Page 101 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

A dagger.

A weapon meant for her heart.

Her voice was hoarse. ‘Ash is planning on stabbing me?’

‘Oh, no. He has no clue. His mother is da one that’s planning on getting him to stab ya.’ Wren laughed, a light, almost musical sound, as if the very idea was absurd. ‘Don’t worry, he isn’t going to actually do it.’

‘And you’resurehe won’t?’

‘I am. I didn’t see him do it.’

Mal frowned. ‘You didn’t see him? He doesn’t have the dagger yet so…’

‘Oh, I forgot to mention.’ Wren smacked her forehead. ‘I’m a Seer.’

The world shifted beneath Mal’s feet. A Seer. Her mind reeled at the revelation. She had only ever known one before—the woman who lived deep within the Forest of Silent Cries. She had never even considered the possibility that there might beothers.

And yet, here stood Wren Wynter, a scrawny young wolverian woman dressed in boy’s clothes, looking entirely wrong for the title she claimed. But Mal had learnt longago that power did not always come in expected forms.

She steadied herself.

‘So I need a special dagger?’ Mal asked. ‘Do you know where it is?’

‘Unfortunately, no. I don’t get to decide me visions. And most of da time they are quite ambiguous, almost more like a puzzle. I’m given pieces that I then have to sort through and put together.’

‘What visions have you had so far?’

For the first time, Wren hesitated. She chewed the inside of her cheek, clearly reluctant to speak. ‘Well…it’s complicated. Some I do not fully understand until I am given da full picture. Oh, but ya do definitely stab Ash Acheron in da heart and kill him.’

Mal gasped.

The world tilted.

It was real. All of it. She had known, of course. Had always known that she had been brought here for one purpose. But hearing it spoken so plainly—so certainly—sent ice rushing through her veins.

A sickness twisted in her stomach.

She didn’t want to break curses. She didn’t want to be the one to save the world. For the first time, all she wanted was torun.

To disappear.

To never hold a dagger in her hands again.

She swallowed the nausea rising in her throat

‘So, how did seeing my maid Vera sneak someone into the castle lead you here to me?’ Mal rasped, her voice brittle. Her head ached from all the information, her thoughts tangled beyond repair.

‘Becas Vera looked almost frightened for amoment, which peeked me interest at what had caused her to look so panicked,’ Wren explained. ‘It was ya, making yer way out of da castle. Ya were both very close and yet from where ya were standing ya could not see her. But she could seeyaaaaaa.’

Mal turned away from the wolverian princess, tilting her head towards the trees. Their leaves trembled beneath the weight of the wind—a hot drakonian breeze that felt like fire to her, yet offered relief to those born of this land. She listened to their movement, hoping to catch the hushed whispers of the gods, waiting for an answer, a sign, anything to tell her what to do.

But the trees spoke only to themselves.

The gods did not answer.

Swallowing her disappointment, Mal turned her attention back to Wren.

She would have to find Vera. She would have to speak with the witch hiding beneath the guise of a drakonian servant, demand the truth that had been kept from her for far too long. But before that, there was something else—something even more pressing.

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