Page 72 of The Crown of Moonlight
“I have to check the top of the hill and find out how the amulet worked.They may have more patrols and beacons.Can you look through the ashes to see if there’s anything left of the amulet?”The lines of his face are drawn, his skin leached of colour.His hand reaches towards me, then he drops it to his side.
I straighten, spit, and wipe my mouth.Push my shoulders back.“Signal fires are meant to be answered by another beacon.I didn’t see any others, so maybe no one was sure they’d seen the fire lit.”
“We’ll talk about how you did that later,” Chyr says grimly.“My bigger concern is how the Grey arrived so fast.It’s dark—no light, no shadows.They must have some new way to travel.”
My hands clench back into fists.“You think more are coming?”
“Maybe.”His hair has come loose from its warrior’s knot and falls around his face.He rakes a hand through it, then shakes his head.“Find the amulet, then wait in the woods until I come back.Will you do that?Hide in case more Greys arrive.”
I don’t bother arguing.He should know better than to think I’ll ever hide.
I’m shivering and weakened, but not because my magic is empty.The flame inside me feels bright and hot, and I have more magic than I should, considering how much I’ve used.
I’ve killed two men, and I’ll let that unravel me later.But the magic?I’ll claim that now.For the first time, the magic feels like it’s truly mine, an extension of myself that connects what I am—who I am—to the world outside, to the earth and wind and sun and rain.
Chyr gently lifts my chin to make me look at him.“Stay safe.Do you hear me?You’re stronger than either of us suspected, Fierceness, but you’re not invincible.”
Heat sears my cheeks at the memory of the purring growl in his voice and the look on his face when he said it.
“Spread your legs for me, Fierceness.”
Shame threatens to buckle my knees, but I refuse to show it.Turning away, I search the ground for a stick to stir the ashes of the fire.
Chyr’s gone when I look up.The clouds overhead have thinned as if I’ve drained them, but the sky still offers little light.I scan the steep gully that climbs towards the beacon hill.Nothing moves, and I cross the few steps to the fire pit.
Chyr’s gone when I look up.The clouds overhead have thinned as if I’ve drained them, but the sky still offers little light.I scan the steep gully that climbs towards the beacon hill.Nothing moves, and I cross the few steps to the fire pit.
The ashes are hot and dry.Chyr must have smothered the flames, with air magic or something else.Yet another question to set aside for later.
The broken amulet isn’t hard to find—two shards of green serpentine, the colour of new birch leaves, veined through with butter yellow.Sacred stone from our Sacred Isles.Even the runes etched into it are similar to the talismans of fertility and protection passed down through my family.
I rub the pieces on the hem of my skirt, but there isn’t enough light to read them, even if I knew how.
What I do know is that Vheara is corrupting even our stone against us.
Tucking the shards into my pocket, I turn and find the Shadehounds behind me, Shade and Shadow, the male large and dark, the female smaller and lighter grey.
“So much for guarding the horses like I asked,” I say.“But you came to protect us, didn’t you?I can’t fault you for that.”
Shadow edges forward and presses her cold nose into my hand.Shade cocks his head hopefully, as though asking my forgiveness.
I scratch them both behind the ears, wipe my dagger on a clump of moss, and slide it into its sheath.Then, although I tell myself I’m not following Chyr’s orders, I walk back into the trees and sit on a fallen log, my back against a young birch that grows beside it.
The Shadehounds lie down nearby, and I am wondering whether it’s worth trying to convince them to return to the horses when they stiffen, jump to their feet, and growl.
Silently, I move behind the birch trunk and pull my dagger out again.
I wait.For a minute or two, I hear nothing.Then there’s a sense of intrusion, a presence.The feeling swells, and I try to isolate it, opening myself to the air and sky and the small creatures and growing things.The woods have fallen into a hush.Then I hear a low murmur of voices that grows steadily louder, until they’re close enough that I can make out words.
“I swear I’ll kill them when we finally catch up,” a male voice says.It’s deep with a hint of a growl to it.
“It isn’t them.As injured as they are, they couldn’t be moving this fast,” another male says.
“I can feel Chyr nearby, and who else is it going to be?We’ve been tracking bloody great explosions of magic all over the place fordays.The Greys wouldn’t be fighting each other like that.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that it doesn’t all feel like the Greys’ ugly magic—or ours.”
“Then maybe you should have paid under the table to have my sister do your runes after all.The ones the palace smiths gave you must be fucking useless.”
