Page 33 of Voidwalker
“I need to touch you to teleport.”
“We’re goingnow?”
“There’s no time to delay.”
Fi could name a hundred reasons to delay: her father told her not to go anywhere with strangers, resting after breakfast was important to good digestion, she still didn’t have a Void-damnedcoat. All seemed flimsy against the daeyari’s gem-cut glare.
“Your aid, to pay your debt,” the beast repeated. “Unless you’d prefer thetraditionalpayment?”
Fi weighed the threat of being eaten alive against the danger of following an immortal. One of those, she stood a better chance of escaping. She took the daeyari’s hand with a wince.
His palm was cool. Surprisingly soft. His fingers tightened, grasping her firmly, but careful not to plunge claws into flesh. When the sharp tips brushed her thumb, she shuddered.
“Hold your breath,” he said.
“Why—”
The world lurched.
Or maybe Fi was the one who fell, tumbling through black. Energy surged over her, cold slicing from every direction. When she tried to gasp, she found no air.
The journey halted as abruptly as it began. The daeyari’s grip kept her upright as she staggered, gasping to refill her lungs with frigid air. The lingering prickle on her skin reminded Fi of her transport stone, though not nearly as intense, no nausea. Not a full dematerialization? The immortal stood unfazed. However daeyari teleportation worked, they’d gained the ability after returning from the Void, their grayscale skin no longer the same as mortal flesh, not as vulnerable to damage or energy currents. Convenient for him.
With air back in her lungs, Fi scowled over her surroundings. She stood upon rose quartz tile, dusted in snow. Black-trunked ginkgo lined the walkway, their leaves metallic copper, one of the few non-coniferous trees bred by horticulturists to survive the Winter Plane. Ahead, a stone chateau perched upon a cliff, tall windows and dark minarets narrowing to fanged points tipped in starlight.
A chill of recognition nearly buckled Fi’s knees.
Her heart stilled at the sight of this garden, this view onto a valley of conifers. Every bristle gone the moment she spied that moonlit lake in the distance, smooth as glass. She couldn’tbreathe. Couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. Fi hadn’t seen this place in ten years.
But there was no mistaking it.
This was Verne Territory.
8
A friendly chat about insurrection
Any schemes abandoned her.
Rational thought? What was that?
Fi was a hare. She was a dumb, defenseless animal, kicking in panic, bolting for the closest hole to hide in.
The daeyari caught her wrist. Her struggle earned a look of warning, the beast restraining her with the ease of a panther pinning a rabbit.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
They weren’t alone. His teleport brought them to a plaza, surrounded by humans who froze like startled prey at the appearance of an immortal in their midst, wide eyes watching him—and Fi—as if a twitch might invite doom. Fi didn’t care about them. She flailed against his grip, heedless of claws.
“No! Not here!” Fi saw her father’s glassy eyes when the attendants took her. Heard Boden rioting in the background. She’d escaped Verne once. She’d run like a coward, and broken everything she had, and shecouldn’tbe back here again.
The daeyari eyed the watching crowd, tail flicking. “Keep your voice down. And stop this futile flailing.”
“This is Verne Territory!”
“Of course. If we’re to discover who seeks to unseat me, we begin with my most cunning neighbor.”
“You can’t.”
