Without control.
I sketched the symbol of the water god beneath the lake’s surface, trying to still my panic and weave into the magic a sense of calm, of promise, of good things—even as the battle heated around me.
An arrow splashed into the water beside me. The Nightswifts drew closer.
My hold on the tendrils of magic streaming out of me broke, taking with them the power of wind and water and all my wishes for something—anything—that would get us out of here.
“What the Hells is that?” one of Nismae’s warriors shouted.
They backed away from me as the ground began to rumble.
“Fly!” another said.
The air filled with beating wings as the warriors took their manifests.
Even Ina launched into the sky.
“Asra!” Hal turned to me in surprise, his eyes widening as he caught a glimpse of something behind me. I followed his gaze. The surface of the lake rippled and rose, swelling into a wave. It rushed toward us, building into a wall that loomed high enough to block out the moon hanging full and round over the horizon.
He ran toward me, and I barely had time to grab him with my uninjured arm before the wave crashed over us. We tumbled under the water in the dark until I had no idea which way led to the surface. A powerful current tugged us down until my lungs felt as though they might burst. How had this been the result of my cry for escape? Just as I began to choke, certain I would drown, we broke through the surface atop another wave, both of us gasping for breath.
Water surged beneath us, mingling and reshaping until we sat astride a massive horse made of liquid and darkness, its mane bleeding shadows into the night. The magic of my blood held the constructed creature together, giving it form and strength. Hal held me from behind with one arm wrapped around my waist, grabbing a fistful of the horse’s mane in his other hand.
Ina roared behind us, and a plume of flame scorched over our heads. My heart rose into my throat.
The horse’s powerful hindquarters gathered, then launched us into the sky. Ina gave chase, spouting fire. Her wings carried her swiftly, and when I cast a fearful glance over my shoulder, it was just in time to see her snap at the water horse’s tail only to come away with a mouthful of empty shadows. We needed to go faster.
I shut my eyes tightly. All I had to draw on was my own magic—or Ina’s.
There was no time to be moral.
I yanked power out of her, hard. With a yelp of surprise she faltered, tumbling several lengths down until she righted herself.
I used the stolen power to feed the water horse more energy, and we ascended to a dizzying height. Behind us, Ina roared, but she couldn’t keep up. Just before she vanished from sight, she turned back toward Orzai while the horse galloped northwest with great beats of its shadowy wings. Relief washed through me, quickly followed by an ache that spread through my bones until all I could do was hang on.
“It’s so beautiful, Asra,” Hal murmured, his breath warm on my cheek. I opened my eyes to a dark world painted by the moon. Our altitude was far too great to see any signs of life below, but a river glistened beneath us, a silver ribbon of reflected light. Soon the horse cut to the north and hills began to gently roll beneath us. But the farther away we traveled from the lake, the smaller the horse became. We sank in the sky until its watery hooves skimmed the treetops, and then finally, it set us on the ground and faded away into nothing. Its wings were all that remained, the shadows mingling and whirling around me until I could barely see Hal. They re-formed into a cloak that settled around my shoulders—a cloak made of darkness.
I fell to the ground, trembling.
“Asra!” Hal sank down beside me and put his hand on my forehead.
“I’m fine.” My teeth chattered. Fever had already taken me, as it always did when my magic caused me to age. I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen since I hadn’t written anything, but apparently any use of my blood for powerful magic was going to shorten my life either way.
“You don’t seem fine,” he said, concerned. “And this cloak . . . what is it?” He took his hand from my forehead and ran his fingers curiously over a corner of the black fabric. “My Sight isn’t anywhere near as strong as yours, but it looks a little like Nismae’s cuffs. I can’t really sense you while you’re wearing it.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It somehow formed from the last of the water horse’s magic.”
“No sense looking a Sight-blocking gift cloak in the mouth, I suppose!”
I laughed weakly, which quickly devolved into a cough.
Hal sat back on his heels and thought for a moment. “What can I do to help?”
Somewhere beyond the shivering and the ache and the warm cloak of shadows closing around me, I was more grateful for him than I had ever been for anyone. He always asked. And listened. It was more than Ina had ever done. More than Miriel, either.
“Find us somewhere safe to rest,” I said. “Then help me get there.”
“I can do better than that. Put your arm around me.” He knelt beside me so I could hook my uninjured arm around his neck, then picked me up as though I weighed nothing.
“I hope we aren’t going far,” I mumbled into his chest. But I couldn’t help closing my eyes and giving in to the security of being carried. I felt safe in his arms and warm in the cloak. If I could just stop shaking, I’d be able to rest.
I slipped in and out of consciousness until he set me down. He settled me on the ground and tucked my cloak more carefully around me to keep out the wind, then lay down near me. Though the night wasn’t terribly cold, I continued to shiver as the fever tried to burn its way out of my body. I had felt better when Hal was carrying me, but now that comfort was gone.
“Hal?” I whispered.
“Hmm?” He reached over and laid a cool hand on my forehead.
It felt so good. I took a shuddering breath. “Can you keep me warm?”
“Of course.” He turned on his side and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.
I told myself I didn’t feel anything when he did.
I lied.
CHAPTER 23
I WOKE UP TO BIRDS HERALDING THE DAWN WITH their songs. Hal lay pressed close beside me. My fever had broken, but my bones still ached. Even my hand throbbed dully when I finally sat up, though an examination of the wound in my wrist revealed no signs of infection. I thought the cloak of shadows might disappear as the horse had, but when the sun rose over the hills, it remained on my shoulders. In the light of day it looked like ordinary fabric, if unusually fine for someone as bedraggled as me.
“Your hair,” Hal said, touching the end of my long braid.
“It’s a mess, I’m sure,” I said. Riding a flying water horse halfway across the kingdom had probably turned it into an impossible tangle. Hal looked a little windblown himself, but he seemed to have at least had the presence of mind to pull up his hood during our ride.
“It’s not that. The color is changing.” Confusion was evident in his voice.
I pulled my braid around to examine it, and sure enough, several new silver hairs wound through the brown. How many years had I lost? Was there even a way to know? As for Hal, the time for anything other than honesty between us was over. He already knew what I was and what I could do.
“This is what happens when I use my blood magic,” I told him.
“It gives you fevers and silver hair? I can’t decide if that’s better or worse than my headaches,” he said, looking worried. He didn’t fully understand.
“It ages me. It steals years from my life. I don’t know how many.” I didn’t bother trying to hide my bitterness. I had no regrets about using my blood when it was the only thing I had in my arsenal, but this had only confirmed what I already knew—I needed to find Atheon and get the Fatestone before I ended up like Veric, or worse.