Page 47 of The Hurricane Wars

Talasyndidspot dozens of servants peeking out from behind curtains or pillars, or crouched down low looking through glass. They were technically not supposed to be watching, but mere technicalities were no match for Nenavarene curiosity.

Alaric noticed the spectators as well. “Is it always like that here?” he asked.

For once, she wasn’t in the mood to order him to stop talking to her. She was tired. And, yesterday in the council room, he had to his credit taken no apparent pleasure in the hurt that she’d failed to disguise, and he’d even insisted that the Dominion be more forthcoming in the future. Granted, that last part was probably more for his own benefit—but, still, Talasyn had felt a little less alone when he said that.

Grasping at straws again,she mused, her eyes flickering over his sullen profile in the early-morning sun.

“Gossip is a way of life here,” she told him. “You’ll get used to it.”

The corner of Alaric’s mouth lifted slightly. An odd thought struck her then:What would he look like if he smiled?

No sooner had the question crossed her mind than a sliver of mortification pierced through it. Why was she thinking about Alaric Ossinastsmiling? She was clearly more emotionally overwrought than she’d assumed.

A few meters away, Ishan stepped forward. This was the signal for the palace guards at the periphery of the atrium to take the sariman cages down from the walls and move them further away. The Lightweave came rushing back just as Ishan raised the barrel of a slender void musket, the same model that Talasyn had first encountered on the Belian range.

“I am ready when you are, Your Grace, Your Majesty,” the daya sang out, entirely too gleeful for someone holding a lethal weapon, and Talasyn swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. She looked toward Alaric, and he met her gaze, searching for confirmation. They both nodded.

Ishan pulled the trigger. The violet bolt of the Voidfell streamed toward Alaric and Talasyn. They each conjured their daggers and hurled them forth, just as they’d done when that pillar in Lasthaven was bearing down upon her.

Only, this time, the result was far different.

In that there was no result at all.

Light and shadow slammed into each other, sparking, and the void bolt roared as it devoured them. Suddenly there was nothing but amethyst barreling toward Alaric and Talasyn, no shield to stop it, and the Enchanters were screaming—

Talasyn’s world tilted abruptly as Alaric tackled her to the ground. She would have landed face-first, but his arms clamped around her, cushioning her from the worst of the impact. There was a guttural hiss as the void bolt swept past the space where they had just been standing. She was on her stomach, staringat the marbled pattern of the stone tiles as Alaric curled around her, over her. He expelled a quick breath, and as he did so, his soft lips grazed the shell of her ear. She could feel his heart pounding against her spine.

She didn’t know how long they lay there, adrenaline pulsing through their bodies, fit to burst. She felt small tucked beneath Alaric’s broad frame, surrounded by the warmth of him. As the sunlight grew hot against her head, she noted—as she had in that cell at the bamboo garrison, so long ago—that he smelled of sandalwood. There was a hint of cedar as well, and the peppery bite of juniper berry, warmed by a touch of sweet, resinous myrrh. He smelled like the alpine forests back on the Continent. What an odd thing for her to notice. What an odd thing for him to hold her like this.

Ishan and her Enchanters were running toward them, but their footsteps sounded muffled. The Kesathese crown prince blocked out everything else, as he always did.

Not the prince,Talasyn corrected herself in her daze.He’s the Night Emperor now.

“Are you all right?” he asked, low and hesitant. The words ghosted across her cheek, causing a shiver to shoot down the nape of her neck.

“Getoff.” She elbowed him in the ribs, defensive for reasons she couldn’t explain.

By the time they had both scrambled to their feet, the Nenavarene Enchanters had formed a concerned huddle around them. Ishan was wringing her hands in dismay. “Lachis’ka!” she cried, pushing past Alaric in order to inspect Talasyn from head to toe. “Idoapologize! From the way that it was described, I assumed that the shield could be replicated like—likethat—” She snapped her fingers. “And I solemnly swear on the windswept bones of my foremothers that, had I suspected there was a chance of your magic not taking effect, I wouldneverhave fired—oh, Your Grace, can you everforgiveme?”

“I’m none the worse for wear, Daya Vaikar,” Talasyn hastened to reassure her. “But I don’t know why it didn’t work, either.” She frowned, looking down to examine her hands. “The circumstances aren’t much different from the two previous times.”

“The eclipse,” Alaric said quietly. He absentmindedly scratched at his jaw as he appeared to think it over. It was a boyish gesture, one that Talasyn couldn’t help but marvel at; but, when everyone’s attention snapped to him, his hand dropped back to his side and his demeanor immediately shifted, became colder, more imperious. His next words were more self-assured. “On both occasions when the Lachis’ka and myself successfully created a barrier, the moons were out and one of them was in eclipse.”

Ishan’s dark eyes went as round as the celestial bodies in question. Talasyn had come to know her as an inquisitive woman by nature, and now she saw Ishan’s mind churning with this new revelation. “Yes. Thatdoesmake sense. Countless feats of aethermancy are tied to the natural world. Rainsingers in lands to the south can reportedly communicate with one another across great distances by looking into fresh puddles, while Firedancers to the east can do so in the flames of wildfire. I’ve certainly never heard of light and shadow magic forming a greater whole before, but a lunar eclipse strikes me as the prime moment for such a phenomenon to occur.” She rounded on her gaggle of Enchanters with alacrity, demanding, “When is the next one?”

“In a fortnight, my lady,” one ventured.

“Then, if Her Grace and His Majesty are willing, we will reconvene at the time of the eclipse and try again.” Ishan turned back to Alaric and Talasyn. “If I may also suggest—I noticed that the two of you conjured daggers earlier, which is offense magic. For our purposes, I believe that the barrier may be stronger if you were to craft shields and combine those.”

Alaric nodded readily enough, but Talasyn hung her head.

“I can’t make shields,” she muttered. “Or anything that doesn’t have a pointy end. I was taught the basics of aethermancy by a Shadowforged who defected to the Allfold. She didn’t have any formal training, so both of us were at a loss on some things.”

Alaric frowned, his eyes darting toward her and then away quickly. It was unclear if he was reacting to the mention of Vela or to the revelation that Talasyn had been lucky to survive the Hurricane Wars for as long as she did.

“I can teach you,” he said stiffly, still looking ahead.

And, before Talasyn could evenprocessthat, Ishan was stepping between them, clapping her hands in delight. “Wonderful! I’ve no doubt that Her Grace will prove as excellent a student in this as she has been in everything else.”

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