Page 112 of Ash and Feather

He didn’t need to.

Running into the ward was like running into an invisible, electrified wall—it sent a jolt of uncomfortable energy hissing through me, stealing my breath away.

Stranger sensations followed.

The buzzing current settled, but the discomfort continued as I tried to keep moving; it was like the very air was sticking to my skin, threatening to peel it from my bones if I didn’t hold still.

Even after I’d stopped, I felt like parts of me were being pulled in different directions. The world twisted and turned. I stared at my boots as I attempted to keep my balance, and it was then that I noticed the runes that had been sketched along the ground.

The source of these ward spells?

They must have been.

Similar symbols likely covered the landscape in the Hollowlands, near the barriers I’d crossed before entering Ederis. Though they must have been better hidden there; I hadn’t noticed anything when passing through.

The analytical side of my brain longed to sit with these marks and try to sort out their magic. My gaze swept over all the ones I could see, doing my best to commit them to memory. Later, I would try to recreate them and search for patterns and meanings.

In the meantime, I needed to escape their hold before it destroyed me.

The more I tried to move through the barrier, the more it felt like I was being torn apart. Trying to push forward made things worse, leaving me with no choice but to stumble backward into the yard instead. I lost my balance as I did.

Andrel caught me as I fell.

I was too stunned by the ward’s power to immediately fight my way free of his hold. My limbs dangled uselessly as he carried me toward the cracked, moss-covered bench of stone near the center of the yard.

“Put medown,” I snarled.

He did—placing me on the bench—but he stayed entirely too close. I longed to shut my eyes to try and fight off the spinning, but I didn’t dare. Not when he could so easily reach out and touch me.

“I wish Dravyn had ripped both your hands off,” I muttered.

Andrel expelled another low, humorless laugh. He settled down on the bench beside me, leaning forward and resting his elbows against his knees.

How many times had we sat together on this very bench, just like this, dreaming and plotting and chatting together? It had always felt like a place of infinite possibilities to my younger, more naive self.

Stupid, stupid,stupidyounger self.

Thinking about it made the spinning in my vision and the churning in my stomach worse.

Quietly, Andrel said, “I’m sure he wishes he’d ripped them both off, too. Too bad. And now he won’t be able to find us, either—yet another tragedy.”

“You underestimate how connected we are.” I risked closing my eyes just for a moment. “There is no ward you could create that would stop him from finding me.”

“Hmm.”

I looked over to find him watching me as though I was an experiment of some sort, making me regret opening my mouth.

“Ihaveheard that the gods can connect with one another without the need for speech, or even proximity,” he said. “That within their own court and the line of their hierarchy, the ability to communicate is even stronger...”

I averted my gaze so he couldn’t see the confirmation in it.

“It could be useful to know more about how this power works.”

I attempted to put more space between us. Trying to properly sit up and move made my dizziness worse, but I still managed to drag myself all the way to the end of the bench, gripping the corner of the backrest for support.

“In fact, I’m sure you havelotsof useful information about the gods that you could pass along to us,” Andrel continued, his arms still resting casually against his knees, his tone still easygoing—still eerily similar to the countless bench chats we’d shared in the past.

“What makes you believe I would giveyouany of that information?”

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