to the gods, to the magic. From a distance, she heard Daya humming a discordant song, but she did not pause to wonder.
Komen mir de strôm. Komen mir de vleisch unde sêle. Komen mir de Anderswar.
The trees around her dissolved into a diamond-bright mist. Beyond the mist lay a thick darkness, almost a presence. It was like a fog-bound night on Enzeloc’s coast, when stars and moon were veiled and invisible.
The mist thinned to wisps and curls, for all the good that did. She stood in the midst of nothing, a void illuminated by a brilliant light. Even as the thought came to her, the light shifted, changed to an impossibly vibrant prism of color. She paused, uncertain. Though the familiar green scent saturated the air, this place was like none she had ever visited in Autrevelye, not even in lives before. No wheeling worlds beneath her. No sense of instability. All was too quiet and still, as though she stood in a bubble outside all worlds.
Because you do stand outside them all, Valara Baussay.
A tall figure strode into view—a woman with silver hair and a gleaming black face. When Valara fell back, the woman held up her hand. A long slim hand with eight fingers and nails curved into claws. Stop, the woman said.
Who are you? Valara whispered.
You know me.
There was magic in her song, a rainbow of hues in her words, and sharp sweet flavors with every syllable. She was a creature of Autrevelye, but unlike any Valara had ever encountered.
No, I am not of Autrevelye, though you abandoned me here a dozen lifetimes ago.
Cold trickled through Valara’s veins. Daya? Why did you stop me? We cannot stay in Veraene. They will take you and use you—
And you will not? I was captured and tormented. My soul was divided. You … you promised me freedom, all those years ago, but you lied. You left me and my brothers-sisters. And now you would battle your brother again over us. We are not things, Valara Baussay. We are one.
But you helped me escape the prison.
I did. You will go home. I swear it. But not before you deliver us all.
What do you mean deliver?
But Daya had resumed humming.
… rûf ane gôtter … rûf ane zoubernisse …
The mist streamed around them, once more a thick and brilliant white.
Wait, Valara cried. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.
Deliver me. Deliver my brothers-sisters-cousins-self. Promise me …
Her words ran together into a chorus of silvery notes, high and clear and precise, the rill of water singing over stone, of raindrops cascading from the trees …
The crackle of thunder brought her back. She started, found herself gripped by both arms. Galena on one side. Ilse Zhalina on the other. They were dragging her back down the hillside, which was awash in heavy rains. Valara twisted away to break their hold, but Galena smacked her across the face. “You filthy lying bitch.”
“No more, Galena,” Ilse said, but she didn’t protest when Galena struck Valara again.
When they regained the camp, Galena flung Valara onto her mattress. Ilse stepped between them. She leaned over Valara. “You lied to us,” she said in a low angry voice. “You said you needed our help to escape Osterling. Now we find you can walk between worlds. At least, you tried to. What happened?”
She could not admit what happened. That meant explaining about Daya and the other jewels. Valara pressed her lips together and met Ilse’s gaze with stubborn silence. Galena laid a hand on Ilse’s arm, but Ilse shrugged her away. She stood and stared down at Valara, her face a blank mask in the night.
“Never mind. She will speak or not as she wishes. If she does not, we leave her behind.”
A bluff, Valara thought. Or not, as Ilse turned.
“I—” She stopped and licked her lips. Ilse did not turn around, but she was clearly listening.
“I did try to escape,” Valara said. “I tried before and couldn’t. I don’t know why.”
It was the truth. Even so, she didn’t expect Ilse to believe her. She waited, not certain what the others would say. In the end, Ilse shrugged and told Galena that she would keep the next watch. The two of them would take turns after that.
Valara released a shaky breath. No reproach. No ultimatum. Just a choice.
* * *
UNACCUSTOMED SUNLIGHT WOKE her early the next morning. She rolled over and groaned. Her body was stiff from the previous day’s march. Her clothes were still damp, and clung to her