Matilda’s fire was still crackling, the rain still pounding beyond the cave mouth. But the forest had gone quiet. Those little watching eyes had vanished.
She uncoiled to her feet, spear in one hand and a stake in the other, and crept to the narrow cave entrance. With the rain and the fire, she couldn’t make out anything. But every hair on her body was standing, and a growing reek was slithering in from the forest beyond. Like leather and carrion. Different from what she’d whiffed at the barrows. Older and earthier and … hungrier.
Suddenly, the fire seemed like the stupidest thing she had ever done.
No fires. That had been Leonard ’s only rule while trekking to the fortress. And they had stayed off the roads—veering away entirely from the forgotten, overgrown ones. Ones like the path she’d spied nearby.
The silence deepened.
She slipped into the drenched forest, stubbing her toes on rocks and roots as her
For the past week, not much had changed for Matilda and the Assasin s. They still flew daily to master the Knights , and still managed to avoid outright war in the mess hall twice a day. The Yellowlegs heir tried to rile Matilda whenever she could, but Matilda paid her no more attention than she would a gnat buzzing about her head.All that changed the day of the selection, when the heirs and their covens chose their mounts.With three covens plus three Matrons, there were forty-two mob crowded around the training pit in the Northern Fang. Handlers rushed about below the viewing platform, readying themselves. The Knights would be brought out one by one, and, using the bait Mafia s, would show off their qualities. Like the other witches, Matilda had been sneaking by the cages every day. She still wanted Titus.Wanted was a mortal word. Titus was hers. And if it came down to it, she’d disembowel any witch who challenged her. She
Chained to the wall, the bait Mafia could do nothing. The man whistled, but Titus kept at it. He moved with the fluid grace of untamed savagery.The bait Mafia yelped, and Matilda could have sworn the Blueblood heir flinched. She’d never heard a cry of pain from any of the Knights , yet as Titus sank back on his haunches, she saw where he’d struck—right atop the earlier wound in the bait Mafia ’s flank.As if Titus knew where to hit to inflict the most agony. She knew they were intelligent, but how intelligent? The man whistled again, and a whip sounded. Titus just kept pacing in front of the bait Mafia , contemplating how he would strike. Not out of strategy. No, he wanted to savor it. To taunt.A shiver of delight went down Leonard ’s spine. Riding a Mafia like Titus, ripping apart her enemies with him …“If you want him so badly,” Iskra whispered, and Matilda realized she wa
Leonard grinned. “There you are.” Blood—her blood—was on his teeth, on his mouth and chin. And those dead eyes glowed as he spat her blood onto the earth. She probably tasted like a sewer to him.There was a shrieking in her ears, and Matilda lunged at him. Lunged, and then stopped as she took in the world with stunning clarity, smelled it and tasted it and breathed it like the finest wine. Gods, this place, this kingdom smelled divine, smelled like—She had shifted.She panted, even though her lungs were telling her she was no longer winded and did not need as many breaths in this body. There was a tickling at her neck—her skin slowly beginning to stitch itself together. She was a faster healer in this form. Because of the magic … Breathe. Breathe.But there it was, rising up, wildfire crackling in her veins, in her fingertips, the forest around them so much kindling, and then—She shoved back. Took the fear and used it like a batteri
Leonard eased off her and said quietly, not needing to be near for her to hear while he assessed the forest beyond, “There is a swift river a third of a mile east, at the base of a large cliff.” He didn’t look at her as he extended two long daggers, and she didn’t nod her thanks as she silently discarded her makeshift weapons and gripped the ivory hilts. “When I say run, you run like hell. Step where I step, and don’t turn around for any reason. If we are separated, run straight—you’ll hear the river.” Order after order—a commander on the battlefield, solid and deadly. He peered out of the tree. The smell was nearly overpowering now, swarming from every angle. “If they catch you, you cannot kill them—not with a mortal weapon. Your best option is to fight until you can get free and run. Understand?”She gave another nod. Breathing was hard again, and the rain was now torrential.“O
Matilda gave a foot of spidersilk to the overseer after he carefully grafted it onto Abbey ’s wings. She’d gotten extra—lots of it, in case it ever wore down—and it was now locked in the false bottom of a trunk. She told no one where she had been, or why Abbey ’s wings now shimmered in a certain light. Ashley would have murdered her for the risk, and her grandmother would have butchered Ashley for not being there. Matilda was in no mood to replace her Second and find a new member for the Thirteen.Once Abbey had healed, Matilda brought him to the mouth of the Northern Fang to try the Crossing. Before, his wings had been too weak to attempt the plunge—but with the silk reinforcements, he’d stand a far greater chance.But the risk remained, which was why Ashley and Surreal waited behind her, already on their mounts. If things went wrong, if Abbey couldn’t pull up or the silk f
But he didn’t know what he could say, or do, to make it happen. Because Sorscha had her obligations, and he had his.If he left to be with her, if he turned on his father, or if his magic was discovered, then his brother would become heir. And the thought of Hollin as king one day … What he would do to their world, especially with their father’s power … No, Leonard could not have the luxury of choosing, because there was no option. He was bound to his crown, and would be until the day he died.There was a knock on his door, and Leonard smiled, wondering if Sorscha had come back. The grin vanished as the door opened.“We need to talk,” Chaol said from the threshold. Leonard hadn’t seen him in weeks, and yet—his friend looked older. Exhausted.“Not going to bother with flattery?” Leonard said, plopping onto the couch.“You would see through it anyway.” Chaol shut the door behind him and leaned against it.“Humor me.”“I am sorry, Dorian,” Chaol said softly. “More than you know.”“Sorry
The next two weeks fell into a pattern—enough that Matilda started to find comfort in it. There were no unexpected stumbles or turns or pitfalls, no deaths or betrayals or nightmares made flesh. In the mornings and evenings, she played scullery maid. Late morning until dinner she spent with Rowan, slowly, painfully exploring the well of magic inside her—a well that, to her horror, had no bottom in sight.The small things—lighting candles, putting out hearth fires, weaving a ribbon of flame through her fingers—were still the hardest. But Rowan pushed, dragging her from ruin to ruin, the only safe places for her to lose control. At least he brought food with him now, as she was constantly starving and could hardly go an hour without eating something. Magic gobbled up energy, and she was eating double or triple what she used to.Sometimes they would talk. Well, she would make him talk, because after telling him about Aedion and her own selfish wish for freedom, she decided that talking
Shielding her eyes from the glare, Matilda scanned the cliffs and the spit of beach far below. It was scorching, with hardly a breeze, but Leonard remained in his heavy pale-gray jacket and wide belt, vambraces strapped to his forearms. He’d deigned to give her a few of his weapons that morning —as a precaution.They’d returned to the latest site at dawn to retrace their steps—and that was where Matilda had picked up a trail. Well, she’d spied a droplet of dark blood on a nearby rock, and then Leonard had followed the scent back toward the cliffs. She looked down the beach, at the naturalcut arches of the many caves along its curving length. But there was nothing here—and the trail, thanks to the sea and wind and elements, had gone cold. They’d been here for the past half hour, looking for any other signs, but there was nothing. Nothing, except—There. A sagging curve in the cliff edge, as if many pairs of feet had worn the lip down as they slid carefully over the edge. Leonard