Darkness flowed out of the throne and enveloped Trystan and me. The entire world blinked and for a moment I thought I had died. I wondered if this is what it meant to swim in the sea of the dead.
But then I felt Trystan’s breath near my ear:
“Use your magic. It’s a trick.”
My magic. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the darkness. At first all I could feel was Lord Foxfollow’s magic, crawling and snaking over me. There was no way I could work enchantment with that. I needed the wind. I needed Isolfr.
And as soon as I had the thought, I felt him, distantly, the soft cold breeze of the north wind. The south wind was the north wind’s sister, he’d told me, and I knew I could harness its power, his power, inside of me.
And so I did.
I reached out for him, reached out for the magic on the wind, and drew him in close. It was easier than it normally was, and I knew he was coming to me, that he was choosing to help. My bloodstream sparked and shivered as if it were turning to ice. But then there was a surge of power, and for a half-second the throne room lit up.
The walls were lined with monsters.
A wind storm raged inside.
And Foxfollow stood on the throne, feet balanced on either armrest, chanting with his hand pressed against his heart.
I gasped and stumbled back. The image blinked out, replaced by darkness. Something caught me.
“Isolfr?” I said weakly.
“No, Trystan. Can you see?”
“I did, for a moment—”
“Try harder then. He’s keeping us in the dark. Seeing him is the only way we’ll be able to fight.”
Trystan helped me to my feet. It was disconcerting to feel his touch but not see him. Black ink oozed around us. I felt for Isolfr again. He was close, waiting. His magic threaded through me.
“Isolfr,” I whispered, “help me.”
Power blasted into me and magic swelled up inside my chest. I could see again. The monsters crawled over the walls, their claws digging in tightly to stop from being blown away by Isolfr’s strength. They hissed and shrieked and clambered over one another. Some of them looked like the monsters that had attacked the Annika, thin-snouted and sharp-toothed, but others oozed like snakes or flapped thin, membranous wings like bats. Looking at them left me nauseated, and I forced my attention up to the throne.
Up to Lord Foxfollow.
He dropped his hand to his side. I moved back, unsteady on my feet. Trystan was a few paces away from me, kneeling, tracing a pattern on the floor.
Lord Foxfollow opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes and pain swelled up inside my head. I slammed back against the wall and the squirm of monsters. One of them slithered across my throat and I flew forward, hitting the ground. The pain throbbed in time with my heart.
Hanna, whispered Isolfr. A triiiick.
A trick. Magic. This pain, as much as it pounded inside my head, was a phantom. It was pain generated by a spell.
I screamed and forced the pain away, transforming it into a ball of light that exploded in the center of the room. The monsters shrieked and turned away from the light, scurrying into corners and behind tapestries.
Lord Foxfollow gave me a cold smile.
“Daughter of the Sun,” he hissed, “did you come to aid the North Wind?”
I didn’t answer him, just curled my hands into fists and concentrated on drawing in the magic from Isolfr. I needed to transform it inside of me into something that could defeat a lord of the Mists.
“Get out of Jandanvar,” I said.
Lord Foxfollow looked at me and laughed. The wind swirled between us, throwing my hair up in long streaks behind my head. Magic burned inside of me. Lord Foxfollow was still laughing. Trystan—where was Trystan? I didn’t dare look away from Foxfollow, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him hunched on the floor, still tracing his patterns. He needed time.
I gathered up my magic. It coalesced into a cold, searing point inside my chest, and there was so much strength there, so much power, that for a moment I didn’t even feel afraid.
I murmured a prayer to the ancestors and then I shot the magic straight at Lord Foxfollow. It manifested as a column of cold blue light, and it slammed into him and threw him up against the wall behind the thrones. He’d clearly underestimated me. The monsters howled and hissed and roiled around on the wall, crawling back out of their hiding places. I collapsed on the floor, overcome with exhaustion. I felt empty. I was empty.
Lord Foxfollow wasn’t moving, but the monsters were. They peeled themselves away from the wall and slunk low over the floor, a hundred different things crawling and creeping and sliding toward me. Every single one of them had their mouths pulled back to reveal long rows of jagged teeth. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even move to sit up. I was too weak.
“Help!” I cried out, to Trystan, to Isolfr, to anyone. “I can’t—”
The monsters’ faces flickered. Their features were animalistic and cruel, but as they edged toward me I saw traces of humanity in them. I saw Mama and Papa and Henrik. I saw Kolur.
“Help!” I screamed. “Sea and sky! Trystan! Isolfr!”
One of the monsters leaped. All I could see was its long silver claws flying straight for my face. But then it was knocked away by a freezing blast of wind. It hit against the floor, yelping. The others hissed and swiveled their heads. Another jumped. The wind knocked it back.
I felt around on the floor, trying to push myself up to sitting, but I heard Isolfr’s voice in my head:
Stay stiilllll. Rest. Recover.
I knew I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t going to lay out in the middle of a battle while monsters tried to kill me. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
With a burst of strength I sat up. The wind howled. A shadow moved past me—Trystan, rushing toward the throne, to the place where I had thrown Lord Foxfollow.
“Stay down!” he shouted, just as a gray damp magic arced through the air. It struck me on the side of the face and immediately began rioting inside my body, reacting to my own magic. I gasped and braced myself against the floor, trying to ride out the counterbalance. I could just see beside the throne, light building between Trystan’s palms.
“I said get down!” Trystan shouted again, and he shot a blast of magic, that same gray dampness, at Foxfollow. He ducked. The magic splattered across the far wall and the wall turned transparent and hazy.
Foxfollow laughed. “You aren’t going to get me, Lord of Llambric,” he said. “We’ve already been through this once.”
“Shut up!” Another blast of magic, another dodge. Foxfollow leaped up on top of the queen’s throne and crouched there, his gaze sweeping across the room.
His eyes began to glow.
I got a sharp tug in my stomach. I scrambled backward across the floor. Isolfr was still knocking the monsters away, and they snarled and bit at the air. They had seemed to mostly forget me.
Lord Foxfollow turned his head. Stopped at me.
Fear turned me to ice.
His lips moved. The air trembled. It was distorting, shaking, changing.
“No,” I whispered, and I was still crawling backward. “No no no—”
The air vibrated against my skin. A monster launched itself at me but was thrown back. Trystan was shouting something but I couldn’t hear him over the distortion of the air. I just kept crawling backward, trying to get away.
And then the room went still as death.
And Isolfr, Isolfr in his human form, dropped hard against the floor.
“There,” said Foxfollow. I could hear his voice buzzing inside my head. “That’s a more even match, don’t you think?”
Without thinking about my exhaustion or the depletion of my magic, I jumped to my feet and shot my power out into the room, not at Foxfollow but at the monsters. It blasted into them and they were flung back in a circle and my head swooned and I dropped down beside Isolfr. I was wrung out. My magic was gone.
He turned his head toward me. “Hanna,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He reached one hand toward me, slim and pale and lovely even in the midst of all this terror. Behind him I could see Lord Foxfollow climbing down from the throne. He was walking toward us, slow and careful.
Here it was, our moment of defeat.
“No,” I said, and I reached out for him, and even that one action was painful and slow, like my limbs were drying out. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him—”
Our fingers touched, grazing across each other, and I thought about how this was the last time I would ever touch another creature in this life, and I thought about how I was glad it was Isolfr, that I wouldn’t want to touch anyone else in the moment before I died.
And then—
Distantly—
Screaming.
Trystan, I thought. I was flooded with despair. I lifted my head, trying to find him. I couldn’t. I only saw Lord Foxfollow.
Lord Foxfollow, doubled over one of the thrones.
He was the one screaming.
“Trystan?” I pushed myself up on one arm, ignoring the pain. Isolfr frowned at me. “Trystan?” I said, more loudly.
Trystan stepped into view.
He didn’t answer because he was focusing on a beam of magic that flowed out of his fingers. It was not the damp gray magic of earlier, but something bright, as if he’d melted the stars and harvested their light.
Lord Foxfollow’s screams echoed around the room. Trystan’s head was down, his eyes dark and determined.
“I told you you wouldn’t win,” he said, his voice barely audible over the sound of Foxfollow’s screams.
I slid over to Isolfr, not taking my eyes off Foxfollow. “Trystan has him held,” I said. “You need to work your magic to help. I can’t, I’m too weak—”
“So am I,” Isolfr whispered.
“Well then, we’ll have to combine our power. Like we said. Even just a little—” I grabbed both of Isolfr’s hands and squeezed them tight. He gazed up at me. His skin was washed out and dull. I was sure I looked the same, but it didn’t matter. We had to stop Foxfollow.
“The count of three,” I whispered. “We just have to give him a little nudge.”
Isolfr closed his eyes.
“One,” I said.
He furrowed his brow in concentration.
“Two.”
I lifted my gaze to the throne. Trystan shot magic into Foxfollow’s chest, but he was faltering, stumbling, the magic wavering. I squeezed Isolfr’s hand tight.
“Three,” I said.
Magic erupted out of us from the point where our hands clasped. It was only the strength of one person—one human person—but when it threaded through Trystan’s magic a surge of power roared through the room. The monsters wailed and bellowed. I focused on the magic beaming out of me and Isolfr. It was the magic of our world, and when it combined with Trystan’s Mists magic it created a force in the room I’d never experienced before, a shuddering strength of two worlds combined.
Lord Foxfollow let out a loud, piercing scream. I focused on the magic. My vision was starting to fade, darkness crowding in at the edges, but I didn’t let go.
Beside me, Isolfr gave a gasp of pain. I squeezed his hand tighter. Lord Foxfollow was still standing—
And then power rushed through the room and Foxfollow brightened all over, brightened like a star, and he swung his gaze over to me and I saw him, eyes wide, furious.
And then he turned to light.
It was starlight, bright and shimmering, and it erupted over the room with a dazzling glare. When the light hit the monsters’ skin they screamed, their voices echoing and unearthly, and shriveled into dust.
I dropped my magic and let go of Isolfr’s hand and slumped down hard on the floor. Breathing hurt. My heartbeat hurt. My entire body was shaking.
Trystan’s voice billowed around the room, creating a rhythm like the pulse of the blood in my body.
“He’s gone,” Trystan said. “He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.”
• • •
My eyes fluttered open.
I didn’t know where I was. The Penelope II? The Annika? The Cornflower, where I’d lived back in Tulja? Except I wasn’t on a ship. The world was rocking back and forth, but I wasn’t on a ship. The space was too big, and the ceiling was coated in a layer of gray residue that left me anxious and unsettled.
My body burned like I’d been out too long in the cold.
I sat up, blinking. Slowly memories started coming back to me: Lord Foxfollow laughing as I tried to fight him. His monsters shrieking and scurrying across the walls. Isolfr clutching my hand so tight I thought my fingers would break—
I was in the palace. The throne room.
I got to my feet, still shaking. The room was empty, but I didn’t feel any of the strange Mists magic that Lord Foxfollow had cast over the palace. I didn’t even feel the after-effects of magic-sickness, although given the battle it seemed like there should be something.
I turned, dazed, and stumbled toward the exit. Why was I alone? Why had Isolfr left me here? Or Trystan—
A pain shot through my heart. I saw an image of Isolfr stretched out on the floor beside me. What if he wasn’t here because something had happened to him? Because he died?
Panic drowned out my disorientation. I jogged forward, flung the door open. The hallway was empty.
“Hello!” I shouted. “Trystan! Isolfr?” My voice cracked on Isolfr’s name.
Why had he left me?
“Hanna?”
I whirled around, my breath caught in my throat. Isolfr stood a few paces away, balancing himself against the wall with one arm. He lifted his free hand in a wave.
“You left me!” I shouted.
“You were asleep.” His eyes were big and guileless. He didn’t look so sickly anymore. “I wanted to let you rest, like I told you to do. Trystan and I were trying to counteract the effects of the magic-sickness. There’s Mists magic that can do that.”
I sighed with relief. Just wanted to let me rest. Of course.
I rushed forward and threw my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in his neck. His sweet north wind scent stirred something inside me. Hope.
“Is he gone?” I whispered.
Isolfr nodded; I felt the movement against the top of my head. “Yes,” he said. “We—destroyed him. Permanently. He can’t do any more harm here or in the Mists.”
I pulled away from Isolfr and studied his face. He was so beautiful, so unearthly.
And he was alive. He was safe.
“We did it,” I said, and I could hardly believe the sound of my own words. “We did it.”
“I know.” Isolfr laughed. Then he pulled me into an embrace and kissed me. It was a kiss like the one before we fought, a kiss imbued with love. But this kiss wasn’t panicked and desperate; it was slow and lingering, a celebration of our victory and a reminder that we were still together in this world.
“Oh, for love of the Mists, stop it.”
Isolfr and I jumped away from each other. I glanced over my shoulder. Trystan had walked into the hallway. He grinned at us.
“Just kidding,” he said.
I blushed. Isolfr looked down at his feet.
“I’m glad you’re up.” Trystan ambled toward me. He looked ruffled and worn out, and his hair stuck up around his head in spikes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me an oddly shy smile. “What you did for me in there—I would never have killed Foxfollow alone.”
Killed. He actually said the word. I snuggled close to Isolfr and tried not to think about it, that our magic had killed someone, even if that someone was a monster.
“The good news is that his fortifications all vanished with his death,” Trystan went on, waving one hand around. “Palace is good as new, save for the problems with magic-sickness. But Isolfr and I should have those fixed up pretty easily.”
I nodded.
“We need to go back to the caves,” Isolfr said, “and tell Kolur what happened.” He hesitated. “And see about the queen. I’m hoping that the spell on her broke too, but—” He frowned. “Without a ruler, Jandanvar could open itself to another attack. If Foxfollow had any allies—”
“Of course he does, although I don’t know if they would move in so quickly.” Trystan’s eyes glittered. “Either way, the queen is our top priority. You’re right. That spell was so complex, I’ve no idea what it might have done to her.”
His words hung in the air. None of us wanted to say the worst possibility: that she might have died with Foxfollow.
I thought of Kolur cradling Penelope to his chest, his eyes glistening with tears.
I prayed to the ancestors that wasn’t the case.