Page 112 of Bloodwitch
And wind slammed against the Threadwitch. It knocked her to the earth, snapping bones, and before the huntswomen could draw their bows, the Fury had smashed them aside as well. Then he strode to Aeduan, gripped his shoulder, and hoisted him to his feet.
Aeduan tried to turn to the Threadwitch, tried to tell her, “I do not know where Dirdra is, but I will find her again.” Except wind roared in, thick with snow. It was too loud to shout over, too wild to see beyond.
Two heartbeats later, Aeduan and the Fury took flight.
Endless flames and inescapable laughter.
Over and over, Iseult died on this battlefield. Over and over, theblaze engulfed her and pounded her ordinary heart to dust. But even in death, there was no relief, for death only brought more hell-fire and cackling.
There was the Firewitch she had killed. There was the Firewitch she was going to kill. She was his, and he was hers until time ended and the Moon Mother released them all to eternity.
She tried to beg—always she tried to beg—yet all that ever came was a muffled, echoing roar. As if another woman screamed and that woman was buried deep beneath a mountain.
Over and over. No end, no beginning.
And no warning, just like before, when the new world seared into hers. Iseult wept at the first holes rending through the battlefield. Hot tears on a face that was charred to nothing.
One by one, the flames flickered away, and one by one, gray shadows and frozen winds swept around Iseult. Still she wept, a hiccupping silent sob on a body crumpled to the snow.
She had no idea how long she stayed that way. All she knew was that eventually her tears subsided, replaced by chattering teeth and shaking bones.
The silver king had arrived.
One moment, Iseult was alone. The next, she sensed him—and on the third moment, she saw him too.
He was more solid tonight. Where Iseult had imagined his back hunched, she now realized he simply wore thick furs atop his shoulders. And where she’d thought him stiff, she now saw he was tensed. Defensive even, as if he worried Iseult might attack.
His crown glittered as brightly as before, and its icy shimmer shone over dark hair, olive skin. That was all Iseult could see, though. No eyes, no mouth, just a blur where his face ought to have been.
“Are you the Rook King?” She was surprised by how clear her voice rang out across the gray. More musical and crystalline than in real life. After so long without words, she almost cried again at that sound.
The King bowed his head.
Ayes,Iseult had to assume. “But how are you here when you died centuries ago?”
Again, he bowed his head, silver crown glinting. But Iseult’s question demanded more than that for an answer… Although, she supposed, with no mouth, there could also be no words. Whatever questions she flung at him, they would have to be answered by a simple yes or no.
All right.Think, Iseult, think.She didn’t know how much time she had before the Firewitch returned. Ask the important questions first.
“Did you help me escape the Firewitch?”
A solemn nod.
“Can you help me escape him again?”
He opened his arms, shadows streaming like feathers beneath them. It meant nothing to Iseult… unless…
“You don’t know?”
Nod.
“What about Evrane? Can you help me escape her?”
This time, he nodded once before bowing low, like a knight offering fealty to a queen. Then his arms lifted high above his head, and the landscape changed.
First came a stone wall behind the king. Then shelves beside the stones. Then books on the shelves and a rug beneath their feet. Item by item appeared, and a room assembled around Iseult and the Rook King.
“What is this place?” Iseult asked once the room was finished. Though they had left the snowscape, Iseult still trembled with cold.
