Lila shook her head. “You can’t use your magic.”
“No,” he said. “But you can.”
She didn’t fully understand the chains, but she knew enough to know that the one wearing the cuff was bound to the one with the ring, that the first’s power became the second’s. She pulled the thin length of gold from her pocket, its edge stained red with Berras’s blood. She hesitated, long enough that Kell took it from her and wrapped the gold around her finger. As he did, the chain around his own wrist changed, became a solid cuff. Hers became a ring.
She’d been on the other side. Felt the utter absence of her magic. Now, she felt it double, as Kell’s power poured in on top of hers. The whole world hummed with the force of it.
At the same time, Kell sighed, his shoulders sagging, as if a massive weight had suddenly been lifted. He closed his eyes, hand wrapped around the cuff as if to keep it there.
There was no time to ask if he was sure.
Lila turned back to the open door.
The wind was a torrent now, dragging at her clothes, but her very bones felt grounded with power. She touched the cut on her cheek, only to find it healed. The pain in her chest had faded too, the surge of Kell’s power enough to mend her wounds. She drew her knife, and cut deep, painting both hands red as she approached the chasm.
It was so large now, she had to spread her arms wide just to touch the sides. Her fingertips curled around its edges. She filled her lungs, and forced the magic down into her hands as she called the spell.
“AS STARO.”
The wind was a howling force, and yet, the words rang out, through her skin, through the room, as loud as that crashing bell. She felt them, clamping like giant hands against the splintered doorway, felt the frame shudder, and cave in, the darkness shrinking as the door was finally forced closed.
Then it was gone, leaving nothing but a ragged scar, like a badly stitched wound, on the air in its wake.
The wind died with it.
The room was still.
Lila sagged with relief, and turned toward Kell, hoping to see her own triumph mirrored on his face. But he wasn’t standing there beside her. He was on the floor, his entire body rigid, muscles seizing.
“Kell.”
Lila dropped to the ground beside him, tearing the ring from her finger. As soon as it was gone, the gold chain sloughed off his wrist, the connection between them broken. He should have been okay then, but he wasn’t.
“Talk to me,” she pleaded, but his teeth were clamped. His muscles clenched. His eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to see her, tears sliding into his hair.
“God dammit, Kell,” she said, gripping his face.
But as she touched him, something finally came loose inside his jaw, and he opened his mouth, and began to scream.
X
WHITE LONDON
The greater the power, the higher the price.
Kosika thought of Holland’s words as she stood beneath the cherry tree. The one she’d grown with only blood and want.
It was an intruder, taller than the others in the orchard, in full summer bloom instead of giving way to fall. But that was not what troubled her. It was the trees to either side. They looked sickly now, their own leaves curling as if parched, their color leached away. As if, without realizing, she’d stolen from them to feed her silly spell.
What have I done?
“Magic is not infinite.”
She jumped a little at the sound of Holland’s voice. He was standing on the grass beside her, white hair lifting off his cheeks as it had in her dream. He followed her gaze. She thought of the Silver Wood, the heart of the world in her hands.
Footsteps sounded behind her on the path, and she turned to find Serak coming toward her. The Vir had always been a somber man, his dark brows often creased in thought. But she had seen him in the halls that morning, and he had seemed in good spirits. Now, he had the look of a messenger carrying bad news.
“My queen,” he said. “You are needed.”
“What is it?” she asked, but he would not say, only gestured for her to follow; not back to the castle, but toward the outer gates.
Kosika sighed, and started after him, casting a last look back at the tree. Flowers bloomed, but to its left and right, the branches withered.
“All spells have a cost,” said Holland.
Kosika rubbed her injured thumb against her finger. “I thought I paid it.”
“What did you say?” This, from Serak, who had stopped a few strides down the path.
Kosika looked from the Vir to her king, and for a moment, considered telling him the truth, that she was speaking to the Saint himself. But Holland cast her a heavy look, and in the end she shook her head, and said nothing.