“What is that?” Manon repeated. The duke surged for her, but then a silken female voice breathed, “Shadowfire.” Perrington froze, as if surprised she had spoken. “Where does this shadowfire come from?” Manon demanded. The woman was so small, so thin. The dress was barely more than cobwebs and shadows. It was cold in the mountain camp, even for Manon. Had she refused a cloak, or did they just not care? Or perhaps, with this fire … Perhaps she did not need one at all. “From me,” Kaltain said, in a voice that was dead and hollow and yet vicious. “It has always been there—asleep. And now it has
...more
