Holding the wall for balance, she rose, as wobbly as a newborn foal, standing on legs new and too long. All her senses were heightened. The tunnel seemed impossibly bright, as though she were outside, basking in the glow of a midday sun. Details she hadn’t noted before were now emblazoned onto her retinas, in sharp clarity. She could see the residual grime along the ceiling from smoke cast by lanterns that had not burned in decades. She saw water trickling down the walls, each drop as brilliant and sparkling as a tiny jewel.
The air was cool and scented with minerals, and when she took in a breath, she could smell the Bright-Eyeds, could sense their heat. She knew exactly which tunnels they’d gone down.
The odor of the wolves was obvious, but there was a difference to the batlike creatures, a meatier funk, like warmed body oils and hair that hadn’t been washed in weeks, and above even that, a scent Greer recognized instantly from the night she’d been attacked by the river. An earthy, loamy blend of bog water and peat moss, crushed violets and prickly thistles.
Elowen.
She had gone into the mine, and now Greer knew exactly where to find her.
43
Greer slipped alongthe empty tunnel like water over river rocks. She felt as if she’d become a shadow, noiseless and nearly invisible, joining the very darkness itself. Her limbs moved with easy grace, swinging loose in their joints. Her gait was long, her cares were few.
Ailie’s powers had gone straight to her head, intoxicating her with a confidence she’d never experienced before. She was giddy with it, delighting in her ability to stretch and move, to skulk and scheme.
Everything felt so different.
Everything felt sogood.
She ran her tongue over the ridges of her teeth, certain there were more of them crammed into her mouth now. They felt sharper, stronger. They felt ready to bite and rip, and she regretted that she was so far into the mine now, so far away from the reflective surface of a quiet pond. She wanted to see herself, admire the changes, revel in her mother’s sovereignty.
Her sovereignty.
She wanted to see what she looked like with this dark magic running through her, molding and making her into something new and dangerous, something strange and threatening.
And yet…
There was still one piece of her that had not quite changed. Vulnerable and human, full of worries and softness, compassion and anxieties. That part—that small, tiny part—was screaming.
Ellis, what about Ellis?the little voice cried, causing her to stop.
WhatwouldEllis think of this new Greer? What would he think of all her new teeth?
The thought took her breath away.
She tried filling her lungs, but there was something wrong, something pressing against her throat, heavy as an anvil, sharp as the spike of a naturalist’s pin.
Not pressing,she realized as dark stars began to dance over her vision, leaving her light-headed and ready to sink to her knees.Encircling.
She was choking, her airway closed off as if caught in a hangman’s noose.
Greer ripped open the buttons at her collar and felt for the beaded necklace from Hessel’s study. This was what choked her, even though it hung low and loose. Tension did not cause the pain; it came from the stones themselves.
With a gurgle of disgust, she tore off the necklace and flung it from her. It skidded a few feet down the tunnel, and instantly Greer felt better. She drew in deep, gasping breaths, staring at the innocuous little bauble.
It looked so harmless, flickering against the darkness. The flashes of red again reminded her of the Warding Stones, and suddenly Greer understood.
Thosewerethe Warding Stones, or little pieces of them. Just like the monoliths, they, too, had been enchanted by Resolution Beaufort, as a means of protection. Protection for the townspeople. Protection against the Bright-Eyeds.
Those beads had allowed Greer to roam away from Mistaken without being pulled back. But putting on Ailie’s cloak, taking its magic into her, must have tipped the scales so that whatever words Resolution had used now worked against her. Just as it did the Bright-Eyeds.
But I’m not one of them!she wanted to shout, feeling helpless.
It didn’t matter what magic she’d taken on, what powers she’d gained. She could not undo this. The cloak, the magic, had become part of her, and she did not know how to wrest herself free of it.
I can never go home,she realized, and though she’d spent most of her life yearning to leave Mistaken and travel far from its shores, the knowledge that she couldn’t ever return filled her with overwhelming dread.
She was more Bright-Eyed than human.
