House of Shadows (Royal Houses 2)

Arbor glanced at Prescott on the other side of the clearing. He rolled his eyes at her. She tried to hide her smile. Pres didn’t do the best job at hiding his disdain from Wynter. It hardly mattered. Sometimes, it actually made it better. Pres would come in all cold and aloof, and Arbor would bring the praise. It raised her in Wynter’s esteem with little work.

As long as she could keep Pres safe. He was the only person she had anymore. She’d kill Wynter and end the rebellion before she’d let her hurt her brother.

She had just looked down at her battered nails, wondering how much longer she was going to have to endure this, when a gasp rose from Prescott’s throat. She jerked his direction at the sound. It was so unfamiliar from his normal teasing voice.

Then, she gasped too.

“Are you seeing this?” she said, directed to no one in particular.

But Prescott was suddenly at her side, ditching the blonde who had been on his arm for the event. “I see it.”

Wynter raised her hands high. “The time is now.”

And the time was now.

Arbor watched in fascination as the wall came into perfect focus. It shone a bright blue light, and for the first time, she could see the map of veins that ran through the entirety of the endless wall. They weren’t cracks, like Wynter had said. They were more like vessels to carry the energy through. And they were beautiful.

“What you see before you is the wall,” Wynter said. Her voice was reaching a fever pitch. “As I have told you all this time, it is visible, and it is weakening. Even you can see it now with your own two eyes.”

The acolytes fell to their knees before Wynter. They bowed and praised her for her magnanimous behavior. For letting them see the wall as she’d claimed.

But Arbor remained on her feet. Wynter hadn’t done this. She was a prop for Arbor’s rebellion but not worth anything more than that. How was this happening?

“Soon, we will be free!” Wynter cried. “Soon, we will stake our claim. Soon, we will show the world who we are.”

Then, as Wynter turned to face the wall, the whole thing shimmered.

Arbor gasped again. It was as if she were looking up at a kaleidoscope of starlight. Then, the wall burst in the air and rained down all around them. She held her hand out, and a piece of the wall touched her and then disappeared entirely.

“Are you seeing this?” Pres asked her.

“I can’t believe my eyes,” she breathed.

Wynter stepped forward. “It is time, children,” she bellowed. “It is time.”

She crossed the divide where the wall had been for a thousand years. Pres slid his hand into hers, and together, they joined her outside of the wall.

Outside of the wall.

She’d never believed any of Wynter’s ramblings. But here she stood, on the other side of the wall. Whether she had done it or not was irrelevant. She had a dozen witnesses who would say she had accomplished it.

Arbor smiled devilishly and looked to her brother. “It’s time.”

“Sister,” he said, bowing at the waist and kissing her hand.

“Let’s go show the world what we’re made of.”

52

The Sickness

CLOVER

Clover found Amond where he always was—in the loch den. “Get up. Get up. It’s an emergency.”

Amond nodded his head and took another puff from the pipe. “Has Dozan sent for me?”

“Yes! And he’ll have your head if you’re too high to work your magic.”

“My magic works because of the loch, little mourning dove,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Surely, you, of all people, know that.”

“Why would I know that?” Clover asked, hustling him toward the door. “I’m a human. I don’t have magic.”

“If you say so.”

Clover shook her head and rolled her eyes. “My dad was a clockmaker. My mom was a littlings school teacher at the Laments church. No magic on either of their sides.”

“Religion has a magic of its own.”

She scoffed, “I have no religion either. It died in the fire.”

Five years ago, when Kerrigan had been brutally assaulted, Clover had been inside the Laments church on the Square with the rest of the orphans. She was the only survivor, hiding among the dead in the catacombs. She made her way to Dozan after that. But magic hadn’t saved her that night, just her own ability to hide.

Amond ignored her comment but thankfully followed her upstairs. He stepped inside, and Dozan ushered him forward. Amond revealed the blue orb of his magic and ran it over Kerrigan.

He shook his head. “The magic sickness is progressing rapidly. She won’t last through the night if we don’t find a way to stabilize her.”

“Then stabilize her!” Dozan demanded.

“I am not trained in this. My expertise lies elsewhere. You would need a skilled Society healer for this sort of precise work. I am a bit more of a broad stroke,” Amond told them with no ego.