Page 9 of The Queen's Shadow

He was crumpled on the ground a hundred feet away. He grunted and stiffly pulled himself to his feet, and they were left staring at each other across the forest, a cacophony of birds scattering into the air above them. A strange white glow radiated from the valley, along with a cloying sense of wrongness that was impossible to describe.

Cassandra swallowed, her eyes wide. “What in the name of the Archer was that?”

Arphaxad’s usually composed face was ashen, his mouth pressed together in a thin line. “That was the sound of magic gone awry.”

Chapter 4

Cassandra peered down the ridge at the valley below. It looked much the same as it had before the explosion. Before he’d shown up. Her mouth twisted.

Arphaxad crouched beside her in the brush, and she did her best to ignore his presence.

The inviting glow of the enchanted orb fire at the mouth of the cave was gone, disintegrated by the explosion. Gray silt still hung suspended in the air, obscuring the cave entrance almost entirely from view. It was just as well. She found it incredibly hard to look at—as if something had shifted about the earth below, something vast and inexplicable and wrong.

People had emerged from their houses, gathering in packs and talking in harsh whispers as they stared in horror at the inky blackness of the cave mouth.

“Idiots!” one of the chanters growled as he ran toward the cave. His graying hair was long and tied in a tail at the nape of his neck. “We should never have agreed to this. They’re going to destroy us all!”

A few other chanters peeled off from their respective groups and followed him, their faces grim and drawn. Men were stumbling out of the cave now, their robes and tunics crumpled and streaked with dust. One of the men hung limply between two others as they dragged him into the open air, and Cassandra could see blood encrusted in his dark hair. Another man clutched at his arm, wincing with every step he took.

“It was Akil,” one of the men gasped. He was young, younger than Cassandra even, with curling dark hair and a slim build. “He—his chant slipped. He’s gone.” He leaned over and vomited.

“Damn novices,” one of the chanters muttered.

Horror washed over her in a nauseating wave. Arphaxad had said that the explosion had been caused by magic. Were the chanters teaching the Inetians? She had caught wind of their conversation earlier, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. It couldn’t be. Surely the emperor, as ruthless as he was, wouldn’t condone something like this?

The white-haired chanter emerged from the cave a moment later, his mouth drawn in a grim line.

“Gustav!” the graying chanter snapped. “We told you this would happen, but you made the Archer-forsaken deal anyway!”

“I don’t have time for this, Victor,” the white-haired chanter—Gustav—said evenly. “We need everyone with the strength to create a circle in the cavern, now.”

Victor opened his mouth as if he were going to say something more, but the woman beside him laid a hand on his arm, and he snapped it shut.

“Now, Victor,” Gustav said, his voice taking on a tone of danger.

“We’re all going to pay for your folly,” Victor muttered. He pushed bodily past Gustav, his shoulder knocking against the shorter man’s, and was swallowed up by the silty haze.

Cassandra glanced over at Arphaxad. He was poised like a cat, worry gathering in his jaw. This whole situation had been unimaginable only a few hours ago. But now here she was, working with the man she had sworn to keep one step ahead of, trying to contain a threat that might bring about the end of both their kingdoms. If the Inetians wanted the chanters’ power for themselves—she shuddered.

The group of chanters was disappearing into the lingering smoke at the mouth of the cave now, but no one rushed forward to help the staggering men.

“Are they going in there to...fix whatever it was that happened?” Cassandra asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Arphaxad breathed beside her.

“We’re going to have to go in there.” She took a step along the ridge, then froze as his fingers closed around her wrist.

“Wait,” he said. She tensed, ready to throw his grasp—and break his arm—if she had to. He let go and retreated a few steps.

“Wait,” he said again.

“For what?” she snapped. She wasn’t used to working with other people—let alone with him. And if he insisted on slowing her down, then this—whatever this was—wouldn’t last for very long.

“Let them get farther in. We don’t want to risk getting caught. The passageway looks narrow. If we run across anyone...it won’t go well for us.”

She sighed. “It might be better if I went in alone. I’m smaller than you are. There are more crevices in which I can hide.”

He sorted. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you go in there alone.”