The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,121

knowing exactly where he goes. Poor Quen was getting all excited, thinking she would get rid of Shan and turn to him again. Instead, she's clutching Shan tight. It shows how much she wants to keep you here — normally she just dismisses the girl from court."

"You're disgusting," Sandry croaked. "Making up such foul lies about people."

"Oh, I've made you unhappy, ruining your pretty little dreams. Get used to our marriage, if you please," retorted Fin. "Once you present me with an heir, I'll be happy to leave you to your own devices. Until later, my dear."

Then he was gone. Without Fin to hate, her fear of the dark swamped her again. Sandry screamed until she had no voice. When that was gone, she slid down and slammed her feet against the side of her prison over and over, until her back was bruised and her knees and ankles were on fire. Only when she could no longer kick did she curl up into a tiny ball, shuddering. The dark overwhelmed her for a while.

The sound of people banging around outside brought her to herself again. It seemed Fin's helpers were settling down to a game of cards nearby. Oddly, their voices gave Sandry's mind something to latch on to. She wasn't quite lost, not if she could hear rough men cursing each other's bets and cards.

What am I without magic? she asked herself dully, forcing herself to sit upright. Just a game piece, like Zhegorz said. Just a pretty... Zhegorz. Daja. Briar, Tris.

Wait. Wait. I have bitsof Briar's magic in me, from when we were kids. And Tris's, and Daja's. I spun us into one magic, but then I had to weave us into four separate people again. Still, we each kept some of one another's power so we could go on seeing magic, and hearing conversations. What's around me are spells only for thread magic, not green or weather or metal magic.

It was hard to ignore her terror and her very real pain. First she had to rip pieces from her linen shift to bind up her bleeding hands and feet. Her throbbing head was hard to ignore, too. Somehow she forced herself inward, thrusting her awareness of the dark from her mind. She even made herself forget those voices outside her trap. Slowly she sank down into herself, into the core of her power.

She was shocked to find it in disarray. When did I tend it last? she wondered, seeing a mess of threads and connections where she was accustomed to finding a spindle of fiery thread. Oh, cat dirt — not since we reached Dancruan, I think. I never used to be this sloppy, she thought as she poked through the tangle. I shouldn't get so distracted that I don't straighten things up. For one thing, here at least I can see light.

She found the crimson thread that was her bond to Daja. She gave it a few sharp tugs. She waited, but no response came. She bit her lip to keep from wailing as her grip on her power started to melt. Daja was blocked off, which meant that she must be with Rizu. There would be no help from her.

For a moment, darkness surged back into Sandry's mind. She kicked the wall again, then cradled her throbbing foot, tears streaming from her eyes. She had forgotten her bruised and bloody feet.

Enough, she ordered herself as the pain ebbed. Enough. I have one tiny setback and I go to pieces. Gudruny held on for ten years. Zhegorz survived for fifty. Daja floated in the sea five days thinking she was lost forever, and she let a forest fire go through her, and walked through burning buildings. From what Rosethorn said, she and Briar were in a war. I get locked up by one silk-breeches noble and I just collapse? Enough.

Forcing herself to be calm once again, she sank down into her power to find her connection with Tris. It wasn't as strong as the bond with Daja, probably because they'd only used it once, and that recently. Sandry shoved herself through the thin strand, questing for the redhead.

A monstrous jolt shocked her clean out of her concentration. She leaned her head back carefully, tasting blood where she'd bitten her lip.

"Of all times for her to play with lightning," she croaked, feeling for her handkerchief. Not many people would rather shroud themselves in storms than attend a brilliant party, she added silently, so she wouldn't hurt