Page 4 of Mother of Death and Dawn

The two Fey exchanged an unimpressed glance that seemed to betray the same thought.

“I— I have others, too,” Farimov said, sensing their disappointment. “Many other artifacts. Some of the greatest treasures in all of Threll! Perhaps they, too, are of value to your king?”

And at this moment, I felt a telltale burning at my fingertips.

A pit of dread grew in my stomach. I casually glanced down to see a flicker at the tips of my fingers. Smooth skin and my Fragmented Valtain skin shuddered alternately in and out of view.

Shit.Shit. Not now. It was the worst possible timing for the illusion to start falling away. Hands would be easy enough to hide, but I had maybe half an hour before the disguise disintegrated completely—less than that before it became obvious that something was not right about my appearance.

I clasped my hands behind my back and donned my most charming voice.

“Lord Farimov owns the rarest collection of artifacts in Threll,” I said. “Many were even recovered from the same tombs as this one.”

Farimov beamed. He was so, so eager to show off his treasure that his pride outweighed any displeasure at a slave speaking out of turn. And just as I knew it would, this statement caught the Feys’ attention.

“Very well,” Iajqa said. “We shall see them.”

“A gift to you,” Farimov said, leading them out the door. “Anything you please.”

The minute the footsteps softened down the hall, I crossed the room and opened the box.

The other slave—Melina, I thought her name was—lurched forward, eyes wide. “But—”

“Sh.” I gave her a look, sharp enough to make her mouth snap closed, and opened the box.

Our spies had heard so many stories about this—this artifact that Caduan Iero, the mad Fey king, was so desperate for. We didn’t know what it was or what it did. Even the Fey’s Threllian allies, it seemed, did not know that. But the fact alone that it was so desperately sought after was enough to make Ishqa adamant that it could not fall into the hands of the Fey or the Threllians.

Whatever it was, we had theorized, I might be able to make use of it, given my connection to the deep magics that Caduan manipulated. A stretch, considering that over these last months I could barely use any magic at all.

And this, selfishly, was my only thought as I looked down at this magical trinket.

I had dreamed of something powerful enough to break down the walls of an ancient prison and tear down one of the greatest militaries in the world. I had dreamed of something powerful enough to bring the one most important person in the universe back to me.

This glass orb did not look like such a thing.

“Roza…” Melina whispered, nervously. I ignored her as I reached out to touch the sphere—

The next thing I knew, my back slammed against the floor. My breath hit me like a stone crashing down on my chest. And my skin wasburning, burning, burning,so intensely that I had to bite down hard to keep from letting out a cry.

My skin. Myhand.

“Roza!” Melina fell to her knees beside me.

Long seconds, and the pain subsided to a tolerable throb. I forced my eyes open and bit back a gasp.

Gold covered my fingertips, reaching down over my palm in organic shapes that looked like the veins of a leaf. The strokes were slightly raised, and my skin clung to the edges, irritated where the gold met my flesh.

This wasn’tonme. This wasinme.

I lifted my eyes to the box on the table. It was now empty.

Oh, gods.

I looked at the gold spreading across my palm with renewed horror. This thing—thiswasthe artifact.

Melina made a strangled sound of panic and suddenly pulled away from me.

It took me a moment to realize why. I had been so preoccupied with the gold that I hadn’t realized what it was covering: my skin. My normal,Fragmentedskin. The illusion was gone.

---