Page 209 of Embers in the Snow

He’s just lost a few—the life-threads of my father and the embalmer have disappeared. That means someone’s sent them to the afterlife. The Elite Guard are more than a match for two undead beings. I even wouldn’t be surprised if Finley herself has ended them.

If she’s come into her powers, then that would be a wonderful thing indeed.

I can’t wait to get back to her.

My anger at Ansar’s stupidity turns into impatience.

Did Ansar and his family really think they could defeat me by provoking me and luring me here?

I draw my sword and point it at the center of Ansar’s back, letting him feel the pressure of the tip of my blade. It pierces his robe and makes a tiny nick in his skin.

The acrid scent of his blood fills the air. It’s strange, laced with intoxicating poison. Even if I were desperate, I wouldn’t drink it.

“It seems our little stalemate has grown more acute onyourend,” I say coldly. “Lead the way, little brother.”

“If you kill me, her life-thread goes with me,” he warns.

But the necromancer still values his life, it seems, for in spite of all his scorn and fury; his sheer hatred of me, he turns and starts to walk.

62

CORVAN

The tunnel slopes downwards. We go deeper into the Earth, and the air around us becomes heavy. The sounds disappear, too. I can no longer hear the trickling water or the skittering of creatures.

There’s a certain kind of pressure here; closing in from all sides, enveloping me in darkness and silence.

Cutting out the world above.

It’s stifling.

I feel like I’m being encased in cold tar, and the tar is quickly drying.

I force myself to ignore the sensation, even though a trickle of fear has entered my chest.

Yes, evenIfeel fear from time to time.

Finley’s words ring in my mind.

What if she’s vengeful?

The creature I’m most afraid of is down here, in the cold, silent crypts beneath Deignar Castle.

It doesn’t matter. She deserves to be free. And I’m fairly certain she would never harm Finley.

My task is to convince her not to take out her anger on the ordinary people of Rahava.

That’s the real battle here.

Not fighting the undead or Ansar or the Talavarras. They’ve thrown their armies at me and failed.

We reach a small door set into the crude stone wall. As I look at it, a pinprick of agony enters my temple.

It’s covered inPerigianglyphs. The metal itself gives off a painful energy, like heat radiating off coals.

It must be an antimagic spell. It makes me slightly nauseous.

“Open it,” I order.

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