THE COMPLETE TRILOGY

Eledriel knew that crossing the Ivory Forest could cost her her life. The Ivorians did not forgive traitors, least of all those who had aided the Blight. But the seals on the Rift were failing. There was no more time, no other options.
“I never wanted to believe you had come back.”

When that voice fell behind her, Eledriel’s heart missed a beat. Of all people, him.

“Maybe that’s why it took you longer than I expected, hunter.”

He stepped up to walk beside her. Eledriel kept her eyes fixed on the madras trees, but she felt his presence like a blade at her throat.

“You are not welcome here, Eledriel.”

She tucked a strand of black hair that had slipped over her eye behind her ear. “Storm-sea” colored, he had once told her, looking at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world. Now he looked at her as if she were a stranger. Or worse.

Eledriel took a breath and met him. “I know, but I’m glad to see you again, Iorn.”

The green of his irises darkened further. “I wish I could say the same.”

Eledriel focused on his silvered armor, on the gilded trim—general, now. The pale hair cut shorter at the temples. Anything to avoid seeing the contempt in his gaze.

“I would not have come here if I could have avoided it.”

“You have always had good reasons for failing to avoid things.”

The remark drove straight into her chest. She shot it back with equal force.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, captain. Or should I say general now. Not all harm comes to harm us, right?”

The tendons in his neck tightened, like drawn cords. “Now it is you who doesn’t know what you mean, tal’hal.”

Witch. He used the word like a weapon, with the tone of the cruellest insult. But the days when that word could wound her were gone.

“Listen to me, I only need to confer with the Imperial Domina, then I will leave.”

He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “You can leave at once then. Alliria the White died two years ago.”

Her lips parted. She clenched her hands at her sides. Alliria was the only one who would have listened—the only one who would have put rancor aside for the good of the Empire.

“How is that possible? Everyone believes she still commands.”

Iorn nodded. “And so it must be, at least until the council reaches a decision about succession.”

“That could take decades. We don’t have that time.” Eledriel bit her lip until it hurt.

“You don’t need time, you’ll find nothing here. You should leave and not look back.”

His insistence made her blood boil.

“I can leave, but I want you to know that the moment I do, we will both have lost our chance to make amends for the past.” She held his gaze. “And the worst part will be that there will be no future left for anyone.”

The hunter studied her as if he could read her mind. As he had once done, when everything had still seemed possible.

“Swear to me this is not another of your tricks, Eledriel.”

She leaned toward him. “I swear it, I am not lying. Being here hurts me as much as it hurts you; I would have avoided it if there had been another way.”

He examined her for a long moment. “You’ll better have told the truth. Am I clear?”

“You were.”

They stood facing one another, as if some part of each were picking up what had been left unfinished so long ago. Then the hunter gestured toward the forest.

“Come with me.”

She had been holding her breath without knowing it; she nodded. Iorn took a path that led deeper into the trees. Branches bowed as he passed, as if nature itself made way for him.

“Better that no one sees you. We’ll reach Dareth through the Stronghold.”

“I thought the Stronghold was destroyed by the Blight.”

“I ordered it rebuilt. The fact that we emerged victorious does not justify lowering our guard.”

“I suppose you are right,” she said, keeping it brief.

“It will not be easy to gain credibility with the Ivory Council,” he continued. “You should consider speaking with some of them before seeking an official audience.”

Eledriel lowered her head as he pushed aside a low branch to let her through.

“I appreciate you deciding to help me, general.”

Iorn shot her a sidelong look. “Don’t jump to conclusions, but on one thing I believe you. You wouldn’t have had the courage to return if there weren’t a true reason.”

“And there is,” she confirmed, stepping over a root.

“It will be better for you, because this time I will not hold back my hand, Eledriel.”

He spoke the words in a steel voice. Eledriel shivered. She remembered the hiss of his sword a heartbeat before it fell toward her. He had grazed her, then driven it into the earth—an act of mercy that must have torn at his soul.

That only added to the guilt dogging her. She had ruined everything, and this time there would be no Malark Morn to tell her she had the right to take whatever she wanted without apologizing. No—he for whom she had betrayed Iorn, his friends, and an entire people, was gone.

The words came out of her strangled by pain. “I know.”

She resisted the urge to confess the truth: that each night she woke in the darkness of her nightmares wishing that blade had pierced her throat.

Iorn moved on. “Tylin and Thiel will be willing to listen. I’ll arrange a private meeting with them.”

Eledriel chose her words carefully. “I’m glad to hear they are well and that they are now members of the Council.”

“If they deserve it, despite—”

She finished the sentence he left unfinished. “Despite being my friends.”

Eledriel sighed. Sadness washed over her, erasing every line she had rehearsed.

“I’m sorry for what happened, Iorn. There’s not a day I don’t blame myself.”

He turned on her like a beast about to rend. “Really? Then swear to me that if you could go back, you would kill him at the first chance.”

Eledriel parted her lips as her breath grew dense and hot. She saw Malark’s profile again, brushed by moonlight on the sandy desert of the Rack’ra Desolation. It was as if he peered beyond, though he slept the deepest sleep.

How easy it would have been then.

A blade, and the Outcast’s blood would have soaked the red brocade of the blankets. How many lives would have been spared, how much destruction avoided. Yet, again and again, the need for him had overwhelmed her and the instinct to barter anything just to have him back had drained her soul. When she lifted her eyes, Iorn’s face blurred behind her tears.

“As I thought,” the hunter hissed through his teeth. “From now on, spare us your useless whining. Do what you came to do and crawl back into whatever hole you came from.”

Those words—and the contempt with which he spoke them—shattered her. Eledriel stumbled backward, breath breaking in her throat. She wanted to drop to her knees. She wanted to beg him. She wanted—

The power inside her flared.

It rose from her chest, a burst of heat that burned her from within. It climbed up her throat, her arms, her fingers. The scars on her forearms blazed with a violet glow—the same lines of fire she had once tried to smother, cursed, hidden beneath her sleeves.

But it was too late. The magic exploded from her hands and rippled outward in every direction, consuming trees, earth, air. The madras leaves disintegrated to dust. The hartemis blossoms went up in a cloud of white ash. The ground beneath her feet split open, dry and lifeless, as if someone had drained every trace of life away.

Iorn’s eyes widened. Eledriel saw something break in his gaze—the last fragile hope that he had been wrong about her. He threw an arm over his face, stepping back, his hand flashing toward the hilt of his sword. The enchantments woven into his armor flared in blue light—the only thing that kept him from being destroyed.

The innate clasped her hands, fingers trembling as she forced the power back, smothering it. The magic collapsed at once. The silence that followed was broken only by the crackle of shattered branches and scorched earth.

“Iorn, I’m sorry, I…” The words died on her lips.

The hunter’s eyes were fixed on the devastation around them. A perfect circle of death. Plants reduced to powder. Blackened soil. Air that reeked of ash and burned magic. His enchanted armor had saved him, but if anyone else had been there, they would not have gone home that day.

“The law was right all along,” the hunter murmured, his voice frayed. “There’s no place for you innates in this world. Not here, not anywhere.”

Eledriel’s anger burned beneath her tears. “You didn’t believe that once. Not when you stood for the abolition of the Brand.”

“I was wrong. You should have accepted it—you and all those like you.” Iorn’s eyes blazed. “None of this would have happened.”

“If only you’d tried to understand… If only—”

“We gave you a chance!” For the first time, his voice rose—but only for a heartbeat. “And you wasted it. You destroyed everything, Eledriel. Your people and… us.”

“Don’t say it,” Eledriel begged. “Please, don’t.”

Iorn shook his head and placed a hand on the scorched ground. A trickle of blood slid down his thumb, but he ignored it. He spoke a Sacred Word, and when he lifted his fingers, a patch of green moss had sprouted where his palm had been. He stared at it for a long moment, then brushed it gently, and the soil around the tiny plant began to regain its earthy brown hue.

“It won’t be enough, but the Earthshapers will come to restore this place.” He straightened, the effort clear in the movement.

Eledriel wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“It will take me only a few hours. Then I’ll leave.”

“Then we’d better move,” he said coldly. “You’ll stay at the Reserve. It will be safer for everyone.”