I remind myself that he has no reason to trick me again. All he’s done—even the deception—has been for my benefit. I asked for his help, and so he’s helped me. He’s brought me here because this is where I need to mend the Corruption. And he wants it mended, too. The evidence of how much he has at stake is all around us in this ruined grove.
I force down the doubt that rises through me even as I ready the spell. Arien and Clover can’t fight forever. I have to do this, and I have to do it now.
My magic has already started to build, rising in response to the churn of the Corruption. I feel the heat, the same heat that burned through me so fiercely before in the world Above. I flex my fingers open and closed, and light flares eagerly at my palm like a handful of bright petals.
Then I look at the Lord Under. His cold, cruel face and his sharp, pleased smile. I stretch out my hand to him, my palm upturned, the same way I did long ago in the midwinter forest.
“When I was on the shore, I wasn’t alone.” I reach toward him. “I want you to cast the spell with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Lord Under looks at me so sharply that I’m certain he can see right down to my bones, my blood, my frantic heart. It takes everything within me to hold my face calm, keep my voice steady.
I don’t move, and neither does he. I wait, daring him to call my challenge. If he means to harm me, if there is danger in this spell, then he won’t step forward.
My hand, outstretched, begins to tremble. “I want you beside me. I’ve given up so much to be here. Surely you can grant me this. You need me, and I need you. We’re connected.”
At this, the hunger in his gaze intensifies, and he smiles, baring his too-sharp teeth. He crosses the stones easily and enters the circle. His cloak sweeps across the ground, stirring the dust as he steps carefully over the lines of the sigils.
He looks at my outstretched hand, then at me, and I cansee myself reflected in his eyes. The pale smear of my face, my bright hair like a captured flame.
“You know,” he says, “you may not like the taste of my magic.”
“I’ve cast with Arien before. I’m not afraid of shadows.”
He laughs. “We’ll see.”
The Lord Under reaches to me, darkness already drifting from his hands. The frost of his skin is a shock against the heat of my magic, but I force myself to weave my fingers through his until our palms are pressed tightly together. We stand facing each other, his hands clasped around mine, his fingers over my fingers.
I take a deep breath. I thought I’d feel reassured with him close to me like this, but I’m still as uncertain as ever. A nervous laugh catches in my throat. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
He leans down until his mouth almost brushes my cheek. “Good luck, my Violet.”
I close my eyes and think of gold and heat and sun. When I call on my power, the ache of absence quickly follows, the vision of myself bereft and alone in a blackened field. I push it away, pretend I am in the garden with my hands around the bramble vines. I see the thread of my magic strung loosely around me, feel the petals of heat bloom at my palms.
I reach for the spell, and the Lord Under’s power is there alongside my own, another thread, one of sharp, spun steel. I clench my fingers closed, and his claws pierce my palms. I suck in a breath at the bright, sudden pain. The twinned threads ofour magic snap tight, light pours through me, and our power ignites in a swift rush.
Shadows unfurl from his palms like silken ribbons. They weave around my wrists. His power is pale fire and new-moon shadows. It burns in me with a frostbitten ache. Apprehension rises through me but I force it down. I won’t flinch from this. I’ve touched shadows and darkness before. I’m not afraid.
Instead, I let my own power—unsparing, brutal, granted for a single moon—blossom in my chest. I feed more of my magic into the spell, sparks blistering at my fingertips. The ground trembles as the lines of the sigil ignite.
And then, a sound starts up above.
The Corruption starts tocall. At first it’s soft and sibilant—like the wind. Then it turns sharper, harder. A plea, a snarl, a whine. It’s familiar now, this voice, this song of want and hunger. I’ve felt it. I’ve spoken to it. I’ve kissed Rowan and tasted its poison in his mouth.I know you.
I open my hands and turn them up toward the sky. I let my magic answer the call. Light pours from me and spirals upward in thin, golden strands. The darkness in the sky churns and seethes. The air is alight with frost and sparks and ash.
The Lord Under sends more of his own magic into the spell. As we cast the spell together, I feel as though I’m undressed past clothes and skin. I’ve shown him some hidden piece of myself I didn’t even know I had. His power on my power. His skin on my skin. His breath on my throat.
My power matches the cold slither of his shadows. At this moment, we are equal.We are connected.
I should be horrified. I’ve come to his world and seen things that aren’t meant to be seen by anyone human, anyone alive. But buried further down—so far that I could almost pretend I didn’t notice—ispride.
The Corruption writhes through the branches overhead. Water pours down over us, pooling within the circled stones. A cold, ink-dark wave washes over my feet. I send out more power into the seething darkness. Tendrils slither up from the earth, and I cry out, startled, as they snare my skin. Lines of darkness wind around my hands, my wrists. My mouth tastes of poison.
“Oh—!” I start to pull away from the Lord Under, but he tightens his hold on my hands. His eyes meet mine, and for one brief breath, his expression gentles. He blinks, slow, and his lashes fringe his frosted gaze. The darkness has spread over him, too, a tracery of thin, black lines beneath his bone-white skin.
“Violeta.” He whispers my name, low and tense. “It will destroy both our worlds.”
