Claire had never thought she would be so happy to be cold again in her life. She even almost welcomed the shivers that racked her body.

After their ordeal in the desert, they’d headed north and then west to Atalan Island, seat of Council member Bolin. According to Farron, he was a moderate who would swing whatever way the coin flowed. And he had a rather peculiar interest in antiques. It was as good a guess as any that the piece of stone may have resided in his private collection. As to how the man might have gotten ahold of it, that was a mystery to them both. Especially after what they’d been through. Did he know the importance of what he had? Or was it just another artifact to add to his collection?

Clouds shrouded the skies, the dampness chilling her to the bone. They arrived in the small seaside town in the late afternoon. Mud already caked her boots and the hem of her cloak. Farron had kept his hood drawn up over his head for the past several hours, ever since the town had first risen up on the horizon.

“Have you been here before?” she’d asked him.

“Yes,” he had said, though by the tone of his voice, it wasn’t a happy memory.

She had decided not to push the subject. Not only was she too tired to, but even though she was curious about his past, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know all the grisly details.

A few curious eyes spied them as they walked down the main street leading into the town. Shops and inns lined the road, houses, a tavern or two. Not as colorful as Linesbrough, the atmosphere of the place seemed less grim, despite the dreary weather. It was almost quaint.

They continued on down the road that led towards the water. A small port sat in the center of the town. The docks weren’t as bustling as the ones she’d come across previously in her journey.

Farron stopped and nodded out over the water. “That’s Atalan Island.”

Claire followed his gaze. An island rose from the middle of the bay. Scattered buildings sat along the water’s edge under the imposing manor atop a hill. “I’m guessing that’s Bolin’s estate?”

He was silent, some past memory hazing his eyes.

She looked at the island again. Although she doubted they were going to run into another Beast of Old, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She could feel the slight pull of magic coming from that direction. The stone was definitely somewhere on it. It was a different sort of challenge, one that Farron would be perfect for. She was curious to see the side of him he tried to keep hidden, locked in his past, and wondered if she would see some of the Sin de Reine reemerge. She’d seen flashes of it in the past and it was chilling, to say the least.

“Come,” he said, and turned to continue down the street.

They rented a room at a little inn with a window that looked out over the bay and island.

Claire warmed her hands by the fire. Farron had been quieter than usual since he’d seen the island, feeling distant once again. Only this time she had no snowballs to lob at him.

She turned to face him. “Fare–”

“I’m all right,” he said, cutting her off. His voice was soft but held a hint of gloom. He tried to force a smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.

Claire took his hand in hers and rubbed it, trying to warm it up. “I’m here,” she said, “No running away.”

The smile he gave then was small but genuine.

“In fact, your special skills are exactly what we need for this one.”

“I knew they’d come in handy someday.” The amusement faded from his face.

“Do you have a plan?”

“A few,” he said. He looked down at her. “It depends on whether or not I can convince you to stay back.”

“Not a chance,” she said. Even though the mission made her nervous, she couldn’t let him risk himself for her while not doing anything to help. “Besides, I can sense the stone. How would you know where to go?”

“It wouldn’t be my first visit to his manor,” he said, his voice grim.

“Well, in any case, I won’t let you go alone. Not for my sake.”

“If there’s no convincing you…” He sighed. “Then we go in after dark and infiltrate the main house. We have to be stealthy.” He gave her a pointed look.

“I can be sneaky.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I can,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not everyone has exceptional hearing like you do.”

“And you have to do what I say,” he said. “No arguing.”

“Yes, sir.” She straightened her back like a soldier taking orders. She had to stop herself from saluting him. He probably wouldn’t think it was as funny as she did.

“All right,” he said, opening his pack to dig out supplies. “I know you must be tired, but let’s get this over with before my presence here is discovered. Too many people here know my face, even with my hair changed.”

Claire didn’t like the prospect of going straight into it. She was exhausted. But he had a point. She would just have to endure it.

Farron looked out the window. The sun was setting already.

“We should go. The row over will take a while.”

Claire gulped, already regretting her decision. There was rowing involved? Nothing good ever came from that either, especially with him in the boat.

 

Her cloak was sopping wet by the time they touched shore on the island. They’d rented a rowboat from a man by the docks for a few too many coins. The man had given them a curious look, but an extra coin was added to his fee for his silence.

Farron had insisted on doing the rowing, making a jest about her skills in the past.

She didn’t mind—though she felt a bit guilty about it—and she took the opportunity to close her eyes for a little while.

Darkness took over the sky completely by the time they went ashore, the only illumination coming from the stars. The moon wasn’t out, providing extra cover. A boon for them.

Farron had rowed out and around to the side of the island where no buildings stood, and had landed on a tiny beach under a rocky cliff. The crashing of the waves and swaying of the boat had woken her up. She perked up just as he jumped into the surf to pull the boat up onto the sand. When it was safe, she jumped out onto solid ground, her body shivering from the damp cold. She stripped the cloak off and tossed it into the boat. Farron did the same.

He strapped his daggers on, a hilt sticking up behind each shoulder, but she was sure they were far from the only weapons he had on him. Claire made sure her own was in place. She was hoping that they weren’t going to have to use them, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

She looked up at the imposing cliff face. This journey was testing her to the fullest, that was for sure.

Farron gave her a concerned look. “You can still stay back, Claire.”

Why was he so eager to leave her behind? Was she that much of a hindrance? Or was there another reason? “No, I’ll be all right.” Though her insides told otherwise. They were twisted up into knots already.

He took a rope out of the boat and tied one end around her waist. “Just follow in my path,” he said, tying the other end around himself.

She nodded and followed him over to the cliff. It didn’t look extremely high, but it was enough to make her anxious. She watched as he mounted the rock and started climbing, a little too swiftly and easily. He’d done this before. She wondered how many times. She shook her head at the thought. This wasn’t the time to be dwelling on such a thing.

She started to climb up after him, regretting her decision not to take her gloves along. They were back at the inn along with the rest of their things. They’d hidden their packs as best they could and hoped that no one would want to raid the curious travelers’ room.

The rock was rough and porous, scratching up her hands. Her boots made getting a good foothold a challenge. Her reach wasn’t the same as the tall elf’s and she was lagging behind him. The slack in the rope was almost pulled taut. He had glanced back at her a couple of times but hadn’t said anything.

They were already halfway up the cliff when her boot slipped and she plummeted a foot or two before gripping the stone again, stopping her fall. She shrieked, her heart beating furiously inside of her. The rope pulled at Farron and she could hear him grunting with effort.

“Are you all right?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low.

“Yes,” she replied in between quickened breaths. She regained her footing and took a moment to steady herself before continuing on. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

By the time they reached the top, her arms and legs were sore and shaking from the effort. Claire doubled over to catch her breath and to calm her nerves. She peered back over the edge and her vision spun. She looked away quickly. That wasn’t going to be any more fun on the way back down.

Farron untied the rope from them and set it aside underneath a nearby bush. The fact that he looked barely affected by the climb irked her, though she supposed she should have been used to it by now.

“Stick close to me.” He crouched a little and slipped into the dark forest.

Claire followed after him, trying her best to do so. He didn’t seem happy that she was still coming along, but that was just too bad. He wouldn’t be on this mission if it weren’t for her. This was just as much, or even more so, her responsibility than his.

It was hard to see him in the darkness of the forest, but she was sure he was able to see her. He was like a shadow come to life, darting in between trees, disappearing completely at times, his footsteps unnervingly silent. Claire tried her best to keep quiet but occasionally stepped on a twig or dried leaves, making a loud cracking or crunching noise. She was like a drunkard next to him. His past words bubbled up from her memory. He’d been right all along, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

It seemed like an hour had passed before they spotted the glow of the house lights through the dense forest trees. Farron slowed his pace, waiting for her to catch up.

He dipped behind a bush and ducked down low behind it. Claire followed suit.

He poked his head up and studied the manor for a moment.

A metal fence surrounded a vast manicured garden full of fountains and statues. The main house was an imposing two-storied stone building with long wings that stretched out to either side. The place was huge.

Farron ducked back down and turned to her. “Where to?”

Claire closed her eyes and opened herself up to the pull of the magic. It came easier to her this time, now that she knew what to do. “There,” she whispered, pointing to the left side of the manor where the windows remained darkened. That could be a good sign, right?

He slid off back into the darkness and Claire followed after him as they circled around the fence. She wondered how he planned on getting over it. The spiked ends wouldn’t be easy to climb around. He stopped at the edge of the tree line before the fence. He remained still, crouching next to a tree in its shadow, his eyes studying the house and gardens. Claire followed his gaze, kneeling behind him. The grounds seemed quiet. No one patrolled. In fact, she saw no life at all, but she would trust his instincts on that before her own.

After several moments, he moved forward towards the fence and knelt in front of it. He pressed his hands to the ground and she could feel the surge of magic that he pushed into the earth beneath them. It shuddered a little as rock shot up to form a crude set of steps that led up to the top of the fence. But only on one side. Farron climbed them quickly and dropped gracefully onto the grass on the other side. He turned and motioned for her to come. Claire scampered up them, pausing at the top, looking down at him. He held his hands up to her, impatience in his eyes. With breath held, she jumped and he caught her, then lowered her down before kneeling once more. He touched the ground again to get rid of the stairs.

He snuck up to the house, slipping between expertly trimmed topiary. He pressed his back up against the stone and peeked around the corner. Claire did the same, following his motions as best as she could, trying not to be a hindrance. It was a challenge, but she had to admit it was sort of thrilling to be sneaking around. Not something she ever wanted to do again, though.

Farron turned to her with a finger up to his lips. Her heartbeat picked up again. He held a hand up in a signal for her to stay. She nodded and he slipped around the corner.

After a moment she slid up to the edge and slowly peeked around it. A guard patrolled near the backside of the house, strolling languidly into the garden. Farron hid behind a hedge, waiting.

When the man came near Farron sprung into action, like a wild cat, silent and lethal. He snuck up behind the man and slipped an arm around his neck, the other over his mouth, before pulling him back onto the ground, disappearing from Claire’s sight, the whole movement took only a few seconds. She started to worry when he still hadn’t shown after what seemed like forever, her worry making time stretch. When he finally did, he motioned for her to come.

Claire stooped down and hurried to join him. She looked at the unmoving man. Farron had pulled him back behind a shrub so that he wasn’t visible from the house.

She gulped and looked up at Farron. A spark of fear must have shown on her face because his own fell slightly, the icy mask slipping into place. She said she wasn’t going to run and she meant it, but she reminded herself to never make an enemy of the elf.

Without a word, he crept up to the manor again to the side of a set of glass-paned doors. Claire pressed herself against the wall behind him as he peered in. No light came from within. After a moment of watching, waiting, he knelt by the handles, pulling some thin metal tools from his boot. He stuck the ends into the lock and a few moments later there was a soft click. He put the tools away and opened the doors. Claire followed him into the dark room.

Her nerves stood on edge when she crossed the threshold. She wasn’t sure why they rose so sharply. Perhaps it was because now she was inside a stranger’s home, their territory, uninvited, intruders in the night. They were the burglars, the bad ones this time. The forbidden aspect sent a thrill through her.

Moving swiftly, Farron crossed the room to check the hallway through an opening.

Claire waited by the door, closing them carefully behind her. The room was big, exquisite and a little too opulently decorated for her tastes. Another set of matching doors sat on the same wall further down. Somewhere a clock ticked away the minutes. She wondered how late it was.

Movement caught her attention as Farron waved to her, a frown on his face. She’d messed up, letting herself get lost in her thoughts instead of focusing on the task at hand. She mouthed an apology to him as she joined him.

“Where?” he mouthed the word.

She closed her eyes briefly and searched again. The magic lured her to the left. She pointed in the direction and he dipped out into the hall, and she followed. He stopped at every open doorway and corner to listen before moving on to the next. The pull of the magic became stronger the deeper they went. A good sign. They hadn’t encountered any more guards so far. Another good sign. Maybe. She didn’t want to let her guard down too soon. Not until they had the stone in their hands and they were safe and warm back at the inn. Or better yet, far away from this place entirely.

They took a hidden servants’ stairway up to the second floor and had crept deep into the bowels of the house when they finally came across the room where the magic pull was strongest. Farron stopped outside the wooden double doors and waited for a moment, listening, before trying the handle. It was locked. Curious. Who was Bolin trying to keep out inside his own house? Maybe he was just overly cautious. It only took Farron a few moments to pick the lock. He pushed open the door carefully.

The room was dark. Farron snapped his fingers and the flame appeared above his hand. The dim, flickering glow made the shadows dance. Antiques and artifacts littered the room, some organized and on display, others stacked and gathered haphazardly about. From furniture to jewels and gold to books and scrolls, there was a little of everything. Claire paused by a suit of metal armor. It was towering, taller than even the elf. She wondered who had worn it. Whoever it was must have been impressive. A couple of other things caught her eye, a golden beetle encrusted with emeralds, painted wooden masks, weapons of all sorts. She could spend hours in here just rummaging through it all, exploring, but they didn’t have the time, much to her dismay.

Claire followed the lure of the magic to the other end of the room. The fragment sat on a desk, an unrolled scroll underneath it. The surface of it was cleaned, the script easy to make out compared to the last piece. When she reached for it, she noticed that the scroll underneath had some of the same script written on it, the ink faded, the paper old, yellowed and brittle. She ran her fingers along a line of words, wondering what it said.

“Leave it,” Farron whispered close behind her.

She jumped ever so slightly. She’d never get used to that. But he was right. As much as she wanted to take the scroll, it just wasn’t practical to do so. The water would destroy it and all the knowledge within. She grabbed the stone, her magic responding, the bands growing warm as they stomped it back down again. A shiver went through her. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

Claire gripped the fragment close to her body and turned to Farron.

He gave her a curious look. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

She nodded.

Then he froze, his body growing tense. He tilted his head as he listened, to what she didn’t know, but she was sure it wasn’t good.

“We have to go,” he said, turning back toward the door.

He rushed out into the hallway, extinguishing the flame, but instead of going the way they had come, he turned to the opposite direction. Claire followed, closing the doors behind her. They rushed to the end, Farron pausing only momentarily at the corner before moving on. She held the stone close to her chest securely in her arms.

Farron suddenly stopped in front of a closed door. After listening for a moment he opened it and slipped in. He snapped again and the flame appeared as she closed the door. It was a small, simple room with no windows and no other way out. Why had he taken her in here?

“Wait here, Claire,” he said quietly as he lit the oil lamp by the bed. He inched up to the door again and slipped out before she could protest.

She sighed, looking around her at the room once more. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing. And in fact, she probably didn’t want to know what he was doing. Although she doubted that he had seriously harmed the guard out in the garden, she couldn’t be sure. With each passing minute, her unease only grew. Did Bolin know they were there? Had they been found out? What exactly was he doing with the stone fragment? He’d been onto something, based on the scroll, but how much had he figured out? She doubted that he would answer her if she asked.

Several minutes had passed and there was still no sign of the elf. She held her breath and closed her eyes to listen, but the manor was quiet. Should she go and look for him? She would be defying his orders, but if something had happened to him… Claire was reaching for the door handle when it opened suddenly. She jumped back, not sure who to expect, only breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it was Farron.

“What took you so long?” she whispered, trying not to show her annoyance.

He gave her a sharp look. “There are more guards than I thought. Bolin is either more cautious than I remember or he is expecting trouble.”

That didn’t help to ease her worries.

“I took care of a few of them, but it won’t be long before the others find that they are missing.”

Claire nodded.

“Be ready, Claire,” he said, “and stay close.”

She wasn’t going to argue about that. He slunk out the door again, Claire on his heels. He turned right and then crossed over to another servants’ stairs that took them down into the kitchen. A fire burned in the hearth, a thick stew still simmering over it. The hearty smell stirred her stomach, making it growl. Farron glanced back at her.

“Sorry!” she whispered. She really couldn’t help it. All the action was making her hungry. Would they notice if a roll was missing? A fresh stack sat atop the counter and the temptation was almost too much. But she held back at the risk of Farron’s wrath.

He rushed to a door that led to the outside and pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried again, putting his weight into it, but still, it wouldn’t give way.

“It’s blocked,” he said. “I have a feeling they don’t want us to leave.”

He came around the kitchen and went to the open archway that led deeper into the house and waited, listening. When he was met with silence he slipped out into the hall and she followed after him.

Worry gnawed at her. She didn’t like where this was heading.

“Claire,” Farron said as he grabbed her arm and started to pull her along at a more frantic pace.

He turned and ran down the twisting hallways, pausing at every intersection, seeming to change his mind as if he had heard something she hadn’t. Panic started to brew inside of her. This wasn’t good. Were they being led somewhere? It just felt like what the centaurs had done in the ill-fated town before. But at least this time their enemy wasn’t so frightening. As far as she knew.

Farron’s pace slowed as they passed through a set of massive carved wooden doors into a dimly lit hall. Chandeliers hung from a soaring ceiling and oil lamps lined the walls at intervals. The hall was currently set up for a banquet of some sort, long tables running parallel to the red rug that ran deeper into the room where the head table was set up, a chair that rivaled any throne in the middle. An elderly man sat calmly in it. He stared at them, challenge and annoyance flashing fiercely in his gaze.

Farron slowed to a stop, his shoulders tensing. “Lord Bolin,” Farron said, calmer than she thought would have been possible. “It’s been a while.”

Claire peered around the elf at the Councilman. She didn’t recognize his face, but she knew he probably did hers. Fine clothing draped his frail frame, dark red with gold trim and more jewelry than was tasteful. Firelight gleamed off of his bald head.

“I should have known that you’d come for me eventually,” Lord Bolin said. His voice held a deep authority that echoed in Claire’s memory. “The infamous Sin de Reine.” He rose from the chair and began to walk slowly around the long table. “But you should know, that since you declared your fealty to the Council, this is treason.”

Farron took a few steps toward the man, the tension leaving his body.

Claire hesitantly followed. She eyed the second-floor mezzanine that circled the back of the room. It was empty, for now. She doubted that the lord of the manor would expose himself so freely without some sort of protection.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t come to kill you, Lord Bolin.” Farron tried to make the comment seem light, but there was a hint of malice. “Though I do believe that you and the Council have been wanting to rid of me for a while now, regardless of loyalties.”

Lord Bolin laughed. “Is that right?” His eyes settled on Claire. “But you have come all this way to steal from me?”

Claire shifted, uncomfortable as the center of his attention. Guilt surged through her. He was right.

“Is this the king’s doing?” Lord Bolin came around the edge of the table, his hands behind his back. “Has his highness stooped so low as to send you to do his dirty work? What a waste of your talents.”

Farron glanced at her, then back to the old man.

Her mouth grew dry. Why did the Council inspire such fear in her? He was just a man, not a centaur or a Beast of Old. Not that she knew what to say anyway. The wrong words here could spark trouble down the road.

“Or is an agent of the king and his brother acting of their own accord?” Lord Bolin finally came to a stop and leaned back against the table, crossing his arms in front of himself. “If that’s the case, then I would be glad to rid the crown of two traitors.”

He nodded his head and men poured out onto the second-floor mezzanine and through the door at their back and two doors at the sides of the room. They were surrounded. Claire spun around, gauging how bad it was. She edged up closer to Farron. How did they always seem to end up in these situations? Anticipation radiated from the elf.

“It is curious, though,” Lord Bolin continued. “Of all the treasures, why that one? If you were willing to risk your lives for it, perhaps it is much more important than I thought it was. Which begs the question, if you aren’t working for either the king or Council, what could you be up to?”

Claire didn’t want to tell him that she was on a mission for the king. She knew that he wouldn’t believe her. Not many humans would. Not that she could blame them. Sometimes she felt like a traitor to her own race for what she was trying to achieve, and maybe she was, but if she didn’t do this, who knew what kind of fate lay ahead? Besides, if she did tell him, a war would surely erupt to oust the elven king from his throne. There was still a chance to salvage things, somewhat. If the Council believed they were acting on their own, maybe a civil war could be avoided. Maybe.

She finally found her voice and hoped that it didn’t waver. “Why Farron, I do believe we’ve been found out.” She shifted the stone under her left arm and rested her right on the dagger at her waist. The jacket she wore hid the silver bands from view, but Bolin and his men didn’t know about it and its effects. As far as they knew, she was a powerful threat. “Anyone will go rogue for enough gold; isn’t that right, Bolin?” Claire turned to eye the old man, faking a sly grin. She hoped her ruse would be believable and that Farron would catch on.

“Something you’re quite familiar with, isn’t that right, Lord Bolin?” Farron added.

Claire’s back brushed up against his. She was glad that he’d caught on. He had always been quick-witted.

Lord Bolin’s face twitched slightly and he tried to cover it up with a frown.

“Don’t worry, my Lord,” Claire said, “I’m sure you aren’t the only one that’s been in the dark.” She emphasized the last word hoping Farron would get the hint. It was a reach, but it was worth a shot.

“We should have killed you the second you showed your face in Derenan again,” Lord Bolin said, ire clear in his voice and on his face. “I’ll be glad to finally put the Council Dog down.”

Lord Bolin raised a hand to signal his men, but before they could act, Farron raised his own and all the flames from the chandeliers and lamps streamed toward his hand.

The men and Lord Bolin paused, fear and awe stark on their faces. Claire wasn’t sure what he had planned, but she crouched just in case, drawing her dagger for show, though she didn’t intend to use it. Heat from the large fireball now hovering over Farron warmed her head and back, the undulating light casting ominous shadows across the hall. The edges of the room dimmed and she lost sight of half of the men.

“Until next time, Bolin,” Farron said and then he raised his hand higher. The fireball shot out in a circular blade of flames towards the men. Farron ducked quickly as the room plunged into darkness. Shouts of the men filled the air, Lord Bolin’s lost among them. Farron’s hand found Claire’s and he pulled her back toward the main door that they’d entered. She felt him shift and then a moment later heard a man grunt, and then a thud as he fell to the floor. A few more were dispatched with relative ease as they fought their way out. A hand grabbed at Claire, but she was able to fend it off. The shouts only grew in intensity and anger, replacing the fear and confusion from before.

Cool fresh air touched Claire’s face. They were almost out, just a little further. Farron paused, then let go of her hand as he fought a man—or was it two, or more? She couldn’t tell. Unable to see anything, she froze in place, afraid to move or make a sound. She listened to the scuffling and the thuds and grunts of fighting, hoping that the elf was successful. He was capable, she knew, but there were a lot of guards. The noises stopped abruptly and there was a brief moment of silence between the shouting. Claire didn’t dare call out for him for fear she would give her position away to the others. But she knew how to get his attention and started to walk as normally as she could, straight ahead.

His hand found her wrist and pulled her along again. Moments later they burst out into the front courtyard and ran toward the metal gate. Two guards stood at attention by it and perked up when they saw the elf and Claire running full speed right for them. They lowered their spears in a hurry, caught by surprise. Perhaps they’d thought that the many guards inside would have stopped the intruders. But they didn’t know who they faced.

Several paces from the gate Farron let go of her hand. “Go!” he shouted as he dropped to a knee.

Claire continued running. He would catch up, even be able to surpass her again, so she wasn’t worried. She felt the buzz of his magic at the back of her mind and a column of rock shot up underneath the gate, bending and twisting the metal until it broke. The rock slid into the earth again and the gate fell open, useless.

The guards jumped to the side, dropping their weapons, holding their hands up in surrender. Claire’s pace still didn’t relent as she hopped over the mangled metal. She only slowed briefly to look back at Farron. He still knelt, but his back was now toward her. Great earthen spikes shot up in a half-circle around him, blocking the way out. Not a bad idea, but it would only delay them for so long.

“Farron!” she shouted, and turned to continue her escape. She didn’t know where she was going without him. She was following a gravel path that led down into the forest and presumably to the buildings that lined the shore.

A minute later he was passing her with his long strides and he took her wrist again, pulling her into a faster pace that she could barely keep up with. Then he dipped into the trees. Claire yelped as a bush caught her leg and stumbled. Only Farron’s hold on her kept her from falling. It took her a few strides until she could get her bearings again. The way he weaved in between the trees so quickly in the dark boggled her.

The sound of waves crashing reached her ears, along with the strong taste of salt on the cool air. They were close to the shore. Distant shouts rang out behind them. The men were combing the forest. With the numbers they had, it was only a matter of time before they were found. At their frantic pace, Farron wasn’t trying to be as quiet as before, and it was almost impossible for her to be. Their position was no secret to their pursuers.

And as fast as they moved in the dark, the shouts of the men drew ever nearer. Claire’s breath ran ragged down her throat, her sides beginning to hurt from the furious pace. She wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer before her body quit on her.

Just when she felt like she was about to collapse, they burst out of the forest before the edge of the rocky cliff. Farron dropped her wrist and she doubled over for a moment to catch her breath. His shoulders heaved as he scooped up the rope and tied one end around her.

The shouts of the men were close, their fumbling footsteps closing in around Claire and the elf. Farron led her to the edge as he looked over his shoulder. She noticed that he didn’t tie the other end around himself, and was about to protest when he suddenly pushed her over the edge.

“Go!” he shouted.

Claire flailed, a shrill scream ripping from her lungs. It was all she could do to hold on to the stone fragment. The rope around her waist stopped her fall, knocking the wind out of her. Her feet found purchase on the rock, but her pace was still too fast. The ground rushed up too quickly and she fell hard onto the sand, the rope piling up around her.

She rolled onto her back to look up at the top of the cliff. There was no sign of the elf.

“Farron!” she shouted, but the strong breeze dulled it.

There was a flash of lightning, followed by the clang of metal. Claire rushed to her feet and backed away from the cliff, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but it was no use. They’d disappeared back into the forest. A few dark shadows appeared up on the ledge and she barely had time to react as one of them drew an arrow and loosed it at her. The arrow dug into the sand behind her as she ran toward the boat. The tide had come in since they landed and the back end already bobbed in the surf.

Claire had a decision to make. Should she wait for Farron? Or do what she was told and go ahead without him? Worry gnawed at her insides. She didn’t like the idea of leaving him behind—loathed the thought, actually—but what choice did she have? She was useless in a fight without her magic. Besides, it would take her too long to scale the cliff again. He was drawing them away so she could escape unharmed. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing, that he could survive, that she would see him again.

Another arrow dug into the sand and then, a few moments later, another thunked into the wood of the boat. Claire ducked behind the far side of it as she began to push it back out into the water. When the water was waist high, she crawled into the rowboat, keeping as low as she could to avoid the arrows. The breeze worked in her favor, blowing toward the mainland. She watched as the shadowed man drew another arrow and loosed it, but the wind carried it away and it dropped harmlessly into the water.

With trembling hands, Claire wrapped the stone up in her cloak and stowed it under the bench, then settled herself on the seat and took up the oars. She’d watched Farron do it earlier. It didn’t look so hard. But she probably wouldn’t be saying that an hour from now when her arms would feel like they were about to fall off.

She dipped the oars into the water and pulled, her gaze never leaving the island, hoping to catch a glimpse of a foolish, silver-haired elf. Her guilt grew with each stroke. If he made it out alive, he would get that beating she owed him, that was for sure.