Slowly, the rancor reached forward and stretched its clawed hand across Hanne’s face. She squeezed her eyes shut; a whimper escaped her throat, and she hated herself for it. She had to look. She had to face it. But when she opened her eyes—she wasn’t in the malsite anymore.
An unending black expanse stretched all around her, like a sky that had swallowed every one of its stars. Now all that remained was…emptiness, an endless swath of hunger and darkness.
No sound carried. No scent caught her nose. She was alone, but for the yawning black sky.
Shuddering, she sank to the slick, glasslike surface where she’d appeared. It was such a small space, with jagged edges that would surely cut her if she touched them. Her head throbbed with the breadth of all this nothing around her.
A crack shattered the silence, and ruddy light exploded across the sky. Below her, to her sides: there were other shards, larger than hers, and these were not empty. Hanne was too far to see details, but as her watering gaze swept across the bloody expanse, she caught the suggestion of towers and bridges that spanned the empty space between shards. She saw movement, things flickering from place to place.
Thunk. Her shard jolted, sending her sprawling, sliding toward the edge. She scrambled to hold on, but the surface was too slick; she couldn’t slow herself. Soon she’d reach the lip.
Before she could so much as scream, Hanne slipped off the side, the shard’s dagger-like edges slicing her body.
She fell.
And fell.
And stopped.
Breath whooshed out of her. When she finally managed to open her eyes again, she was in the malsite, the rancor drawing back. Within a heartbeat, it was up in the tree again—away from her obsidian—and glaring at her with those yellow eyes.
“What was that?” Hanne rasped. Her legs were so weak. She wanted to drop to the ground and catch her breath, but not with the rancor watching.
“The Dark Shard.” The rancor shifted, not quite hiding the way its skin had turned red and mottled where it had been close to the obsidian. “Now,” it said, “I will tell you how to complete the malice device. You will go to Ivasland and offer to help. I will tell you exactly what to do, and you will do it.”
“Why did you show me the Dark Shard?”
Its nose holes flared. “I want you to know that I can put you there. Forever.”
Hanne’s heart thundered in her ears as two paths stretched out before her: obey the rancor’s commands and live, or resist it and be trapped—either here or in the Dark Shard—for the rest of her short life.
“Do you want to live?” the rancor asked.
She hardly had to think about it. She just said the first word that came to her mind: “Yes.”
* * *
The rancor talked for the rest of the day.
Hanne could only look at it for seconds at a time. Otherwise, she started to get lost in the way its mouth stretched too wide, or the way the air around it rippled with heat or slips of angry time. If she looked at it for too long, she knew she would lose her mind. It was hard enough listening to the thing.
But listen she did, and look when necessary, because her choices were few.
Obey and live.
Defy and die.
And Johanne Fortuin needed to live. A single mal-device could not tip the scales of fate—but the combined might of Embria and Caberwill would.
Only she could unite the kingdoms.
When night fell, the rancor said, “Do you understand everything I’ve told you?”
Hanne had remained on her feet for the duration of the rancor’s lecture. Yes, lecture was probably the best word for it. It hadn’t asked if she needed clarification, or given her space to ask questions. It had merely paused its address long enough, now and again, to give her head a few needed moments of respite, and then it continued. And through the pain, Hanne had listened to every word because her life depended on it.
Did she understand everything it had told her?
She looked up at the creature, which had not moved since it had shoved that vision of the Dark Shard into her mind. Its obsidian-induced wounds were healing, and it remained a nightmare against her eyes, a violence that followed her even when she blinked. So many teeth. Such jagged claws. It stared hungrily down, all predator.
Blood crusted down the sides of her face, clumped in her blond hair, and stained her filthy blue dress like rust. Her ears rang and her head throbbed, but the rancor didn’t care about any of that. Only:
“Yes.” She made her voice as strong as it could be, given the circumstances. “I will go to Ivasland and do everything I can to help them finish the mal-device using the information you’ve given me.”
“I will know if you fail,” the rancor said. “You will not like the consequences.”
Again, Hanne’s thoughts flashed back to the Dark Shard and the overpowering sense of terror she’d felt—not just for her life, but for whatever was left of her soul. “I will not fail.”
EXCERPT FROM NADINE HOLT’S DIARY, DECIPHERED FROM EMBRIAN MICRO-CODE
Hanne would warn me against writing anything that might be discovered, even though I’ll only use the royal micro-code, but I’m in Brink without her, and I cannot confide in the other ladies-in-waiting—not without them losing hope of her return. I must pour out my feelings somewhere, as the others pour out their feelings on me.
I have been very lonely here. As Hanne’s primary lady-in-waiting, I inhabit the suite she and I would have shared until her wedding, while Lea, Maris, and Cecelia reside in the suite next door. I almost asked to be placed with them, but such a request would have reflected poorly on me—and therefore Hanne. So I stay here, surrounded by all of Hanne’s belongings, everything she would have needed for her wedding.
Fortunately, the other ladies and I have been given leave to move between suites, and I went to them this morning to break our fasts. We should have spoken of important matters, but instead, our meal was quiet. Subdued.
No one knows how to feel or how to behave without Hanne here to guide them. In her absence, they’ve begun looking to me. What do I think? What do I suggest?
It’s because I know Hanne best. It’s because Hanne shared her plans with me.
So, even though it pains me to do anything but kneel by my fire and pray for Hanne’s safe release, I will do what I know she would want: move forward with our plans. I have the list of names taken from Devon Bearhaste, Caberwilline people willing to work on Hanne’s behalf. It may be difficult to fully persuade them to her side when she isn’t here, but perhaps they can be won by promises of her favor when she returns to us.