Even the Darkest Stars (Even the Darkest Stars #1)

Dargye opened his mouth to argue, but River was already gone, and Dargye didn’t have the nerve to follow him. Norbu began to cough, and Aimo hurried to bring him more tea.

“Thank you,” I said. Dargye muttered something to his sister, but she waved his words aside. He let out a long sigh, then removed his talisman and placed it around her neck. She barely seemed to notice the gesture. I found myself gazing at them almost hungrily as they hunched together by the fire. They had each other, out here in the wilderness. In a way, they were home. A shiver of loneliness traced down my spine as I turned back to the darkness.

Had Lusha also faced the fiangul? If so, was she all right? Was she out here somewhere—perhaps nearby—as injured and afraid as we were?

I made my way to my tent, half-blind from staring so long into the fire, and so tired I could barely walk straight. I almost collided with Tem, who was tightening the tent ropes by the light of a single dragon.

“Look who just showed up,” Tem said, gesturing to a small lump in the shadows. The lump stretched, yawned, and wandered into the light.

“Ragtooth!” I lifted the fox, squeezing him against my chest. He nipped at my hand and let out an intimidating growl that I knew, from experience, was his way of expressing affection. “Where did you come from, you little monster?”

Tem secured a string of bronze beads over the entrance to the tent and glanced over his shoulder. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “You have to be careful of River.”

“I know,” I said. “He’s reckless, even more than I realized. If we had taken shelter instead of—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tem said, so quietly I could barely hear him. “That spell he cast—I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Neither have I,” I said, putting Ragtooth down before he could sink his teeth into me again. “Though some of the stories do say he has a strange gift for magic.”

“‘Strange’ isn’t the word I would use,” Tem said. “It’s unnatural. Uncanny. Did you see a talisman?”

I frowned. “I didn’t notice—I was too busy trying to avoid being clawed to bits by the fiangul. For a snow spell like that, it must have been wood—bamboo, maybe, or ebony.”

“It wasn’t ebony. It wasn’t anything. He didn’t use one.”

I let out a short laugh. “That’s impossible.” And it was—everyone knew that. Even the strongest shamans could not pull spells from the air.

“It should be.”

“It is. What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. In all my lessons with Chirri, she never spoke of the sort of magic you’re describing.”

“Kamzin, you hardly ever pay attention to your lessons with Chirri.” There was a disapproving note in his voice, and suddenly, I felt combative.

“What did you mean before?” I said. “That I have to be careful? Don’t we all have to be careful of River?”

“You especially,” Tem said. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

I glared at him, furious. Though a small part of me was glad that the darkness concealed my blush.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, “but I have half a mind to tell Ragtooth to bite you right now.”

“I’m sorry. But I just don’t think you’re seeing reason where River is concerned.”

“I am seeing reason,” I protested. “That’s why we’re going to Jangsa.”

Tem turned away. “If you were seeing reason, we’d be on our way back to Azmiri.”

“Azmiri?” I stared at him.

“Don’t you understand what happened back there?” Tem gestured south, toward the now-invisible pass. “We nearly died. Didn’t you see what we’re up against?”

“I saw,” I snapped. “Lusha is facing the same dangers. Am I supposed to abandon her? Am I supposed to abandon the Empire?”

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” Tem said. “Or impressing the Royal Explorer?”

My face reddened, this time with anger. But underneath it, I felt a stab of some other emotion—something close to shame.

Something tinkled faintly, somewhere just behind me. I turned. Tem had hung the kinnika from one of the tent poles. The moonlight gleamed off the bells, illuminating the flicker of movement.

We were still for a long moment.

“Which one was that?” I murmured.

Tem looked uneasy. “I don’t know.”

I let out my breath. “Great. Now I’m going to jump out of my skin every time they make a sound.”

But Tem didn’t reply. He was staring at something just past my shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Where?”

“Up there, in that tree.”

I followed his gaze and saw something dangling from one of the branches that hung over the stream. It was pale in the moonlight, and gossamer thin. The starlight shone right through it.

I splashed through the shallow water and snatched at the garment. It was snagged on the branch, and tore slightly as I pulled.

I had known what it was before I even touched it. But when I held it in my hands, it was undeniable.

It was one of Lusha’s scarves. Woven from yak wool, it was soft and warm, with a line of tiny red and blue stitches along the edge. I remembered she had worn it at the autumn bonfires last year—when she saw me shivering she had tied it around my neck, quietly chiding me for forgetting my chuba.

Tem touched my arm. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. To my surprise, my eyes were wet with tears. I brushed the back of my hand across them.

“Hey.” Tem touched my face. “This is good. It means they made it through the pass.”

I nodded, the tears blurring my vision. I couldn’t stop staring at the scarf. For a moment, all thoughts of Raksha dissolved. I just wanted Lusha to be there in front of me, even if it was with a quip on her lips about my melodramatic tendencies or disheveled appearance. To know that she was all right.

Tem sighed. Then he kissed me gently, beside my mouth. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

We set off the next morning just as the horizon began to blush with light. Tem kept the kinnika ready, and there was little conversation—even Dargye seemed to lack the energy to register his usual complaints.

My dreams had been dark, plagued by faceless specters that chased me through a howling storm. From the looks on the others’ faces, their sleep had been similarly troubled. Something had changed since the fiangul attack—a shadow lay over us that couldn’t be explained entirely by Norbu’s strange illness. Though I tried to shake the unease, it clung to me like dew, prickling my skin.

I had thought I understood the dangers we faced. I knew now that the journey before us was bigger than I had imagined, the dangers darker and stranger. The fiangul we had fought in Winding Pass were no longer shadows in the night, stories told by a fire. The monsters were real, and we could face them again.

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