Page 107 of Silvercloak

If she hadn’t done that—

—if she hadn’t involved Nissa—

—if she hadn’t accepted this mission in the first place—

—if she hadn’t lied her way into the Silvercloaks—

—if she hadn’t turned that doorknob—

—her thoughts tracked back and back and back through time, obsessing over every single decision that had led her here, to this moment, kneeling by Nissa’s lifeless corpse.

There were so many ways this might not have happened, and only one way it did.

Because of Saffron.

The thunder was as distant to her as the rolling forest of Bellandry, as the scorched desert of Eqora, as the icy tundra of Nyrøth. Every shout and wail was muffled, as though sounding from another realm.

Nissa wasgone.

Grief slammed into Saffron’s chest like a fist, a solid, physical pain.

The sensation caused the magic in her well to swirl and darken, to become more glittering, more potent. This had happened in the aftermath of her parents’ deaths—the loss was so acute that she felt it all over her body, and to feel it all over her body was to be inagony. Had she been able to utter a single word in that time, her magic would have been raw and devastating, impossible for a young child to control. Perhaps some part of her knew that. Perhaps some part of her stayed silent in self-preservation.

Perhaps such grief was the reason for Levan’s terrifying strength.

Pain is not something I’ve ever found myself to be lacking.

Lifting a trembling hand, Saffron swept Nissa’s sleek hair from her face. Though her eyes were closed, her cheeks still held with the warmth of life. The ruby lips, the gold stud on the bow, the column of runes up her neck, all soNissa,so spirited and strong, she couldn’t begone.The shell of her body could not be empty.

But then—

—something.

A movement. A flutter. A hitching breath.

In Saffron’s chest, hope kicked off the ground. Took flight.

She wasn’t dead.

How wasn’t she dead?

Levan’s magic was the most powerful Saffron had ever seen. A killing curse from him should’ve crumpled Nissa’s lungs in an instant.

Saffron searched the body for answers. Nissa’s silver sleeve was slick with blood, her blisblade lying on the wooden floorboards beside her, its edge shining scarlet. Her well had obviously been running dry. Perhaps the split second in which she’d tried to replenish had cost her everything.

She loosed another breath. Ragged, shallow, but a breath nonetheless.

Howwas she still alive?

Unless …

Pulse thudding, Saffron tore open the front of Nissa’s cloak, exposing her undershirt. The garment was made from a gleaming fabric Saff had only seen once before, on an Eqoran soldier who’d stopped at her mother’s doorstep with a grievous injury. It was calledseriqua,Saff remembered, and it was strong enough to take some of the lethal force out of a killing curse.

Saff yanked the vest down below Nissa’s razor-sharp collarbone.

There, just above her heart, was the undeniable starburst of theammortenspell. Faded like an old wound, but there nonetheless.

Nissa teetered on the knife-edge of life and death.

---