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415 pages, Hardcover
First published January 5, 2016
"I will kill you," he went on.
"No." The girl's eyes thinned; she pushed herself further upright and the moon streamed over her. "I d-d-d..." She coughed. Then wiped her mouth. "I don't think you will."
“Something had happened between Safi and Merik during their dance. Something as powerful as the wind and the music that had gusted around them. A shift in the air that preceded a storm.”
“Safi acted instantly – as did the monk. His sword swished from its scabbard; her knife came up. She clipped the edge of his blade, parrying it aside.
He recovered and lunged. Safi lurched back. Her calves hit Iseult, yet in a single fluid movement, Iseult kneeled – and Safi rolled sideways over her back.
Initiate. Complete. It was how the girls fought. How they lived.
He was good. The best fighter she’d ever faced.
But Safi and Iseult were better.”
“If you wanted to, Safiya, you could bend and shape the world.”
“It was the circle of perfect motion. Of the light-bringer and dark-giver, the world-starter and shadow-ender. Of initiation and completion.”
“Because ‘just me’ isn’t who we are. I’ll always follow you, Safi, and you’ll always follow me. Threadsisters to the end.”
“It wasn’t freedom she wanted. It was belief in something—a prize big enough to run for and to fight for and to keep on reaching toward no matter what.”
“Safi had only two thoughts:Who the rut is that Nubrevnan Windwitch? And: He should really learn how to button a shirt.”
Friendships can be just as epic as romances . . .
With your right hand, give a person what he expects—and with your left hand, cut his purse. Safi always played the distracting right hand—and she was good at it—while Iseult lurked in the shadows, ready to claim whatever purse needed cutting.
Safi had her title to protect her, and Iseult had her heritage to damn her.
For a heartbeat … then two, the space between Merik and Safi—the Threads burning between them—ignited into a full flaming Thread of scarlet. But Iseult had no time to distinguish the exact shade—if it was a growing Thread of love or one of unforgiving hate—
Something had happened between Safi and Merik during their dance. Something as powerful as the wind and the music that had gusted around them. A shift in the air that preceded a storm.
“My life-debt is paid, Threadwitch. If our paths cross again, make no mistake: I will kill you.”
“No, you won’t,” she whispered as the door clicked shut.
Aeduan forced himself to stay silent. She deserved no response—it would be her mistake if she thought he would spare her.
All that physical training, Merik had said, plus a witchery men would kill for. Think of all you could do. Think of all you could be.
"I guard the light-bringer,
And protect the dark-giver.
I live for the world-starte,
And die for the shadow-ender.
My blood, I offer freely.
My Threads, I offer wholly.
My eternal soul belongs to no one else.
Claim my Aether.
Guide my blade.
From now until the end."