A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

Kell considered her defiant smile, and was grateful, for humanity’s sake, that she lacked the magic to try.

“There’s Dull London, Kell London, Creepy London, and Dead London,”

“Death comes for everyone,” she said simply. “I’m not afraid of dying. But I am afraid of dying here.” She swept her hand over the room, the tavern, the city. “I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still.”

“I’m not going to die,” she said. “Not till I’ve seen it.” “Seen what?” Her smile widened. “Everything.” Kell smiled back. And then Lila brought her free hand to his jaw and tugged his mouth toward hers. The kiss was there and then gone, like one of her smiles. “What was that for?” he asked, dazed. “For luck,” she said, squaring her shoulders to the wall. “Not that I need it.”

And besides, he had first woken to the sound of Lila and Kell leaving not long before (he had not stopped her, had long since learned that it was futile to try, and had long since resolved to be instead an anchor, there and ready when she wandered back, which she invariably did).

The guilty were bound, branded with limiters designed to tourniquet their power. But Fletcher’s were broken. The marks on the inside of his wrists were marred, obscured, like fractured links in a metal chain. He had gone to the ends of the world to break those binds, had traded blood and soul and years of life, but here he was. Free again.

It was a chess piece. A small, white rook to be exact. A marker of a debt he’d yet to pay but would. The rook had once belonged to the young Antari whelp, Kell, but it had come to Fletcher’s shop several years before as part of the pot in a round of Sanct.

He plucked a trinket from the top of the pile—a chess piece from another London—and tossed it to Fletcher.

And then he remembered that he’d never have the chance to apologize. The thought cut like a knife, even though he told himself it had to be this way, that when the time came, Lila would explain. And Rhy? Rhy would forgive him.

“Love doesn’t keep us from freezing to death, Kell,” she continued, “or starving, or being knifed for the coins in our pocket. Love doesn’t buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need for nothing.”

He had made a mistake. He had put them all in danger, and he had to make it right. Because it was his duty to protect them. And because he loved them.

“Is that the Ruby Fields?” asked Lila at his shoulder. “It is,” said Kell quietly. “Or, it was.” There was nothing left but ash and smoke. The inn, and everything in it, had been burned to the ground.

Whoever did this, they hadn’t robbed him—at least, that hadn’t been the point. But they’d stripped him of his loot to cut him off. An Antari could not travel without tokens. They were trying to corner him, to make sure that if he managed to flee back into Red London, he would have nothing at his disposal.

The people had only a candle’s light of life inside them, not the fire to which the darkness was accustomed. So little heat, so easily extinguished. The moment he got inside, he burned them up to nothing, blood and bone to husk and ash in no time at all.

Magic was a truly beautiful disease. But only when the hosts were strong enough. Pure enough. The people here were not.

And in his desperation, he found himself drawn on—drawn back—to the place where he had started: the Stone’s Throw. He wondered at the pull of the odd little tavern. It was a flicker of warmth in the cold, dead city. A glimmer of light, of life, of magic. If he could get there, he might find a fire yet. He was so consumed by the need to reach the tavern that he did not notice the man standing by its door, nor the carriage fast approaching as he stepped off the curb and into the street.

Edward Archibald Tuttle stood outside the Stone’s Throw, frowning at the time.

He frowned, looked down at the talisman in his grip, and caught his breath. The veins on the back of his hand were dark, so dark that they stood out like ink against his flesh, the lines tracing up toward his elbow. The power he’d felt pulsing through him was actually pulsing through him, turning his blood black.

Before he could lose battle for control, Lila knelt beside the stone. “Clever little thing,” she said, reaching for it.

In your world, magic is a rarity. In mine, the lack of it is just as strange. And those without gifts are often looked down upon as unworthy of them, and treated as less for it. The people here believe that magic chooses its path. That it judges, and so can they. Aven essen, they call it. Divine balance.”

Several years ago, a group began to form. They called themselves the Shadows. Half a dozen men and women—some with power, some without—who believed the city burned its power too brightly and with too little care, squandering it. To them, Rhy was not a boy, but a symbol of everything wrong. And so they took him.

“As Athera. To grow. As Pyrata. To burn. As Illumae. To light. As Travars. To Travel. As Orense. To open. As Anasae. To dispel. As Hasari. To heal.

What I didn’t realize then was that a healing spell—even a blood command—takes time.

“But what happened to the Shadows?”

“The ones who took him? Were they in the boat? Did you go back for them? Did you send the guards?”

“The king and queen tracked down every member of the Shadows. And Rh...

“What?” gasped Lila. “After they tried...

“That’s the thing about my brother. He’s headstrong and thinks with every part of his body but his brain most days, but he’s a good prince. He possesses something many lack: empathy. He forgave his captors. He understood why they did it, and he felt their suffering. And he was convinced that if he showed them mercy, they wouldn’t try to harm him again.” Kell’s eyes went to the floor. “And I made sure they couldn’t.” Lila’s brow crinkled as she realiz...

Lila stared at him, not with shock or horror, but a m...

He was still learning the nuances of his new body, but he managed to press his cracking lips to the woman’s soft mouth. Something passed between them—the ember of a pure black flame—and the woman shivered.

He’d taken the drunkard, Booth, by force, but a willing host was always better. Or at least, they tended to last longer.

They moved together like a perfect pulse, one bleeding into the other, and when it was over, and the woman’s eyes floated open, they reflected his, both a glossy black. The thing inside her skin pulled her rouged lips into a crooked smile.

“As Athera,” she echoed, sliding up from the bed. He rose and followed, and they set out—one mind in two bodies—first through the pleasure house, and then through the night. Yes, he had been busy. He could feel himself spreading through the city as he made his way toward the waiting red river, the pulse of magic and life laid out like a promised feast.

“Arnes covers more than half of your Europe. The island—your England—is called the raska. The crown. But it’s only the tip of the empire.” He traced the territory lines with his fingertip. “Beyond our country lies Vesk, to the north, and Faro, to the south.”

“So?” asked Lila, admiring the grip. “No such thing as too many knives.” “You’re a violent sort.” She wagged the blade. “We can’t all turn blood and whispers into weapons.”

“Crime isn’t that complicated,” she said. “People steal because taking something gives them something. If they’re not in it for the money, they’re in it for control. The act of taking, of breaking the rules, makes them feel powerful. They’re in it for the sheer defiance.” She turned away. “Some people steal to stay alive, and some steal to feel alive. Simple as that.”

Fletcher had the rare and dangerous ability to control bones, and therefore bodies.

Lila’s eyes narrowed. “Burn in hell, you fu—” “I wouldn’t bother with her,” cut in Kell. “She bites.”

Watched as a single guard hung back, his face hidden beneath the lowered visor of his helmet.

“I’m sorry about this, sir,” he said, and Kell was about to ask what for when a hand clamped a cloth over his mouth, and his lungs filled with something bitter and sweet. He tried to wrench free, but armored gloves closed over his wrists and held him back against the bench, and within moments, everything went dark.

He surveyed the room, his gaze drifting past her, but through the slot in his helmet, Lila thought she saw an odd shimmer in his eyes. Something like magic.

Lila smiled greedily and stepped out onto the street. She fetched up the knife and slid it into her belt and went to find—and most likely rescue—Kell from whatever mess he’d gotten himself into now.

And once there, they would worship the prince as though he were divine, and he would drink in their adoration as he always did, with relish and good cheer.

There was an energy in the air, and even though he knew the buzz was most likely coming from the festival itself, it still made him nervous. It wasn’t just that there was more power than usual. It felt different. He rolled his empty cup between his hands and tried to set his mind at ease.

he caught the gaze of a woman just beyond, a lovely one with red lips and golden hair and a voluptuous, only half-concealed bosom. He dragged his gaze from her chest up to her eyes, and then frowned. They weren’t blue or green or brown. They were black. Black as a starless sky or a scrying board. Black as Master Kell’s right eye.

“Asan narana,”

“Dark heart,”

For an instant, the creature looked amused. And then Parrish’s sword began to glow as the spellwork on the enchanted blade took effect and severed the man from his magic. His eyes went wide, the black retreating from them, and from his veins, until he looked more or less like an ordinary man again (albeit a dying one). He drew in a rattling breath and gripped Parrish’s armor—he bore an X, the mark of cutthroats, on the back of his hand—and then he crumbled to ash around Parrish’s blade.

Gen gazed down at him with two black eyes and a grim smile. “Asan harana,” he said. “Noble heart.”

“You are not from here, so you do not know. Arnesians pay their debts in many ways. Not all of them with coin. I need nothing from you now, so you will pay me back another time, and in your own way. Yes?”