Author: Leah Cypess

She lost the smile. He extended the parchment to her. “You would, after al , be in a position to try and stop him. Even if you never accept, the of er wil give you power.”

Power over her father and Varis. Not much . . . but enough, perhaps, to make her indispensable. If she used it wisely, it might be enough to make her life her own.

She reached out and took the parchment from the dead king’s hand.

It felt just as thick and dry as it had the first time she held it. She thought of the endless plains, of the wind that roared across the grasses, carrying the spirits of the dead. Of the empty space that would always be beside her, the space where Cal ie should have been.

She swal owed the lump in her throat, got to her feet, and slipped the parchment into her saddlebag. Then she turned. Kestin was stil watching her.

“I won’t ever come back here,” she said. “I won’t spend my life among the dead.”

He smiled very faintly. “I know.”

She turned away so he couldn’t see her face. As if from a distance, she heard herself say, “Thank you.”

Some seconds later, she heard the door open and shut. She stood staring at the saddlebag in her hands. Then the door opened again and Varis said, “We’re ready.”

She slung the bag over her shoulder before walking with him to the courtyard near the stables. She walked warily, and so did he, keeping their steps in sync even as they descended the stairs.

But no shadows reared at them from the corners, no iron mask appeared to watch them accusingly. The Guardian would not be coming back as a ghost; nor would anyone else, now that new magic could no longer flow through his mind to fuel the spel .

It should have made Darri feel bet er, to know that she had at least accomplished that. That she had saved people she didn’t know, or care about, and would never see again.

The horses were already saddled in the dark courtyard. Darri slung the saddlebags into place and mounted.

She felt numb. Vague images of stalagmites flit ed through her mind, and her head stil hurt from the day’s sobbing, an ache that started in the back of her eyes and wrapped around her head, twisting and coiling like . .

. She swore, shaking her head, just as Varis said, “You know, there’s a bright side. Father wil be very unhappy with me.”

Darri turned and stared at him, startlement forcing the images of the spel ed stones from her mind. Varis smiled at her crookedly. “Once everyone realizes how badly I’ve failed, my position back home won’t exactly be secure. I’m sure that wil make you happy.”

Would it? Darri considered for a moment, not just what Varis had said, but the prospect of being happy; of let ing herself be happy. She said, slowly, “Not real y. It’s not as if Father wil ever understand why you failed.”

Their eyes met. Darri saw on her brother’s face a weary acknowledgment: that back on the plains, among their people, only the two of them would ever understand.

The castle loomed behind them, the yel ow light from its windows giving more il umination than the moon.

Darri wondered if Cal ie was watching them go, if the dead were ranged translucent against the torch-lit windows. She imagined their skul -like eyes, trapped and accusing, but she didn’t look back. To Cal ie, this castle was home; and to Darri, it was a place of grief and sacrifice.

castle was home; and to Darri, it was a place of grief and sacrifice.

She was not done with grief; she probably never would be, not truly. But she rather thought she was done with sacrifice.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice rough, and loosened her reins. She wasn’t going to look back. She was going to ride away, and maybe she couldn’t keep herself from feeling guilty, but she was not going to let her guilt trap her. And she was not going to look back.

Hoofbeats clat ered on the cobblestone behind her, and she whirled.

Cal ie walked across the courtyard, leading a horse. Her hair was aloft in an elaborate Ghostland style, but she wore practical Rael ian riding breeches. When she got to the spot where they were mounted, she swung herself easily onto the horse’s back.

“Cal ie,” Darri whispered, and then didn’t know what else to say.

Cal ie took a long time gathering the reins. When she looked up, her face was serene and frightened at once.

“I’m coming with you.”

“But—” Darri stopped, swal owed. “But you can’t—”

Cal ie gave her a tiny smile. It was not the unrestrained, exuberant smile of the girl Darri had come looking for, but it was brave, and unfaltering, and real. “You should welcome this.”

She should. But it was suddenly completely obvious to Darri that she didn’t. That the important thing about Cal ie was not what she had become, but what she had always been. Darri’s sister.

“You could stay here,” she said. “You told me you could. That you could be the same as . . . as the others.”

Cal ie laughed, and it sounded almost like her old laugh, free and joyous. Almost. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“It’s not about what I want,” Darri said. “It’s your choice, Cal ie. Your . . .” She stopped. She couldn’t say “life.”

Cal ie’s laugh faded, and she stroked her horse’s neck. “I’m not sure I ever could be like them. And besides, I was trying so hard to be the same as them, I failed to notice that I have something none of the rest of them have. I can ride away, far enough that the spel won’t touch me anymore.”

“And they can’t?” Varis snapped.

“They can,” Cal ie said. “There’s nothing stopping them.” She looked over her shoulder at the brightly lit windows. “They might realize that, now.”

Darri swal owed hard. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“But what wil happen to you when we ride over the border?” said Varis, who apparently had no such problem.

Some of the laughter faded from Cal ie’s face. “I guess we’l find out, won’t we?”

“Actual y,” Varis said, “you’l find out.”

Darri’s hand curled into a fist. But Cal ie just smirked.

“I’l find out in a few nights,” she said. “You’l find out . . . eventual y.”

Varis mut ered something under his breath and kicked his horse into a trot. Darri and Cal ie exchanged a wordless glance. Darri grinned; Cal ie nodded.

Varis yelped as they raced past him, but his words were lost in the pounding of hooves and the whistling wind. Neck to neck, streaming black hair beside bound-up gold, the sisters rode like the wind across the courtyard of the castle and into the dark forest beyond.