CHAPTER 1

Quartz and Tiger’s Eye

Sefia glanced down at Archer, where he lay in the hidden pocket among the rocks with the rest of their belongings. He stirred once, tossing the blanket from his chest, and went still again. During the two hours since moonrise, he’d already slept and woken so many times, slept and woken, continually pulled under the surface of his dreams until he thrust himself into consciousness again, gasping for air.

Even now, he didn’t seem to be resting—brow creased, fingers twitching, lips drawn back in a snarl or a silent cry. She wanted to go to him, to smooth his forehead and uncurl his fists, but since their escape, he’d been different, distant. Their encounter with the Guard had changed him. It had changed how they were together.

It had changed everything.

Perched on a granite boulder, Sefia pulled her blanket closer about her shoulders. She would have preferred her hammock to this niche between the boulders, but her hammock had been left on the floor of Tanin’s office with most of her supplies.

And Nin. The aunt she’d sworn to rescue. The aunt she’d failed. A small body beneath a bear-skin cloak.

Sefia shuddered, remembering what had happened next: the gleam of the knife, the way Tanin’s skin split beneath the blade. Her second kill.

The Guard would make Sefia pay dearly for that if they found her. Now two of their Directors had been killed by her family.

As she did every few minutes, she narrowed her eyes on the woods. Feeling for that special sense she’d shared with her mother—and her father too—she reached for her magic.

It was always there, always moving, like a powerful ocean beneath a crust of ice. For the world was more than what you could see, or hear, or touch. If you had the gift for it, the world was Illuminated—every object swimming in its own history, every moment accessible if only you knew how to look for it.

She blinked, and her vision came alive with swirling golden currents, millions of tiny bright specks shifting with the wind, the upward inching of the trees, the sigh of decaying matter settling gently into the dirt. In the valley below, not two miles from their camp, the remote alpine city of Cascarra lay along the Olivine River. This close, Sefia could see lamps like golden beads spangling the streets and lumberyards, barges tugging lightly at their moorings, smoke spiraling up from the pointed rooftops. But nothing disturbed the peace.

Sefia blinked again and her Vision—what the Guard called the Sight—faded. She and Archer were safe, for now. The Guard had not come for them yet.

But they would. Just like they had come for her parents.

Lon and Mareah.

At the thought of them, her heart curled up like a leaf in frost. Sometimes she found it difficult to believe they’d been part of a secret society of murderers and kidnappers—not the gentle people who’d raised her, protected her, loved her. But then she’d remember how her mother used to twirl her blades before chopping vegetables. How she’d once killed a coyote among their chickens with one skillfully flung knife. And she’d remember her father at his telescope by the window, studying the ocean. Only now did Sefia understand—he’d been watching for signs of the Guard. For the people who hunted them.

They’d kept so much from her—who they were and what they’d done. Because of their secrets, she’d been forced to run when she might have fought. Forced to hide when she might have been free. Nin was dead because Sefia had been unprepared. No matter how much she loved her parents, she couldn’t forgive them for that.

Or herself.

And now she was on the run again.

Five days ago, she and Archer had fled the Guard’s trackers by boat, sailing north along the rocky Delienean coast. It wasn’t until they spotted another ship behind them, gaining quickly, that they’d risked going ashore, scuttling their craft in an attempt to shake their pursuers.

They’d climbed into the Ridgeline, the high range of mountains leading to the Heartland in the center of the kingdom. There among the peaks, they’d headed toward Cascarra, where they hoped to catch a riverboat back to the sea.

After that, they’d keep running, as long as they could. Hunted the rest of their lives.

Sefia turned her attention to the leather-wrapped object in her lap. Books were rare enough in Kelanna, hoarded by the Guard while everyone else floundered about without reading or writing. But this was more than just any book. This was the Book—infinite and full of magic—a record of everything that had ever been or would ever be, all the ages of history spelled out in fine black ink.

As she’d done every night since she began running again, Sefia gingerly pulled back the waterproof leather.

She could find out who her mother and father had really been, and why they’d done what they’d done . . . but she could never quite muster the courage to look.

Archer jerked in his sleep, exposing the vicious burns on his neck. Beneath him, dry twigs snapped, like gunshots in the still woods.

Sefia stole another glance at the surrounding forest, but the underbrush was still.

With a sigh, she sat back again. The Book’s cover was cracked and stained, with discolored scallops and whorls where there had once been jewels and decorative filigree. But the only traces of precious metal that remained were its clasps and gold-capped corners.

Out of habit, she began tracing the symbol in the center.

Two curves for her parents. A curve for Nin. The straight line for herself. The circle for what she had to do: Learn what the Book was for. Rescue Nin. And if she could, punish the people responsible.

But she still couldn’t bring herself to open the Book. Still couldn’t face the truth. She was about to replace the leather covering when a branch cracked in the distance.

Tensing, she blinked, and her Sight flooded with gold. To the east, she spotted men descending from the ridge, weaving in and out of the moonlight like black fish in a black pond, fins flashing on the surface before they submerged again.

Trackers.

They must have been on the other side of the mountain when she’d scanned her surroundings, but now they were closing in.

Below her, Archer thrashed, knocking over his pack. The canteen clattered against the scabbard of his sword.

For a second the trackers paused. They turned toward her. In the Illuminated world, their eyes glowed, flicking back and forth in their sockets as they scoured the darkness.

Then they began to advance.

Honed by years on the run, Sefia’s instincts kicked in. Swiftly, she wrapped the Book and leapt down among the boulders.

Archer flailed, his outstretched hands raking across the ground. He was so loud. Sefia threw her arms around him, trapping his arms and legs with her own. Beneath them, the fallen pine needles crackled like fire.

His eyes flew open, large and golden. Panic flooded his features. She could feel his heart thundering inside him as his mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, gasping for air. Then the struggle, like a rabbit caught in a snare. Her grip broke.

“Archer,” she whispered.

He shoved her back against the rocks. Pain shot through her.

“Archer.” She was pleading now, desperate. “It’s okay. It’s me. It’s Sefia. Archer.”

He froze, his breath coming too fast, too loud.

This time he allowed her to wrap him up in her arms, his pulse quick and insistent against her skin. This close, she could feel his breath gliding across her cheek. She bit her lip. Five days since the kiss. Five days and she could still feel the curve of his mouth on hers, still ached to feel it again.

Archer looked up as the sound of footsteps reached them. Sefia knew those noises, had made them herself when hunting with Nin. Stalking paces, interspersed with long listening silences. A hundred feet away? Fifty? Pointing toward the woods, she mouthed, Trackers.

He nodded, blinking rapidly. Silent as snow, he drew a piece of quartz from his pocket and began running his thumb along each of its facets in a ritual Sefia had taught him over a month ago, to ward off his panic, to remind him he was safe.

But they weren’t safe.

Through a gap in the boulders, she watched the shadows shift among the trees. The trackers were all around them now, with starlight on their rifles and shadows in their eyes, searching the ground for footprints.

They’ll find us. Anyone with a rudimentary grasp of tracking would recognize the little encampment. Sefia had to force them to move on. And soon.

Summoning her Sight again, she flicked her fingers. In the Illuminated world, the threads of light tightened and sprang back like bowstrings, sending ripples through the bands of gold. Ten yards away, on the slope leading toward Cascarra, a dead branch cracked.

The trackers ducked. Their rifles went up. They were so quiet . . . and so fast.

She did it again, farther away this time.

With a wave, their leader beckoned them toward the river valley, and they began creeping toward the sound of the breaking branches, toward the city, away from Sefia and Archer.

As her pulse slowed, she became aware of Archer’s body entangled with her own. He’d stopped rubbing the crystal and was now still as a stone, watching her with his sunken, sleepdeprived eyes. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered.

Even after five days, the timbre of his voice still surprised her, with its layers of fire and darkness, like tiger’s eye.

“No.” She got to her knees, trying not to wince at the pain between her shoulder blades. They had to keep moving, before the trackers realized they weren’t in Cascarra. She grabbed her blanket.

“When I woke up and didn’t know where I was . . . when I couldn’t move, I thought . . . I’m sorry, I . . .” He sat up, and for a moment she thought he’d continue. But then he closed his mouth and touched the scar around his neck, the burn the impressors gave all their boys, to mark them as candidates. For years the Guard had been searching for the boy they believed would lead them to victory in the bloodiest war Kelanna had ever seen. A killer. A captain. A commander.

Being one of their candidates had taken everything from Archer—his name, his voice, his memory—leaving him a husk of a person.

All of that had come back in their encounter with the Guard. But Archer still hadn’t told her his real name, and at times like these she felt like she knew him even less than before.

Just like my parents, she thought bitterly.

“They almost caught us,” Archer said, pocketing the piece of quartz.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were so close.”

“But you could.” His gaze fell to the Book. “You could know where they were at all times. We’d always be one step ahead of them.”

Sefia stiffened. He was right, of course—the Book contained past, present, future. Every one of the Guard’s movements was in there somewhere, buried deep in the layers of history. With it, she and Archer could easily evade the Guard. If they were clever enough, maybe they’d even slip their enemy’s grasp for good. And maybe then they’d be free.

But she was afraid. Afraid of what she’d find if she opened it. Afraid of what it would tell her about her family . . . and the horrific things they might have done.

But to keep Archer out of the Guard’s hands? Archer, who’d fought for her, who’d gone hungry and sleepless for her? Archer, who, since the return of his memories, somehow seemed even more broken than before?

She met his gaze, steady and solemn. “Okay.”

Finding a patch of moonlight, Sefia lifted the Book into her lap and unwrapped its leather casing. Leaning down until her lips almost brushed the on the cover, she murmured, “Show me what the Guard is doing right now.”

With a deep breath, she unhooked the clasps. The pages rippled beneath her fingers and came to rest like two plains furrowed with ink.

She could feel Archer with her—waiting.

“The bedchamber was a ruin,” Sefia read in a whisper, as if the Guard might overhear her. With a shudder, she scanned their surroundings, but the trackers had long since disappeared. They were safe. For now.

She turned back to the Book. “Open volumes and sheaves of paper littered the coverlet, spilling over into stacks of books and pools of parchment . . .” Her gaze skipped ahead. “Oh, no. No.”

She’d been wrong.

They’d never been safe. And no matter how far they ran, no matter how well they hid, they’d never be free.