Page 67 of The Second Death of Locke
“Was Attis right, then? Did it pass to you when Severin died?”
Grey couldn’t meet his eye. In her young life, her mother had one rule: do not reveal who is to inherit. Do not reveal who is a mage and who is a well. Do not reveal what power you do or do not hold. Even now, even though this was Kier, and she trusted him with her very soul, she did not know how to speak the words.
She remembered being eight years old, Lot and Kier both looking at her as they hatched a plan. She remembered the lie, like poison in her mouth.
But because it was Kier, she didn’t need to lie.
“No,” she said.
“Severin was a mage, wasn’t he?”
Grey squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes,” she said.
“He was never the heir to Locke. It was always you.”
You lied to me, he did not say.
She didn’t answer. There was no need to. The heir to Locke was always a well, and if the firstborn was a mage, or typic, then another child would take the Isle.
“Can I put you down? I want to see your face.”
She didn’t want him to see her, but she needed to see his expressions. She needed to know how he looked, now that he knew she had kept this from him: this, the biggest secret of all. “Yes.”
Kier shifted, laying her on her back. She missed the warmth immediately—she couldn’t imagine sitting up on her own, let alone seeking him. Her spine felt oddly unarticulated.
He moved to press his hand to her cheek, stroking softly. “Is that what happened?” he asked, so quietly it broke her heart.
She looked away, tears coming to her eyes despite herself. He didn’t need to clarify.Is that how you killed them all?he didn’t ask.Is that how you destroyed Locke?
“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking. She closed her eyes, wishing away the truth. “They thought… they thought that if they controlled Severin, they could control power. And they tried to take him. But it was never my brother. They needed to controlme.”
Kier took a breath. Held it. Then he nodded, and kissed her forehead. It took her a second to feel something odd, a pulse of light crawling up the tether—it was like warmth inside of her, nestling in that empty cavern where her power usually resided. She felt it, warm and glowing, a new sort of power, and her bones didn’t feel quite like they were not where they were meant to be anymore. She opened her eyes.
“What was that?” she asked.
Kier gazed at her evenly. She felt the wall against her arm; she pulled herself up so she could lean against it.
“Where are we?” she asked instead, rubbing at her eyes. She wasn’t wearing her shirt anymore, but rather a large blanket wrapped around her, and her vest underneath.
“Sorry,” he said, noting her gaze. “You bled or vomited on everything else, so Ola gave up trying to keep you dressed. We’re in another shepherd’s hut, further down the valley. It seemed… safer.”
Grey nodded, taking in the small room. There was a bed frame against one wall, stripped metal, no mattress. This one had a real wooden door, too, but it was shut.
“Do they know what I am?”
Kier winced. “They suspect as much,” he said.
There was no point worrying about that, so Grey forced herself to move past it, even as she felt her secrets unraveling beneath her. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.
“Two days. Nearly. You didn’t even stir when we moved you. Scared the life out of Brit—they would’ve thought you were dead if you didn’t make so much noise.” He winced. “Not exactly the safest way to travel.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… go.”
Kier moved to her legs, stretching them out in front of her. His hands found her calf, massaging the place she was always sore. “We’re alive because of you.”
“That’s not true. You did the magic.”
He shook his head, slow and reverent. “That’s not… Grey, surely you must know how impossible your power is.”
