had lost her husband. A kingdom had lost its prince a second time, trapped in isolation for the burden of mixed blood. And Wynn had brought the wraith in among the unaware.
All because she wouldn’t let anything get in her way.
What had she gained for it? She had her old journals, a brief glimpse at the texts, and had unmasked the worshipper of an ancient traitor taken in by the dwarves’ secret guardians of the honored dead.
Wynn tried to clear her mind. The wraith would come, and if Chane was right, the only thing to hinder it might be the inability to see far enough down the tunnel to close upon them instantly.
Shade inched forward on her right, and Wynn glanced back at Chane. He’d left his sword sheathed and only kept watch, alternating between behind and ahead. His irises glinted colorlessly whenever the crystal’s light touched them.
He had stood by her as had no one else but Shade. She wished she could tell him how grateful she was, but this wasn’t the time. If she died this night, would she regret never having told him?
Shade slowed and turned.
Wynn halted, following the dog’s gaze. Chane already faced back up the tunnel. She didn’t need Shade’s rumble to warn her.
“It’s coming,” she said.
Tristan backed Reine against the tunnel wall and pulled his sword. Perhaps that was his only comfort in not being able to do more. Wynn silently held out her open hand toward the captain and then clenched.
He closed his fist around the crystal, and all light vanished.
Wynn fumbled in her pocket for the glasses and pushed them onto her face.
Shade began mewling, and the sound shuddered in the tunnel.
“Shade, no,” she whispered, and the dog quieted.
In the silence, she heard the duchess’s low, quick breaths, and longer, even ones from the captain. Right in front her, Shade hissed in suppressed growls. But she heard nothing from Chane, no breath, no movements, and something else now frightened her.
“The sun crystal . . .” she whispered, hoping only he heard. “You can’t hide here.”
“My cloak will be enough.”
Would it? In her guild room, he’d dropped and covered himself, but il’Sänke had left the sun crystal lit for only an instant. It would take much more to put the wraith down and not just drive it off for the moment.
“Start your preparation,” he whispered.
“Can you see it?” she asked.
“Listen to Shade,” he answered.
Wynn felt him brush past and crouch behind her. One of his arms wrapped lightly around her waist. What did he think he was going to do, pull her to safety if this didn’t work?
“All of you, close your eyes!” Wynn whispered. “Chane, keep . . . Pull your hood down over your face.”
She heard him struggling, but his arm never left her waist.
In the dark, she felt along the staff with one hand to get a mental fix upon the sun crystal’s position. She focused upon it and began as Domin il’Sänke had taught her. The nested circles and triangles came more quickly, in pairs this time, as she uttered phrases spoken in old Sumanese. Wynn held off the last utterance, just listening.
Shade snarled loudly.
Wynn nearly shouted the last words: “Mênajil il’Núr’u mên’Hkâ’ät! . . . for the Light of Life!”
Light erupted before Wynn’s eyes, and the glasses went black for an instant. A shrieking hiss tore at her ears over Shade’s yelp. The lenses cleared, and she saw . . .
Beyond the blinding crystal, the wraith thrashed in the tunnel.
Had she caught it so off guard? Had luck finally turned in her favor? Wynn took a half step and thrust the staff, trying to spear the wraith with the crystal’s searing light.
The wraith fragmented like soot in the air, spreading in all directions. Its hiss faded and those wisps dissipated under the sun crystal’s intensity.
Wynn just stood there—then she was startled from inaction as Chane’s hand tightened on her waist. She quickly wiped the pattern from her mind, as well as the triggering utterances lingering in her thoughts.
The crystal went out, and she fumbled to get the glasses off her face.
“Some light!” she shouted.
It came as Tristan opened his fist around the cold lamp crystal.
“Is it gone?” he demanded. “Is it finished this time?”
Wynn looked up the empty tunnel.
She didn’t know how to answer; she’d hoped for some better hint. Everything had happened much the same as when they’d faced it outside the scribe shop. But this time . . . it had burned away so quickly. And