“The journal didn’t specify.” Brennan draws his dagger over his palm, then presses his hand to the wardstone, and we all follow.
Hope swells in my chest, rising with my pulse, and I hiss through my teeth at the bite of pain as I slice. Blood wells, and I push my cut palm against the stone in line with the others. It’s colder than I expect, warmth quickly leaching from my hand as blood drips down the shimmering black surface.
The stone feels frozen. Lifeless. But not for long.
I glance down the line to be sure everyone has their palms flat against the stone and see six narrow streams of blood snaking their way down the iron.
“Is it working?” Bodhi asks, bleeding a couple of feet away.
My mouth opens, but I quickly shut it.
No one answers.
Come on, I beg the stone, like I can will the damn thing to life.
There’s no hum, no sense of power—nothing but cold, black stone. It’s nothing like the awareness that comes from being close to the wards at the outposts or even holding the alloy-hilted dagger in my hand.
There’s… nothing.
My stomach falls first, then my heart, and finally my shoulders as my head droops.
“I’m done.” Suri pulls her hand off the stone. “The rest of you can sit here and bleed all night, but this clearly isn’t working.”
No, no, no.
Felix, Brennan, and Bodhi drop their hands.
Failure clogs my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I did everything right. I researched, and read, and stole a primary source. I translated and double-checked. This is supposed to be the solution. It’s everything I’ve been working on for months, the key to keeping everyone safe.
Did we bleed the wrong six riders? Is there an element of magic I missed? Something more to the blood? What did I miss?
“Violence,” Xaden says quietly.
Slowly, I turn my head to look up at him, expecting disappointment or censure but finding none in his eyes. But there’s no pity, either.
“I failed,” I whisper, my hand falling away.
He watches me for a heartbeat, then two before dropping his own. “You’ll try again.”
It isn’t an order, though, just a fact.
“Violet, I can—” Brennan starts, reaching for my hand.
I shake my head, then stare down at the blood welling in the cup of my palm.
If he mends a cut this fresh, I doubt it will leave a scar. I won’t even have that to show for the last three months.
The sound of tearing fills the space, and Xaden tightly wraps a cut piece of his uniform around my palm to stanch the bleeding. “Thank you.”
“You’ll try again,” he repeats, wrapping another strip of fabric around his own hand.
I nod, and he turns to talk to Kylynn, keeping his voice low.
“Now can we please discuss how we plan to actually acquire that luminary?” Suri’s tone rises with annoyance.
I stare up at the blood-marked stone, searching for answers it won’t give me.
“It’s a lost magic,” Bodhi says softly, appearing at my side. He rubs his thumb over his newly mended, scarless palm. “Maybe there’s a reason this stone never worked. It might be broken.”
I nod again, incapable of speech. Bodhi. Xaden. Mira. Rhi. Brennan. Ridoc. Sawyer. Imogen… The list of people I’ve failed goes on and on. We’re only here because I made my friends steal the journal in the first place, and then… nothing? Anger sparks in my chest, and power rushes in, heating my skin.
I don’t fail. I’ve never failed anything in my life. Well, that first RSC land navigation, but that doesn’t count. That was everyone. This is me.
“Offer the viscount twice the number of weapons he asked for,” Ulices says, his voice fading with his footsteps.
“I’ll send a missive tomorrow,” Brennan promises as the others walk out of the chamber.
We have no wards. No weapons. Almost no experienced riders. All because I acted recklessly.
Power builds, vibrating my fingertips.
Felix moves to my side, his somber gaze studying me before he holds out his hand.
I blink, glancing at his palm, then up to his face.
“Your hand.” He lifts his brow.
I hold my uninjured one out, and instead of touching me, he tilts his head and watches the slight trembling of my fingers.
