that seemed to glow when he told stories.

Cole stares at my effigy and Da talking. The hug that he gives her. A campfire roars to life with black flames sending thin smoke trails into the purple sky above them. More and more people come to life and sit down in front of him as he begins to tell a story.The Fall of Cinder.

Da moves just like he always did, and the shadows create images on his face as they did when he toldLysara’s Loss. He moves with just as much enthusiasm as he was known for. Something deep down makes me reassure myself that it’s my Da on the sand telling the story. It’s him, but there’s a tickle of doubt.No, that is my Da. Who else would tell that story like that?

Then I notice Cole is gone, and as I recreate him, I feel better. Everyone’s here. My little sand-effigy sits down with the rest of the group and listens as Da tells the story that I’ve heard so many times.

A shiver fills me when I smell salt and cedar. It’s a scent I can’t ignore any more than I can forget the black cloak billowing on the shore. “What are you doing here?” I demand. A touch of fear is in my voice. “I didn’t call for you.”

The Shade. Every memory of the Shade is a combination of terror and desire. The sound of thunder crashing echoes the throbbing I would have felt in my body. I remember the feeling so clearly just from looking at him. That dark figure that always knew how to draw shadows from me.

“Queen Maeve,” he says, his voice just as rough as ever.

“Why are you here? I didn’t pray to you.”

He looks up at the clouds, and it’s like he’s peering into me and seeing me, even though I know that can’t be true. I’ve been in Cole’s mental landscape. You can’t see the person because the person is everywhere.

“You didn’t need to. I followed the debt you owe me. It’s time that you learned something new.”

Something new?“What is there to know that I haven’t already learned?” Curiosity gets the better of me.

“I’m here to teach you about the cost of magic.” I pause at the thought.

The Shade continues, shadows pouring from his cloak as he walks toward the group of people sitting around the fire. The scent of death fills the air, and tendrils of shadows explode from him, striking all the people simultaneously, and they turn black and disappear, leaving the beach empty other than him and the slowly burning fire.

Everyone from the void is gone, and I can’t think about the story or my Da or even Cole. Only the Shade is here, and he demands my attention.

“Magic always has a price, Maeve Arden, and you, as Queen of Nyth, need to understand all the costs.”

He looks up at the sky again, and I shiver as I feel his gaze on me. “I’ve used shadows for months, Shade. What price have I paid?”

“You’ve lost part of yourself. The part of your soul that holds you together has become weaker. It’s made it easier to give into the darkness. Every shadow walker knows the cost of going into the void. Death waits for the moment that you give in, and Maeve Arden, you’re coming very close to that point.”

Death. What a kindness. Just the void waiting for me to fully embrace it. “And what would be so bad if I gave in to it?”

“You would let the world die? You would give the Painted Crown to Gethin?” He pauses and then smiles. “Each House hasa different type of magic, and each of those magics requires a different payment. Shadows tempt you. They beg you to give up. Stone takes away your emotions. It makes you forget the rest of the world. But I’m not here to talk to you about those. You already understand those costs.”

I’m listening, trying to understand what the Shade is explaining, but something gnaws at me. “This isn’t how things are done, Shade,” I whisper.

He pauses, and I can sense the smile on his face. “They are not, but I cannot touch you with my shadows here. We’ll have to try a new way of doing things.”

He raises his hand, and a figure I wouldn’t expect to see here appears. Casimir Cyrus stands tall in front of the Shade. Made of shadows, he is less a person and more a figure for me to stare at. A silhouette that doesn’t elicit the same fear that the man does.

And in front of him, a small boy rises from the shadows, barely large enough to walk. “The King of Flames,” the Shade begins, “taught his son what it meant to wield fire from a young age.”

A shimmering shadow rises from the boy’s hand. “Pain,” the Shade says, “is the cost of flames. Some say it’s the simplest of payments. Some say it’s the worst.Power of any kind is a double-edged blade. The wielder will always be cut just as her enemy is, but she has the opportunity to embrace the blade’s edge.Queen Maeve, you bear the Painted Crown. You must understand the prices that all the Great Houses pay. Can you pay the price of pain?”

I rebuild the sand effigy of myself. “Shade, I don’t wear the Painted Crown here.”

He smiles under the cloak again and says, “You are the bearer of the Painted Crown everywhere, Queen Maeve. Whether you wish it to be true or not does not change the reality.”

I don’t respond, and he continues, “But that is not the real question I wanted to ask. Instead, let me tell you what KingCasimir of the House of Flames told his son when his son was only four years old.”

The shadowed visage of Casimir looks down at the boy whose arm has caught fire. “That’s it, boy. Scream.” The Shade’s voice has changed to mimic Casimir’s, and I can feel myself shivering thinking about it. There’s joy in his voice. His terrible cruelty that I remember so well from the one night I spoke with him.

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