LOGINNeris's POV"I didn't break it."The words ring off the stone bowl of the court. Hundreds of silver eyes watch me kneel at the basin, my palm still dripping onto the rim."I wasn't born," I say."No," the veiled judge says. "She was.""Who?""Look."Behind the rail, Cassian stands rigid with one hand pressed against the invisible wall that holds him back. Evren is shaking his head at me. Lucien has stopped writing.Let them show you, my wolf says quietly. We can't win a trial by refusing to look. A pause. The seed has gone silent. I don't like it.I look.Rain on a cliff. A seam of lead-grey stone runs down the rock face, a hand's breadth wide, and a woman stands before it in a sodden cloak with a bundle in her arms.She's tall, her dark hair cropped to the jaw. As she turns to shout at someone behind her, she shoves it back behind one ear, a quick, nervous gesture. I make it a hundred times a day.My breath catches. That's my jaw. My mouth. My eyes, hard and bright with fear."Majest
Neris's POV"You may refuse counsel," the Warden says. "No one has ever accepted it.""Then why offer it?""It is the law." He doesn't look at me. "The law is older than your throne.""I don't have a throne.""So you keep telling us."They took our swords at the first arch, politely, like servants relieving guests of their coats. Cassian, Evren, and Lucien stand behind a rail of pale stone at the edge of the court. Nobody has bound them. Something I can't see holds them back, smooth and cold as glass.The court is a bowl cut into the cliff. Hundreds of grey robed figures sit in silence on its tiers, their silver eyes fixed on me. At the bottom, a round basin of black water, perfectly still, and above it three tall chairs.They're old, my wolf murmurs. Older than the Warden. I've heard them named. I've never seen them.The judge on the left is a woman with hair like sea foam, so thin her scalp shows. The judge on the right has a face scored with scars, and the one in the center is veil
Neris's POV"Don't answer it."Cassian's fingers are locked around my forearm hard enough to bruise. The glow inside the seam keeps drifting toward us, a coal carried by someone I can't see, and the voice that called me little ember hasn't spoken again."It knew my name," I say. "The one only my mother used.""That's why it used it.""Neris, step back." Lucien's voice is tight. "Now."The wind has changed. For three days it blew from the north. Now it blows inward, toward the crack, dragging dead pine needles across the scree like a tide going out. The mark under my shirt flares white.It's pulling, my wolf says, small and frightened. Not the voice. The door. Neris, I can't..."Hold on to me."The seam splits wide as a doorway. Cold floods out, and my boots leave the ground."Evren!" Cassian roars."I've got you!" A hand clamps onto Cassian's belt, then Lucien has Evren's collar, and we go through the seam as a single chain of bodies, all three of them dragged behind me like rope paid
Neris's POV"It's bait."Darius says it before he's finished reading, before the parchment has stopped trembling in his fingers. The war room is cold. Lucien has caged the white bird in a birdcage borrowed from the kitchens, and it sits on its perch without a sound. Frost glitters along the bars, though the fire is lit."Everything about it is bait," Darius goes on. "The bird. The handwriting. That line.""We have your father's original heart," Cassian reads, flat and quiet."They knew what we'd learned the moment Fenn said it. Not an hour later. It would take a spy in the cottage, or something watching through the seed." Darius looks at me. "Whichever it is, someone wants you to go running.""My father's body burned," I say. "Fenn set the fire herself. There isn't anything left to have.""There's a body," Darius says slowly. "And there's a heart."Nobody speaks."It isn't the organ. It's a word the guardians used." His hands twist in his lap. "When someone died close to a door, near
Neris's POV"Who made him sick?"I ask it quietly, and nobody in the cottage moves. The lamp leans toward my chest. The mark under my shirt is still burning silver through the cloth, in time with a heartbeat that isn't mine.Healer Fenn's hands have gone stiff on the quilt. "I told you. A spring in the north marches.""The seed says that's a lie.""Seeds don't speak, dear. They sleep.""This one's been awake for eighteen years." I take a step toward the bed. "It says it tasted the sickness on him. Once, when he lifted me onto his shoulders at a harvest fair. Cold smoke, off his skin. It says a spring doesn't taste like that."It tastes like a door, the dry little voice says, calm as a clerk reading back a ledger. I had never smelled one before that day. I knew it the moment the wind turned."A door," I repeat aloud.Fenn's face has lost every trace of color. Behind me the scarred guard appears in the doorway, one hand on his hilt. Cassian turns and meets his eyes without a word, and t
Neris's POV"Begged you."I say it once, flat, and the lamp seems to gutter. Healer Fenn's pale eyes don't leave my face."Yes, little one.""He was my father." My voice cracks on the word. "You poured him tea.""With honey. He liked honey." She folds her hands on the quilt. "He thanked me. That was the worst of it."Behind me, Evren makes a sound like he's been punched. He catches the bedpost with one hand. "You brought me tea the night we thought Theron was dead," he says hoarsely. "Honey and cloves.""It's the only recipe I have, dear."Cassian hasn't moved. His hand rests on his sword hilt, and I can't tell whether he knows it."Tell me why," I say. "In order. All of it.""You've heard of the Hollowing.""From my mother's recording."Her eyebrows lift. "Adaeze left you a record. Clever girl." She coughs, a thin dry rattle, and waves off the scarred guard who has appeared in the doorway. "Then you know what it does. Your father caught it the winter before you turned six. Border dut







