him on.
The Spindle glowed in Taristan’s eyes. He stared, unblinking, and plunged a hand into the thin, shining
thread.
Erida expected the Spindle to burn or cut, to harm him in some way. Instead his fingers passed through
it as easily as the divide in a wall of curtains, pushing aside the planes of this realm to reach the next.
Then his hand disappeared, and his wrist, until he was well past the elbow of his arm. On the other side,
there was nothing but empty air.
His mouth tightened, his teeth clenching together as his body jerked once. If he was in pain, he did not
show it.
“Taristan,” she heard herself murmur. To the Queen’s surprise, she grabbed his opposite shoulder,
fingers working into his leathers, trying to pull him out.
The Spindle gave him back without difficulty.
Diamonds, big as eggs, flawless and without peer, spilled from his hand, rolling over his fingers and onto
the grass. At first Erida thought they were blocks of ice, some rough, some clear, too massive and too
many to be jewels. She grabbed one, expecting it to be frozen. Instead she felt hard stone, heavy on her
palm.
“Irridas,” Ronin breathed, stooping to inspect the stones. “The dazzling realm.”
“Home to Tiber, the god of riches,” she said reflexively, remembering scripture.
The gems were marvelous, but Erida was queen of a wealthy kingdom. It was difficult to impress a
woman like her with jewels. She straightened, a diamond in her fist, watching Taristan’s face.
When his thin lips spread into a smile’s shadow, she swallowed. “What else?”
“Nothing gets past you,” he replied, taking the jewel from her. His bare skin was already pale, but Erida
did not miss the steady spread of white veins in his flesh. They matched those already on his chest,
growing and branching, as something grew and branched in him.
His fingers closed, the diamond in his grip. His knuckles went hard and sharp, bones standing out
beneath his skin, and the gemstones crumbled to dust, sifting like starlight between his fingers.
This time, he smiled with white teeth, like a predator closing in on a kill.
Her flesh burned when he raised his palm to her face, cupping her cheek. His blood smeared, sticky on
her skin, but somehow she didn’t mind.
In the Spindle, something growled.
26
PAIN AND FEAR
Corayne
Sigil rode a horse as a bird flew. Second nature, with incredible, impossible ease. The people of the
Temurijon were legendary equestrians, nearly born in the saddle, and Sigil was no exception. Her mount
was no steppe pony, but a chestnut hunter, with long legs and a white star down its face.
She kept a rope from the pommel of her saddle attached to Charlie’s, forcing him to keep pace, dragging
him along with a grimace. He bounced on his mule like a sack of potatoes, and every time they stopped,
he walked gingerly, wincing. Like Corayne, he wasn’t exactly comfortable in the saddle, and Sigil needled
him for it. Their relationship was strange, gruff but tolerating, despite Sigil’s endeavors to bring Charlie to
execution. Even so, they shared old jokes and even older insults. Clearly she’d been chasing him for a
very, very long time.
“I must say, I’m glad to get out of that marsh,” Sigil said, raising her face to the sun as they trotted along
a country lane. Freckles dotted her cheeks. She led them southwest, leaving the Adiran mists behind.
Though Corayne knew the map as well as anyone, she had no idea where they were going.
Sorasa swayed with the rhythm of her horse, her cowl raised again. “I can’t believe you wasted so many
days squatting in the mud, waiting for such a sorry excuse for a bounty,” she said, cutting a glance at
Charlie.
Sigil drew herself up proudly. “I’ve never failed to bring a charge to justice.”
Charlie sneered next to her, huffing. “And never failed to collect a blood price.”
“Blood price? Don’t act so moral, Priest,” she shot back, grinning. “I believe one of your charges is
murder.”
On his own horse, Andry coughed, doing his best to hide a disapproving grimace. His best isn’t very
good, Corayne noted, watching the squire squirm next to her. Dom was stone-faced, trying to hide his
own disapproval. You’re surrounded by criminals now, Prince, Corayne thought.
“It was him or me,” Charlie said airily, waving a hand in the air. The movement almost made him slip
from the saddle. “Garion of the Amhara taught me well.”
Another Amhara? Before Corayne could open her mouth to ask, Sorasa peered out from her
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